Typically I’m a bartender’s minor annoyance. Sometimes I’m a bartenders happy, well tipping friend. And other times I’m the bane of bartenders’ existence.
I’m reviewing at this nice pub by the train station and I ask, nicely, to try Linkwood Refill Sherry Butt 2000. Which annoys the guy in front of me, because he has to go grab a stool to get up to the top shelf.
Oh well, don’t like it, go get a job at a shittier pub then.
Then he brings it down, and I ask to take a picture of it.
Which to this bartender is the equivalent of lugging a human head around in ones purse. He asks me a few times, and I finally explain that I want to remember the bottle and the review.
I get another odd stare.
Then I go whole hog and ask for a new glass, same as…
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