Black Tie and Tails

He scurries and scuttles like a pretentious, overweight gerbil propelled by his own sense of self importance. The dinner guests are taken aback by his arrogance and manner, put off by the very knowledge that got him his job and they retreat, almost into hostility and dismissiveness. He senses this in a vague, distracted way but doesn't understand it. None of the servers live up to his expectations and he continually bitches at and about them, unable to see his part in these small dramas, feeling put upon and unappreciated, laughed at and martyred.

He knows more about wine - it's history and heritage, every detail of every vineyard and every varietal, all the sources and growing conditions - than anyone I've ever known and he speaks it's language vividly and with a sort of reverence for it's very existence yet he puts people off and he is sent away like a nuisance. His eager help and advice are scorned and he is treated with impatience, as an interruption or a little child dying to join the adult conversation but destined to remain on the outside edge. His feelings are hurt by this rejection and he gives in to sullen and sarcastic remarks about the guests and moans of "poor me". No one tries to help or encourage him, his prior put downs are remembered and still fresh. He sulks alone and ignored, his melodrama playing out to an annoyed and indifferent audience. He speaks the language of wine fluently but is unable to connect to the language of people and oversteps the line without even seeing it. When the guests turn their backs to him he persists until finally forced to quickstep away with military precision and an insincere smile.

The language of wine is joyous, pretentious, overdone and sometimes just plain silly. Wines are described in terms of emotions and images of " a muscular acrobat in a tuxedo, gliding across the dance floor" or "a tart wake up palette call" or " reminiscent of being young and climbing your first apple tree". Wine labels speak of the bouquet, the finish, the velvety texture, the buttery qualities, the gentle spicy whisper of tannins and old oak barrels and just the barest suggestion of flowers. This is not the language of everyday life or run of the mill folks, this is elegant and elevating, this is black tie and tails in a world of denim and cotton. If you do not belong, you will be identified and shunned, labeled and exposed.

Perhaps this is what he fears. Serving the wealthy is not always enough if what you really want is a place at their table.