As I mentioned in a previous post, I went down to Malibu a few weeks ago to meet with multi-billionaire magnate John-Paul Dejoria and have a drink at his house. We talked mainly about business and beer, both of which are covered in my interview with him here at our On the Trail sister blog. As I was getting ready to leave, however, he called me over to the bar so we could have a shot of Patron together. As he brought the bottle down and laid out the glassware, I flashed back to a moment in high school when I came home from a party and found my parents sitting at the dining room table taking tequila shots. A bright green box was sitting on the table's center and my parents seemed to be almost in the midst of a serious ritual. I asked them what they were doing and they explained they had just purchased a rather expensive tequila from the store called Patron, one that they were savoring slowly due to the high quality and cost. They offered me a sip and I obliged. Even as a teenager I was taken aback. This didn't taste like that rot gut slop I'd been downing at my illicit underage parties. It was smooth and easy to drink, in a way that I had yet to experience in my young, adolescent life.
I told that story to John-Paul as we were sipping our shots and he was very pleased by it. Rather than simply smile and nod as a common courtesy, he asked me if my parents were still living. I said yes. He then asked where they lived. I said Modesto. He asked for their names and address after that, then he grabbed a limited edition bottle of Patron from the shelf and proceeded to write a small personal note to my folks on the top of the gift box that finished with: P.S. - Your son rocks! "Make sure you tell them I loved the story," he added before we left. My parents received the bottle in the mail a few days later from JP himself. They were absolutely thrilled.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is class.