I am no longer a cashier supervisor at work, so I no longer have to stand around babysitting grown-ups for eight hours a day. And getting berated by crazy people because I won't sell liquor to their dangerously underage girlfriends is now a thing of the past.
I'm now the "beer guy", which means I stock beer and stuff. It keeps me busy and generally away from the public, which makes me very happy.
I do have to deal with beer vendors, but most of them are ok. A notable exception is a guy from Miller/Coors who looks like The Penguin. Not a penguin, The Penguin. Oswald Motherfucking Cobblepot. And he's a lazy, gruff asshole. The other day there was a shopping cart full of Miller Chill in the back storage area. I had been off the previous day, so I had no idea why it was there. The Penguin walked up to me all aggressive and gave me the third degree about it, like he was my boss. He isn't my boss, in case you were wondering. The conversation went something like this:
The Penguin: "What's the story with this Miller Chill?"
Me: "The story? Well, once upon a time there was this soulless corporation called Miller Brewing and they had an idea to make a shitty lime-flavored beer that no one gives a fuck about. And that's the Miller Chill story."
That's me, making friends wherever I go.
I'm now the "beer guy", which means I stock beer and stuff. It keeps me busy and generally away from the public, which makes me very happy.
I do have to deal with beer vendors, but most of them are ok. A notable exception is a guy from Miller/Coors who looks like The Penguin. Not a penguin, The Penguin. Oswald Motherfucking Cobblepot. And he's a lazy, gruff asshole. The other day there was a shopping cart full of Miller Chill in the back storage area. I had been off the previous day, so I had no idea why it was there. The Penguin walked up to me all aggressive and gave me the third degree about it, like he was my boss. He isn't my boss, in case you were wondering. The conversation went something like this:
The Penguin: "What's the story with this Miller Chill?"
Me: "The story? Well, once upon a time there was this soulless corporation called Miller Brewing and they had an idea to make a shitty lime-flavored beer that no one gives a fuck about. And that's the Miller Chill story."
That's me, making friends wherever I go.
6 Comments:
He's been watching too many of those High Life commercials.
Thinks he can just waddle in there and impose his Miller will.
It's like you're a part of me.
That's probably the best description of Miller Chill (or Panther Piss - as I chose to call it) that I've ever read.
Keep some raw fish on hand to feed him whenever he comes in. That will make him happy.
I have anger issues, so I might have just started chucking the cans at his head. "You want to know more about this beer? Here... let me introduce you..."
I almost went off at work on Thursday, but the intern called me down by saying "Don't send that email! Are you having an Ubermilf moment?" She reads my blog.
Great post! I'm going to add your blog to mine, just for the entertainment factor.
What's up with people sticking fruit in their fucking beer? Or in mine? Now it comes on the plate with scrambled eggs, as if the Citrus Commission has a contract on beer and breakfast...
I shouldn't have to tell a waitress, "No fruit in my Killians" when I order one.
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