Jeff Burkhart: Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it

“What’s your best whiskey?” asked the guy in the far-too-clean John Deere trucker hat.

I grew up in the country. Several of my classmates in elementary school were routinely given time off from school to plow the fields — literally. The school bus would drive by and there would be 14-year-old Bobby out there on a John Deere. He wore dickies and trucker hats long before they were fashionable. His were dirty — really dirty — not sparkling clean. But still, every time I see one or the other, I think of him on his tractor.

“Best?” I asked, knowing full well that a qualifier like that is totally subjective.

Not everybody agrees on what “best” is. Are shaken drinks better than stirred? Are single malt whiskies better than blends? Is red wine better than white wine?

The answer? “It depends.” It depends on who is asking — and why.

“I have this one,” I said, picking up a 10-year-old straight bourbon, which for its price is a relative bargain. It’s not the sexiest name out there, but it’s almost twice as old as any of them.

Unadulterated, uncomplicated by multiple barreling, or odd grain mash bills, it really is a great deal. And it checks a lot of boxes.

“Nah,” he said.

Not looking for that, I guessed. I picked up another bottle, this one an imported rye from Canada, which can be complicated because rye whiskey in Canada doesn’t actually have to have rye in it. If it’s made there and bottled here, things get more complex and one must really read the fine print to figure out what they are doing. The fact that it’s finished in fig barrels seems weird to me, but what do I know?

“Hmm,” he said. “That looks interesting.”

If there’s anyone out there who thinks packaging doesn’t sell, I suggest they sit at a bar on a Friday night and watch. There’s an old adage that people eat and drink with their eyes first, suggesting that garnishes and presentation are important. But people also buy with their eyes first. If they didn’t, liquor bottles would look far more mundane.

“How much is that?” he asked.

“It’s quite expensive,” I said, placing the elaborate bottle down in front of him.

He picked it up and turned it around to read the tale on the back — a tale that told him nothing about the contents of the bottle. Sure, the important information was there, too, but in the smallest print and font available. It certainly checked off all the legal boxes.

Once, way back when, I was hired as a bartender at an extremely upscale restaurant. Before I even stepped behind the bar, I had to work two shifts in the kitchen, then two shifts on the floor following a server, before I even got to step behind the bar. And at that point, I had 10 years of bartending experience, including five in which I owned my own bar. That’s not so true these days.

I followed that server around like an annoying little kid brother. He was a machine: organized, professional and knowledgeable. At the pre-shift lineup, where we went over all the things we needed to know for the night — food specials, VIPs, etc. — the wine manager said that he had one bottle of red wine left that he really wanted to get rid of. It hadn’t sold very well, and before he printed a new wine list, he wanted it gone. I think a free employee meal was offered.

The first table I followed John to, he made a little speech.

“Welcome gentlemen,” he said. “Before we get started, I just wanted to say that we have only one bottle of the highly allocated (insert red wine name here) left. Once it’s gone, we will never be getting any more. So, if your palates lean towards rare and luxurious wines, this might be your only chance to sample it.”

They bought it without even asking how much it was.

I thought of John, as I set down that whiskey bottle.

“That’s our only bottle,” I said. “Once we are out of it, we won’t be getting another.”

That was 100% true.

“’I’ll take it,” said Mr. Trucker Hat.

Leaving me with these thoughts:

• Once you have assessed who someone really is, it’s pretty easy to give them what they want.

• Telling someone what they want to hear is manipulation. Knowing what you, yourself, wants to hear helps prevent that.

• If you want to mix your $120 Scotch with Coca-Cola, my only question will be, “Would you like another?”

• Sometimes the people who make the biggest impact on your life are people just going about their business.

Jeff Burkhart is the author of “Twenty Years Behind Bars: The Spirited Adventures of a Real Bartender, Vol. I and II,” the host of the Barfly Podcast on iTunes (as seen in the NY Times) and an award-winning bartender at a local restaurant. Follow him at jeffburkhart.net and contact him at jeffbarflyIJ@outlook.com