When I got to the bar I ordered a Blue Moon, and then headed into the back room to test my "social networking" skills. (It worked! I got a card from a woman with a friend in the State Department, who recruits people to write about news stories in French-speaking countries!)
A couple hours later, after chicken fingers were consumed and the debris from the Yankee swap cleared, I headed back to the bar. The bartender looked at me. "Blue Moon," he said, before I had a chance to open my mouth.
"Yeah, that's right. Very good," I said, impressed.
"It's the cute bangs," he said. "Anyone else I'll forget, but the bangs I remember."
"Well, you know, I figure if they worked for me when I was five..."
"Hey, why mess with a good thing, right?"
"Actually, in your case, it's more like, why mess with a great thing."
And then I folded him up and put him in my pocket and brought him home with me, because gah, how cute is that?!