Drunks

I might just be one. A drunk that is. And yet, somehow I'm able to find ways in which to legitimize my drunken personae. One easy excuse is that I work in the alcohol business and it is thus my job to drink. Drinking to the point of inebriation is simply one of the hazards of this profession. In the same way that a surgeon might make the wrong incision I might drink too much and have to apologize to my "clients" later. It is a demon that I must wrestle with on a daily basis.

The only way to bring perspective to this issue is to try to observe the habits of others and then compare their behavior to my own.

Some people drink to feel good. Some drink to feel bad. Some want to be able to talk to others a bit easier. Some would like to be able to cut a rug and not worry about how they look on a dance floor full of people trying to do the same thing. Some drink to have something to enjoy with their food. Others like to think that what they drink defines them. Others are defined by the fact that they always drinking. There are so many people who have so many different ways of drinking that it can be hard to compare oneself to another.

I’m lucky to have an advantage into observing the psyche of other drinkers because I work part-time in a wine and spirits store. Ok it's a liquor store. But we play classical music, so I like to think we are a step up. While I like to think that the majority of our clientele are of a certain high status we certainly get all sorts of unique visitors.

Some white collar folks come in several times a week. They could easily be classified as alcoholics, but it is harder to define them as drunks. They have the luxury of having more dominating defects. They find that Armani just isn’t putting out the stuff he did in the 90s. They might be the kind of people who look down at you for not shopping at Whole Foods. This could be that person who complains about the price of premium gasoline going up.

When one is a drunk he has no other problem greater than the fact that he must get drunk every day. Sure he needs to eat and he needs to sleep, but what he wants and what defines him is his desire for the drink.

At our store we have three different kinds of drunk juices. Everything in the store is fairly expensive (did I mention we are a FINE wines store?) except for three items: 1. Bud products 2. Karkov Vodka and 3. Canadian Mist Whiskey. Each item has its own little entourage who just can't get enough of the stuff.

The bud drunks are easy to spot. There is obviously a certain gait to which all drunks march, but you can always catch the bud folks because they have to walk all the way to the back of the store. This always upsets them. They saunter inside and begin talking immediately. They think that their engaging conversation will distract from the fact that I know they are drunks. Each bud drunk has that one conversation that he/she likes to have when he sees me.

One guy shows up every day in all Steelers clothing. Yellow and black galore. He talks to me all about the football I don't quite understand. I say vague things like, "can you believe that game?" or "they had better pull it together next season” or “well I just don't know what!" These stupid little mutterings are enough for him to believe that we are sports pals.

Another bud guy loves to come in singing. He somehow thinks it's even more fun to try to stare me in the eyes when he's doing this. I of course do not enjoy being eye contact serenaded so his visits are often very awkward. The fact that he'll sometimes come in two times a day makes it even worse.

Then you have Garry. Garry is as big a dirt bag as you could ever imagine. Our two reasons for eventually banning him from our store was his complete abuse of our "credit" system and the fact that he actually smacked his haggard girl friend with his cane the last time he was in the store. He’s a piece of shit people. One time he came in and asked if he could get an 18 pack of Bud for 5 dollars. Go ahead and make that analogous to any situation of yours at work and imagine how you might react. You'd probably want to slap him across the face and say, "that's not how shit works around here." …Or maybe you'd give it to him and that's why you'll never succeed in this business!

The Karkov Vodka drunks are a pretty interesting sort. If I had to be a low down drunk I would probably choose this route simply for the fact that vodka mixes with almost anything, it is relatively flavorless, and people can't smell it on you...that much.

One Karkov dude is the Russian. Now allow for stereotypes and it's obvious that he would pick vodka, but you'd think he'd have a more refined palate for his home land’s national drink. He'll come in multiple times in a week and go with the same rant. "I want won bottle Karkov. You know I want go Argonaut. Karkov is much cheaper there, but I come here for no walking much." Along with the big mustache and jorts I have to keep in my laughter every time he visits. He once came in three times in a day and after each bottle he seemed all the more excited to tell me about how he chooses our store over Argonaut. A class act indeed.

Another guy likes to pretend that he is a real sophisticate. He'll stroll in each time, put his elbows on the counter and stare at all the pints of cheap booze we have. "Hum, what should I get today? Oh I see you brought that in. That's great. Well let's see, oh ok, that's there, and well, I could try some of...oh no I don't really feel like that right now. How about...yes, how about a bottle of your Karkov please. Thank you so very much." He has never bought anything else in our store.

There are all kinds of bozos who come in simply asking, "What ch'all gots to drink fe cheap?" These people usually just go for a good old plastic flask of Canadian Mist blended whiskey. Ummmmmmm good!

My least favorite of the whiskey drinkers is this heavy-set woman with glasses and a starter jacket who comes in almost every night to get some CM. "A bit of the mist today?" I'll say. Or "Heading up Canada way today ey?"

She nevers bats an eye. "Hey uhhhh, can I have some of your Canadian Mist?" I try to delay this request because I know what will happen once I hand her that six dollar bottle. It is just as bad every time it happens. She reaches into her shirt and out of her nasty, hasn't been changed in weeks, bra she'll bring out six smoldering dollars. Nothing perturbs a liquor store clerk more than having to touch the heat emitting cash that just came from some scrubby ladies' brassiere. Yuck! She's managed to store small change in there before and once she even dug into her saggy boob-to-stomach zone to find a quarter long stuck to her skin like one might discover in a couch. Every time I have to go through this procedure it makes me a little queasier and I wish I could just throw the money out or burn it. At least I only have to go through this every day!!!! Ahhhh!!!!! SO NASTY!!!!!!

So for some reason, after four years of college, two years navigating the globe, and more years as a successful teacher, I find myself dealing with these people on a daily basis. I certainly hope it pays off and if nothing else I hope that I too do not become just another drunk.