Pint of No Return (4 page)

Walt went up to the podium.  “It’s no secret that Yuki and I struggled a bit to continue the tradition of the Skinner Bru-topia last year.  I’m not afraid to say we might have bitten off more than we could chew.  However, we decided to give it another try this year and we’ve recruited the help of someone who has some expertise in managing events.  Our goal, which Callie tells me is the most important part of running an event, is to showcase the best of the breweries in the Skinner area and not go broke while doing it.”

Callie’s philosophy of managing an event required her client to set a goal from the beginning.  That allowed the rest of the planning to start and provided a structure for how the event should be designed.  The goal was a flexible thing, and could change over time as budget changes or competing events were taken into consideration, but as a first step, setting a goal provided an event a lot of clarity. 

Walt continued, “We’re going to be in a new location that will allow for a lot of improvements.  I know some of you have worked on this in the past, but keep an open mind and know that any changes we are making are all with the goal of making it a better event.  So without further ado, I’d like to introduce Callie Stone, from Stone Events Management.”

As she got up, Callie handed a stack of flyers to Walt and whispered, “Can you hand these out?” She turned to the group. “Hello, everyone.  Thanks for letting me speak to you about this.  Walt is passing around a flyer that lists some basic information about this year’s Bru-topia.  On the front side, we’ve got all the event particulars—time, date, and so on.  On the back side is a list of all the things you can do to help support the event.  By support, I mean sponsor.”  There was general laughter at that.  “Hopefully, you’ll see that by sponsoring something you not only help out Bru-topia, but find there’s definitely some advertising value in it for you.  The sponsorship opportunities are a real win-win for everyone.”

Ethan interrupted her.  “I don’t see anything on here about recruiting volunteers to run the booths.”

Callie smiled.  Trust Ethan to find what would be the main sticking point for the brewers and the largest change she wanted to make.  “That’s because the volunteers are going to be provided by you.  Although I know there are successful brew fests where all the people staffing the brew stations are from the local community, I thought that would cause a lack of professional information.  I mean, who knows your beer better than you do?  When an attendee comes up to taste your beer…,” 

“Or cider,” someone called out.

“… Or cider,” added Callie, “doesn’t it make sense to have you or someone from your brewery there to discuss all the things that went into making that beer?  Plus, volunteers often don’t know how to do things like properly serve beer from a tap or know when to change out a keg.  These things are bread and butter to you.  The fest is only a half day on Friday and a full day on Saturday, so I don’t think the amount of time you need to staff your booth is too onerous.”

“What about clean up staff and that sort of thing?” someone asked. 

“I was also hoping to get you to supply those people.”  There was mumbling in the room.  “Again, I’m here to make this win-win for all of us.  Walt has agreed that for every six hours of labor you supply us for the rest of the fest, you’ll get ten percent off of your booth fee.”  Callie knew she’d probably still need a few non-brewery volunteers, but instead of managing hundreds of people who didn’t know much about beer, she’d only have a few who weren’t familiar with the industry.

“I’d also like to form an organizing committee.  Walt will be the chair person, but we need people to help do things like advise us on where to advertise or what type of food we should offer attendees that pairs well with beer.  I will be managing the majority of the logistics, but you folks know your business best and will be able to direct my efforts.”

It had been hard to convince Walt of the need for a committee as he and Yuki had made all the decisions the previous year.  Callie convinced him that he wouldn’t lose control, but that he would make better decisions with the input of other brewers.  She also knew from experience that participating on something like a committee would give the brewers more buy-in and they’d contribute more time and energy to the success of the event.

“Are there any volunteers?”  Callie sighed to herself as the first hand that went up was attached to the arm of Ethan Fillmer.  Several other hands went up around the room and Callie saw Walt was writing down their names.  “Alright, that’s about it.  I will stick around after the meeting, so you can ask me any questions.  Feel free to contact Walt or me if you need any more information about the Skinner Bru-topia.”

