Well… his given name is Mike Wofsey. I gave him the moniker “Bordeaux”… and it just stuck.
It was a couple of summers ago and Grapes was experiencing one of its acute cash shortages. Don’t dwell too much on this. It is a plight that infects our “ecosystem”. We have problems, so do our distributors, so in fact do our customers from time to time.
But there came a day when our proprietors decided to invest heavily in the “futures market” for the great Bordeaux Vintage of 2000. This Vintage had been heralded as one of the best of last 100 years. And we were being given the opportunity to sell a quantity of wine with little “up front” money to the Importer… yet bill our customer for the “full freight”. We made a lot of money that summer. So much, in fact, that it put us even with every supplier… and then some.
It is safe to say that it re-established our business.
And it is also safe to say that none was more instrumental to that turn around than Mike Wofsey. Now folks, I was part of that story, too (as was Doc Reid). No one loves Bordeaux more than me. But it seemed that our business needed a “gun slinger”… someone with a swagger and an air of invincibility… someone who could get on the phone and make someone believe that if he or she didn’t buy Bordeaux 2000 it would be a crime against humanity.
Mike was that person. The Sopranos could have a “Tony Bag of Donuts”… Grapes had “Mikey Bordeaux”.
It was a mantle he took to… a duck to water, as they say.
He was also an unabashed plagiarist. I would listen to him pitching a wine… “do you know how hard it is to get this wine?? It’s easier to find stegosaurus teeth in your backyard…” Hey! That was my line! “The bouquet on that Chateauneuf is nearly perfume in quality… smell it and it is like smelling a woman’s neck… taste it and you have just kissed her.” Hey! What gives? That was my line, too!
Yeah, he was always pinching my best stuff. And it was because we were selling in much the same way. We loved the story, the sensuality. We saw wine fitting into lifestyles… more than the specifics of a particular wine, we looked for where it would fit into someone’s enjoyment of wine. This is a wine for the outdoors, this is a wine for a winter afternoon with the snow beating against the windowpanes, this is a wine that you will put down and open up when your child reaches 21 years of age.
It could be Bordeaux… a “show pony” from Napa, or some “deal” at a great price.
Mike could smell a sale and “attack”.
And when the call was done the customer would have been delighted and thankful. If there was someone who could talk to a customer longer than me, it was Mike. And there would always be the laugh and the smile… and you knew that there had to be the same reaction on the other side of the phone line.
He is the most “natural” salesman on our staff. Ascher has a better work ethic and puts up the best numbers for that reason; but he lacks Mike’s passion.
It’s a sad day when you have to bid farewell to a member of your team. I have worked with Mike for three years. Ours is an intense environment. In many respects our lives have been defined by what transpires in our “bullpen”… really hard to explain adequately to “outsiders”… even when those outsiders are family members or “significant others”.
I can imagine jurors on a big trial feeling the same way.
It’s a new morning. A page is turned. Mike who was always late to work (and I mean always) will not be joining our number today. He will not have to hear John’s exhortations or feel his feet being put to the flames.
Mike loved my jokes… maybe that’s why I have a fondness for him… and from my inventory this was one of his favorites…
Sam and Becky had been married for years and years. But there came a time when Sam realized that he was no longer satisfying Becky in bed. He took this situation to a person whose wisdom he trusted implicitly… his Rabbi.
“Rabbi… I am troubled, when my Becky and I are in bed… I am getting satisfied… but she is not”
The Rabbi thought for minutes on this… looked in the Talmud for the appropriate reference and then gave Sam a prayer to say before getting into bed.
So armed, Sam went home and dutifully prayed with great feeling before slipping between the sheets. Sadly, the results were the same. He was satisfied, she was not.
He went back to the Rabbi and reported the disappointing results.
The Rabbi thought at length about the situation. Looked for further references, and finally lit on a solution. He went into his private study and emerged with a small towel… “I want you to go into our community and find a virile young male. Take him home with you, have Becky prepare him a fine meal… then he is to go into the bedroom with you, you say the prayer that I gave you from before, then while you are making love to Becky, he will stand over you and wave this towel (which I have just blessed) and the both of you will have great happiness”.
Sam carries out this instruction to the letter. But again no improvement.
Rather than go back to the Rabbi for an embarrassing 3rd time he figures he will give it one more go on the next night.
As Sam is about ready to slip into bed, he has second thoughts… he snatches the towel from the young man, “This time you and I are switching places!”
And with this Sam starts to feverishly wave the towel… and it isn’t too long before Becky is swooning in bliss and groaning in sheer joy…
“You see? You See? This is how you are supposed to wave a towel!!”
Yes, there were days when Mike would finish a call to someone who had probably said, “Mike, I’m stocked I don’t need any wine…” And when Mikey was done he would walk to our score board and put up “four stripes” for a 4 case sale… he would look to the room, “Now that’s how you wave a fucking towel.”
Yeah, ya got that right, Mikey Bordeaux knew how to wave a towel.