Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Billy did it. I've done it. Now weblog about it...

When working at a "fine wine store"/liquor barn one tends to have different job requirements than most 9 to 5ers. i.e. Must be able to lift 40 lbs. repeatedly. Must drink wine, booze and beer at all hours of the day. And of course, must be willing to clean up trails of human shit left in your store. Most of our clients are 9 to 5ers just trying to enjoy the 5 to 9. But every once in a while we get a different kind of customer. A customer that has lost it. It: whatever it was that made them want to keep going. They have given up and are trying to kill themselves. A slow suicide by grain alcohol. Sure it's sad, but you cannot concern yourself with their issues. There's no time for that, when the liquor can help them out so much quicker. And so instead without making eye contact you try to get them out of the store as fast as you can, but you can't help but wonder what the fuck that smell is, but you don't have to think at all because for some reason you already know. That shit smells like death.

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