A group of traveling executives from a distribution company outside of Chicago got lost on the bourbon trail and ended up at the JIF peanut butter plant. The troop, already weighed down with tote bags from Buffalo Trace and Woodford Reserve were too drunk to realize their mistake.

The grown men all identical in cargo shorts and lanyard sunglasses wobbled around the factory stopping to make observations about the craft of distillation.

“This sort of has a nutty flavor. Is that from the oak barrels?” asked one of the idiots. “Nothing like warming up over a fresh batch of sour mash,” said Senior Executive Phillip Kettleman as he spread his hands over a thousand gallon tank of roasted peanuts.

30 year JIF technician, Rupert Krakatoa wasn’t too put off by the invasion. “It’s not like I’ve never gotten drunk from a peanut butter jar.”

“This was President Jimmy Carters favorite drink.” Rupert explained to another one of the morons. “Would you like it on the rocks or neat?” he said gesturing at the Creamy or Crunchy jars.

The Vice President of the group was seen in the break room asking where he could find some club soda, furiously shaking a jar of JIF over a highball glass. Security at the plant narrowly avoided a complete shutdown by tackling one of the men who was about to pour a two liter of Diet Coke into a finished batch. “Anybody got a swizzle stick?” he yelled before impact.

They were all finally corralled out of the plant where they asked their Uber driver if they could finish their drinks in the car. All of the fools held up their cocktails garnished with celery sticks and raisins. “To George Washington Carver! Here! Here!”