I waitressed at a restaurant with a rather rambunctious bar crowd. On my first training shift, my manager let me know that I was to carry around a cup of grapejuice on my tray any time I was working after 11pm. I asked why, she assured me that when the time was right it would come to me.
About three weeks later, it's one in the morning, the club across the street has been closed for about an hour, and I have Mr Grabbyhands at one of my tables. The first time I felt a hand on my butt, I ignored it, the second time I asked him not to again, the third time, when is was a smack, followed by a squeaze, I turned around, yelled at him, and flung the grapejuice at him. When I went in back to let the manager know to eject the table, the assistant manager was already over. Asst. Mgr. said as soon as he sees a table of men, covored in grape juice, he knows to have them leave.