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Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:

From Aiobhan:

Cleaner Floors.

What happened: I work as a barista at a relatively large coffee chain on the east coast (no, not Starbuck's). One day two women with a stroller and a two year old saunter into my store. After almost 15 minutes of "Well, what can you make me? I obviously can't read the menu above my head. I also want food that isn't in the case right in front of me, but I'll ask you to check in back anyway." - they finally order. One girl got a very large iced tea. Since there are only two of us, we're rather busy. One comes over and gives me a very blank stare, saying that she spilled her tea and can she have another one. Of course, we get that for her free of charge. I proceed to walk over to look at the very large spill on the floor, which the geniuses had thrown all of five paper napkins on (thereby making simple mopping impossible), and one of them says "Just give me a mop and I'll clean it up."

What I said: I, of course, said no, no, it's okay I'll take care of it - and cleaned up the wet sloppy napkins and the tea (which they had added milk and sugar to prior to the spill) while they took their screaming children and left.

What I SHOULD have said: "Okay - here's the mop and a wet floor sign. Knock yourself out."

on the stairs

L'esprit d'escalier

The French call it l'esprit d'escalier, "the wit of the staircase," those biting ripostes that are thought of just seconds too late, on the way out of the room-or even, to tell the truth, days later. It's happened to you: you've suddenly thought of just what would put your foe in his or her place, but past the time when the arrow could sting its victim. You've stewed in your own juice ever since, and the chance for singeing repartee is gone forever.

Or is it?

Dorothy Parker or Oscar Wilde may have had the rapier wit to tweak their tormentors on the spot, but for the rest of us, we offer the Internet's only L'esprit d'escalier web site!