Giraffe in High Heels

Do you know what a mixologist does? I didn’t know until yesterday.

If I had to guess, I would have said that they mix things or they have taken the study of mixing things to a high level. Well, they could be a smoothie maker, a DJ (? not sure, not my field) or they could even be a match-maker. But the mixologist I am going to meet (if everything goes OK) is a bartender. Yes, he makes cocktails. He mixes drinks - and calls it a science!

I was looking for someone who can simply provide cocktail photos, and send a request to the fluid trade, which, I presume, is some kind of association of bars. Then my email travelled around and I got a reply from a mixologist’s agent. At first, I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. To quote from the email read, "...we could provide a Mixologist for a photo shoot..". It even spelled with a capital M. I googled the word, and was convinced they’re talking about a bartender.

Why do they need such a pretentious title? Because it sounds posh, I guess. Look around you, lots of job titles don’t match the job description nowadays. For example, a sales assistant might call herself a sales executive or a brand ambassador!
I guess, employers need to attract more people by giving them job titles that help them to enhance their self-image.

My question:

• does 'my father/boyfriend is a mixologist' sound better than 'my father/boyfriend is a bardender'?
• would you rather say that you a 'an office manager' than a 'personal assistant' - perhaps you would.

Who knows what people feel when they describe their jobs. What I know is if people have never heard of the job, they won't judge it.

Yesterday I got a last-minute invitation to a live performance of Coba. Coba is an accordionist who toured around with Bjork.

He may be famous, but I didn’t know about him until the invitation came through. I thought he should be very good and there’s no point in missing this chance. So I accepted the invitation.
It just turned out to be a disaster.

First of all, the place was so disorganised!
People who know me already know that disorganised things put me off. Don't you?
People were queuing everywhere to get in.They were queuing inside the bar, outside the bar, yes, virtually they were everywhere. There was a complete absense of organisation.I call this "French queuing", because I witnessed this style of queuing in a Mexican airport over the three years I spent there, French people never queue in line. They stand wherever they like to stand, and think they are queuing. Very wrong. They just create a whole mess.

Anyway, back to Coba.
I was already annoyed by the time I finally reached the door.
What made things worse was that it did not start on time.
I know some people are happy to wait for their favourite musician. But in my case, I didn’t even know Coba, what if it turned out to be crap? It would just confirm that I was wasting my time, which I don't like.

It should have started from 7pm, but it was past 9pm when someone finally appeared on the stage. Guess what, it was not Coba. I had to bear with the terrible sound that this unknown band Miso-soup made. I didn’t like Miso-soup, even before I listen to them. I don’t like any group who call themselves Miso-soup. Don’t get me wrong, I like miso-soup. But a band called Miso-soup??? They are not ambitious enough to allow themselves to be called Miso-soup. The name never promises a major success; can you imagine the name Miso-soup appears in the top chart? I think people should aim high when they organised a band and came up with a name. Because after you stand on a stage for the first time, lots of criticism is likely to follow and it can knock your ambition. If you don't have much to begin with, it doesn't last long! Too bad.

Anyway, back to Coba... again.
To make a long story short, I am going to ask myself a question; did I regret making an effort to go there? The answer is a resounding yes. But it is purely my fault. I should have remembered that I don’t like the sound of accordion. Coba may be an original talented musician in his own right, but I don’t like the instrument he chose. This is just a difference in taste, and I should’ve known my taste when accepting the invitation.