One downside to getting back into the grind after the holidays–sales calls.

I hate salesmen. I get frustrated when customers shirk me off with a curt "just looking." But I’m guilty of the same thing. I sweat anxiety when I enter a store, knowing that sick fake greeting is coming. So I try to approach people as aloofly as possible–look like I’m just walking by. Anything to look like I’m doing something other than stalking them.

But the salesmen that come and see me? Sometimes, one comes up the stairs, and–ugh–it’s the last thing I need. Not every one, just the salesmen–the people who’d be selling houses if they ever figured out there’s more money in it.

Alot of my wine reps(wine rep is the term I use for someone who doesn’t annoy the hell out of me like a salesman) are cool. Cool because they don’t sell me. They love food, wine, and their jobs. They always have their shit together when they see me. They let the wine speak for itself. Because the wine they bring me is delicious, they don’t have to jabber at me about scores, county fairs (??? @#$!?), or parrot the back of the label. They’re psyched about the wines they show.

The salesmen? You can tell a mile away when an item’s on their push list for the month. Somehow they all look like Jack Lemmon in Glengarry Glen Ross. They reek of desperation. They got no heart.

It comes down to this, I’m going to really think about the kind of service that I get, this year. I’m going to hold people to the same standards that I hold my self and my employees. Business is shaky in this town and money is tight, let the cream rise to the top. No wine is so precious. And god knows there’s plenty of it.