One Man's Opinion

Tempe, Arizona

It didn’t take much coaxing to convince Tami and me to sample hyper-local craft beer and artisan wines at a chain market in Tempe.* Tony, seemed to know an opportunity when he saw one — and two chipper girls asking about where to find organic snacks was a strawberry field of an opening.

He furthered my hunch in his knack for embracing potential when he began pouring thimbles of unlikely tastes: the New Belgian chocolate chip cookie dough ale meant to be poured over ice cream wasn’t saccharine. In fact, it tasted the way licking a spoon of dough does right when it hits the back of your throat, tangy and on the far edge of sweet. The cucumber beer from Historic smelled like it came straight from Bath and Body Works in the 90s, but tasted like hinted cucumber water — something you’d want to drink before, during and after a long massage. And the white wine that resembled a flat champagne...divine.

And then, he started dropping little nuggets of his life story into the conversation. An armed services officer who returned to Tempe feeling a bit meh about his job in tech, Tony found extracurricular enjoyment in discovering local booze. Fueled by passion, he applied for the job as the wine-beer-cheese-chocolate-coffee buyer* just two months ago, and landed the gig without a background in the industry.

I admit, I was pretty impressed. Plus, he had a sense of humor. We talked about the weather, the cost of living in  California versus Arizona, and why it was obvious Tami and I weren’t locals (apparently, it was our willingness to day drink while buying various sundries). Several thimbles of beer add up, and as we were shaking hands and thanking him for an unexpected Sunday happy hour at the grocer, I had to ask:

“So, is everyone still talking about the election here too?”

“Nah, we’re pretty much over it.”

“Really?” I knew I shouldn’t press him. But...I also kind of couldn’t believe it.

“We’ve moved on.” The vibe wasn’t annoyed, but rather matter of fact. “Careful who you talk to about it, though. Arizona is a concealed weapon state.”

Tony laughed. Tami laughed. I laughed. We bought some beer along with our breakfast fixings, and went back to the car.

“Do you really think no one here cares?” I asked Tami.

“Well, maybe. But that’s just one man’s opinion.”

*aka Purveyor of Vice-Dipped Happiness