What sane individual would gladly pay $18 for a cocktail? Not just Gin. Any “adult beverage.” Who are we trying to impress? Who do we think we are? If we’re this stupid sober perhaps we should never contemplate intoxication again. It’s just too risky.
Is some Pellegrino with a little lime and a garnish really worth the 900% price increase we could avoid by drinking at home just because it comes with an occasional disinterested smirk from the barkeep? Have we lost our tenuous grasp on reality here?
Forget the barkeep. I want my $18 to go toward a bustier waitress and an ice shaker that makes people confuse me with James Bond, even before they start drinking.
I guess it’s par for the course when you are in the schmoozing business, it ‘s easier to work a prospect when they are well lubricated. But wait. Damnit! That’s another reason I don’t want to pay $18.00 per drink. It takes more than one to make them believe my tripe. Hey Joe fancy tie, “tell me all about your portfolio. Let’s talk about how many amazing projects you have in the pipeline and how (here comes the part they need to be lubricated for) only I can help you make a go of them”. I ‘m not sure I ‘m buying this myself. I guess that will require another $18.00.
In reality, my liquid refreshment investment is actually in consideration of my return on investment. When it comes right down to it, I really am a pragmatist you see. If the price of multiple concoctions outranks your wallet, I advise you sip slowly. No gentleman would be so classless as to finish before you do, let alone ask for another.
So, is that it? Is the dirty little secret of why I’m paying $18.00 a pop for beverages that top the market price at $1.39 really a matter of economics? YES! I selfishly am seeking to buy an opportunity for me to be able to make more money to buy more over-priced swill.
Beyond the improved chances for a business deal, what about love? Do $18.00 investments increase my chances of a love connection or am I really just paying a female to talk to me?
So, you play the odds. One drink + a tip or, at a minimum, at least $50 for 3-shots and that’s before you strike up a conversation with the wannabe starlet you want to impress as ‘Daddy Warbucks’. And once you realize you are NOT “Daddy Warbucks’ and it really is the ‘hard knock life for you, then you’re priorities begin to surface. Do I want to get a business card, get laid . . . perhaps have to report” my credit card was stolen in the morning?
Nope: It’s time to look around and figure out how to get my return on investment by hook or by crook. Show me one man who didn’t begin the evening’s hunting expedition in search of bagging a ’10, ‘ but by the end of the evening, (or his money) was happy to go home with tranquilized a Wildebeest. Don’t they all get prettier by closing time anyway? Settling for a trout is all you’ve got when Moby Dick is nowhere to be found. Likewise, a small return is better than none at all.
If you do strike-out in love or business, by now the alcohol has you seriously considering the possibility that the bartender may actually give a crap about your sorry life. Yeah! We’ll be buds. This will be my exclusive watering hole. Perhaps he’ll even name a drink after me! Yeah, that ‘s it. . . the ‘Flaming Idiot’! On second thought, perhaps I’ll just pack a flask.
John Bonavia can be found on Twitter, or you can follow him on Linkedin or Instagram.