celebrity

The notoriety gained from working in the friendly neighbourhood boozer would be slightly more enjoyable if every person who tapped you on the shoulder in a club to shout "Hey, you work at 'Spoons, I know you!" didn't then follow this up by saying "If you can remember what I drink, why can't you remember how old I am and stop fucking ID-ing me?"

That, or trying to lick your face and insisting on introducing you to all their friends as "My mate what works in that pub what I drink in, innit."

Why bother? Any physical attributes you may possess are, I assure you, far outweighed by the possibility of you being there tomorrow morning ordering breakfast and complaining about your hangover when I've been at work for three hours still drunk.

I am not your mate. Not until you can remember my name without prompting, and certainly not until you stop thinking I'm easy because I serve you beer.