I'm a bartender - and these are the drinks that we secretly judge you for ordering

With a few exceptions, such as when the cocktail is super spirit-forward, house cocktails are always made with the bottom shelf — or "well" — spirits. Because why waste a perfectly good top-shelf spirit?

If I gave you a blind tasting of two filthy martinis, one with Grey Goose, one with the well vodka, I highly doubt you would be able to tell which was which. At least not in a meaningful way.

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Some bartenders go so far as to judge any and all dirty martini orders — especially when a blue-cheese-stuffed olive is requested.

Personally, I'm unbothered. That is, until, you besmirch a perfectly good top-shelf gin or vodka that can stand on its own.

The same principle applies with any mixed drink. Even if it's a more refined cocktail, like an Old Fashioned.

I'll do it. But it will hurt me inside to add even a dash of bitters and a bar spoon of sweetener to the $25 Nikka Coffey Whiskey Old Fashioned you just ordered.

Don't be square. Live a little. Just because you're wearing watching bachelor or bachelorette tees doesn't mean your drink orders have to correspond too.

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Please. Unless it's a Vesper — calm down, James Bond.

Hint: There's a reason martinis are stirred. And it has nothing to do with how manly you are, and everything to do with the type of ingredients involved.

Our decision to stir instead of shake is pretty cemented, and it's based on how the ingredients dilute, interact, and ultimately appear in the glass.

Assess your environment. Look around.

Say, for example, there aren't peanut shells on the floor, the lighting is decent, and your bartender is wearing a tie, vest, or blouse: Don't order a Long Island Iced Tea. Or a Blue Motorcycle, an Irish Trash Can, or a Slippery Nipple.

These are cocktails designed basically to get you as drunk as possible as quickly as possible. And they taste … unremarkable.

Let a bartender at a refined joint get you drunk in at least a memorably tasty way.

But by all means, when you find yourself at a dive, go ahead and revel in the blasphemy of combining multiple spirits in one glass.

Don't ask the bartender what smoked salts the bar has available for a bespoke margarita when you're at a dive bar.

On second thought, never ask us about our smoked salts (yes, people actually request this). It's an inquiry that somehow manages to make you sound both silly and pretentious.

You're drinking cane-based booze. You might as well pile it on.

It's a joke amongst our crowd that the under-21 crowd orders in "fingers" to try to seem more sophisticated, and less underage.

That's when customers use the width of their fingers to indicate how much liquor they want.

Basically, if you order your drink like this, I will ask to see your ID. Seriously.

When people try to mask their more basic, but desired, drink choice with substitutions, it's their insecurity that I judge, not their desire to have a vodka soda.

So please. Just ask for a vodka soda. Don't ask for a gimlet, sub-gin-for-vodka, sub-lime-and-sweetener-for-soda.

Whiskey sour. Amaretto sour. Ramos gin fizz. These are the drinks it is appropriate to request egg white with, if it's not already assumed.

A gin and tonic is not.

Bartenders hate this. Don't do it. Be decisive.

Or at least be decisive when I ask a follow-up question.

"Refreshing or spirit-forward?" "Up or on the rocks?" "Bitter or smoky?"

When people insist on sticking with the "whatever you want" script when pressed to answer questions to find a perfect drink, you're hurting me when you should be helping me help you.

Also, here's a trade secret from me to you: We have a favorite drink to make. It's called a neat pour of anything.

Part of our job is to know what's well marketed versus what's good.

So I'll always throw side-eye to someone who dismisses a suggested spirit that would have probably both saved them money, and enhanced their drink.

I say this as a person who does this occasionally. But only on three-dollar wine night. And with a healthy dose of shame.

It never fails to amuse me when this happens. And for some reason, this slip of the tongue only happens with Tito's.

Some people have weird neuroses about drink garnishes, while others treat the bartender like a Subway sandwich artist at the garnish station.

I fondly recall when a guest asked for "a single blueberry" in his drink, which for some reason, we had on hand.

Another common eye-roll is asking for multiple Luxardo cherries. Fun fact: Those babies cost $0.33 a pop.

Don't do this. Don't make me explain the vast taste difference between scotch and vodka and why that substitution won't fly.

Then again, it's fine. You do you. Live your best life. Order whatever you want.

Just know, we are judging you.