Around 1978 or so, I got a job as a barback at the Escapade, a somewhat low rent bar/lounge in Memphis. I managed to show up often enough that the bartenders offered to train me, and handed me a Mr. Boston’s Official Bartender’s Guide and the guidance of “learn all of it”. I did not learn all of it, but I learned enough to serve customers as their drink orders were fairly simple, and they were usually so hammered, they didn’t know the difference between a Zombie, Hurricane, Mai Tai, or Singapore Sling. They just knew it had a reddish color.