Are Corkage Fees Toast?

For the record, I am not a purebred cat. I am a shelter cat with shelter-cat tastes. The only reason I flew to resplendent, expensive Napa Valley was to tiptoe through a quiet vineyard or two.

Just as I was tracking a water droplet rolling down a plump Chardonnay grape, I overheard a couple complaining about the corkage fee they had to pay the night before.

Turns out the sommelier at the posh restaurant was annoyed they had brought their own wine. Their first offense: They didn’t call ahead for BYOB permission. Their second: Their bottle was a lot cheaper than anything on the menu. In fact, it was a $40 bottle purchased from a grocery store. No wonder nearby diners looked away.

Because the corkage fee rule is to charge the equivalent of a restaurant’s least expensive offering, the waiter added $75 to the couple’s bill.

I don’t know about you, but I could fill my water dish with a lot of San Pellegrino for $75. Sure, I understand the loss of wine sales can depress a restaurant’s earnings, but that’s flawed thinking, or else why wouldn’t a corkage fee be charged to diners who don’t order wine at all? They’re contributing to the loss of wine sales, too.

A corkage fee also covers wine-glass breakage. I mean, who knows how many wine stems are broken each day, right? Probably hundreds, maybe thousands. I wonder why restaurants aren’t worried about their water glasses. Maybe they should consider a water-pouring fee.

Like I said, I’m just a shelter cat, so I don’t get restaurants being “offended” by patrons who eschew their wines. Owners justify corkage fees by saying their chefs spend months pairing wines with dishes. I didn’t know it was such an arduous task. I asked my owners once if they would do a pairing for me, and they said, “Sure. Here’s your water. Here’s your food. Eat.”

OK, I’ll give it up. I have a few wine corks to bat around the floor anyway.

Meet You Under The Sweet Gum - After The Sales.

I can’t wait any longer. I know the first day of fall doesn’t arrive until tomorrow, but I’m celebrating it a day early. Harlequin Cat’s feline affinity for fall foliage began under a sweet gum tree -- lunging at leaves splotched red and yellow but having to settle for Day-Glo oranges instead.

Wonderful, glorious, mysterious fall!

But turns out I’m not the only one to describe the season in such reverent terms.

The big retailers are, too – paying homage by adding just one more word: profitable. I can’t blame them. Business has been lousy and I really do hope they have a good fourth quarter.

But do Thanksgiving decorations really have to be put out in August? And I’m already sick of seeing all the Halloween stuff coated with July store dust.

Come to think of it, I could have sworn I heard a ho-ho-ho flying through New York last week. For sure I saw Marley’s ghost.

I don’t feel so bad now celebrating the season a day early. So meet you under the sweet gum tree?

OK, I’ll wait until you pay for your pilgrim salt-and-pepper shakers first.

Civility Goes To Hell In A Handbasket.

Civility hit a new low this week when Rep. Joe Wilson, R-S.C., called President Barack Obama a liar during his healthcare address to Congress.

According to the Los Angeles Times, the shout of “You lie!” was a “significant break in decorum.”

Harlequin Cat prefers to call it a Neanderthal outburst - Neanderthal being defined as uncivilized, unintelligent or uncouth, esp. male-oriented in nature.

Sure, Wilson apologized to the president, who in turn accepted it with the reminder that important issues that matter to the American people can be addressed without name-calling.

But the furor over Wilson’s outburst won’t dissipate anytime soon. Now there’s a push for him to publicly apologize on the same floor where he hurled the insult.

Is Wilson considering it? Hope so. Might be nice for him to consider a few things before speaking next time.

I could use more colorful language, but I'll stop at Neanderthal.

Deadlines Staring At Me.

When windows are opaque and you can’t see your own reflection, it's time to stop and reflect.

A big blizzard canceled all my astral flights last week, leaving me stranded with just half a bag of snackies. So I read Orbiting The Giant Hairball by Gordon MacKenzie. Have you read it? You should. It's subtitled "A Corporate Fool's Guide to Surviving With Grace" and addresses how to defy the "rubber-stamp confines of the administrative mindset" in a fairly civil way.

Harlequin Cat can never read too many books about hairballs.

Robo-call Rule Sheds Yet Another Skin.

I swung by Capitol Hill this morning and wondered why I had to pick my way around all these crispy, brittle snakeskins. And then I remembered: Today the new federal rule for robo-calls takes effect -- the Federal Trade Commission’s attempt at choking off the telemarketing industry.

Instead of sending out automated phone blasts whenever the mood strikes them, telemarketers will now have to get consumer permission first or else face a fine of up to $16,000.

Unfortunately, the new rule exempts “politicians, banks, telephone carriers and most other charitable organizations.”

Gotta love how politicians always seem to carve out an exemption for themselves. Guess this means I’ll be getting more robo-calls from my robo-congressman, who may or may not know that snakes shed their skin to allow for growth and then usually defecate afterwards.

Your heart’s in the right place, FTC. But all robo-callers need to provide an opt-out system, especially politicians and banks. Remember what we were taught in science class? A snake’s new skin has the same patterns and colors as the old one.