It's Not as Glamorous as You Think - Part 2

For quite a few years, I wore my own clothes to work.  At my first wine job, I learned the hard way not to ever wear anything I loved to work.  The showroom was built by hand and it was rather rustic.  By rustic, I mean that there were nails sticking out everywhere.  I ripped so many of my favorite skirts and blouses there that I wanted to sue for damages.

Then of course, there is the fact that I work with wine.  Red wine in particular is hard to get out of clothes when you spill it, splash it or worse, dribble on yourself when spitting.  Yeah, gross, is right.  You haven't experienced gross until you have spit into a spit bucket and it splashes back into your face - a real novice move.  My first week at my second job, I spilled an entire bottle of wine during a tasting onto my white shirt and pants.  Wine away can only do so much.

In my second wine job, I started wearing my own clothes until the uniform came along.  I tore a lot of pants from bending down to pick up bottles and cases as well as ripping them on whatever they would catch on.  Then the uniform came around.  My summer shirt was like a Hooters shirt.  When I lifted my arms to catch a box from overhead, it became a belly shirt.  Crates caught on them and created pulls.  Very attractive.  

My winter shirts are ripped, stained and just old.  That's what happens when they only replace your shirts once every never years.  

Pants are another story.  I'm a girl.  My thighs rub together,  This creates friction and eventually wears down the pants where they rub creating worn fabric and eventually holes.  If I don't pay attention when this happens, it could be a very embarrassing work situation, especially if I bend down and tear them more.

Oh and when you see me, the chances that I'm wearing a dirty, unwashed shirt is a high percentage.  I only get a handful of shirts and only wash one day a week.  Just tell me when I offend you.

My job is uber-glamorous!

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It's Not as Glamorous as you Think

I used to be a real girly girl.  I always had long nails and a perfect manicure, but when I started a career in wine, that all changed.  

I haven't had a nice manicure, nice hands and nails in almost 7 years.  Opening boxes, crates and doing a lot of lifting really put an end to all of that.  Sure, I could still go out and get a nice manicure, but after 10 minutes at work, my nail polish would be chipped and my nails chipped or broken wasting whatever time and cost that went into that manicure in the first place.

Then there are the cuts, scrapes and bruises.  Sometimes, I look like a cutter.  My wrists and inner forearms are constantly cut and scraped from carrying large, wood Bordeaux crates.  Cardboard boxes are notorious for paper cuts on the hands.  Two days in a row last week, I put nails from a wood crate through my palm and my thumb.  

Climbing ladders all day long leads to bruised legs or what I call mystery bruises.  I don't remember getting them, but they are there.  

Then there are the visible injuries.  Over the holidays, a colleague handed a box down to me from a higher shelf and it was upside down.  I didn't know it, so I didn't adjust my hands accordingly and the box slammed into my face giving me some swelling and a large welt that thankfully went away after 20 minutes.  Climbing ladders I have hit my head several times on a shelf, ceiling and a box on a top shelf.

Then there are the glass cuts.  Cleaning up a broken bottle with your bare hands can yes, lead to some glass lodged in the hands.  Almost had some in my eye once when a bottle exploded in my hand.

Then there are the non-visible injuries.  Want a career in wine?  You, too and look forward to aching backs, aching feet from standing long hours, injured shoulders from lifting, stubbed toes and bruised shins from carts and even a strained neck or pulled hamstrings.

Yes, a wine job is truly glamorous!

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How Vodka Turns Into Water

So, yes, I handle wine, but as a manager of a large store with beer and liquor, I occasionally have to work with operational issues.  

This weird old guy came in and wanted to exchange a liter of vodka because the seal was broke.  I mean, weird.  He had super skin-tight pants, really unkept, long, straggly hair and around 70 years old.  

I looked at the bottle, asked the guy his name, his receipt, his shopper's card, etc.  He had no receipt and no shopper's card.  I played it off.  I wondered why he would pay full price for this item when it's always on sale.  So, stupid me.  I exchanged his bottle and sent him on his way.  We usually take just about anything back.  I didn't think the bottle was un-sale-able so I put it back on the shelf.  As I started to walk away, I thought to myself, maybe he did something to it.  I went back, grabbed the bottle and opened it up.  Sure enough, this was not vodka, but 95% water.  Old guy got one over on me.  I handed a bottle to him to steal directly from me!  

My boss said he didn't know whether he wanted to punch him or shake his hand.

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What an Odd Question

"Are Italian wines famous?"

This is a question I was asked.  What does he mean by that?  Famous how?  Is it one of the top 5 most consumed wine countries?  Yes.  Is it the top-2 countries in my store people are buying?  Yes.  I could understand if he asked me which is the most popular Italian red wine, but he asked if all Italian wines are famous.  I guess, the answer is.....yes!

