This Sangria Was So Gross

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Last night I volunteered as a bartender at some downtown function. 

This meant that I got to serve drinks to the who’s who of downtown Colorado Springs as my excuse to actually get to meet them, because my bestie, Carrie knows I’m a wimp and won’t actually have conversations with anyone without an excuse. (Thanks, Carrie, I love you.) 

Person Pouring Liquid Into Smoking Glass Container

Anyway, so I get to this thing, and they have a container of frozen strawberries, a pitcher, and a bottle of sangria. 

200 people are expected to and it’s like 94 degrees. I’m not a bartender or whatever l, but that math was not mathing for me. 

But you know what I am? A McGyver— and so I made it happen friends. 

I poured the red wine, I went digging in the seltzer bucket, and I made — oh god I am just going to be honest.. the worst sangria imaginable. 

Close-Up Shot of a Cocktail Drink

But then, I sold it. I told people it was beautiful, I added the little frozen berries, I told people other people thought it was delicious, and it was the talk of the night. 

People came back for more. 

It tasted a little like hairspray, but I was the one slinging it. It came with a smile, a funny story and perhaps even a little chuckle and a compliment or two. 

And that’s the thing I learned that night. Nobody cares what the sangria tastes like. They care who’s giving it to them. 

And they loved me. 

Which leads me to the biggest question of all, if I can sell disgusting sangria with a smile, then is everything in my whole life a lie? See, guys it all comes down to value. And since value is just a construct this changes everything. 

I know what you’re thinking— maybe I accidentally made delicious sangria and I don’t realize it. Except I made four pitchers with whatever red wine was already open, reusing the strawberries that were still in the pitcher, and random seltzers from the non alcoholic pile. I didn’t even worry about the flavors. I just went with it. 

And each time they came back for more. 

It was like the emperor’s new clothes… one person liked the sangria (me) so everyone else did. 

“It’s so refreshing…”

“This tastes like I’m on vacation” 

“I think this is how my kin used to make it..”

I can assure that person that this is not, in fact, how their mom used to make it. Unless she, too was a huge fan of the bargain seltzer section, and that feels unlikely. 

Anyway, my point here is, people loved my sangria. Not because it was good— at all—but because they loved me. 

I think that’s a weird realization to come to, especially for someone who has a low self worth. Like I’ve been trying to figure it out all day, but the truth of the matter is… I sold that sangria. People wanted to be a part of what I was slingin’

And that… that is messing with my mind.  

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