She was surprised at the lack of questions, but realized that was because the brewers were wanting to get on to the next agenda item.

The guild president came up to the podium.  “Our next guest is a program coordinator with the Brewer’s Association.  I know there are some pretty strong feelings amongst our current membership of the role of brewery consolidations or buy-outs at the national level.  Karl is going to talk with us a little about that and then we’ll open the floor to questions.  It’s great to have an expert on the subject with us, so please take advantage of it.” 

Karl Redding came up to the podium, but stood beside it instead of behind it.  “As you may know, the Brewer’s Association exists to celebrate and promote craft brewing.  I’m happy to be here today in a room with folks who have those same ideals.”  Karl wore a denim blue button down shirt and dark brown khaki pants.  He had sandy blond hair and a short goatee. 

Callie’s eyes wandered the room as Karl went into a short presentation about brewery consolidation and its impact on smaller breweries.  Callie thought his presentation was lacking a conclusion though, especially from an organization whose lifeblood was small craft breweries.

Apparently she wasn’t the only one who thought that.  Zeke spoke up.  “Karl, although your presentation does a good job talking about the different sides of the issue, where does the Brewer’s Association stand on the topic?”

Karl smiled.  “I knew that was coming.  The Brewer’s Association definitely supports the continued existence of the smaller breweries and we certainly don’t see the number of those declining.  However, it would be ignorant of us to put our heads in the sand and not acknowledge larger breweries.  In general, beer sales continue to increase at both levels and that’s good for all of us.  There’s no point in bashing the larger breweries or saying it’s wrong for a small brewery to take an offer to consolidate with a larger one.”

“Consolidation is just another word for selling out.  Which takes all the point out of making small batch artisanal beers,” said a man next to Zeke.  Callie couldn’t see the brewery logo on his shirt, but she thought he was one of the people who raised his hand to be on the Bru-topia committee.  “I have yet to see a buy-out where the brewery’s original customer base didn’t feel betrayed when the small guy sells out.”

Before Karl could reply, Ethan spoke.  “So what?  Although I value the local customer who drinks our beer regionally, increasing the customer base more than makes up for any lost sales.  And I’m not convinced sales are lost.  People drink what they like and I don’t think it matters who owns the brewery.”

Several others started to speak at the same time and the guild president had to return to the podium and hit the bell several times to restore order.  “This is an issue that has come up many times and we’re never all going to hold the same opinion on this.  Let’s agree to disagree and move on.”  He turned to Karl.  “Anything else for us tonight?”

Karl shook his head.  “No.  I’ll be available after the meeting, but I’m also in town for another day and I’d love to check out some local brews.  Let me know if I can stop by any of your breweries.”

Mark closed the meeting and people started getting up in a buzz of conversation.

Callie walked around the room gathering up the flyers that had been left on the tables.  One of the brewers, wearing a brown t-shirt with a Machine Brewing logo, introduced himself.  “I’m Charles Schmitt.  I volunteered to be on the Bru-topia committee.”

“It’s nice to meet you, and thanks for volunteering.” Charles had short blond hair so pale colored that at first she had taken it for white.  The color contrasted with his bright blue eyes.  “I think we’re going to do some good things this year.”

“Do you have an idea of the time commitment for the committee?  I mean, all of us have breweries to run and I think some folks may be involved with other groups.”

Callie nodded.  “That’s a valid concern.  For this one, as your role is mostly advisory, I don’t see us meeting more than once or twice a month and I don’t expect you’ll do much actual work, just help guide us in the right direction.  I can’t imagine we’d do more than that unless there’s some great emergency.”

“Sounds like something most of us could manage.”

“Before you leave tonight, could you stop by and see Walt to make sure he has all your contact information?”

Several other brewers stopped by to check in with her.  Only one other, Malachite Ales, was interested in the sponsorship of the glasses and she told him it was already reserved for Magic Waters.

“Hmph,” he said.  “Ethan got to you first, I guess.”

