A note penned in simple hand had been stuck to the bottom of the flyer:
"Amateurs. Â Let me offer a kindness. Â In the vintner trade, we usually segregate the weakest cultivars at the end of the season. Â We crush those sh---- grapes in a single press, and then slap a pretty label on the bottle, usually hand-drawn. Â We market it as an "exciting new red blend." Â It sells like wildfire.Â
Now let me offer you the kindness and the secret behind any s----- red blend, no matter how its marketed - you need to water the actual product down. Â That's the real secret - no one can taste or detect the difference, I assure you. Â Give it a shot, and you'll watch the margin claw up. Â At 5 gil, you're probably sucking in around 1-2 gil a pop. Â I know street urchin who reap better margins. Â If you're already doing it, put more water in the mixture. Â
You owe me a glass of wine sometime, friends. Â And make sure it's not watered down. Â I'll know the difference.Â
- Sigurd Sund-ste-i-gen."
Sig huffed under his breath, blowing a few strands of blond hair off his brow, fingertips affixing the note to the flyer, and then scooping the hair back behind his ears. Â Amateurs were almost annoying as bangs.
"Amateurs. Â Let me offer a kindness. Â In the vintner trade, we usually segregate the weakest cultivars at the end of the season. Â We crush those sh---- grapes in a single press, and then slap a pretty label on the bottle, usually hand-drawn. Â We market it as an "exciting new red blend." Â It sells like wildfire.Â
Now let me offer you the kindness and the secret behind any s----- red blend, no matter how its marketed - you need to water the actual product down. Â That's the real secret - no one can taste or detect the difference, I assure you. Â Give it a shot, and you'll watch the margin claw up. Â At 5 gil, you're probably sucking in around 1-2 gil a pop. Â I know street urchin who reap better margins. Â If you're already doing it, put more water in the mixture. Â
You owe me a glass of wine sometime, friends. Â And make sure it's not watered down. Â I'll know the difference.Â
- Sigurd Sund-ste-i-gen."
Sig huffed under his breath, blowing a few strands of blond hair off his brow, fingertips affixing the note to the flyer, and then scooping the hair back behind his ears. Â Amateurs were almost annoying as bangs.
