– I don’t drink vodka, actually, – said almost half of those to whom I had a chance to offer a glass of Broken Clock. Perhaps, they hadn’t had the most pleasant experience with vodka, nevertheless these people indulged me with a frown and took a glass in their hand.
It’s possible that my gaze has persuasive power.
In this case however I believe I should be grateful for this acceptance to my interlocutors’ courtesy and curiosity. They moved the glass towards their lips and started tasting.
Don’t you find though that we approached the half of the first sip too rashly? Let’s start from the beginning without omitting important details.
– I don’t drink vodka, actually, – such a statement could frustrate anyone but me.
– Me neither, – was my honest reply.
I should give some explanations here: one must distinguish between the words ‘drink’ and ‘take’. My statement related to ‘drink vodka’, and in post #1 I described an episode of my life where the word ‘take’ (as in ‘take medicine’) is more appropriate. So:
– Me neither, – was my honest reply, – and this is why I created Broken Clock.
Please accept my congratulations, Dear Reader, because now you have at last reached the beginning of the final post of the series dedicated to the Broken Clock Coming Soon limited edition. In no more than a couple of minutes I plan to finish this story and thereby the first part of my journey. Although it’s not the final destination a little denouement would be beneficiary to my narration.
So now I trust your judgment: what would look more appropriate here than a report about happy people who tasted my product?
‘That’s the best way to put it!’
You see, I’ve just changed my attitude about rhetorical questions that I explained in post #6. As well as those non-drinking vodka changed their mind on this issue*. They will tell us about it once they finish the first sip.
So as it’s well established among all self-respecting brands, Broken Clock was to have its launch-party. A gilt lounge, ladies and gentlemen in their evening wear, spotlights, crystal, runner carpets, – and all the rest of what prints so elegantly on glossy paper.
The previous paragraph invokes an unappetizing image.
This is at least how I see it. Although I tried to imagine different quantities of gold and crystal, the result was the same – and I called my colleagues. Five ideas for the launch-party came out of our rollicking discussion.
We have implemented all of them, just to be five times happier. And this is how it was. We took our perfect sample of Broken Clock and organized a few tastings in very different circumstances. 89 people in total tasted my vodka:
- at a party in an antique unhooked slip-coach;
- in a restaurant as a pairing to a seafood dish;
- in a DJ bar;
- in Shandy Hall.
The fifth tasting location was a public library. And this is exactly where the ninetieth person tasted it. Since I’m not a great fan of loud crowds in such places – it was a party for one.
In exactly those settings the aforementioned first sips took place. I paused my story half way through that action and it’s time to continue. The second part of those sips, to tell the truth, were no more than just a certain expression on the faces: these ladies and gentlemen, dare I say, looked like they tasted something • • • • • • • • • pleasant.
– Mmmmm, – expressed their delights, both those who were loyal to vodka and who were skeptical initially. – Mmmmm, – they carried on after the second sip and added more caressing sounds to my ear. And then they started telling different stories about this and that…
* Now at least they are aware of Broken Clock’s existence…
The end of the first volume