The beer vendor
Most summer afternoons, Don Grabowski left his job as a civil engineer and headed to “the best second job you could have.”
“During the day, my hand moves a lot and my mouth moves a lot,” he said. “Then in the evenings people leave their job and go to gym and get on the StairMaster. I go to the ballpark and am actually going up and down stairs.”
Grabowski has been a Chicago baseball concessions vendor since May 1986. It started as a summer job while he attended Illinois Institute of Technology not far from White Sox Park. He mostly has been hawking beers.
It’s not only the physical aspect of the job he enjoys. It’s not just the extra money either.
Yes, it’s a job to Grabowski. But there’s something else he loves — and misses this summer.
Peanuts, cracker jack, a summer night, a cold beer. Grabowski is an element of the Chicago baseball experience. “Being a part of it is appealing,” he said. Grabowski’s summer is far different — the 300-section Wrigley Field and the 100-section of Guaranteed Rate Field aren’t allowing fans because of concerns about the spread of COVID-19. No fans means stadium workers aren’t needed.
While some of his concessions buddies who rely on the income are hurting, he said because his children are grown, the financial loss hasn’t affected him much.
Grabowski has worked the United Center — and previously Chicago Stadium — for Bulls and Blackhawks games too.
Some concession workers have a shtick to help sales, he said. Some sing. Some use a unique voice to offer their items. Some even show off their muscles.
Grabowski, a White Sox fan, relies on selling cold beer and making customers recognize him. He misses the banter he has with his regulars.
“It’s like I’m a favorite bartender, but I’m mobile.”
He loves to rib his favorite customers — and they give it right back, he said.
“I engage people,” he said. “They’re there to have a good time. I’m basically there to make money and work, but at the end of the day, if you can have a good time, it’s not a bad thing. There’s been a lot of lean years in Chicago baseball history. I have a little back-and-forth with customers, some sarcasm. If you can make them remember you, they may come back.”
Grabowski quoted the baseball movie “Fever Pitch,” calling his regulars “my summer family.”
Over the years, he has been invited to his section regulars’ family weddings, baptisms and funerals. He jokes with fans who have had babies: “That will be my retirement child” — meaning that when their offspring is old enough to come to games a buy and beer from him, he’ll call it quits.
He wonders what will be different when he goes back to work. So much likely has changed with some of his favorite customers during the pandemic.
He worries about a group of four older men who attend Wrigley Field games every Friday “like clockwork,” enjoying two beers apiece.
“I don’t know if I’m going to see them,” Grabowski said. “There’s trepidation going into next year too.”