There was a time when I worked for a law firm (which shall remain unnamed) and there was a Chili's in the next building where myself and some of my co-workers (who shall also remain unnamed, but you know who you are) would go for lunch. I use the term lunch loosely, because we would actually go for margarita's and chips. We would have a couple or three of whatever the flavor of the month was.
Then there was Harrington's - a real bar - sure they served food there, but in reality people went there to drink and we did. We went there for lunch. We went there after work. And once I went there about 9:30 in the morning - yes, I just said that. A friend was leaving and I suggested going over for a cocktail, cause what are they going to do fire you? I had really planned on having only one quick one. No really only one lemon drop. Well that turned into - oh maybe five? Maybe eight? Who really knows, not me that is for sure.
So I sent a message to my boss that I was sick and had gone home (luckily, he knew where I went and what I was doing and was ok with it this once). Unfortunately, my second shift guy did not come in and I had to go back in at about five and yes, I was still drunk. Not a good thing.
This is one reason I stopped going to Harrington's. The other was when the bartender (Johnny) would greet me with - Hey Margaret, got your stool right here...
These reasons along with a few others is why I had my last cocktail at about 1:45 in the afternoon on July 3rd, 1996. Not that I am counting or anything. And it was a glass of Merlot.