ice to the eskimos
So why is it you never think of the right simple way to handle a thing until you are almost home on the road out of there?
My local B&M has many branches. The cigar geeks all hang in the main branch, eight miles away. Mere cigarette clerks staff the satellite stores. When you ask about cigars, they don't know nothing. One such satellite lies but half a mile from me. I go there because it's close, it's beside Sears where I shop for tools, it's on the way back from Lowes where most every honey-do leads me, and it's two doors from Wawa where is the cheapest gas. There's a half dozen clerks there from time to time who I have often encouraged to get into cigars and learn the stock enough to advise people. But the store won't give them a discount, believe it or not, and they are on store clerk wages, so... There's one chubby girl who admires cigars and tries one when she can. There's one young guy who tries one or two when he can and wishes he had the means to gain product knowledge. None of the rest care. They sell cigs, lottery tix, rolling papers, and go home. It's just a job. They don't even know where a brand is on the shelves. I step in the well stocked satellite walk-in, pull out my cell, and talk to the geeks. Only way to get something done.
So I'm in the nearby satellite last month, I spot boxes of 25 robusto Nestor Reserve 2000 knocked down to seventy bucks, I ask the chubby clerk girl how much for one so I can try it out, she is not authorized to bust a box, the price for a single is not in the computer, I call the geeks, it's not in the system, can't be done. All I'm getting is the computer excuse. So I try to enlighten these guys. I say: "Look: I can shop cheaper on line. Why do you think I come here, other than for service?" I tell the clerk, "Next time the geek comes in to stock the walk in, tell him you need authority to bust a box and figure it out. It's your job that's on the line. The computer doesn't walk through the door with your salary in it's pocket. I do. Need to convince the puter to take my money." Went back a week later. That guy clerk was on duty. Same song second verse. Same phone call. Same lecture.
I happen by there again Friday on the way back from Lowes scoring tubing to hook up the ice maker, and guess what? Busted box on display. My suggestions have borne fruit. Bought one. Had to. Liked it. Mellow, mild, flavorful. Great aroma. Went back yesterday on the way back from gas. Bought a box. Had to. Both of the aforementioned cigarette clerks happened to be on duty. I asked them whether they had ever tried these? Nope. Singles were six and change a pop, and that was beyond their means. Said: "I'll bring you some."
Three doors from my driveway before it occurred to me: "Why didn't you bust open that box when you were standing there?'
Duh.
So I rode back with a couple sticks today. She was there. He was not. She was talking to a guy about signing up for classes to qualify for a concealed carry permit. Great idea if you're going to clerk in a store. Even better if you're a girl. Guns defend people.
On the way back just now, it occurred to me: Ice to Eskimos. There's prolly twenty thirty grand in stickage in their walk in, and here I am bringing a couple sticks cost me like five bucks to the kids who work there. But then, these clerks are perfect targets. They have not the means to shoot back. They do have a need to know. Who knows, they might do me a solid in future. It's perfect. I love it. I'm going back there.
Have you bombed your eskimo lately?
