Dear Drink To That reader,
When it comes to telling a story, drinks are an excellent way to put someone in a specific frame of mind.
Particularly if you’re telling a creative story and you’re building it around a specific category.
You can home in on a drink to see how your characters or customers feel about themselves or events going on in the world.
Create a sense of time, mood and place either for entertainment or educational purposes.
To demonstrate what I mean, here’s a short story I’ve written called The Curse of the Entrepreneur.
The greatest sound in the world is the sound of a whisky auction moving into fifth gear. The rising voice of the auctioneer. Bidders desperate to outbuy each other. Telephones ringing off the hook. The thumping of the gavel to close another sale. It’s pure adrenaline, audio cocaine. I’d spent the last few minutes assessing the competition, watching how quickly paddles went up, the seasoned pros, the first timers. It wasn’t hard to tell them apart. All fun and games.
My real challenger was sitting in the front row, as poised and relaxed as the day I’d walked into his office and he changed my life forever. Theo Ackroyd. Technology tycoon. A regular on Forbes most powerful people in the world list. Whisky collector extraordinaire.
A 25-year-old Macallan. A 15-year-old Balvenie. A 23-year-old Brora. More lots flew by and I snapped up the Brora for a cool £20,000 to whet my appetite. Theo had yet to put in a single bid for the entire auction. He was biding his time for the big one. I could feel it in my bones.
The auctioneer rattled off the newest lot. “The next item for consideration is a true rarity. We’re proud to present a first edition bottling of Suntory Yamazaki 50-year-old single malt. Aged in Japanese mizunara wood, only 50 of these bottles were ever created. A starting price of £22,000. Do I hear £23,000? I have £23,000 over here. £24,000 from the gentleman in the back.”
It was a bidding frenzy, paddles shooting into the air every second and Theo and I were at the forefront of the madness. His gestures were calm, controlled, his face giving away no emotion as the bid continued to climb. £27,000. £30,000. £32,000. I could feel the blood coursing through my veins, the high of the chase. It was all about stamina.
One by one, my competitors were outpriced and outmatched. They didn’t have the drive or the wallet to go the extra mile. Only Theo did. We were two champion sprinters, racing to the finish line. I kept going until the bid reached £700,000 and I decided to bow out gracefully, my curiosity sated.
After the auction finished, bidders were invited into the dining hall for refreshments and I strode over to Theo while he was standing at the bar with his inner circle of board members. “I think you might’ve set a new world record with that purchase. Congratulations.”
Theo shook my hand, his grip as firm as a man half his age. “Breaking records is easy in this game, lad. To quote Wilde, all the players know the price of everything and the value of nothing.” He laughed, his Brooklyn accent always stronger when he was in high spirits. “I take more satisfaction in having a worthy opponent on my heels. You held your own for a while.”
“I find the thrill of the hunt to be more rewarding than the actual reward. It’s motivating to keep on moving forward. Are you going to the conference?”
“Not in person. But I’ll be well-represented by Tony, my acquisitions manager.” Theo motioned to a youngish chap with a receding hairline talking to the auctioneer. “You two would get along famously. Dogs with a bone. Both of you when there’s a deal to be made. By the way, you should be proud of snagging that Brora. Whether you choose to drink or sell, it’s an excellent investment.”
“It’s an asset I’ll put to good use. I’ll wager you’re going to take the time to savour the Yamazaki.”
“That’s a wager you’d win. A bottle so rare needs to be honoured in the right way. You may even get to experience it for yourself at our gathering. I trust you’ve come prepared.”
“I’m always prepared. I might’ve even come with a few surprises that you’ve yet to add to your collection.”
“Keep saying that enough and maybe one day it’ll come true,” Theo winked. “I’ll see you on Sunday at 1PM sharp.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” We shook hands again and I left him to carry on speaking with his partners, while I handled the arrangements of my whisky with the auctioneer and where it would be delivered.
When I left the auction, the sun was setting, bathing Edinburgh in an orange glow, making the city pop with colour and light. It was a warm evening, so I decided to walk to my hotel, inspired by the sense of connection that appeared every time I came to the city. I strode towards Edinburgh Castle, thinking about the first whisky auction I’d gone to with Theo and the friendship that it’d created. Meeting up to drink and compare whisky after an auction had become a rite for both of us. A way to break out of busy schedules and come back down to earth every once in a while.
The first thing I did when I got to the hotel was to video call Karen. We chatted about how our day had been, about work, about the mundane and the intangibles that’d turned into fifteen years of marriage. We said goodnight and I chipped away at emails, working until the early hours. I’ve always been a night owl. The average person sleeps for one third of their life. So much wasted time and potential.
