A Report From Wine Explorer Diego Samper
Paris, France
This summer, one of my jobs is attaching bookcases to walls.
My son is beginning to stand on his own. Our apartment must now be inspected from the perspective of someone about two and a half feet tall, curious about everything, and not particularly concerned with personal safety.
Bookcases need anchors. Cabinets need locks. Sharp corners have revealed themselves everywhere.
Summer projects change as you get older.
Once, the job might have been painting somebody else’s fence. Watching a pool from the lifeguard chair. Cutting grass that would grow back before August.
Or perhaps you helped a family member at the office, making copies and answering phones, then found an impressive way to describe the experience on your first résumé.
The work was supposed to give you experience.
What you wanted was money.
Money for gas. A hamburger after work. A concert ticket. A few more hours with your friends before somebody’s parents started calling.
A surprising amount of America has always been handed over to young people during summer.
They watched the children, carried the boxes, served the food and painted the houses. They also learned how to look busy whenever the boss walked past.
Those jobs taught us things we did not know we were learning.
How to arrive on time. How to talk to strangers. How long an afternoon can feel when you are watching the clock.
Years later, you may not remember what you earned.
But you remember the summer.
Sometimes all it takes is a song.
Mungo Jerry’s “In the Summertime.” Don Henley’s “The Boys of Summer.” “Macarena.” “Crazy in Love.” “California Gurls.”
A song does not become part of summer simply because it mentions sunshine.
It becomes part of summer because it was playing while something happened.
A first trip without your parents. Someone you met. A vacation that seemed as if it might last forever. Maybe the first sip of wine that made you wonder what else might be out there.
Summer has a way of marking time.
The Summer Jobs Change
Then, eventually, the jobs change.
You paint your own walls. Organize the closet that has been bothering you since February. Attach a bookcase to the wall because your son has discovered that standing is only the beginning.
At Bonner Private Wines, one of our summer jobs is counting bottles.
This involves fewer power tools but considerably more spreadsheets.
We go through the warehouse and compare what is actually there with what the numbers claim should be there. Most of it is routine.
Then we find something.
A few cases from a collection we loved. A bottle that disappeared from view when newer wines arrived. Small quantities that are not enough for another large offer but are far too good to leave sitting in storage.
This is where organizing wine is better than organizing almost anything else.
A shirt forgotten at the back of a closet probably has not improved since 2018.
A bottle might have.
Not every wine is built to age, of course. Time can develop a good bottle, but it cannot rescue a bad one. How it was stored matters too.
Still, wine is one of the few things you can rediscover years later and find that waiting has given you something new.
What We Found
By the time we finished counting, our summer job had uncovered a few opportunities.
Small quantities from collections we loved. Familiar bottles we were happy to rediscover after a little more time in storage. Wines we can now offer at prices that make them easier to open with dinner, take to a barbecue or share with friends.
Some are available in only a few cases.
When they are gone, they are gone.
Our first summer jobs gave us enough money to go out and see our friends.
Perhaps this one will give you a reason to invite them over.
Diego Samper
The Wine Explorer
