NEEDLING

A young woman comes into the store. She comes in every once in a while. She usually comes by alone. This time she’s accompanied by some beefy boyfriend.

“That whisky you suggested the other day, that was for him,” and she points to the beefy young man.

The other day, she came in and wanted a nice present for somebody who likes Scotch whiskies but doesn’t know much about them. She knows nothing about whisky at all, and cannot drink them. Even though I prefer the Islay’s, I suggested a highly rated Speyside from the Cragganmore distillery which is relatively affordable and a great drink.

“They loved it so much, the bottle was gone in less than three days.”
“Really,” I say, “when me and my buddies get to it, a bottle rarely survives one evening.”
“But wasn’t it the bottle you gave your dad for Christmas?”
“It sure was, and he loved it, and so do I. What about you?”
“Oh, I couldn’t drink it. That stuff is too strong for me.”
“Add a little mineral water, and it’ll go down beautifully.”
“I tried... couldn’t do that either.”
“What you need is a little white wine.”

She was looking at me with big eyes, while the boyfriend just looked beefy. This was yesterday and we were doing a wine tasting.

“How about a little chardonnay from the Willamette valley?”
“Okay...”

So I pour the girl and the boy each a glass of wine.

“You’ll love it. It never touches oak. It’s fermented and raised in steel. No wood anywhere, which is rare for a domestic chard. Which is one of the reasons I like the stuff.”

They drink.

“What do you think?”
“I-I don’t know nothing about wine,” says the boy.
“I like it,” says the girl.

They don’t buy a bottle. That’s okay, I’ll get her to buy one next time she comes by.

(No... there’s no punch line, though I agree with you, there should be. This is merely a few minutes in the working life of Francois, so you can see how boring my days can be, though they can last, as Saturday did, from 9h25 till 20h35 not counting to and fro driving time.)

She got mad at me a couple months ago when she came in with her underage sister, and I asked the young girl to wait outside.

“But so-and-so and such-and-such store always lets me in the store with my sister.”
“I’m sorry, please don’t take this personally, if you’re not her legal guardian, she can’t be in the store with you, it’s not personal, it’s not my decision, it’s not me who made up that law. But if I don’t make sure this law is abided to by my customers, and there’s a T.A.B.C. agent out there who decides to do something about it, then I'm the one who gets to go to jail, loose my job, pay an outrageous fine, and never get to work in the alcohol serving industry again... at least not in Texas.”

She walked out in a huff without buying anything, cursing me under her breath.

"Write a letter to your senator," I suggested as she walked out the door.

It took her several weeks to start coming into the store again, but she did, they always do, and she’s been all smiles since, never mentioning or making any reference to the incident at all. She listens to my advice, buys what I tell her to, within reason, and says please and thank you. Also, she's cute. If only they could all be like her.

Was thinking about this for some reason, after getting out of my bath. Was taking a long salt bath while listening to A Prairie Home Companion. Eventually I fell asleep, and woke up to some Cuban music. The water was lukewarm, Brutus was asleep next to the bath tub on the floor, the bottle of Argyle – the wine we did a tasting of yesterday – was half gone, and I needed a big glass of ice water. So I decided to take a cold to warm shower to wash the salt off, shampoo my hair, and get this Sunday afternoon going once and for all. Two hours in a bath tub is long enough for anybody by any standards.