Wine Shop Employee: Friend or Foe?
“Hi, I’m looking for a bottle of red”. A seemingly innocent statement. A sentence that can do no wrong. A simple phrase that clearly states my intention. Little do I know that I’ve just committed the equivalent of blasphemy, treason, and quite possibly murder in the eyes of the wine shop employee named Gerard wearing McLovin’s brown vest standing in front of me.
The number of follow up questions going through Gerard’s head is staggering, but the one he has to hold back from blurting out is always “are you fucking kidding me?”. I wait, hoping that my man G-to-the-Rard moonlights as some kind of wine psychic, hands me a bottle, and assures me that’s exactly what I’m looking for. That I’m about to knock the socks off of everyone at this pseudo-adult dinner party I’m heading to. That the media will pick up this story and I will finally become the more famous Bill Murray because of a glass bottle containing half spoiled grapes. But it doesn’t go down like that. You know it. I know it. Most of all, Gerard knows it.
“Well, do you like a fruity or earthy taste?”. “Do you like dry wines?”. “Have you ever tried Pinot Noir?”. “Why in God’s name are you even here you dumb, stupid, stupid, stupid idiot?”.
Embarrassed and afraid to look Gerard in the eyes due to my complete ineptitude, I respond with a decreasingly audible “I don’t know” to each of his questions, especially the last one. But damn it, I came here to buy wine and I’m not leaving without it! I’ve already been the guy that brought Bud Light to a wine friendly dinner and, trust me, it’s not a good look.
It’s time to flip the script. I’ll be asking the questions now, Gerard! So you better buckle up because this one is a doozy. I’ve always been told that fortune favors the bold. Or the brave. Or whatever b-word finishes that proverb. I lift my previously hung head, stand up straight, broaden my shoulders, and ask the earth shattering question of, “Umm, what do you like?”. That’s become the go-to question after the whole Franzia fiasco. Long story. Just don’t ever ask about Franzia. Ever.
Why do all the work when you have other people that will do it for you? Isn’t that the American way? Isn’t that what we have China for? Now there are just a few specific things I need from my assumed sommelier and we’re in business:
1- Several Options. Don’t just walk me over to a bottle and say it’s your favorite. I need to feel that, at the very least, I put some sort of effort into this choice. It also feels strangely good to go against their favorite despite being wholly uneducated about this stuff. Like, I have no idea what I’m looking at, but I do know that the wine I’m picking sounds way better than that piece of garbage you claim to be your favorite. I hear they make that wine in prison toilets! Burn! Take that, smug wine shop person. Plus, it always seems the favorite wine correlates pretty well with being in the top 10% price wise at the shop. Just give me a middle of the road price so I can spend my money on real alcohol like Natty Light and whipped cream flavored vodka.
2- Different Countries of Origin. If you’re going to give me several options of wine, I’m going to need at least 2 different countries of origin. I mean, I’m almost always going to pick the one from Italy since, in my mind, I’m 97% sure that’s the only place where wine is actually produced and you’re just fucking with me by claiming this wine came from Slovenia. Geography has never been my strength, but is that even a country? Isn’t Slovenia just a city in Czechoslovakia? I thought that was Trump’s wife’s name? I was born in the morning, but it wasn’t this morning. Nice try, Gerard, but I ain’t falling for it. But seriously, I’ll just take the Italian grapes.
3- At Least Two Fun Facts About the Wine I Choose. This is BY FAR the most important part of the wine purchasing process. There is absolutely no chance I’m buying a bottle that doesn’t come along with some info I can later pass along to my friends so it seems like I’m one cultured son of a bitch. It can be anything that won’t be debunked by a Google search. Lie to me if that’s what makes you chuckle on the inside. For instance, 2014 was a great year for that region after a change in local grape farming laws due to a successful campaign by the locals against the big international corporation that came into town in 2010. Use any sentence that involves the words organic or sustainable. Tell me Nicolas Cage is a silent partner in the vineyard. For all I know, these grapes are hand picked by uprooted Malaysian monks that fled their homeland in the 12th century due to religious persecution under a tyrannical regime. Give me ANYTHING. I mean, what’s the point of buying wine if you can’t act like kind of an informed douche about it?
Once all these boxes are checked, I can become the proud owner of a lovely “bottle of red”. Mission accomplished. Well, at least until I ruin it by breaking a bunch of cork into the bottle while trying to open it. Don’t even get me started on the black magic needed to successfully remove those things.
Don’t get me wrong, wine is a great product. People automatically think you’re smarter, it’s a happy drunk, and chicks love it (obligatory chick reference). Maybe one day I’ll take the plunge and actually learn about this stuff, but today is not that day. Neither is tomorrow. Besides, messing with the Gerard’s of the world is way too much fun.