A man walked into a bar and ordered a twelve-year-old scotch. Believing that the customer would not be able to tell the difference, the bartender poured him a shot of cheap three-year-old house scotch.
The man took a sip before spitting it out on the bar. “I’m not drinking this!” he complained. “This is cheap three-year-old scotch. Now give me the good twelve-year-old scotch that I asked for!”
Still looking to cut corners, the bartender poured him a shot of a moderate six-year-old scotch.
The man took a sip before once again spitting it out on the bar. “This is just a six-year-old scotch,” he moaned. “I’m not paying for this! Now will you give me the twelve-year-old scotch I ordered?”
The bartender finally relented, and served the man his best quality twelve-year-old scotch.
The entire episode had been witnessed by an old drunk at the other end of the bar. He now walked up to the selective scotch drinker, put a glass down in front of him and asked: “What do you think of this?”
The scotch expert took a sip of the golden liquid and spat it out violently on the bar. “That’s disgusting!” he said. “It tastes like piss!”
“It is,” replied the old drunk. “Now tell me how old I am.”