One star review for whom?

One star review for whom?

You or me?

Open letter to Alexandre FA (last name unknown)

Introduction

Mr. or Dude, I have not yet quite decided on the most appropriate term to greet you.

So, first of all, let me first start this letter with a thank you. Thank you for this one-star review, published last week on Google, about your experience at Bonde Fine Wine, and you may be surprised by my reaction, and even more so by the fact that I chose to make this response public and make it the subject of a new Wine Not-Screeds. For my part, I don't see it as an annoyance, but rather a remarkable opportunity, to explain to my readers, my customers and, more broadly, to the public, what everyone can expect when they walk through the door of Bonde Fine Wine Shop. I must admit that the opportunity was just too good and, I admit, far too tempting not to go back over what really happened that day. Not only from your point of view, which has already been generously shared online, but also from mine, as well as that of the two customers present in the store at that very moment. But let us make one thing clear from the outset: this text is not a personal attack. You are who you are. I'm not here to lecture you, nor to wait for an apology. That would probably be a lot to ask of a lone star. My intention is simpler, to inform my customers of the spirit of the house. Yes, my house. Because that day, contrary to what you wrote, you did not interact with an employee. You have interacted with the owner of the premises.

The review

“Went to ask questions and was treated very rudely by the employee. It’s cost nothing to be nice. Avoid this place.”

Dude: (original definition, late nineteenth century)

The exact origin of the word remains uncertain, but it appeared in the United States around the 1880s. At the time, the term referred to a man who was particularly concerned about fashion, his appearance and his style. It was associated with those who assiduously followed the latest social and clothing trends. The word could also be used in a mocking way, to designate a dandy or a fop, i.e. a man who was very concerned about his appearance, sometimes to the point of becoming slightly ridiculous.

I will therefore let you appreciate all the delicacy of the lexical choice.

The way I experienced it

"There is no worse deaf person than the one who does not want to hear." Goethe

It was one of those beautiful summer days when the door of the shop remains wide open, when a John Coltrane record plays softly in the background, and when the afternoon seems to have understood, better than some, the meaning of the word civility. In the shop, two regular customers tasted a selection of wines to choose the bottle that would accompany their evening. The atmosphere was calm, relaxed, social. We exchanged with attention, humor and that form of lightness that sometimes makes all the charm of a neighborhood business. Then you walked in. You seem to be a young man in your late twenties or early thirties, handsome looks, confident gait, undeniable physical presence, and that body confidence that some people wear like a perfectly fitted suit, sometimes before they've even said hello. You entered quickly, without looking around you, without taking the measure of the place, without greeting, without apologizing for interrupting a conversation that had already begun, and in the middle of the shop, with an urgency that seemed disproportionate for a subject that is nevertheless essential to the history of civilization, you asked: "Where are the beers?" Taken aback by the tone, surprised by the total absence of a preamble, and especially struck by this way of entering a place as if the world owed you an immediate answer, I replied immediately: "I don't know where the beers are." You asked the same question again. So amused, I turned to my customers and added: "I don't know where the beers are. Do you see them? » There was then a short pause. Then you left the shop shouting, "You don't need to be a jerk when someone asks a question." Before adding, from the doorstep, a formula whose general elegance I will preserve here:

"F... k you. F... k off. As... “To which one of my clients, with a sense of observation that I cannot dispute, immediately replied:

"Maybe he doesn't need more beers."

Fashion and trends

It is always difficult to draw a general reflection from a particular incident. However, some behaviors, when they are repeated in the public space, end up becoming something more than simple anecdotes. Your reaction made me think. Not only to the rudeness of the entrance, but above all to the speed with which a minimal annoyance turned into digital revenge. A badly asked question, an answer that doesn't flatter the wait, a theatrical outing, then a star on Google. The course is now classic. Almost modern. Some would even say trendy. What questions me is not so much your criticism as the reflex that accompanies it: This impression, more and more widespread, that any resistance to one's own comfort deserves public sanction. We enter without saying hello. We demand without asking. We are offended by an answer that nevertheless reflects the tone of the question. Then we call it rudeness.

It seems to me that this is a curious reversal of responsibilities.

Lack of manners becomes a demand for service.

Arrogance becomes a wounded sensibility.

The reaction becomes the fault, but never the initial behavior.

Some cults are toxic. Not us.

