I present the 98-rated Phillies Blunt Grape.
Where I used to work, we had a major electrical project. I was the liaison between our company and the contractor. The contractor's foreman was my go-to guy. Every morning, we'd have a meeting about what was done the day before and what was going to get done that day.
It was a food processing plant, so there was no smoking, eating, or drinking. The factory was shut down at the time for this massive overhaul we were doing, so they were a little bit lax on the eating/drinking rule, but not on the smoking rule.
Well, this dude (the foreman) smoked those gawd-awful Grape Phillies Blunts on the way to work every morning. He'd walk in and I'd smell it on his breath. And he was one of those guys who likes to stand right up in your face when he talks to you, so I'm taking half-steps backwards the whole time and he's taking half-steps forward in response.
Then, throughout the day, he'd come to me for this or that as the project progressed and, since he couldn't smoke, he'd dip grape snuff and, of course, he'd be right in my face with it. He'd have a whole wad of that crap in his lip. I never saw him spit, either. I guess he swallowed it.
After work one day, he saw me smoking a cigar in the parking lot—a real cigar. I can't remember what it was, but I was heavy into Macanudos at the time, so it was probably a Mac maduro. He came up to me, pulled out one of his gross grape Phillies, and said, "Oh, you like cigars, too?" while lighting it.
I try so hard not to look down my nose at people who smoke gas station cigars—particularly since I smoked gas station cigars for several years before discovering hand-rolled, long filler cigars—but I told him that I like actual cigars as opposed to those things he's smoking. I said it in a cheerful way and tried not to make it sound insulting and I gave him one of my cigars. He was thankful, but he never reported back to me about whether he liked it or not.
Where I used to work, we had a major electrical project. I was the liaison between our company and the contractor. The contractor's foreman was my go-to guy. Every morning, we'd have a meeting about what was done the day before and what was going to get done that day.
It was a food processing plant, so there was no smoking, eating, or drinking. The factory was shut down at the time for this massive overhaul we were doing, so they were a little bit lax on the eating/drinking rule, but not on the smoking rule.
Well, this dude (the foreman) smoked those gawd-awful Grape Phillies Blunts on the way to work every morning. He'd walk in and I'd smell it on his breath. And he was one of those guys who likes to stand right up in your face when he talks to you, so I'm taking half-steps backwards the whole time and he's taking half-steps forward in response.
Then, throughout the day, he'd come to me for this or that as the project progressed and, since he couldn't smoke, he'd dip grape snuff and, of course, he'd be right in my face with it. He'd have a whole wad of that crap in his lip. I never saw him spit, either. I guess he swallowed it.
After work one day, he saw me smoking a cigar in the parking lot—a real cigar. I can't remember what it was, but I was heavy into Macanudos at the time, so it was probably a Mac maduro. He came up to me, pulled out one of his gross grape Phillies, and said, "Oh, you like cigars, too?" while lighting it.
I try so hard not to look down my nose at people who smoke gas station cigars—particularly since I smoked gas station cigars for several years before discovering hand-rolled, long filler cigars—but I told him that I like actual cigars as opposed to those things he's smoking. I said it in a cheerful way and tried not to make it sound insulting and I gave him one of my cigars. He was thankful, but he never reported back to me about whether he liked it or not.
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