t.b.t. Once upon a "the 90's"

t.b.t. Once upon a "the 90's" I was working in the Midwest managing a small Italian food/cafe.
It was owned by a very handsome Middle Eastern man who introduced himself with an Italian name and accent.
Front of the house Italian, back of the house was very much the house of Saud.
There was a war on back home so I didn't ask any questions. Watching his whole family hide in plain sight would inform my own ops in the future. I was just happy to be living it up in the big city.
I did a very common thing back then, I hired people out of my friend pool. In this case a skinhead called Patrick. He met the criteria, had a bike, no job and was hilarious. Well one day trouble came to our little corner (DUN DUN DUNNNNn) The half owner arrived from Libya.
He was less Metro-prince and more Danny DeVito without the charm. The two didn't mix well. After trying the Brady Bunch divide the room method they just got hostile with each other.
During one of the arguments, Patrick and I ran up to them to chill them out. They were freaking out the customers. Then the 2nd owner told Patrick to attack his partner. "You kick his ass I pay you!" Then the first owner told me "You know what to do." (I didn't).
It soon became clear that both owners wanted to fight a proxy war using a punker and a skinhead. I looked at Pat and noticed he was thinking the same thing I was "I'm gonna actually get paid to kick the crap out of somebody!"
Then Pat had a wonderful idea.
He told them to Eef right off.
It dawned on him that while duking it out is fun, early 90's minimum wage is crap pay for being crash test dummies. The owners refused to give us any more than our normal hourly. Well played Patrick.
Pat lasted one more day. I had to fire him. He got his first pizza delivery, got lost in the snow, carried the pizza sideways under his arm like a jackass and got into it with the customer who was rightly not about to pay for that mess much less give him the tip he demanded.
For the record I wasn't ever gonna let any harm befall the 1st owner. When we met, I was homeless. He let me stay in the restaurant's stockroom at night and work my way up from alcoholic dishwasher to alcoholic general. Mngr.
My only link to that time in my life is a single scene in the movie "Little Big League." It was filmed right outside the restaurant while I was working. Them 90's were like a series of Newline Cinema movies.