After my time in Germany, I returned to South Africa with a love for beer and brewing culture but no job. It wasn’t long before something caught my eye. When I got back to Durban in late 1993, there was a new name on everyone’s lips: Freeman’s True Brew. Brewed by Sterling Breweries right here in Durban, it had become the go-to beer around town. But that wasn’t all. Word soon reached me about a German family that had opened a brewery in Gauteng called Bavaria Bräu, brewing authentic Bavarian-style beers. This immediately piqued my interest.
It was the mid-90s when I landed my first real job—selling beer. Not just any beer, though. I was tasked with introducing Bavaria Bräu to the South African market. Armed with nothing but a pager, a fresh batch of business cards, and a second-hand Toyota Stallion (which I would affectionately refer to as my mobile office), I began what I can only describe as my beer sales apprenticeship.
Looking back, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. My only sales training was a crash course, shadowing one of the brewery’s top sales guys, Bernie O’Hagan, for a week. Bernie was a legend, cruising around Pretoria in his brand-new BMW, selling beer by the pallet to the likes of Makro. His effortless charm and established relationships were something to behold. But while Bernie sold in bulk, I quickly discovered that my world was going to be quite different.
A week later, reality hit hard. I took delivery of my “company car”—the trusty Toyota Stallion. Let me paint you a picture: It was a glorified milk van, white with a logo on the side, and a far cry from Bernie’s BMW. Inside, the back was packed with around 40 cases of Bavaria, and in my hand, I held a duplicate invoice book. This was my introduction to sales, and I had to make it work.
The thing is, while Bernie was selling pallets, I was knocking on doors and trying to sell five to ten cases at a time. Small orders, small customers, but for me, every sale counted. The brand was new, the market was competitive, and I had no relationships to lean on—just my enthusiasm and the beer in the back of my van.
What those first few months taught me was invaluable. I learned the importance of persistence, patience, and relationships. I visited every bar, bottle store, and restaurant I could find, pitching Bavaria Bräu with the passion of a man who truly believed in what he was selling. Some days were tough. I’d drive all day, hitting one small outlet after another, barely scraping together a few sales. But every small victory felt like a win, and slowly, we started to build a presence.
The best part of those early days was the challenge. Sure, it wasn’t glamorous. I wasn’t moving pallets like Bernie, and my Stallion wasn’t exactly turning heads. But I was learning the ropes, meeting people, and getting to know the ins and outs of the beer world.