Twenty One

He requests that she pick the wine for the night. They met last week at a party. He is only three years older than her. This is rare among the other people regularly in her life.

She finds a Chateaunuef du Pape from a praised, more recent vintage. She requests the bottle be decanted and they settle in at the corner of the bar.

The conversation is intense. They skip straight to a discussion of conventions, material success, happiness, hopelessness, and art. They sometimes pause. This is not uncomfortable. The wine breathes and they take their time sipping slowly.

She tells him she has no idea what she wants to "do" professionally. Even though she is well educated, she does not correlate "professionalism" with generating income. She lives to be happy and bring joy to herself and those she loves. She generates income by capitalizing on time not spent doing things she loves with people she loves. She does not prioritize, or really care at all, about a professional title (career) or professional success. This is how she thinks about her existence and she explains this to him.

He nods and remarks, " There is no outlet for talent."

This sentence stuns her. She has never said it herself or heard it before. She agrees and waits to see if he will expand on the statement.

He does, "Only according to the rules of the world around us. All we can do is sell it, and who decided that selling pieces of ourselves was the way to celebrate a skill? The only real outlet is to impress or entertain yourself or the people you love."

She pauses, then finally responds, "Impressing the people you love isn't that great though. I think it's better to find a way to give back to them using your talent."

He looks her in the eyes, "You're taking 'impressing' too literally. I don't mean to show up in a fur coat. I mean pretty much what you summed up."

There's another long pause. She is thinking. He looks away and reaches for his wine, "It was not meant to be a hopeless statement."

Her eyes light up, waiting to reconnect. She says, "I didn't think it was hopeless. I like it and agree with your points, especially in the context of a world order that rewards skill and talent with sales, which translates to financial gain."

"I don't want to sell anyone anything. I want to provide them something they need or want. I dream that they will seek out my service. Yes, I want to serve. Teaching wine classes is the closest I've come "professionally" to serving others."

"Then you should pursue that," he says. And they smile and clink their glasses. Her eyes twinkle from the alcohol and hope.