No Thank You, I’m Good
by Ovi Catanescu
After Maria and I moved from our house on Bradford Lane in Schaumburg to 1430 Falcon Lane in Hoffman Estates in October 1995, our financial situation began improving year after year.
Maria was building a very successful career in real estate with Century 21, and I was working as an accounting manager for Fagor Automation, a small Spanish company in Elk Grove Village.
There are many stories from those years, but today I remembered one about a man named Bob.
Bob was a salesman at Binny’s Beverage Depot in Schaumburg.
I used to go there often because they had an excellent selection of wine, beer, and spirits. Usually, I went when we were having a party at our house or when Maria and I were visiting friends and I wanted to bring a good bottle of wine or whiskey.
At the time, I thought I knew wines and beers pretty well.
Whenever a salesperson approached me and asked if I needed help, my standard answer was always the same:
“No, thank you. I’m good.”
One day, I went to Binny’s to buy wine and beer for a party we were hosting that weekend. I don't remember anymore what kind of party it was, but I knew approximately what Maria would be cooking, and I wanted to choose wines that would go well with the food.
I walked into the store expecting it to be an easy shopping trip. I thought I would pick up what I needed and be out very quickly. Little did I know that I would spend more than an hour there.
As I was walking through the aisles, an older gentleman approached me.
“Do you need any help? Maybe you have some questions?”
My first instinct was to give him my usual answer:
“No, thank you. I’m good.”
But something stopped me.
Maybe it was his smile. Maybe it was the expression on his face. He seemed genuinely interested in helping me, rather than simply trying to sell me something.
So this time I said yes.
He introduced himself.
“I’m Bob.”
Bob began asking questions. What kind of party was I having? What food would we be serving? How many people? What did I like?
They were the questions of someone who knew what he was doing.
Finally, he asked one more.
“How much do you want to spend on a bottle of wine?”
I told him I didn't want to spend more than seven or eight dollars.
“For your dinner,” he said, “I think a Merlot would be a very good choice.”
He took me to the Merlot section and showed me a bottle.
“I have a very good one for $7.50.” It was a Bogle. I bought six bottles.
The wine was excellent. Our guests complimented both Maria's food and the wine, and from that day on, whenever I went back to Binny’s, I looked for Bob.
He was usually there.
Eventually, I learned that he was retired and worked at the store because he enjoyed helping people find a good bottle of wine without spending a lot of money.
Over time, I got to know him very well.
My trips to Binny’s became longer than they used to be, but I didn't mind. Every time I talked with Bob, I learned something new—not only about wine, but eventually about life as well.
One day, several years later, I came in with a long shopping list. We were having a big party, and, as usual, Bob helped me choose everything. By the time we finished, I had at least five boxes filled with different wines, beer, and liquor.
Bob and I were walking toward the cashier, still talking, when a woman stopped and looked at my overflowing cart.
“I’m guessing you're having a big party,” she said.
I didn't even have time to open my mouth.
Bob, completely straight-faced, answered for me.
“Oh, no, no, no. This is his weekly quantity.”
For a second there was silence.
Then all of us burst out laughing.
That was Bob. One hundred percent.
After that, I continued looking for him every time I went into the store. Sometimes I needed wine. Sometimes I needed beer or something for a party.
And sometimes, I think, I just wanted to spend a little time talking with Bob.
We talked about wine, new arrivals, sales, and eventually more and more about life.
We had become friends.
Then one day, several years later, I walked into Binny’s and Bob wasn't there.
I asked the manager where he was.
“Bob retired,” he told me. “He's not coming back.”
And just like that, my friend at the wine store was gone from my life.
I continued shopping at Binny’s, of course. Salespeople would still occasionally approach me and ask:
“Do you need any help?”
And I went back to my old answer.
“No, thank you. I’m good.”
But now the words meant something different. This time, I really did know quite a bit about wine.
Bob had taught me well. And perhaps he taught me something else, too.
Sometimes, when someone asks if you need help, it is worth resisting the instinct to say no.
Because once in a while, if you say yes, you don't just discover a good bottle of wine.
You may discover a friend.
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