Everybody has their favorite cocktail. Their drink of choice. A love for their libations. Whatever! Whether somebody is rough around the edges, gay, black, nerdy, white, female, or tranny, I’ve served every cocktail around the sun to everybody, but I can usually tell what type of drink goes with the person.
The other night I “assumed” wrong.
A man and woman were sat in my section. The woman excused herself to go to the ladies room. I approached the gentleman, (50’s) glasses, with distinguished grey hair, welcomed him, and asked him if I could get him a drink.
“While my date is in the restroom, I’ll order for both of us. A Strawberry Basil Martini, and a Makers’ Mark Manhattan up,” he politely requested.
I put in their drink order. His date, (early 40’s) pretty, Asian, arrived back from taking her dump.
I got the drinks from the bar, brought them to their table, and placed the Strawberry Basil Martini in front of the woman.
“That’s actually my drink,” the man interrupted. “Sorry for the confusion. I know it seems the opposite. I would assume the same thing.”
“I never assume anything. Or ever again, for that matter. I should go.”
And I quickly walked away.