Minkchocolates

Man of Mystery or Mystery Shopper?

Kate and Payal were the day’s lead baristas, languidly positioned at the espresso machine at the front of the shop, polishing cappuccino glasses, talking about things no one should overhear, when they noticed the stranger come through the double glass front doors. Hesitating slightly as he crossed the threshold, the man was broad shouldered, square jawed and almost seven feet tall. He was resplendent in a light blue seersucker suit, crisp pink shirt too tight at the collar, suede shoes, and white straw Porkpie hat. The girls weren’t sure, but the man may have been sporting a faded turquoise colored tattoo of a parrot on his neck just below his right ear.

The decibel level in the café dropped noticeably. The store’s playlist went eerily mute, yet no one put down their coffees; no one surreptitiously looked up from their mobile devices; no one cared to give the stranger the once over. The man’s face was hard as blistered asphalt and his soul patch black as coal. He carried a Louis Vuitton Président Classeur briefcase gripped tight in his left hand, almost as if he was expecting a fight.

Kate noticed in spite of all the jewelry his ring finger was unadorned. The stranger locked eyes with her, forcing her to take a deep breath. “I can help you over here,” she said, motioning towards the till. He wasn’t having any part of her instructions, and instead, pulled a wad of money out of his pants pocket. He deftly peeled a one hundred dollar bill off the wad with just two fingers, and let it float down onto the bar. Glancing first at Payal, then back to Kate, the man spoke slowly in a deep baritone voice, “chocolate, drinking chocolate.”

Out of habit, Kate answered, “for here or to go?” as she scooped up the money from the bar. Unfortunately, Kate’s accent caused the man to hear “for her or you go.” and that made the hackles on the back of his neck rise like an angry dog pissed at the postman for entering the yard without permission.

Working quickly to diffuse a potentially dangerous situation, Payal grabbed a newly polished glass and set it down on the bar in front of the man, and proceeded to make the drink. Kate instinctively knew to distance herself, and walked over to the till to ring it in and make the man’s change. With a fearsome shadow casting him from the door behind, the man took the now completed drink, and pounded it back with one swift tilt of his head.

He slammed the glass on the bar, causing it to shatter. “Hmmph, that ain’t no plastic cup!” he exclaimed, waving away Kate’s change as if to say a ninety dollar tip should cover its replacement. He turned towards the door, and strode out into the mid-day sunshine, disappearing in the bright mirage of swirling cherry blossoms, never to be seen again. Not as if anyone in the café ever saw him, except two gob smacked baristas.

Marc Lieberman

Mink Chocolates

Call toll free: 1.866.283.5181

Watch: www.youtube.com search mink chocolates

Timing is Everything

Wednesday. Dave Newson, man at large, joins me at Holt Renfrew to meet the visual display people and discuss the props available for our Valentines pop-up store. I envision chandeliers, mannequins, black velvet curtains swagged from the ceiling. They offer up a six foot table and a power bar. Dave senses my profound disappointment and assures me he’ll make it work. I skulk back to Mink and take an Advil.

Thursday. Dave pulls the two primary colors from the Mink Valentines poster, and arranges to have wide vinyl striping applied alternately on the table. He coerces them into giving up a couple of plinths with glass cubes that he’ll use to showcase my Artist Series bonbon boxes and anchor either side of the table. He pulls a graphic detail from the poster and instructs the vinyl guy to produce a band with that image in repetition that will finish off the bottom of the cubes. He confirms there is more to come.

Friday. I have one week to produce all the chocolate I’ll need for the pop-up shop, as well as the Mink store downtown and the one at Morgan Crossing. Sales volume from last year isn’t much of a predictor, as Valentines coincided with the opening ceremonies of the 2010 Olympics, and the organizing committee, Vanoc, scared the bejeezus out of everyone and implored them not to come downtown unless absolutely necessary. We still had a great holiday, albeit not entirely an accurate reflection of our potential.

What’s the mood this year? In retail, unless there are significant indicators of pending calamity, you have to be an optimist and plan for a 10% increase. But the pop-up store? It’s entirely unknown. Holts is the pinnacle of fashion retailing in Canada. I should kill, but what if I don’t? Hand filled hearts don’t have the same value the day after. I take the rest of the afternoon off to work from home.

Saturday. Mrs. Mink is planning Jr. Minks 3^rd birthday at the Sunset Community Center. The list of planned activities is long, and the guest list longer. She runs a few perfunctory details past me, knowing I’m only half paying attention. I perk up slightly when she references something about paying for it all from our joint account, but I’ll clarify that at the end of the month when the statement comes.

Sunday. I get an electronic e-vite to my son’s soiree. I open it, admire the choice of template, and click on my name. I have the option of attending for sure, attending maybe, or not attending. I choose the latter. For the benefit of all the parents of his pre-school buddies and their nannies, I feel compelled to decline with an explanation. Levi originally had a due date of February 15. Had he adhered to the schedule, I’d be having cupcakes after finger-painting. He chose to take an earlier flight, and arrived on the 13^th.

