Those clowns who think they can flirt their way into another shot in their drink, free of charge, of course. Just no.
And on the topic of flirting, that boozed up buffoon who truly believes leching over the bar staff will improve their chances of getting something on the house has another think coming.
Not an invite
I understand that you love me more than vodka after listening to the appalling atrocities happening in your godforsaken life but the suspicious puddle next to you isn’t making you look too appealing to be honest.
Thanks for the drink but no, I’m not single. No, you can’t have my number. What am I doing after my shift? Going to bed. Oh and no, that isn’t an invite.