Fueled up on coffee and a Full English in the morning, I felt energised for the Future of eCommerce Summit. The International Conference Centre heaved with stalls, tech demonstrations, seminars and panels. Delegates swarmed the area, some flitting from stand to stand like owls hungry for knowledge. Others wandered aimlessly, happy in their boredom and lack of ambition.
I started with the technology section, speaking to vendors about their products, testing the waters for any future investments. I sat in on panels, listened to discussions about hyper-personalisation, digital transformation and other buzzwords that people broke down into real advice.
I stopped at the café for lunch. When I’d got through most of my egg and cress sandwich, I noticed a familiar face buying coffee at the till. When he’d bought the drink, I waved in his direction. “Correct me if I’m wrong but your Tony, aren’t you? Theo Ackroyd’s acquisition manager.”
Tony stopped in his tracks, giving me a ‘I don’t know who you are and I’ve got better places to be’ kind of look. “Yes. That is my role in Mister Ackroyd’s organisation.”
“Name’s Leo Kinsley. Theo mentioned you’d be representing him today and I thought I’d introduce myself, seeing as we didn’t get to speak at the auction.”
The kid’s expression changed instantly. A light switched on his eyes. “Ah, Mister Kinsley. A pleasure to meet you. You certainly made your presence felt going head-to-head with Mister Ackroyd.”
“I’ve been doing that for a long time. It’s good to keep the old man on his toes. You should try it when he’s in the office.”
Tony gave a nervous laugh and sat at the table. “I don’t think that would be wise on my part. The boss is a force of nature in the board room.”
“Glad to hear some things never change. How long have you been working at the firm?”
“Three years in total. I’ve been in my current position for just over a year. Working closely with Mister Ackroyd has been an incredible experience and I’m still learning every day.” I recognised the admiration in his voice. It was the same awe I’d felt working with Theo in the early days, his restless energy, his desire to succeed and push boundaries. It was contagious.
“He talks about you quite often,” Tony said. “Uses your name as a success story for people who’ve gone on to start their own tech companies. If you don’t mind me asking, when was the moment that you knew you were ready to set up something for yourself?”
“From the day I was born. All I needed was the right timing and right backing. Best advice I can give is to learn what you can, take what you need and crack on.”
Tony sipped his coffee, pondering my words. “I’ve heard Mister Ackroyd say something similar.”
“Theo respects people who have their own opinions. He won’t always agree with you but he’ll listen. If I’d been worried about challenging him then I’d never have gone on start my own business.”
Tony soaked up the advice like a sponge. I was happy to give him my time. The kid came off as a bit of a brown-noser but there was always somebody with their arse in your face when you were climbing the corporate ladder. Might as well make the climb as easy as possible. What mattered was that he had a spark of ambition. Ambitious people kept the world turning, stopped it from going back into The Dark Ages. In that way, I knew he and I were cut from the same cloth.
We discussed the demonstrations and products we’d seen at the summit. To his credit, Tony didn’t reveal anything about any deals he was planning to make on Theo’s behalf. After an hour of chatting, Tony thanked me for the advice and we shook hands, exchanged business cards and went our separate ways.
I got back to the hotel at half 5 and spent the evening typing up notes from the summit and arranged the connections I’d made into a spreadsheet. It was Spring cleaning for the mind, a way to get out all the clutter.
Sunday morning flew by. I dressed appropriately, grabbed my briefcase, and ordered a taxi. The ride to Theo’s was an uphill journey that started from the Royal Mile and ended on a hill on the outskirts of the city. The manor house looked as grand as ever, steadfast like the man who owned it. At the door, I was greeted by a maid, who showed me to the living room where Theo sat in an armchair, reading the newspaper. When he noticed me, he wore a bewildered expression. “You’re early, my boy. I believe our appointment is at 1. Not 11AM.”
“I’m right on time,” I said, motioning to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
Theo squinted at the clock and then rubbed his forehead. “So you are. Good to see you again. You’re just in time for luncheon.” Putting the paper to one side, Theo rose from his chair and led the way into a dining room draped in stag heads.
“An excellent time for a few whisky pairings as well.” Opening the briefcase, I took out two bottles and lined them up on the table. “I’ve got a couple of rare Mackmyras with our names on them.”
Theo tipped an imaginary hat in my direction. “Both are good finds. You’ve come a long way since the days of not knowing the difference between single malt and blended.”
“I’d say you were a decent teacher but your ego’s already big enough to fill this entire manor.” I grabbed two glasses from a cabinet near the table and poured a dram of Mackmyra into each. Settling into a chair, I swirled the whisky and sipped. “Will Nora be joining us?”
“She’s in Germany visiting our eldest. Won’t be back for another couple of days. How’s Kate?”
