Table for One; OUTSIDE Of Per Se
This summer, I was tasked with a project that was bigger than me, or so I thought. What I don’t tell the other players in this game is that I am super insecure, and at this point, it was paralyzing. I pulled myself together and thought about how I outline success, and what has brought me this far:
I look at the other side of a program, maybe go a little rogue; however, my intention is always about the sale. I recently had a co-worker tell me I’m a “marketing” specialist, and I disagree. You try selling a grape called Carmenere on the East Coast of the United States - not an easy task. What a consumer (or buyer, for that matter - we are all human) gets hooked on is the story. What connects with you? What will you take home with you? What morphes into something else and then something else beyond that? That is where I want to live. Those are the games I want to play in your head. Ok, so we know we have a challenging product, it’s hot as hell, and everyone is at the beach (it was August, and did I tell you it was HOT), but I have to throw a luncheon. Enter anxiety.
Asking for help is a strength, or so I thought. I turned to an industry professional for some advice. He is experienced, he knows his territory, and he is everything you think of when you imagine an effective, wine “well-to-do” power head. One thing I want to make clear, and funny, this wasn’t clear to me during the conversation with said wine professional - this is NOT a sign of me being weak, and if it was, I don’t care. There is no room for failure, and imploring a trusted ally to consider better measures of success is something you should do. I told you about trust in other rants - I don’t have any. So, knowing all these things, I asked - how can I get the best result?
“Good luck with that. No one is interested in these wines; I’ve been trying for years. The only reason your wine is at Per Se (Lux restaurant in New York owned by famous Chef Thomas Keller; I bend a knee) is because they did me a favor. AND you want to do this in August when no one is around in New York City? You know this is New York City? Let me tell you about New York City…”
There may have been more to this, but I blocked it out because of the obvious rage that you can imagine came on at this moment. I let him finish, and there was some silence. I thought there was only one answer, at the moment, that I could give him:
“You and Per Se can go fuck yourselves.”
I’m sorry for this. I have a quirk; I don’t like using foul language. I think when you do, you show your education. There are many more powerful ways to express yourself, and if you are smart, those ways are more damaging than telling someone to go fuck themselves. It was a reaction, and one I wish I could have thought through a little better. The point was made, maybe I said something else after that, but the conversation was at a close. I hung up the phone, and did something I never do - I went into my bedroom and cried for an hour. I think I did this because I was exhausted, scared he was right, frightened of what to do next, and worried that I was on the wrong path with this whole gig. This one comment threw me into a destructive state. This one comment also stayed with me. I’ve been doubting my success since August. It is now the end of October. I’ve been wondering what the hell I'm doing, but I know I’m not the only one. When you push against the locked door, you can’t expect to get out instantly. This is a time where the wine industry is not a shiny penny - difficult things lie ahead, points of distribution need to be accomplished, and it’s now or never. What if it’s never?
It wasn’t until this week that I saw a light - a glimmer, but it’s something. I was asked to speak at a seminar in Upstate New York. I agreed to this a while ago without thinking about the facts; this is a LONG ride, this may be an out-of-season thing to do, these are Chilean wines we are talking about - does anyone care? I prepared, wrote a kick ass PowerPoint, and made some nice sales before the seminar even happened: already a success. Seminars are like throwing a party; you can buy all the food, decorate your house, and have the best wine, but hopefully, people will show. Forty-two people came to this event. FOURTY TWO PEOPLE. I didn’t really believe it at first. Right before I started the seminar, I commented to a woman in the front row that I was overwhelmed by the response to my portfolio. “These wines look incredible, and I’m here to learn more about this beautiful area.” Thanks, lady - with that small comment, you saved me from a bit from a nervous breakdown.
Lessons from all of this:
Don’t listen to the demons in your head or the demons that are intimidated by what you will achieve. Block heads are easy to point out in the crowd. They are not your people.
Stop crying. Stop looking at depression as an excuse for your poor execution. Stop with the emotional drama that YOU are bringing on to a stagnant project that is not giving back any comfort. Do the task, do it well, and dive into the deep end.
You may not have a mob of consumers wanting your wines, but you may have a tribe. Build on the tribe.
By the way, the guy who stirred this all up with his ignorant response is not a bad guy. Maybe not the most articulate, and obviously pretty self-involved, but it is not my place to judge that. My eyes are open to all avenues that will help my progression, even the not-so-pretty moments. However, I need to sift through the noise to find the authenticity of what is speaking to me. Will I apologize for telling him to go fuck himself? Eh, probably not. Let’s let this one die out.