Short blog, but I liked the cool cat.

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Can I See Your ID?

I hate this question.  It usually starts some kind of confrontation.  It's a liquor store.  When I was a kid, kids were not allowed to touch the liquor in the store.  You have to be 21 to purchase alcohol.  In my store, not only do you have to be 21, but the people you came into the store with have to be 21 unless you're with your parent. 

One time, some kids came into one of our other stores.  One showed ID and purchased.  They all left together.  Then they drank - all of them - in the car - outside the store.  Except, someone wasn't 21 and the police showed up.  Held my company accountable and had to pay a fine.  So, we have a policy in place.  

Everyone has to be of age unless it's a kid with a parent.  No exceptions.  Most people don't mind showing their ID, but some take offensive.  They call us names, call us racist and that's after they get declined a sale.

So, during prime times, we have someone at the door checking ID's.  It's really meant to make sure we can still get the sale.

So, 4 people come into the store.  The checker asks everyone for ID.  Only 1 person has ID.  He tells the 3 people that they have to leave and the 1 person can still come in and buy.  They get alcohol, we get the sale, it's a win win.  Until the system goes awry or a customer gets loud.  

3 people walk into the store.  They are asked for ID.  One leaves to go retrieve her ID.  The other 2 get loud and blast past our guy calling everyone names.  We watch to make sure they are not stealing and when they get to the register and are all asked for ID and one doesn't have it the sale is declined.  In this instance, I thought some theft would happen because when someone doesn't want you to know who they are, there has to be a reason.  But, if the girl without ID had just listened and left when given the opportunity, the sale could have happened.

The more perplexing customers are the ones who have ID, show their ID, and start complaining about our policy.  You got your alcohol, right?  So, zip it.  Then there are the guys who claim to be police officers, corrections, state police and their companion has no ID.  So, if you're law enforcement, you're the one person who could appreciate our policy!  They beat their chests and leave, usually without alcohol.

The language barrier ID checks are funny.  We used to say that all members of your party must have ID.  A person who did not fully understand the English language would respond back by saying "they are not going to the party."  So, we stopped using that word.

My favorite refusal of all time was years ago.  We had this nice, quiet cashier.  When someone did not have ID and they complained, he would point at the wall and verbatim read the sign.  "Stop.  All members of your group must have ID.  Any members...."  When he would get interrupted, he would start all over again.  "Stop, all members of your group..."  I've seen him restart this policy 4 times and never finish.  

So, one night, he was my cashier and this kid came in with an even younger kid.  The younger kid did not have ID and I was the lucky person on duty.  The cashier started his speech by reading the wall.  He ended up calling me over.  Cashier's call us when people won't leave, ask to see a manager or get loud.  This kid was about to cry.  He said it was for his boss.  I explained the policy that his friend needed ID.  He kept saying "please, please, please."  It wasn't him that made this my favorite refusal.  It was the cashier.  You know when you start laughing and try to hide it?  That's what happened here.  I kept repeating, "sorry, sorry."  The customer kept saying, "please, please."  I said, "sorry, sorry."  And my cashier is laughing as quietly as he can, but his shoulders are moving up and down trying to hide his fit of laughter.  I miss that cashier.

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Heard at the Tasting Table

 My colleague was leading the tasting for the public at the tasting table not too long ago and was pouring 4 wines.  A customer approached and began the tasting.  My colleague explained the wines to him.  

"We have a Pinot Grigio from Italy, a Pinot Noir from California, a red blend from South Africa and a Cabernet from Argentina."

The customer tasted through the wines.  I had my back to him while I was on the computer.  The customer was enjoying the wines and engaging my colleague in some banter when he said,

"So, what is the Pinot Noir made of?"

I'm glad my back was to him because I did that thing where my eyes start to roll around the back of my head and I can't hide my disgust for this idiot.  I mumbled "It's made of Pinot Noir" to prompt my speechless colleague to answer his question.  My colleague repeated after me, "It's made from the Pinot Noir grape."

The customer replied with a "huh."

There you have it folks.

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Bear Claw

Customer called and asked me if I had Bear Claw wine.

Me: "I have Barefoot wine."  Thinking she must be mistaken.

Customer: "No thank you."  Click.

It was the holidays.  It was busy so I just decided to Google it when I wrote this.  It does exist.  It's from Grey Bear Wineries in Missouri.  We can't get Missouri wines in NJ or many other states wines here thanks to governments bickering over taxes staying in their states.  

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Boo!

I was talking to a really nice couple when out of the blue, this guy comes up behind me and yells in my ear "Where is the Italian wine!!!!!"

He scared the shit out of me and the couple I was talking to.  It wasn't even Halloween or April Fool's Day!