“Do you mean Karen?”
“Yes. How is she?”
“Holding down the fort and probably wishing I wasn’t working as much.”
“It’s the curse of the entrepreneur. It’s how people like us are wired. Only those with the same affliction truly understand what it’s like.” Theo’s eyes glazed over suddenly, as if he’d gone to another place. It was a thousand-yard stare. The kind you hear about soldiers getting after they return from war. It lasted for a few seconds and then Theo took a big gulp of whisky, coming out of his daydream. “Have you considered going away together? Nora and I went to Egypt a few years ago. A change of scenery does wonders for keeping the spark alive.”
I didn’t feel like discussing my married life and Theo’s odd behaviour was starting to stick out. I changed the subject. “I bumped into Tony at the summit yesterday. He’s got a good head on his shoulders. A little eager to please. But I can see why you took him on.”
“It must’ve been like looking in a mirror.” Theo said. “Granted, the size of the chip on the lad’s shoulder isn’t nearly as big as yours was. Though I do remember you being just as eager to prove yourself.”
“I’d call it beating to the sound of my own drum. It’s a lesson I learned early on.”
Theo refilled the glasses with more Scotch and raised his in a toast. “There’s always more to learn.”
“Cheers to that.”
Lunch came to the table in several courses. Oxtail soup. Charred mushrooms stuffed with garlic, breadcrumbs and goat’s cheese. Bourbon-glazed venison steak served with broccoli and sweet potatoes. More whisky flowed, a new bottle for each meal.
Theo treated each bottle like a sacred object that was made to be worshipped. The uncertainty and confusion of before was gone. He was more like the Theo I knew: focused, confident and worldly. The more he drank, the clearer his words became. We spoke about the history of each brand and traded tasting notes, swept up in the joy of discovering new flavours and sensations.
Theo suggested we smoke cigars, so I followed him upstairs and onto a balcony with an outdoor heater. From my position I could see the whole of Edinburgh covered in a blanket of afternoon fog.
“A grand view deserves a grand drink to match it,” Theo said, carrying a case of cigars and the Yamazaki 50-years. In the low light of the heaters, the whisky took on a deep red colour that reminded me of rubies. It looked magnificent and while I would’ve enjoyed owning it, the bottle seemed like a natural fit in Theo’s hand.
“We must be celebrating something big if you’re bringing out the spoils of victory.”
“Precisely, my boy. We’re celebrating life and all its bounties!” Theo leaned against the railings. “Have you heard of kaizen? It’s a Japanese business philosophy that’s meant to increase productivity across an organisation. The rough translation is ‘change for the better.’ I’ve been thinking about the concept a lot lately.” Theo paused. Then excitement took over him again.
“Take Suntory, for example. When the Yamazaki distillery released its first whisky in 1929, it was a massive failure in Japan. Consumers hated it. They said it smelled burned. But founder Shinjiro Torri rolled up his sleeves and went back to the drawing board. He buckled down and applied kaizen to his whisky, creating Suntory Kakubin in 1937. It turned Suntory into a household name and from there the whisky continued to get better and better. Kaizen turned Suntory into the world’s most desirable whisky brand. Drinking that process is worth every penny. It’s a reminder that change can come from anywhere and that it shouldn’t stop anyone from living life to the fullest. It’s something to be remembered.”
Sitting down, Theo stared in my direction, but I got the feeling that he was looking past me. Past Edinburgh. Past time and space and into whatever force that had made him so erratic. His gaze returned to the bottle and he gripped it so hard that his knuckles turned white.
“I’ve been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Early stage. The doctors have recommended that I stop working. Nora has told me that she wants me at home, that I’ve earned my rest. The kids don’t know yet but she’s seeing to that. When they find out, they’ll say the same thing. The idea of not being in the office, of not being there for everything I’ve built…I don’t know how I feel about giving that up.
“I’ll be damned if I don’t have a say in how I remember it and how I’m remembered for it. So, do me a favour, Leo. When my mind’s turned to mush and I can’t wipe my own arse anymore I want you to visit me and tell me of everything I did. I want you to remind me of this day. Of this moment and how the whisky tasted. Can you do that for me?”
There was a pleading edge in his voice, mixed with iron and resolve. The man who’d built an empire, who’d been stoic through all the years that I’d known him, was pouring his heart out in a way I’d never experienced before. In that instance I saw his vulnerability, his fear. What I felt was his determination. It cut through everything else and sent shivers down my spine.
“Of course I’ll help. But you’re not going to need me to remember for you because this day is already unforgettable.”
Theo smiled. “Indeed it is.”
He poured the Yamazaki, lit the cigars and we clanged our glasses together to celebrate our fondest memories, to mark the moment as something that would always be remembered.