| I worked construction as a laborer the summer after my senior year of high school before heading to college. Eight hours a day, I hauled brick and mortar in the blazing hot sun. One of the bricklayers I worked with, Tommy, was often teased by his colleagues for wearing raggedy clothes and driving a rusted-out junker of a car. He didn't care. The way he saw it, the clothes would end up getting ruined anyway and the car was nothing more than a means of getting to and from work. But when it came to beer, Tommy refused to drink anything but Heineken. Back then, Heineken was regarded as an expensive import that signified wealth and fine taste. The sight of Tommy swilling a Heineken each day at the end of his shift elicited chuckles from all of us. | 
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