The day before Valentines, and the day of Valentines, are the two single biggest days in the chocolate business. By the time my business will allow me to party with the pre-schoolers, he’ll be in University. I go into his room and interrupt him playing with his trains. I tell him I love him and I’m sorry I won’t be at his birthday party. I try and explain that had he stayed in his womb until it was time to leave, I’d be there. He gave me one of those innocent quizzical looks he so often does, then asked if Toopy and Binoo would be there instead.

Monday. I’m stressed. Shecky texts me to say stressed backwards is dessert, and that I should have some rice pudding. Instead, I walk up to the Bentall Center and get my shoes shined. Sitting in the chair, watching my Blundstones get a new lease on life, I think back to when I’d go with my Dad on Saturday’s to get haircuts, him a shoeshine, then off to Mikes Cigar Store, where he got a stogey and I got a Dinky Toy. I couldn’t tell you anything about my birthday parties from those years, but I’ll never forget Saturdays. I call my wife and propose that going forward we celebrate the kids birthday on his due date, not his actual arrival date. Valentines will be in the books, and I won’t have to make excuses.

Marc Lieberman

Mink Chocolates Inc.,
Mink A Chocolate Cafe Ltd.

Call the store: 604.633.2451
Call my mobile: 604.376.3464
Call toll free: 1.866.283.5181

Shop: minkchocolates.com
Tweet: twitter.com/minkchocolates
Join: facebook.com/mink.chocolates
Read: blog.minkchocolates.com
Watch: youtube.com search mink chocolates
In Person: 863 Hastings Street West, Vancouver, BC V6C 3N9

February 14

The Mayor of Mink

Many years ago, before my wife’s gaggle of girlfriends started getting married and raising families, one of the “ladies”, a communications hotshot in the Prime Minister’s Office, was raising a little hell on the campaign trail. I grew very fond of her spirited opinions, forever on message, and relished those times when she was not in the Nation’s Capitol, but here on the west coast, spinning circumstance along party lines. 

She always carried herself with the air of one destined to garner the popular vote, riding the middle-of-the-road sentiment of the electorate, wanting to effect change, but nonetheless happy with the balance afforded the centrist. 

When the PMO lost the election and his staff was sent packing, I was tickled when she called me up and made me this offer: “I’ve got the balance of the afternoon to pilfer as many things as I can from the stockroom. What do you want?” 

I wasn’t so much shocked as excited about securing Government of Canada branded merchandise. In true Canadian fashion, the lowest she would stoop before power changed hands, was to load up on post-it notes and whiteout. 

“I’ll take any stationary with the seal of the Government of Canada on it”, I asked hesitantly. “Failing that, any type of form, blank proclamation, or other such document that I could use as a gag to impress my friends”. 

After an obligatory reprimand that touched on everything from fraudulent misrepresentation to the penalties for treason she signed off with a firm “I’ll see what I can do”. 

A month later a large manila envelope with no return address appeared in my mailbox. Inside was a one inch thick sheaf of letterhead, resplendent with the embossed seal of the Government, and a note from her disavowing any knowledge of my ever having existed. 

I thought it hilarious that I could send a fictitious letter to my friend Skelly, offering advice, as his representative in Parliament, about a nasty “tax situation” that was sure to befall him. Or to Fred, offering an opportunity for him to relinquish his unofficial title as Mayor of Yaletown for a crack at, say, Speaker of the House of Commons. 

I never did do anything with that paper, and it’s still in a drawer in my office, under a package of page protectors and colored blank file folders, but it serves to remind me of the possibilities that come with power. The closest I have to that is titular head of a household that defers any decision of importance to my wife, or being the Captain of a small business ship known as Mink Chocolates. So how surprised was I to learn that someone else is the Mayor? 

There’s a phone app called foursquare, and there’s a guy named James who, because of a well coordinated campaign, became the Mayor of Mink.  I guess until the seat becomes vacant I won’t be able to run for that office, even though technically I own it. I’m more hoping that when he loses the next election, he calls me, and offers to raid the stockroom. Maybe I wind up with some great Mink branded merchandise I haven’t already thought of.

Marc Lieberman

Mink Chocolates Inc.,
Mink A Chocolate Cafe Ltd.

Call the store: 604.633.2451
Call my mobile: 604.376.3464
Call toll free: 1.866.283.5181

Shop: minkchocolates.com
Tweet: twitter.com/minkchocolates
Join: facebook.com/mink.chocolates
Read: blog.minkchocolates.com
Watch: youtube.com search mink chocolates
In Person: 863 Hastings Street West, Vancouver, BC V6C 3N9

Nine out of every ten persons say they love chocolate. The tenth lies.
– Anthelme Brillat-Savarin