Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Foolish pride and wasted beer.
You learn how to handle it, but you never really get used to it …
As always, the sinking feeling started when the young couple sauntered through the front room, obviously substituting bravado for experience.
I greeted them and asked what I could get them to drink, and she swung right through the pitch.
“Do you have Crown and coke?”
No, we’re a …
“How about Smirnoff Ice Triple Black?”
… good beer bar with a few bottles of wine -- just for the fun of it.
To myself, I thought: What is Smirnoff Ice Triple Black? It goes to show how little I know about twenty-something alcohol delivery devices.
The count was two strikes -- and no balls, at least to judge by the input of the strutting male, who flailed helplessly at strike three when he smirked, “she doesn’t like real beer.”
“I don’t like beer at all,” she readily confessed.
The male chortled. I directed them to the blackboard, made myself available for questions, and wasn’t surprised when he selected the same beer for both of them without venturing another query. That, my friends, is doom. When men who don’t know anything decide they must make a decision or lose face, it nearly always turns out badly.
“Two of the 15-B, please.”
I shrugged and served them the house-brewed brown porters, which they both pecked at for twenty minutes before he flagged me down and asked that I bring her a coke.
“She just doesn’t like the beer.”
“I don’t like beer at all,” she repeated.
Instead of a cola, I brought her a sample of Lindemans Framboise, judging it to be the closest thing to a wine cooler that we’d be likely to have on site, and as I had expected all along – if boyfriend would have given me the chance -- she was immensely pleased.
“Honey, there’s a beer that I actually like.”
But that said, she proceeded to drink only half the 10-oz pour, while he made it a few ounces into his 15-B. Hers was there for the taking, and many were the years that I’d have drained it without asking permission, but the man didn’t touch her almost full glass. Within another ten minutes, they had paid and were gone.
Beer wasted. I really hate it when that happens.