Tales From the Liquor Store
As the world out there beyond my keyboard may, or may not, know I took a job at a liquor store almost exactly a year (okay 13 months) ago. Since it has been one of several factors my lack of posting I thought I would fill you in a bit.
A break down of my day goes something like this;
I arrive at the shop around 8:30 a.m. Oklahoma liquor laws require that no liquor store be open before 10 a.m. or after 9 p.m. but there is plenty to do before 10. I restock the pints and half pints behind the counter as well as the travelers (plastic 750ml bottles of popular liquors at the counter). I sweep and mop the half of the store containing distilled products aka liquors and then sweep and swiffer the other half of the the store where the wine and beer are kept aka fermented products. I wipe down the 20 foot long counter. I clean all the windows and when the truck comes every morning with anytwhere from 100 to 300 cases of product, I take inventory. Then I get to put the bottles on the shelf. Woohooo!
If I bust my ass and the truck driver arrives in a timely fashion I can get all this done before the doors open at 10. Either way I am invariably dripping with sweat by the time I fumble the key in the lock and throw wide the door.
Every morning there are people lined up waiting for me. Usually they are the same people every day. Some of them will be in several times through out the course of any given day.
There is the 60something year old woman, a crew leader at a local 24 hour burger joint, who is filling liquor requests for her entire work crew. One scraggily old shell of a guy, I had originally thought to be 70ish but turned out to have gone to school with my husband who flirts with me in a completely gross way and responds to rebuffs with sad kicked puppy eyes. There is also a 6'6 ex-con (manslaughter) who buys a pint of gin a day and refers to me as his "next ex-wife". I respond by rolling my eyes. An extremely friendly and pleasant banker lady who buys a bottle of Irish Cream every day during her lunch hour and about two dozen assorted daily vodka drinkers. Half the new car salesmen in town stop by to buy a bottle in the morning. Honestly, I was and was not surprised by the number of people who start the day with a bottle of 100 proof.
One of my favorites is a young engineer recently out of the Army Corps of Engineers, he buys a single beer every morning, saying it is the nutritional equivalent of a cinnamon roll, and showing me whatever he has built lately. The other day he wheeled in a huge portable six foot tall telescope he had made himself. The time before that it was a hand held mini-lazer, not the best idea in a store full of liquor bottles.
Another is an army officer who is always looking for new and interesting beers. Since we have a HUGE selection of imports and microbrews I can usually find something to interest him. Recently he was surprised by how much he enjoyed a lavender honey specialty beer from Sam Adams. Score one for me. He used to make me uncomfortable, despite his friendliness, and I could not figure out why until I realized between his looks and his bearing he is a dead ringer for Ralph Fiennes in Schindler's List. Since I realized why he made me nervous, he hasn't any more. Since he is very pleasant and a regular customer I am glad not to be afraid he is going to shoot me any more.
Those are a few of the regulars but it is interesting to note how much better behaved people tend to be in the liquor store than the rest of the retail world. The other half of the equation is the staff. Never a dull moment there.
One of both the perks, and drawbacks, to working at the liquor store is that the owners, who are either in the store or next door in the office, 80% of the time, have known me since I was 12. Their daughter and I are the same age and have been buddies since junior high. We had birthdays together, for heaven's sake. Their grand children come play with my dogs. I KNOW them well. On one hand Mr. M, the owner, still secretly thinks I am 12 sometimes. It was only when I started working alone on very slow days, that a two way radio was installed between the liquor store and the office.
Mr. Brooks, the manager, who has also known me since I was 12 (yes, he has worked to them for that long) jokes that that's because they loooooooooooove me, and don't care what happens to anyone else.
On the other hand they know me, and support me in a big way, although Mrs. M really believes I ought to be writing about my famous ancestors, though with all the bad books coming out about them lately I am beginning to think she may be right.
There is, of course, a great deal more to say about the liquor store, but I will say that in another post, on another day. This is enough for now, since I am starting to feel like Basil Exposition.
A break down of my day goes something like this;
I arrive at the shop around 8:30 a.m. Oklahoma liquor laws require that no liquor store be open before 10 a.m. or after 9 p.m. but there is plenty to do before 10. I restock the pints and half pints behind the counter as well as the travelers (plastic 750ml bottles of popular liquors at the counter). I sweep and mop the half of the store containing distilled products aka liquors and then sweep and swiffer the other half of the the store where the wine and beer are kept aka fermented products. I wipe down the 20 foot long counter. I clean all the windows and when the truck comes every morning with anytwhere from 100 to 300 cases of product, I take inventory. Then I get to put the bottles on the shelf. Woohooo!
If I bust my ass and the truck driver arrives in a timely fashion I can get all this done before the doors open at 10. Either way I am invariably dripping with sweat by the time I fumble the key in the lock and throw wide the door.
Every morning there are people lined up waiting for me. Usually they are the same people every day. Some of them will be in several times through out the course of any given day.
There is the 60something year old woman, a crew leader at a local 24 hour burger joint, who is filling liquor requests for her entire work crew. One scraggily old shell of a guy, I had originally thought to be 70ish but turned out to have gone to school with my husband who flirts with me in a completely gross way and responds to rebuffs with sad kicked puppy eyes. There is also a 6'6 ex-con (manslaughter) who buys a pint of gin a day and refers to me as his "next ex-wife". I respond by rolling my eyes. An extremely friendly and pleasant banker lady who buys a bottle of Irish Cream every day during her lunch hour and about two dozen assorted daily vodka drinkers. Half the new car salesmen in town stop by to buy a bottle in the morning. Honestly, I was and was not surprised by the number of people who start the day with a bottle of 100 proof.
One of my favorites is a young engineer recently out of the Army Corps of Engineers, he buys a single beer every morning, saying it is the nutritional equivalent of a cinnamon roll, and showing me whatever he has built lately. The other day he wheeled in a huge portable six foot tall telescope he had made himself. The time before that it was a hand held mini-lazer, not the best idea in a store full of liquor bottles.
Another is an army officer who is always looking for new and interesting beers. Since we have a HUGE selection of imports and microbrews I can usually find something to interest him. Recently he was surprised by how much he enjoyed a lavender honey specialty beer from Sam Adams. Score one for me. He used to make me uncomfortable, despite his friendliness, and I could not figure out why until I realized between his looks and his bearing he is a dead ringer for Ralph Fiennes in Schindler's List. Since I realized why he made me nervous, he hasn't any more. Since he is very pleasant and a regular customer I am glad not to be afraid he is going to shoot me any more.
Those are a few of the regulars but it is interesting to note how much better behaved people tend to be in the liquor store than the rest of the retail world. The other half of the equation is the staff. Never a dull moment there.
One of both the perks, and drawbacks, to working at the liquor store is that the owners, who are either in the store or next door in the office, 80% of the time, have known me since I was 12. Their daughter and I are the same age and have been buddies since junior high. We had birthdays together, for heaven's sake. Their grand children come play with my dogs. I KNOW them well. On one hand Mr. M, the owner, still secretly thinks I am 12 sometimes. It was only when I started working alone on very slow days, that a two way radio was installed between the liquor store and the office.
Mr. Brooks, the manager, who has also known me since I was 12 (yes, he has worked to them for that long) jokes that that's because they loooooooooooove me, and don't care what happens to anyone else.
On the other hand they know me, and support me in a big way, although Mrs. M really believes I ought to be writing about my famous ancestors, though with all the bad books coming out about them lately I am beginning to think she may be right.
There is, of course, a great deal more to say about the liquor store, but I will say that in another post, on another day. This is enough for now, since I am starting to feel like Basil Exposition.