You've done this before, I'm sure, to your brother or little sister when you were in grade school.  You lean in really close to tell a secret, but instead of whispering, you yell in their ear.  Same thing here, but I didn't even see him coming.  My other customers were more than weirded out by him and tried to get away as fast as possible.

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House of Glass

When you work in a house of glass, bottles tend to break often and every day.  It's common for bottles to fall out of the back of the cart (that area where kids are supposed to sit,), people drop bottles, bump into displays and bottles fall over, bottles fall out of the bottom of bad boxes, and lots of other bad things from dropping palates with the forklift or having a mis-hap in the high-end case.

Yeah, that was me.  A bottle of Dom Perignon was not sitting right on the shelf.  It jumped to its death, taking a very expensive bottle of white Burgundy in the $300 range with it.  Short of crying, there is not much to do, but clean it up. 

Customers always think they have to pay for breaking things.  This is not a rare art gallery.  Our distributors give us credit for damaged goods so no loss to the customer or us, except on that expensive bottle.  No one is replacing that.

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Spelling Over The Phone

I've highlighted before how people love to spell to me over the phone, but I had a reverse situation recently and I almost hung up on the customer.

A woman called to ask me to look up a wine she bought before.  I looked up her account and saw that she purchased a red German wine and the grape is called Dornfelder.  It's quite popular and cheap.  It's a semi-sweet red wine around 9% alcohol.  Now, Dornfelder is spelled like it sounds.  The winery name is much more difficult to spell, but that's not the word she got confused by.

Woman on phone: "How do you spell it?"
Me: "Dornfelder.  D-O-R-N...

Woman on phone: "D..."

Me: "D-O-R..."

Woman on phone: "D-O..."

 Me: "D-O-R-N..."

Woman on phone: "D what..."

Me: "D-O-R..."

Woman on phone: "D-O..."

Me: "D as in dog, O as in Omega..."

You get it.  This went on for about 6 minutes and I almost pulled all my hair out.  

I hate Dornfelder.

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Guess My Wine

I'm pretty good about guessing what wine people are talking about, but when I don't, I have tools to use.

Customer: "I'm looking for Don something.  The word is horizontal on the bottle from the bottom to the cork."

Me: "That doesn't sound familiar.  Did you buy it here?"

Customer: "Yes."

Me: "Let me look up your account."

Customer: "I didn't buy it.  My friend did.  It's Don something with a red label."

Me: "What's your friend's name?  I'll look up her account."

Customer is now pissed off at me because I can't read her mind and curtly says "never mind."

I apologize and go about my business.  About 10 minutes later I see her at the register and curiously, I go up to her and ask her if she found what she was looking for.

Customer: "Yes."

Me: "I'm curious.  What was it?"

Customer:  More pissed off at me.  "Doesn't matter."  And leaves.

Well now, I'm more perplexed.  A) I didn't do anything wrong here and B) What the heck did she buy?"

I asked the cashier to print out another receipt.  DORNFELDER. I hate Dornfelder.  You can see how the word Dornfelder is horizontal on the bottle from the bottom to the top, right?

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Frenching It Up

I love when people try to make a word and sound French.  Target becomes Tar-jay!  

A customer came in and asked me for Boo-glay.  He almost had me until hew started to spell it.  B-O-G-L-E.  I told him it's from California, no need to French it up.  He laughed.  Apparently that's what his wife called it.  I'm sure she shops at Tar-Jay, too.

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No Smell Wine

There are not many people who can make me speechless, baffled even, but this guy wins the award.

Customer: "I want a wine with no smell."

Me: "What?"

Customer: "I don't like my wines to have a smell."

This guy is kidding, right.  

Me: "Sir, wine like food is meant to have an aroma.  We taste through our sense of smell."

Customer: "I don't want my wine to smell."

Me: Clearly baffled, repeating myself until finally I said "I can't help you, sir."

Clearly, he doesn't want wine.  He should hold his nose if he doesn't want any aroma from his wine.  A wine's aromas is called bouquet for a reason!  Because it smells!  

My colleague told me I should have given him a Pinotage.  If you don't know that smell, it's one of the most pungent, tobacco laden, tar filled aroma bombs there is.  That would teach him.

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Oops, I Hung Up

The holidays are crazy busy at the wine store.  It never fails though that people call and want to shop over the phone.  They want recommendations over the phone.  I usually try to ask them to just come in so we can help them then.  During this phone conversation, I could be helping 10 other people.

Customer: "I want a Napa or Sonoma Caberent Sauvignon for under $10."

Me: "Why don't you come in and we'll be happy to assist you in the store."

Customer: "No, I'm sending my husband and I want the wine to be ready for him."

Me: Sigh. We do not have any geographic specific for under $10 so I try to sell her other things. 

"We have Carnivore."

