So, it was the first corporate event to which I had been invited since I joined the Stanford Agency. The leading Account execs were there. Since I was the new guy on the creative side, I think they were “scoping” me out. No one knew that I love humor in its most diabolical form - the so called “practical” joke.
I had met enough of these people to know they were “hoity toity” types, not the kind of good ol’ boys ‘n girls I usually ran with. It was a wine tasting, after all, and I had been assigned by the hostess to bring a “red, French wine”. It was that kind of party where the palates would be educated, our knowledge of terroire elevated, and conversations impressive. It was a metaphorical pissing contest.
I wanted to impress. Working at an ad agency was a big deal for me. I was now working full time. No longer loading trucks under a Teamster contract, though I salute everytime I see an UPS truck because they paid for my son’s hospital birth expenses. But, I was living large.
My wife and I had recently moved up from our weekly bottle of jug wine to wines from actual vineyards. Grapes had names different from “red” or “white.” We had even bought a new vacuum cleaner, a top of the line Kirby. And, we were new parents! We even bought a new (for us) old house in a different run-down part of Dallas - “Hollywood” and we lived one block over from the barrio so we could hang our laundry across the fence from the former chicken coop which now housed two families.
I stopped at the liquor store and asked for “French wine, mon-sewer” (highschool Francaise in San Antonio gave my pronunciation a certain twang). “Rouge!” I remembered. Yes. Here they were. And, even a selection.
As I stood there I remembered that a local printing company had just that day delivered a large 4-color, finely printed poster of the wine labels of the “Twenty Most Famous Wines In The World”. Full size, high quality 4-color printing. Only one had I ever actually heard about, “Chateau Margot 1959” reportedly about $200 a bottle (and that was 40 years ago now.)
I was required to bring two but I bought three. The third was a lesser expensive one which had a plastic topper which read “Margot”. Really? Yup, “Alleged Margot.”
I went home, soaked the label off that “Alleged Margot” bottle. Then I found the printing company poster and cut out the “Chateau Margot ‘59” label. I asked my wife for the rubber cement, and “Voila!” We were almost ready to Party!”
Next, I would “dress to impress” (wear my “work pants.”) I couldn't just slip the “Alleged Margot” bottle into a wine carrying paper bag and boogie-woogie! Not "Chateau Margot '59"!
So, I remembered a glass jewelery case my mother had given my wife. Just the thing to keep folks from getting too close to the "Alleged Margo" - perhaps to see the wrinkled lable and rubber cement. I opened the lid, took out whatever was inside, and put in some white gift tissue paper. Then I carefully laid the "Alleged Margot" bottle in the case and lowered the lid. I M P R E S S I V E!!
Off we went, and the glass case got shown around and elicited "ooh's and ahh's".
At the end of the evening one Acccount Exec, after the long evening of wine tasting said to me, "Why don't we get out your fancy bottle of "Chateau Margot" wine and taste it?"
What was I to do?
© 2026 Jean W. Yeager All Rights Reserved
No comments:
Post a Comment