Really I do. No less than three times did our waiter Mike give me a hard time for getting a Dr Pepper instead of an alcoholic beverage. Once was enough to get me mulling over sobriety comments that would make him feel like an ass, but I just couldn't bring myself to say them.
The second time, I even smiled at him, an autonomic response to teasing for which I wanted to kick myself.
The third time, I brainstormed additional unpleasant reasons one might not be able to drink. Interaction with medications and the conditions they treat could provide slews of comebacks to make Mike to feel like a jerk. I dismissed allergies since that would likely lead to the idiotic, "Oh my god, how do you live?" sorts of comments.
Then this occurred to me:
"The money I saved on my drink was going to fatten your tip, but now, not so much."
Next time, Mike, next time.