At Bonde Fine Wine, we still believe in some old ideas, almost subversive today, such as saying hello, looking at the people you talk to, entering a place with a minimum of attention, understanding that a business is not a vending machine with parquet floors, music and a whatever human being behind the counter. We also believe that being a customer does not exempt you from being civilized. And if this may seem radical, then radicalism is sometimes good.

“It costs nothing to be nice.”
The sentence of your criticism deserves our attention
On this point, we are in complete agreement.
Kindness costs nothing.
Neither is politeness.
Elegance even less so.

But the opposite is also free.
Entering without greeting costs nothing.
Interrupting without apology costs nothing.
Barking a question costs nothing.
Insulting on the way-out costs nothing.
Neither does publishing a star.

The difference is therefore not in the price.

It is found in the choice. And it is precisely this choice that, sometimes, says more about the person who judges than about the place he claims to evaluate.

Questioning the source

Your passage, brief but instructive, raises a broader question, which is to ask: What becomes of a society when some adults confuse confidence with rudeness, frankness and brutality, freedom of expression and lack of consequence? What do we convey when we consider that any personal frustration deserves a public forum? And above all, what education will one give to one's children if one has not learned to enter somewhere oneself with a simple "hello"?

I don't claim to have all the answers. I run a wine shop, not a chair of moral philosophy. But sometimes trade, because it brings human beings face to face, becomes an excellent observatory of the time. We see people in a hurry, curious people, charming people, lost people, effortlessly elegant people. And sometimes, more rarely fortunately, those who seem to believe that the world is an extension of their mood, and to those, Bonde Fine Wine offers a fairly simple answer. We will be polite, we will be frank, we will be present. But we will never confuse service with submission.

A star can certainly exist on Google.

But in real life, witnesses also have a memory, and where the other stars in our constellation shine much brighter.

So, to the wise. Here is the definition of our mission and pillars:

Bonde Fine Wine is much more than a wine shop. It's a community.

A place to meet, discover and share where people come not only for the wine, but also for the human experience it makes possible. A space where you connect, where you celebrate important moments, where you feel a real sense of belonging. At home, we believe that wine is a pretext for something greater: conversation, curiosity, the exchange of ideas and the creation of authentic and safe connections. Our commitment is to maintain a safe, respectful and welcoming environment for everyone who walks through our door. Five years ago, we created a place where the only objective is to share the love of truth and beauty. A place where you can slow down, taste, listen, observe, feel and reflect. A place where we have the freedom to explore our six senses without being judged. Yes, the sixth sense being that of self-awareness. The one that invites us to question our emotions, our values and our way of relating to others. Because wine, like any form of culture, is also an invitation to get to know yourself better and to better understand the world around you. So, people who frequent Bonde often talk about the warm atmosphere, the sincere listening and the feeling of being welcomed without judgment. They appreciate a space where knowledge is generously shared, where novices are as respected as connoisseurs, and where everyone can discover at their own pace. We believe that respect is the foundation of any community. That's why we strive to provide a place where everyone is heard, considered, and treated with dignity. In return, we simply ask everyone who participates in this experience to show the same civility, openness and respect for others. Because Bonde Fine Wine Shop is not just a business. It is a place of culture, dialogue and human connection. A place where wine brings people together around what really matters: beauty, authenticity, sharing and meaning.

Conclusion

However, I sometimes forget my partner's favorite philosophical advice: "you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

Of course, it would be much simpler to think of Bonde as just a wine shop. A place where you walk in, buy a bottle on sale, and leave without exchanging a glance, a thought, or an idea. A place where no one leaves one-star reviews on Google, but only on Yelp. After all, we live in an age where everything is expected to be fast, efficient, and free of emotional consequences. Yet some people continue to walk through our door looking for something else. An unexpected conversation. A wine they had never heard of before. An opportunity to meet people who do not think exactly as they do. A chance to feel, if only for a moment, that they belong to something larger than a commercial transaction. Strange, isn't it? At a time when almost any bottle can be ordered with a few clicks and without speaking to a single human being, some people still choose to come in, sit down, taste, listen, and occasionally even think.

So perhaps wine was never really the point.

And you Alexandre FA, why did you come to Bonde?

PS: If you believe that Bonde deserves more than just one star, go to - Bonde Fine Wine Google Review, and post yours, which will be four times more important.