The science of remembering

She does it every Wednesday night. By about midnight, my hockey buddies and I have put in a recreational hour-and-a-half scrimmage at the arena, showered, changed and landed at our favourite watering hole, Jersey’s in Uxbridge, Ont. Most of us have put in very average performances on the ice. Others claim they produced stellar goals or stand-on-their-head saves. But at the bar, thanks to our server, Tracey Surette, everybody gets the star treatment. Before any one of my teammates is three or four steps inside the front door, she’s got his favourite brand already in hand, the lid popped and the liquid poured.

“How’re you doing,” she always says with a smile. “Nice to see you.”

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