About ten years ago, we had a kiosk set up at the mall in order to bring our wine to where people were (en masse.) We were desperate.
Looking back on that experience is surreal. Driving my truck through the hordes of shoppers twice on Black Friday in order to deliver twenty-five cases of wine through the back doors of the shopping complex. Crazy holiday music non-stop. Frazzles customers who were thrilled to taste a little wine in their frenzy. Amazingly tolerant staff working under stressful conditions.
All the while knowing that our very existence may come down to what the weather forecast was and if Christmas fell on a Friday or a Monday (the latter being far better, since it meant two insane shopping days over a weekend.)
We're eternally grateful for all who helped support our little shop back in those days, as well as all the staff who put in countless hours for us.
Years ago, my wife Kris wrote a poem about Christmas time at the mall to try to capture the feeling and to show her appreciation. Here it is (inspired by "Twas the night before Christmas").
----------------------------------------------------------------------
‘Twas the month before Christmas, and all thru the mall,
The frickin’ Christmas tunes had been echoing since early Fall,
The rock wall was hung all in mistletoe,
In hopes that to ring the bell the climbers would go.
The wines were all dressed up, red and white in their bags,
With promises of “Merry Christmas” attached to their tags.
And Carl in his delivery van, and I in my truck,
Were waiting and waiting, wondering “Hey, what the ---heck?”
When suddenly into the parking lot drove such a crowd
We woke up from our slumber—and, man, was it loud!
Quick to the cash register, we flew like a flash,
We checked for the register tape, we brought extra cash,
The ones in the right-handed part of the drawer
Kept getting so low, we had to keep bringing more:
We kept to our wondering bankers returning
To replace all the dimes and the quarters we were burning.
With a rush and a clatter customers came on so fast,
We knew that our quiet days were a thing of the past.
More rapid than credit cards charging they came,
And they pushed and they shouted and they called them by name:
“Now Vidal, now Fusion, now Proprietor’s Red,
On Celeste, and Apple, and Aria,” they said:
“To the top of my glass, to the top of my tree,
Harmony, Harmony, Harmony, Harmony, Harmony, Harmony, Harmony!”
Like super-people who, when asked to be great,
Open up early, and stay open late,
So to the Galleria, like eagles we flew,
With a van full of wine, wine racks, vacu-stoppers, mulling spices, and chocolate drops, too!
And then, like super-heroes, we had at our store
The most perfect people, doing all, and more:
As we answered their phone calls and brought them more wine,
With every check-in, they said: “Oh, we’re fine!”
“We’re ready to sell, and we’re doing so well
That you’re out of Harmony again, and, oh, did we tell
You that the register’s broken, it’s gone straight to hell,
It climbed up the rock wall, it kicked at the bell,
A bundle of beeps it’s given us, and we’re tired
Of telling it it may not be rehired:
Our customers, they love Apple! They love all this wine!
They frickin’ love Fusion! Our z-outs, how fine!”
The promise of December, we held tight in our wishes,
And the smell of success, it smelled—oh, so delicious!
We had a bevy of great people, coming through for us daily,
And they never complained! They just said to us, gaily:
“You are busy, we know, but we have on our shelf
No more dangle snowman wine toppers; we sold them ourself!”
So with gas in our car, the handcart in our trunk,
We delivered and delivered and delivered all the junk
And the wines, and went straight to the mall,
And filled up under the table, and turned to you all,
And laying our handtrucks underneath all the load,
And giving our thanks, down the hallway we strode:
We’re grateful and humbled, to our team we give thanks
For all of your hard work, all of our empty tanks,
And we hope you all know, sure as Vidal comes in blue:
There’s no way, without you, that we’d’ve made it through!
Looking back on that experience is surreal. Driving my truck through the hordes of shoppers twice on Black Friday in order to deliver twenty-five cases of wine through the back doors of the shopping complex. Crazy holiday music non-stop. Frazzles customers who were thrilled to taste a little wine in their frenzy. Amazingly tolerant staff working under stressful conditions.
All the while knowing that our very existence may come down to what the weather forecast was and if Christmas fell on a Friday or a Monday (the latter being far better, since it meant two insane shopping days over a weekend.)
We're eternally grateful for all who helped support our little shop back in those days, as well as all the staff who put in countless hours for us.
Years ago, my wife Kris wrote a poem about Christmas time at the mall to try to capture the feeling and to show her appreciation. Here it is (inspired by "Twas the night before Christmas").
----------------------------------------------------------------------
‘Twas the month before Christmas, and all thru the mall,
The frickin’ Christmas tunes had been echoing since early Fall,
The rock wall was hung all in mistletoe,
In hopes that to ring the bell the climbers would go.
The wines were all dressed up, red and white in their bags,
With promises of “Merry Christmas” attached to their tags.
And Carl in his delivery van, and I in my truck,
Were waiting and waiting, wondering “Hey, what the ---heck?”
When suddenly into the parking lot drove such a crowd
We woke up from our slumber—and, man, was it loud!
Quick to the cash register, we flew like a flash,
We checked for the register tape, we brought extra cash,
The ones in the right-handed part of the drawer
Kept getting so low, we had to keep bringing more:
We kept to our wondering bankers returning
To replace all the dimes and the quarters we were burning.
With a rush and a clatter customers came on so fast,
We knew that our quiet days were a thing of the past.
More rapid than credit cards charging they came,
And they pushed and they shouted and they called them by name:
“Now Vidal, now Fusion, now Proprietor’s Red,
On Celeste, and Apple, and Aria,” they said:
“To the top of my glass, to the top of my tree,
Harmony, Harmony, Harmony, Harmony, Harmony, Harmony, Harmony!”
Like super-people who, when asked to be great,
Open up early, and stay open late,
So to the Galleria, like eagles we flew,
With a van full of wine, wine racks, vacu-stoppers, mulling spices, and chocolate drops, too!
And then, like super-heroes, we had at our store
The most perfect people, doing all, and more:
As we answered their phone calls and brought them more wine,
With every check-in, they said: “Oh, we’re fine!”
“We’re ready to sell, and we’re doing so well
That you’re out of Harmony again, and, oh, did we tell
You that the register’s broken, it’s gone straight to hell,
It climbed up the rock wall, it kicked at the bell,
A bundle of beeps it’s given us, and we’re tired
Of telling it it may not be rehired:
Our customers, they love Apple! They love all this wine!
They frickin’ love Fusion! Our z-outs, how fine!”
The promise of December, we held tight in our wishes,
And the smell of success, it smelled—oh, so delicious!
We had a bevy of great people, coming through for us daily,
And they never complained! They just said to us, gaily:
“You are busy, we know, but we have on our shelf
No more dangle snowman wine toppers; we sold them ourself!”
So with gas in our car, the handcart in our trunk,
We delivered and delivered and delivered all the junk
And the wines, and went straight to the mall,
And filled up under the table, and turned to you all,
And laying our handtrucks underneath all the load,
And giving our thanks, down the hallway we strode:
We’re grateful and humbled, to our team we give thanks
For all of your hard work, all of our empty tanks,
And we hope you all know, sure as Vidal comes in blue:
There’s no way, without you, that we’d’ve made it through!
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