We had just sat down in the comfortable chairs when the cheery bartender came over to take our orders. She looked at two of us and said, "Oh, I know what you want, I remember you." I looked a little sheepish. (In full disclosure she had done this to me the last time I visited.) She continued, "You would like the oaky Chardonnay. You're with Wells, aren't you?" "Close. You've got the important part right. I definitely like the oaky Chardonnay, but I cannot claim Wells."
The two co-workers (I had just met for the first time earlier that day) just looked at me as if I were some kind of lush. Before I could could say something witty in my defense, my co-worker who had been remembered for her penchant for Mojitos said, "Oh, she's that good. I've never figured out how she remembers what everyone drinks."
As our younger co-workers placed their orders, suddenly I could see in their eyes I had perhaps risen a notch above the middle age woman they had seen earlier by just having a bartender remember what I drink. Hey, it's not much, but I'll take what I can get.