My head is still metaphorically bleeding all over my desk right now, and there isn't an Exederin large enough to remove the tiny Migraine army that has just laid siege to my Hippocampus and Cingulate Gyrus (huh?). What that means for all you wine shoppers out there is something we like to call pinktagged. Sounds pornographic, I know. But we slap these sale signs on wines we want to just make go away, using these almost-hot-pink-colored card stock, to shout to all passersby, "Hey! Take me! I'm good and I am DQ'd!"
It's not that these wines are bad by any means. It is just that with the cyclone of new wines coming in almost-daily, some things are bound to get lost in the proverbial shuffle. Hence, pinktagged.
Inventory is excruciatingly meticulous, yet a necessary evil (kind of like Republicants and Demoncrats). It is the two-to-three day expanse of time I liken to a prostate exam done by Jack the Ripper. Invigorating!
Just a day in the life I suppose. Now back to your regularly scheduled chaos...
1 comment:
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