boutique beer

The pint thrust before me was dense and brown.
“Honey you say” Trying to fake interest with accentuation on the raised eyebrow.
“Yea matey, honey, its good aye.”
“How do they put the honey in the beer?”
“Micro brew mate, better than that production line shit I normally see you throwing down your neck.”
Smaller batches equal quality apparently
“Boutique, it’s just like cufflinks.”
I was confused, and I assume it showed.
You know
A jab in the ribs with an elbow helped to clear nothing up.
You’ll have to explain, diagrams, pie charts or slideshows may be necessary
Alright, it’s just like dressing up. Slobs wear t-shirts, Collars class that up. So those of us better than dressed up slobs have to go the cuff, you know, to show were still superior.
Just like our beer, matey.
I was relieved the y had returned to mate. I thought I was slipping down the friendship ladder.
Plebs drink local brew. Then when they’re trying to be fancy they’ll go an imported. So as you can see we have to drag ourselves up another notch, to boutique. They’ve no idea what it even means.
Yes, that makes sense, but ill put it into a flowchart when I get back to the office so I don’t get lost in the intricacies.
“So once I’ve Mastered fancy beer and cufflinks I’ll be as good as you?”
“Oh deary no, you can see I’m far superior.”
“So you’re better than me then?
Well yes of course I am. It’s blatantly obvious to all and you asking the question adds even more to the argument. It makes you seem to be stupid and oblivious.
It’s not economically pheasable that you could be better than me.
But I’m better than that guy right?
Yes, defiantly, but not everyone can tell at a glance. So drink that boutique and clamp something shiny metal on your wrist.
Oh, I’ll try I guess.