“You don’t sell Sambuca? What kind of bar is this?”
“Which one’s which?” *After being handed a vodka lemonade and a JD and coke*
“Can I have this cocktail? Make it strong, just for me.”
“Got anything on draught?” *After staring at draughtless bar for five minutes*
“So what else do you do?”
“So what do you study at uni?”
“I was a bartender once.”
“Can you make me this drink I had in Ecuador a few years ago? Can’t remember what was in it.”
“That’s not how the bar over the road makes them. Why not?”
“It’s cool. I know the owner.”
“It’s cool, I know the bartenders.”
“It’s cool. I know the barback.”
“It’s cool, the bouncer fancies me.”
“I pay your wages.”
“I don’t like you.”
“I don’t like this bar.”
“Here’s my number.”
“Can I have a free drink?”
“So…these are my genitals.”
“Bye.”
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