So last night in Cleveland, I decided it was time for a new endeavor. Let me first add that my reason for being there was because the VP of Sales for my entire company was treating my sales team to a game. The recap of the game and photos are to come later, but the evening made for an incredibly social, non-alcohol, false complimenting, and small talk turn of events. Most importantly, although I grabbed my fresh tin of Skoal Straight from my truck as I headed for the gates of Jacobs Field, I knew that there was a small possibility of actually getting to enjoy one of these Hogs at the ballgame on this evening. As the evening crept on, clearly my chances were far and few between, with VP and Regional Director being able to almost smell my attempts at eating the forbidden fruit that comes in the shape of a round, maroon-colored tin. Instead it sat in my cargo shorts lower pocket, laughing at me. So then a co-worker of mine whom is a good buddy, and former chain smoker begins to tell me that he doesn’t even want a smoke anymore. He’s a gum chewer now.
A gum chewer? You mean like you have quit for Jones for cigarettes by chewing Wrigley’s? How the fuck’d you do that? Why did you do that? He pulls out a little carton of some brown/tan colored gum. I knew right away what it was, the secret weapon. It was time to fight fire with fire. There would be no dipping on this day.
“Yeah dude, what you have to do is just put one of these in and chew it up, then kind of dip it in the front of your lip. Give it 20 minutes, you’ll have a hell of a buzz. It’s equal to like 9 cigarettes they say,” admonished the co-worker.
“You mind if I have one of those?”, clearly I was hurting for something to kill the craving. So I tried Nicorette. I put it in, chewed, gave it a good thorough chance to soak, as a wine connoseur would do with some new creation of Merlot or Pinot Grigio.
“Man I’d probably be putting in like 5 of these motherfuckers if I bought Nicorette,”
“Oh I know, trust me, I do.” said the kind co-worker.
About a minute into the chewing I admitted although I liked it, it just wasn’t as good as having a dip. Some minutes passed, the game went into a nice little rain delay, and we said our tearful goodbyes to our associates. This is when that whole “20 minute thing” kicked in with the gum. My throat began to burn, my eyes were watering, every one of my 6 senses that I haven’t already damaged was really feeling impaired. Hell this gum was making me feel as if I ripped open a pack of cowboy killers and swallowed the tobacco right out of the paper filter.
“I see what you mean about this gum,” and I threw it into the trashcan as I was leaving the stadium. I had been introduced to the distant cousin of my little round friends (and when I’m drunk the distant cousin of heaters).
As soon as the authority figures of the company were out of view, I reached into my pocket for the Skoal. I was sorry that I had betrayed my friend like that. Very sorry. To make the tin feel better, I began to pack it on the mile long walk back to the parking garage. “We’ll be together soon, don’t worry.”
Dipping doesn’t provide near the discomfort that Nicorette does, and while I hypothesize that Nicorette can help, and it won’t kill you eventually like hogs and blah blah blah all that shit, it still might not be the best fit for everyone. Afterall, we’re all just different chemistry experiments!
On this night I chose to take one for the betterment of my career. I bit the bullet, or in this case piece of nicci-fit gum, and drank no alcohol. Worked out well since I got pulled over on I71 and was given a nice little sobriety-pen test.