My friend and filmmaking partner Elrod was having a bbq on Saturday Feb 24, like every red blooded American does on that day (rest in peace Don Knotts). Not a party, but a chillin and grillin good time. Keep in mind it was also a celebration of Craig's birthday. Not a party. Nothing crazy. So, in order to prepare for the easy going evening we did what everyone does.
We went to club HEB, aka the grocery, and bought burgers, franks, wings, and 500 party cups. We got the off brand, as Solo comfort grip cups were way out of our price range. Our cheap hands were just going to have to be less comfy. Very routine. Then, we did the next logical thing.
We went to the booze dealer.
Since the evening was just a few friends hanging out and eating wienies (not a party), we bought the largest size of Jagermeister they sold. Mostly because it came with a free prize.
A super neato free pump that shoots out exactly one shot of the brown goodness. If you aren't familiar with Jagermeister, it's hard to describe.
I think my mother said it best when she said "Jager make you crazy". It's basically poison.
We got home and unloaded the trunk. I grabbed a few bags of groceries and the paper bag containing the largest bottle of Jager ever made (and the free pump). I turned and heard the crash that reverberated around the block. I froze. Robert and Craig turned and looked at me. Their faces had an expression of knowing mixed with concern.
"What was that?" Craig asked.
"The sound of dreams dying" I told him.
Robert, Craig and I stood in a circle around a wet spot in the driveway. We had a moment of silence.
At our feet, was our good friend the ridiculously huge Jager bottle (with a free pump). The old boy had grown too big for his paper bag britches, ripping through and falling onto the cement below.
He laid there, bleeding his oh so deliciously disgusting brown liquid fun which surrounded his broken shell. A tear from Craig's eye slowly rolled down his cheek and dropped onto the corpse of the recently departed.
From around the corner, an Indian boy riding a mini show horse named Delilah stopped to see what has happened. He played us a song on his jew's harp and sold Robert a bouquet of flowers. They were really pretty.
Ignore that last paragraph. Craig's tears turned into anger and he starting yelling and flipping off the paper bag. The Indian boy took Robert's hand. Craig proclaimed that it was the liquor store's fault. Why put a gallon of death juice in a bag that can't support the weight? I slowly nodded then, I agreed.
"Fuck that, it is their fault" I said.
"Let's go get a refund" Craig said.
"We might have to take a picture" I said. In case the manager thought we were running the old Jager fell out the bag scam, aka The Jersey Slip n Sip.
I called the liquor store:
"Hi, I was just in a few minutes ago and bought a bottle of Jager the size of a sun fish (with a free pump) and it just fell out the bottom the bag and broke. Should we take a picture or.."
"You held it from the top. You gotta hold it from the bottom!" The manager angrily, interrupted.
"Well, I've never heard that"
The above interaction repeated about 4 times. Each time the dickhead kept getting more and more huffy, while I was getting more and more confused. I was getting the feeling that he was going to screw us.
"You know, we're pretty regular customers and..." (sorry mom)
"I'm not going to argue with you sir" He shouted. "Bring me the broken bottle and your receipt and I'll replace it. I always like it when people call me sir, but are yelling at the top of their lungs. I felt relieved, but then it occurred to me that we had paid cash and didn't have a receipt. Thus, no proof of purchase. I told the nice man this bit of info and he replied that he had to have a receipt to give to the distributor and hung up. What a dick.
Robert offered to put away the wieners and party cups, so we could take off in hot pursuit of justice. He's a good egg.
Anywho, upon entering the store, I got in line and Craig got another huge bottle of pain go bye bye juice. When we reached dickhead, the manager, the first thing I said was that I never intended on arguing with him. Which was my attempt at calming his bald ass down. Well, this only piss him off more. Perhaps, if I would have spit on his penny loafers and called him a stupid mick, he would have treated us nicely. Perhaps. But my mother taught me better. She taught me to speak to Jager dealers with nice manners. And I did. Not once did I put my elbows on the counter.
The muttering prick kept repeating the bit about how your supposed to hold the bag from the bottom as if it was common knowledge. If it is, please tell me in the comments section. Or mail me a paper bag. I forget what exactly was said here, (some exchange about how we didn't have a receipt from 17 minutes ago) but I do know how it ended. He noticed Craig was holding a new bottle of Jager and saw me dangling my bag of broken promises.
He grabbed the bottle from Craig.
Snatched the sack of broken glass from me.
Then SHOVED the new Jager back at Craig, as he SCREAMED (I swear) "TAKE THIS AND JUST GET..GET"
We did. We got.
I didn't think anyone, besides Mr. Wilson, says "get", as in "beat it". I also thought you could hold a bag from the top, so what do I know.
Craig suggested that we write the company a letter. And I suggest you do the same. The alleged store:
TWIN LIQUORS # 7
1000 E. 41st St.
Austin, TX 78751
Phone: (512) 451-7400
Email: store7@twinliquors.com
My new fav:
http://www.specsonline.com/
They give a %5 discount if you pay with Cash or debit card.
Here's the kicker: We lost the free pump.
I put it in the bag of glass and Craig didn't grab a bottle with one.
So, please hold it from the bottom.
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