What does a plucked Raven look like?  D’oh!

Alright, it’s been a long time since I’ve really had a chance, or a call, to rant.  And when I rant, the walls of the internet shake.  There is a bastion of corporate culture that has been slowly eroded, much to the dismay of those of us who still pull on the corporate noose and trudge to work on a regular basis.  I suppose my intent to create some sort of building suspense was probably rendered moot by using the subject of my rant in the title of the post…

Where has the three martini lunch gone? Hell, what about the one martini lunch?  Or a glass of wine with lunch? Or a bourbon on the rocks to close a business deal?  In every job I’ve had there has been an express prohibition of consuming alcohol while on the clock (which gets particularly difficult in a job where I’m technically always on call).  Why have we, as a society, decided that people who are responsible enough to handle a lot of money are not responsible enough to manage their ability to have a bit of a tipple at lunch?

It’s worth stopping here to explain why I feel the need to rant.  The other day I went out with a friend to a somewhat pricey cocktail lounge/restaurant and treated myself to a three martini dinner.  For full disclosure, I’m a bit of a purist when it comes to the lable of ‘martini’; something called a martini should have gin and vermouth, and nothing else.  For the purposes of this rant, however, martini will refer to any cocktail that is served in martini style stemware and which is more or less a base and a flavoring, both of which are alcoholic.  Quite frankly, the notion of consuming 12 ounces of gin in a single sitting makes me somewhat ill.  But anyway…the three martini dinner.  This ‘dinner’ consisted of a Manhattan (which was, in the words of Fat Tony, superb), a local imbibation known as a Kactus Kooler (which was supposed to be reminiscient of the orange and pineapple soda of the same name; it fell short, but was still delectable) and a bartender’s challenge unnamed entry which consisted of amaretto, orange juice, and sloe gin (I have no idea of the proportions…maybe my friends at the Mixoloseum can help.)

This was one of the most enjoyable dinners I’ve had in some time, and it  had little to do with the food (which was an acceptable version of a spinach-artichoke dip) or the particular flavor of the drinks (though my moonlight occupation as a cocktail blogger did fuel part of the night.)  Rather, having just completed 8 hours of intense study, a little bit of relaxation was necessary to even think clearly.  Our conversation had taken on a  slightly business-y context, making plans for future opportunities and what not, and I was struck by the clarity of mind I felt because I was unfettered by nagging stress-related aches and  pains.

This got me thinking: work can get kind of stressful…o.k., really stressful.  Why have we cut ourselves off culturally from the very thing that has made the world go  ’round?

Worth thinking about…

Hello to all!  The Raven has moved into the 22nd century and is now live with a real blog.  Here you will find all of the deepest, darkest, innermost thoughts of the feathered imbiber as he tipples his way through lifes tribulations.  Keep  your eye out for a few MxMo entries as Raven has been drooling (do birds drool?) to participate.  I hope you enjoy reading Quaff, and implore you to send feedback for anything you see that just demands to be corrected…The Raven is still new to this whole world wide web-based log of thoughts.