I come here often and the bartender TJ greets me with a handshake each time and addresses me by name and asks which of two beers I’ll be having tonight. I tell him, he pours it, and occasionally on the receipt I’ll see he’s applied a discount I don’t deserve.

            Very friendly.

            We’ve chatted about a couple things but always at my prompting and I like it this way because he seems to appreciate that I’m here to write or read and wanna be left mostly alone and that I’d just like to dip into conversation, same as you might dip into a bowl of pretzels: occasionally, and only insofar as it complements the mood and moment.Luck of the Irish, by Michael Flohr