He shops here all the time. I know him well, I know what he drinks and what his wife drinks (although I have never met her). I know that his stocks are not doing well and that he is learning to drink inexpensive wine like the rest of us plebs. He is several years younger than I am, and good friends with Sam, who is one of my favorite people (and arguably the best boss I have ever had).
So we walk the Cabs and Merlots. We talk about Malbec and the merits of Chile and Argentina, and eventually he just starts looking longingly at the upper shelves again. He has a great French Syrah in hand, one of my favorites which he has had before and likes very much, but he can't help wistfully caressing a bottle of sixty dollar Shiraz.
"You do realize that I am having a difficult time feeling sorry for you, right?" I smirk at him.
"Yeah, I know. But have you had this?"
"I have. Not at my house, of course, but at a tasting. It is phenomenal. But that stuff in your other hand probably won't kill you, either. Now buck up."
"When I have money again, I'm going to buy you a bottle of this, just for being you."
It's not every day that somebody expresses a desire to do something nice for me in response to my sarcasm. Here's hoping the DOW will rise again.
1 comment:
That is nice.
Being someone who likes wine but generally drinks everyday plonk, it's a vast pleasure, once in a while, to drink something really good. I drink it slowly, savour it and drink rather less than usual because it's more satisfying. But I don't do that so often as to be unable to enjoy the usual stuff. Just as well. I've never been in the regular 60 dollar a bottle league and I can't see the day coming.
Post a Comment