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I feel very sorry for everyone who said they were too busy going to karate to come out with us last night, because we met the best bartender in the world last night. Oh, wait, sorry Dave. I meant the second best bartender. (You can meet the best bartender right here) But our guy was pretty freaking awesome.

Picture a group of workmates quietly (read: noisily) enjoying our first drink of Friday night, when suddenly the world’s best bartender approaches us with a very serious look on his face.

Bartender: Sorry, guys … I have some bad news. Unfortunately – I need to buy this table from you for a function.

Us: (silence)

Bartender: I’m happy to negotiate a good price. I’m offering eight cents.

Us: Eight cents?

Bartender: It’s a start. That’s how negotiations work. I make an offer, you make an offer and we try to come to something in between. I’m starting with eight cents.

Us: Oh … uh … eight cents is no good. How about twenty-five cents? No, no wait! Eight dollars.

Bartender: I think you guys don’t know how to negotiate. How about, I find you a new table, get you a round of drinks, and I get to keep this table? On a related note, how do you feel about Eurovision?

Fortunately, he did not put us at a table in the Eurovision room, and to be honest we’d have been perfectly happy with that. Because, after all, it’s his bar. He probably already paid for that table when it was first delivered, so it seems crazy that we should be selling it back to him just because we sat there for, like, fifteen minutes. Although this does give me an idea for a rather lucrative business venture. I’m pretty certain that my father – who once suggested stealing a Qantas plane and then selling it back to them for a very good price, considering it’s already got your logo on it – that guy would be very proud if I made millions of dollars selling conveniently located used bar furniture back to their original owners. Why stop at bars? I could try it at restaurants, too. “Before I pay the bill, could you kindly pay this bill to utilise my table-vacating service?”

Anyhow, then the world’s best bartender brought us a free round of drinks:

I bags NOT paying for the next round

And then we vowed to make the World’s Best Bar our new business centre and function room. Work lunches, brainstorming sessions, team meetings – it’s all moving to the Pyrmont Point Hotel from now on.

But there was more. Apparently our table was very valuable, because then we received this:

Antipasti is always my favourite side when I’m drinking my Moet

And as if the champagne and nibbles weren’t enough payment for a second-hand table that we never even bonded with, at the end of the night our bartender sent out a round of free desserts as well. Thoughtsy will be disappointed that I didn’t photograph them (or proud? – because we ate them first?) but I assure you they were worth every cent. Our bartender should be knighted.

On a side note, my favourite stories of the night:

The one from the girl who said she worked in a bar for three weeks when she was eighteen, then got fired for faking a sprained ankle so she could stay home and watch The Biggest Loser.

The Canadian’s story about having to buy a bag of candles so he could read after dark, because apparently the uncle he’s staying with has an aversion to switching on lights at night.

Man, I love Fridays.