She smiled ruefully.  “There are still other really great opportunities.  The signage sponsorship gets you a lot of attention during the event itself and we put your logo on the t-shirt, so there’s a post event effect as well.”

“And that’s only half the cost of the glassware,” he said.  “Sounds like a deal.  Sign me up.”

The room had partially emptied out.  As Callie looked around to find Walt to say goodbye, she saw Ethan was having a heated discussion with Zeke Sherman.  “All this talk about artisanal beers, is nonsense.  We’re all in it for the money.  You can paint it all rosy if you like, but no one would do this just for the taste of some fancy-schmancy beer.”

Zeke said, “Stu was right when he used the word sell-out.  It’s all about profit to you, Ethan, and nothing more.  I can’t believe your dad stands for this!”

If Callie had thought Ethan looked angry before that was nothing compared to what he looked like now and it almost seemed as if the two of them were going to come to blows.  “You leave my dad out of this!”

Callie stepped over to the group.  “Ethan, I have a few questions about your sponsorship if you have a minute.”

Behind Ethan, Callie could see the man who had sat next to him, Chris Ashton, was also ready to intervene.  He gave a smile to Callie as if thanking her for peacefully interrupting the discussion.

Now that she could see him in the light, Callie realized he was stunningly good looking.   Ethan was a tall man, but Chris topped him by half a head.  His hair was a brown with coppery highlights and he had piercing dark brown eyes.

Zeke Sherman turned and walked away, but Ethan’s eyes followed him across the room.  

As Floyd left the tasting room and headed into the main warehouse, he thought he was the only person remaining in the building.  The dog at his side knew differently and began to bark.   “Hops, what has gotten into you?”  The small Brittany spaniel ignored the question and continuing to bark, ran ahead of Floyd to the door at the back of the brewery.  Floyd caught up with him and opened the door, surprised that it was unlocked.  “See?  No one out here.”  The dog sniffed around the back porch, and then slowly walked inside, looking back once.  Floyd closed the door, securing the chain lock and deadbolt. 

Active brewing operations had ceased for the day, which suited Floyd perfectly.  There would be no one around to comment, deride, or otherwise criticize his newest project.  He smiled.  It wasn’t every day he came up with an idea as brilliant as this one.

Floyd walked through the main portion of the warehouse filled with silver sided fermentation tanks.  His batch of beer would only brew a few kegs, not the dozens that these would produce.  He was unaware of the figure hidden behind those tanks, away from the lights and not even casting a shadow.  The figure was silent enough that even the sharp ears of the dog heard no footsteps. 

The room Floyd used for special projects was large enough to fit several sets of shelves opposite a six foot countertop.  He went to the cupboards above the countertop and pulled out a wide mouth gallon jar.  Inside the jar was a clear liquid with chunks of a brownish material floating in it.  He opened the jar and took out some of the liquid using a small measuring cup.  He took a sip of the liquid, unaware that with each drink, he was courting death.  The shadowy figure outside the room couldn’t see what Floyd was doing, but the sounds told him all he needed to know.  If there had been anyone around to see, they might have noticed the dark silhouette sagging slightly against the wall, as if acknowledging there were actions that could no longer be stopped, reaching a point of no return.

“You know what, Hops?” asked Floyd.  “I think we need to add a few more mushrooms to this.  It’s still pretty blah.  If you’re going to go to the trouble of making a mushroom beer, you’d better be able to taste the mushrooms.”

He took several handfuls of mushrooms from a bag on a nearby counter and put them in the liquid.  Screwing the lid on tight, he placed it back on the shelf.  “We’ll let that sit a while longer.”

His cellphone rang and he grabbed it from his pocket.  “Yes?  Oh, I was just finishing up.  I’ll be home in a few minutes.”  Floyd locked the front door of the brewery as he left.  When silence had settled inside the building, the hidden figure appeared from behind the fermentation vats and exited the building using the back door.