You can’t do anything anymore without some spare on the Internet writing a thousand words on what it says about you. Well, today I am that spare, and we’re talking about happy hour. It’s what some of us live for, and many just avoid altogether. But make no mistake, happy hour is serious business. I’ve seen careers end on patios in Uptown Dallas and deals closed at Applebees. Think before you drink.
Not to make this all about me, but this exercise will require a quick look in the mirror. Full disclosure: I was a happy hour scotch guy. Right out of college with a pair of Allen Edmonds deal sleds that I could not afford, I never saw a happy hour invite that I didn’t like. My drink of choice? THE Glenlivet. Absurd, I know. But much like that pair of loafers that I pulled the trigger on impulsively, that drink was all about status.
Are there those of you out there ordering scotch that genuinely enjoy it? Sure. Count me as the occasional scotch and water guy. But just admit that ordering that Glen 12 the other night at the strip mall bar by your office was a power move meant to put your peers on notice and catch your boss’s eye. You may not be the management material yet, or ever, but you realize that your best chance at getting anywhere is going the poser route. Dress how you want to play. Remember that.
Whoa there, cowboy. It’s not the weekend yet, but this train is leaving the station. You’re watching everyone around you take advantage of Tuesday night specials, but not you. Sure, you’re battling some serious self-destructive tendencies that are only amplified by that Gentleman’s Jack you can’t afford, but you wear it well.
Here’s the “problem” with being the happy hour bourbon guy: you’re opening the floodgates. You absolutely cannot stop at one, and once you flag down that bartender who already hates for you JD number 2, your weekend is on. Go weeknight whiskey; I dare you. You’re just begging for weeknight scaries.
You did your homework. Clear liquors only. You’ve got too much going on this week to take any chances on being a miserable hungover shell of yourself. Vodka soda, or vodka water – you’re not afraid to get out there and toss ’em back, but you’re preparing for the worst. You like to party, but there’s a great chance you’re going to overthink everything.
Soda or water?
Lime or no lime?
Should I go home and change first?
Just let it fuckin’ rip, man. The fact that you’re pondering these questions puts you in a better position than the vast majority of your happy hour peers. Just be careful if you’re mixing vodka with a warm patio evening, because these things go down quick and hit hard. Source: Me.
You listened to our podcast didn’t you? Thanks, but did you actually think it was possible to drink nothing but tequila all night? It’s not. I know because I tried and failed. I’ve been told by multiple people over the years that tequila is the cleanest liquor and easiest for your body to digest, but doesn’t it also elicit some of the worst decisions possible? The answer is yes.
I don’t think I need to quote a John Anderson song to prove my point. We’ve all been facedown in a bathtub after riding the Patrón wave a little too long. And if you’re this person, you will be too. So yeah, try looking cultured while sipping your 12-dollar tequila on the rocks, but good luck not parlaying that into a full-blown nightmare of a weeknight.
Ah, the smart move. You’re laying up with an iron to take the water and two sand traps out of play. Good for you. You know your limitations, and one sip of the hard stuff will bring a big score into play. There’s no glory in ordering a beer, but it’s much more pragmatic to nervously sip on a beer than a cheap well. And let’s face it: A lot of happy hours require nervous sipping. Ever been to a networking event where you know like two people? What happens if they’re dragged into a conversation with some cheese dicks you don’t know? You’re going to awkwardly hover around the conversation offering up fake laughs while crushing whatever drink is in your hand just to pass the time.
Ordering a pitcher? Well, I guess your digestive tract hasn’t started rejecting draft beers like everyone else’s yet. The time will come, though, and you’ll hate yourself when it does. Two words: baby wipes.
Bottles? You’re not afraid to order something local. Being cast as the smug hipster beer try-hard doesn’t even affect you anymore. Hell, you probably embrace it at this point. You even like the occasional conversation with a bartender about the history of the beer and how “chill” the dudes who brewed it in their garage are. Keep doing you..
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