Doc, fix me a Bloody Mary
We were tired and hungry after spending the better
part of the morning at the Detroit Institute of Arts. Our spirits were full, satisfied. Our bodies craved nourishment. A quick cell phone search revealed that a restaurant with a suitable bill of fare was close at hand. We crossed the street, walked about a block and entered Maccabees.
The place had several patrons at the bar and several more seated for lunch at a table. We were approached by a big man dressed in black who seated us and handed out the menus. He said to us, you can call me Doc. What can I bring you to drink? My friend Julie responded, Could you make me a Bloody Mary with lime? Doc replied, I couldn’t do that. I’ll have to fix you the Bloody Mary 
that I always make and I guarantee that you’d like it. Doc was persuasive. He explained that he had tended bar professionally for thirty years and knew what people liked. I had to ask him, do you own this place? You seem to have ownership of your job here. He answered, No, it’s not my place but you have to own any job if you are any good.
We placed our orders for food. I asked him if they had a
wheat beer available. He said no. I said, Doc, I’ll leave it up to you. Pick something for me that you think that I’ll like. He did.
Our meal was exceptional. The Bloody Mary was as satisfactory as promised. The beer that Doc picked for me was tasty as well. Cheers to the Docs and his brothers and sisters who execute their work with good purpose, and elevate the ordinary to an art form.
