So back when i was still a gullible, naive, fresh-out-of-high school eighteen year old, the third show I worked was a local festival right down town in my home town. I was two for two for taking it in the mouth, and so going into this third show, I had already resigned myself to the fact I would be doing it again. You see, at this point, I hadn't figured it out that these guys were taking advantage of me. I'm not saying I would have put up any disagreement had I known that, but there is something to be said for not realizing that taking one in the mouth each show was not part of the unwritten job description.
In any event, the show I'm at is a weekly festival held downtown by a semi-popular radio station. They close off the streets, bring in food venders, and have cover bands play the greatest hits from bands that were popular before I was born. I arrive, attired in a simple grey t-shirt and blue jeans shorts, complete with flip flops. To my surprise, I'm assigned to one of the beer trucks. As far as I was aware, I was three years shy of the legal age to serve alcohol. Now, I don't bring this up, because, hey, free alcohol. So I grab my assignment, check the cart number, check the map location, and head off in search of my employer.
What I find is a rather rotund, aged man that looked like he'd been in love with beer since he could hold a glass.
"ugh, I really don't want to have to suck this guy's dick," i think as I plant a smile on my face, and go up and introduce myself. He looks me over, almost bored, and gives me the spiel. My braless t-shirt was not yet hiding the ample double D's they would be today, so apparently I wasn't impressing him. He takes me into the back of the truck, and shows me the beers. This guy actually has a rather well stocked little business, and I see dozens of various bottles, none of which Id ever heard of before. My beer knowledge started with Bud and ended with Miller. These bottles had decorative pictures with fancy words that read like poetry, or at least someone who knew how to use a google synonym search.
He asks me what I know about beers, to which i say. "nothing." He sighs and laughs, and cracks some open, and says I might as well get a crash course. Porters, wheats, shandies, pale ales, stouts. He explains the qualities of each, takes a sip, and then hands me the bottle to do the same. Now, to get this out of the way, all beer tastes like piss smells, to me. It did back then and it does today. But, I smile and taste a little of each. And by the last one, if i wasn't ready to take a load in my mouth just to get rid of the taste of beer. As far as I'm concerned, beer breath is worse than cum breath. But I keep that to myself as I endure micro brew 101.
Finally, class is over, he hands me a pail full of ice and beers, tells me to charge $6 a beer, and to get out there and sell'm. Finally, something I know how to do. He sends me out and I descend on the crowds, and even by my standards, it's surprisingly easy to sell people $6 beers. Maybe it's the warm weather, the salty foods, or the feeling of an open air concert, but these people are there to drink. I'd been to these festivals before as a visitor. I even run into a fair amount of people I know, who are all to happy to buy beers from me. A few, family friends, past teachers, give me that weird look, knowing how old I am, but I just shrug and smile, as i take their money and hand them their beers.
Things go wonderfully, and sales only pick up as the night goes on. At one point my boss has me ditch the pail, and join him in the back of the truck. Just picture any of those food trucks you see these days. Window on the side, tiny aisle, and coolers on the rest of the interior walls. Either of us sliding past the other involves some serious rubbing up on one another. At some point he just sits back in a little plastic chair and drinks while I service the counter.
Sales slow down around 11pm, and then there's another rush at quarter to midnight, once the bands have finished, and they announce the festival will begin shutting down at midnight. He tells me to flip the outside lights, and we can pack up. It's maybe a half hour to get things put away and tucked inside the truck. I yawn, and take a seat on the floor, he goes back to his chair, cracking another beer, and offering me one. I don't really want one, but i'm thirsty, so I accept. He asks me how I ended up working here, what my college plans are, how I liked high school. We sit and bullshit, and suddenly i'm three beers into the chat.
There's a knock on the door outside, and I almost say something, but my boss raises a finger to his mouth, the universal 'shushing' gesture. I pause, and from outside I hear an "all clear."
"Just clearing everyone out," he says, handing me another beer. We talk about alcohol, my opinion on beers, and my favorite drinks (long islands, screwdrivers, mudslides) I'm definitely buzzed, and realize I'm probably going to have trouble walking, but It's nice to just sit and bullshit and drink free crappy beer. The guy reaches into one of the bins, and hands me a new beer.
"Here," he says, popping the cap off and handing me the bottle. It's unlabelled, in a clear glass bottle. I take a swig, and something magical happens. It doesn't immediately make me want to vomit. Now, maybe that was aided by being over 3 beers into the night with no dinner, but it was really good. It had like, this light raspberry taste, and just a hint of yeast, and then like, this smooth wheat aftertaste that reminded me of cream of wheat.