So I’m working in the wine section, and I notice this guy and his girlfriend walking through the domestic merlot aisle:
I’m interested at first by the fact that it’s such an obvious and incredible case of “butter guy.” I mean, this guy is at least 20 years her elder, bald, sweaty and has awful teeth (not pictured), and SHE is just completely smokin. As I work my way closer to them, to deliver the ubiquitous “Finding everything alright?”, I begin to overhear their conversation. He seems upset:
“This is ridiculous! Their selection is pathetic!”
Now, I don’t know what kind of mega-monster wine emporium warehouse he’s accustomed to shopping in, but my store has roughly 2500 different wines from hundreds of different countries, regions, and wineries. It seems to me that this gentleman may not be completely aware that we carry anything other than merlot. So I make my approach.
“Hi! Can I help you find anything?” I ask, all customer service.
“Well -*exasperated scoff*- I mean, I don’t know; do you have any actual WINE in your WINE STORE?” he demands, his brow seeming to redouble it’s moistening efforts about his cheeks and former hairline at this total outrage.
I’ve seen all this before. I mean, wine snobs are a dime a dozen when you work at a wine shop, I’m not shocked that this guy is a douchebag. (Take note, self-satisfied wine snobs: you’re not impressing anyone.)
“Indeed we do! Were you looking for anything in particular?” I respond cheerfully.
“Yes, but you don’t have it, I already looked,” he says dismissively, waving his fat, sweaty hand vaguely.
“Try me.”
“Well all I need is some decent French wine, and you don’t have ANY French wine!” he cries in frustration.
False.
“Well, as a matter of fact, we DO have some french wine! Right this way!” I show him to France, even though he’s really insisting that there’s no such place. I mean, he LOOKED! He was actually pretty close, it’s just a few aisles over. I point out the section, and now he goes about the business of peering at the labels and scoffing dramatically occasionally. It’s at this point that his unreasonably hot girlfriend starts conversing with him in German. To this point, I assumed that they were just your regular run of the mill American wine snobs, but now I can see that one of them is European. I might have known. We meet again, euro-douche.
He seems incapable of reading any of the signage in the store, so he keeps asking me how much things cost, making me read off the price-tags to him as he points, seemingly randomly, to different bottles on the shelves. This behavior is a widely practiced one among nightmare customers, effective in making my day a little crappier in that it forces me to stay with them indefinitely, thereby preventing me from helping any other customers, throwing any freight, or otherwise working.
While he’s asking the prices of things, his girl will periodically ask him a question in German, which he then asks me. I answer the questions, and he says the answers in German. This goes on for a time, mostly questions like “Is this ALL the French wine you carry?” (no man, we heard you were coming and hid the good shit) or “Why don’t you have [whatever random wine I had one time at this tiny random winery in France 22 years ago]…[when my girlfriend was 3]?” (Because I know exactly what wine you mean, and I hate it) and so on. Eventually, after roughly 5 minutes of this, I suggest that they try a California wine.
“You know, we really don’t have a huge French section, you’re right. But you know what we do have? Hundreds and hundreds of California wines, many of which are modeled very closely after French wines!” This is all true, many California wineries make only Bordeaux-style blends, which have, in blind tastings, fooled real-life French wine experts.
“HAH!” his says, having himself a chuckle. “You mean you expect me to buy an AMERICAN wine? To SERVE?? Heh, right, sure. No, I’m not going to serve my guests Carlo Rossi, thanks anyway.”
This guy just keeps on outdoing himself with feats of douchebaggery. He goes on to reveal that he actually lives in France full time, and that he’s rented a “chateau” in town while he’s visiting some friends of his who (god only knows why) moved to dreary, boring San Fransisco, and he’s NOT going to embarrass himself by bringing AMERICAN wine to their home.
All the things I’ve said thus far very securely place these people in the top 10 percentile of high grade douchebags, but what I see next was truly astounding.
The girl begins to talk to the guy in perfect, American English. This girl, totally an American, was having her guy translate for her, because what? She couldn’t be bothered to speak English herself? Of all the pointless, arrogant nonsense. It’s especially stupid when combined with the complete refusal to believe that California can produce good wine (FYI: it can). I mean, you LIVE in France! Drink French wine there! But you’re on vacation in California, man! Try some California wine!
Let it be known: The only thing more arrogantly self-righteous than a genuine European wine snob is an American who desperately wants to be a European wine snob.
Retail tip of the day: Just because you looked for it and didn’t find it doesn’t mean it’s not there!