Customer: "I don't like the name."

Me: "We have Avalon."

Customer: "No."

Me: "We have Hayes Ranch."

Customer: "What else do you have?"

Me: "Can you hold please?"

Customer: "Sure."

I assist other people and 10 minutes later I see that the call is still on hold.  The store is rockin' with customers and I accidentally, oops, lost the call.  Darn.

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Last Call

Closing time at the wine store is very ritulalistic.  There are a lot of things that need to get done before we lock the doors.  This includes getting customers rung and out the door BEFORE closing time.  It's actually illegal to use the register after a specific time and if do use it, and get audited, say good-bye to the license.  So we give people plenty of warning.  When it's really crowded, there may be as many as 5 closing announcements, but on most days, it's 2-3 announcements including a 10 and a 5 minute get-out warning.  Just because you are in the store, doesn't mean you have all the time in the world.  This is not Wal-mart.

Once the doors are locked, that's it.  People try to bum rush the exit door.  We usually refuse them when they get to the register just for being an asshole.  Then there are the beggars outside who are watching us herd the final few out.

"I know what I want."

"I have exact change"

"I just need a 6-pack."

"My watch has 2 minutes left."

"Don't be a bitch."

Yeah, flattery will get you nowhere, honey.  We're open for 13 hours a day Mon-Sat and 10 hours on Sunday.  Get here on time or go to the bar.

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A Tale to Break Your Heart

I'm usually really snarky on this blog, but I'm going to switch gears and tell you a story about something that happened that broke my heart.

I have a regular customer who loves good white wine in the $70-100 range.  Her husband loves good red wine in the same range.  She's quite a handful, always telling me her tales of woe, but this last visit was more that I could handle.  

You see her husband is really sick.  Dying.  Just a matter of months now.  I only met him once, but he's the type of customer I deal with regularly who likes good wine and will take all my recommendations.  She told me that this was it.  This was his last New Year's and I was helping her plan it.  Quite a big responsibility.

She asked me for Tignanello.  I was out of it and upset that I didn't have any to give her.  It was all he asked her for.  So, I gave her some other great Italian reds of that caliber and gave her some Chassagne-Montrachet's and Puligny-Montrachet's.  I know he liked my recommendations and only hope he enjoyed them.  

I held it together while I helped her shop, but when she left I had to excuse myself.  I don't know how she was holding it together, because I couldn't.  That night, I told my husband about my experience and I let the waterworks really fly.  Some people suck to deal with, but I know that day, I helped her and helped him get through one more day drinking some great wine.

I tried to think of a great ending for this, but this is reality.  A woman will be losing her husband and all he has to get him through the rest of his days is some Johnnie Walker Blue and some great Italian reds along with the love his wife is giving him.You don't know his name, but keep his family in your prayers for a painless journey from this world

Uncle Chico

Customer: "Do you have Uncle Chico"

Me: "Uncle Chico?'

Customer: "It's Italian.  It's usually in this area."

Me: "Do you mean Grandpa Cha Cha?"

Customer: "Yeah, that's it."

Me:  Head shake.  Unbelievable.

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Que Syrah, Shiraz

Shiraz and Syrah.  They sound different, but they are the same grape even though they are stylistically different.  Old world countries like France call it Syrah and new world countries like Australia call it Shiraz.  They are one in the same, but it always causes such confusion for the mass public. This is not to be confused with Petite Sirah, which is a different grape altogether. 

A woman came into the store and asked me where my Syrah was.  I asked her if she cared what country it came from.  She told me "I don't want Shiraz.  I want Syrah.  I know they are similar, but it has to be Syrah.  I was specifically asked to bring Syrah, not Shiraz."

So, now I go into my spiel about how they are the same, but she doesn't care and wants Syrah.  So, she gets Syrah.  A $25 one that I recommend.

Ironically, this woman is married to one of my high end customers and she actually is the decision maker on the wines.  I e-mail him, he forwards it to her, she responds back to him and then he orders the wine from me. 

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You Have Questions? I Have Answers.

Questions are always answered, just not to your full satisfaction I'm sure.  Sometimes, your question is not really a question at all.

Customer: "Can I ask you a question?"

Me: "Sure."

Customer: "Sake."

Long, dramatic pause.

Me: "So, do you have a question?"

See, sake is just a word.  Not a question.

Each of this guy's questions were answered, but I'm supposed to be a mind reader.

Customer: "Can I ask you a question?"

Me: "Sure."

Customer: "Do you have Opus One?"

Me: "Yes I do."

Now usually the next question is "How much is it?"  But, not this guy.  He got annoyed with me.  Have I not answered your questions so far?

Customer: "So, where is it??"  His eyes bugged out a little.

Another satisfied customer and another $180 for my wine shop.

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