Went to Total Wine today to pick out a whiskey for Aaron. Wasn’t in the aisle more than five seconds before an employee swoops in.
“Can I help you find anything?”
me:
*extremely polite and courteous*
“Oh no thank you, I’m just looking. If I need help I’ll definitely let you know though!”
Now, that’s where my manners ended.
I respect people in the service industry but you should have seen this guy. I turned to look and holy shit. If a unicycle had a baby with a fedora and named it Milady, it would be this guy.
He says, “Well, I’m very capable of helping you, as I’ve had extensive experience selecting some of the finest whiskeys in the world … ”
me:
(LISTEN HERE JUNYA, I’VE BEEN TO FUCKING SCOTLAND AND TENNESSEE AND THE MULTNOMAH WHISKEY LIBRARY AND ABOUT A HUNDRED OTHER PLACES AND I’VE TRIED LITERALLY HUNDREDS OF WHISKEYS FACK OFF)
Just to be clear, there are many friendly, helpful people at Total Wine, and I don’t mind a suggestion even when I’ve declined because the clerk is excited about something they particularly like and want to tell me.
This guy was not that.
(Do I stuff it up my vag? I’m a woman. I have trouble with doing a whiskey.)
—emily duchaine
Flommist Emily Duchaine lives in the Pacific Northwest. She likes to drink mead, learn about sharks, and listen to the Talking Heads. She pretends to be a professional businesswoman most days. Copyright © 2020 Emily Duchaine.
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