I received a gift, a
gift from a business
associate. The gift was
a bottle of good Scotch, not
a great Scotch of the single malt
single barrel the water is from a pure
glacial spring, the grain harvested from the
sunny side of single windswept hill, fermented
and distilled in our exclusive four hundred year old
tanks and still variety, but a good blended Scotch
nonetheless.
It was a nice gesture by the
business associate the only problem being
that I really do not enjoy drinking Scotch. I
have tried to make myself like it, to feign
the sophistication required to truly enjoy a
good Scotch neat or with a splash of water to
open it up and allow its full flowering. It is just not
my cup of tea or glass of spirit for that matter. I prefer
beer, occasionally expensive beer, even cheap beer, I
sometimes enjoy a glass of wine, I used to
drink a lot of beer both cheap and expensive and
a good quantity of wine for that matter, but I
really have never cared for Scotch even during
that period of general excess. Sue me.
Since I do not enjoy the aqua vitae, I
decided I would pass it along to a co-worker
who had previously expounded nostalgic and
poetic about the finery of a good glass of Scotch with
a splash of water to open it up and allow for full flowering. I
figured I would spread some holiday cheer about the
room. I figured it was a nice thing to do.
I figured I am not going to drink it, my wife
is not going to drink it and we do not entertain often
enough to justify having a bottle of Scotch in the
house, so I gave the co-worker the bottle of Scotch in
its fancy wooden box bound in fine silk cord.
Apparently, I figured incorrectly because
later, expecting a thank you, a handshake maybe
as he walked by my desk, instead began the litany…
Thanks for the Scotch…
What…did you give up drinking?
I have heard rumors that you gave up drinking.
Did management have a discussion with you?
Did you quit of your own accord?
What happened? Are the rumors true?
I tried to rescue myself…Well…I
never stopped drinking. I enjoy
having an occasional belt. I just
don’t really care for Scotch.
Oh…so you still drink you
just don’t drink like you used to
you know to the point of falling down and
making general folly of yourself.
Yeah I guess.
Well…that’s good.
I suppose so.
That was the last time I did something nice for
someone because my kindness was used as a
crude screwdriver to jimmy into my private life. That
was the last time I did something nice for someone
because my kindness will be used against me
in the court of public official opinion. That was the last time
I will ever do something nice for someone so don’t blame
me if during a public or private interaction with me, I
am a thoughtless, rude, rotten fucken bastard.
You can blame it on a bottle of Scotch. I am.
And the next time I do get a bottle of Scotch from a business
associate for the holidays, I will keep it, never drink it, leave
it and any future bottles of Scotch I receive in a high
dusty cabinet, until they are a hundred fucking years
old and my children can auction them off to hire
someone to feed me my morning oatmeal and
change my god damned diapers.
THE MIND ATTIC 