(no subject)
Although I was hired as cheese counter help, I usually only work there once a week. It's pretty different from being in deli. Cheese customers can be snobby and humorless; when I laugh off my inexperience at the cheese counter, they don't take too kindly to it. This is because cheese customers are insecure about what they're buying--they don't actually know anything about cheese, but are worried that the other snobs that they're inviting to their cocktail/dinner/reception will judge them. Harshly. They need me to convince them that, as an expert, I'm steering them towards the cheese that will win friends and influence people, so they don't have to.
So, when I know I'm going to be working cheese, I start by dressing up a little--I wear my nicest white shirt under my jacket, I put on a little makeup, I stand up straight. I need all the credibility I can get, if I'm to avoid the customer's suspicion and/or wrath, and looking sharp helps. Talking sharp helps, too, and that means ditching the "what can I get you" in favor of "how may I help you," and avoiding my usual young-person turns of phrase (because no one is less credible than a Youth of Today). Instead of "Dude, the Red Leicester fucking kicks ass," I go with "Red Leicester is one of my favorites, it has a very full flavor," and the Saint Andre is "a perfect triple-crème for a wine and cheese reception" rather than "A++ would serve again with crusty bread and a light, fruity rosé."
With these tactics and enough confidence in your voice, you can recommend just about anything to just about anybody, because the secret of the cheese counter is this: all our cheese is good. All of it. But, there is a lot of it, and a lot of mystery built up around the intricacies of picking cheese. People just need to be told they're making a good choice by someone authoritative, so if someone at the party does criticize the cheeses, they can blame it all on the cheese girl.
Acting like an expert, boosting snobby egos, and being a scapegoat (scape-chèvre?): it's all in a day's work, down at the cheese kiosk.
So, when I know I'm going to be working cheese, I start by dressing up a little--I wear my nicest white shirt under my jacket, I put on a little makeup, I stand up straight. I need all the credibility I can get, if I'm to avoid the customer's suspicion and/or wrath, and looking sharp helps. Talking sharp helps, too, and that means ditching the "what can I get you" in favor of "how may I help you," and avoiding my usual young-person turns of phrase (because no one is less credible than a Youth of Today). Instead of "Dude, the Red Leicester fucking kicks ass," I go with "Red Leicester is one of my favorites, it has a very full flavor," and the Saint Andre is "a perfect triple-crème for a wine and cheese reception" rather than "A++ would serve again with crusty bread and a light, fruity rosé."
With these tactics and enough confidence in your voice, you can recommend just about anything to just about anybody, because the secret of the cheese counter is this: all our cheese is good. All of it. But, there is a lot of it, and a lot of mystery built up around the intricacies of picking cheese. People just need to be told they're making a good choice by someone authoritative, so if someone at the party does criticize the cheeses, they can blame it all on the cheese girl.
Acting like an expert, boosting snobby egos, and being a scapegoat (scape-chèvre?): it's all in a day's work, down at the cheese kiosk.