(c) Ikon Ikon Images
One weekend, Dee and I met for cocktails at Vesuvio's in North Beach. A historic San Francisco bar built in 1913, Vesuvio's is a funky place with a long wooden bar and walls adorned with photos of famous San Franciscans and a collection of Gold Coast ephemera.
Dee and I were chopping it up, reminiscing about friends and waxing philosophical about relationships. Dee had become disillusioned with dating, one clown after another, she said. She started to weep and I took her hand. Like most women of our generation, she was reacting to to the stress of expectation, rooted in tradition, that we were raised to want and become - wives and mothers.
" It's okay, Dee." I said. "The most important relationship you have is one with yourself."
An older white lady seated with several people nearby overheard us and invited us to join them for a round.
" I'm Barbara." She said, kindly. "This is my husband Richard, Ahmed, and Matthias. Ahmed is from Iran and Matthias just moved here from Germany."
"Nice to meet you." Dee said. "I'm Dimitria, but everyone calls me Dee. This is Lisa. How did you all end up at Vesuvio's?"
" We're colleagues that work in finance." Barbara said. " Where did we meet Ahmed? New York or London?"
" London!" Ahmed said, raising his glass.
" Mathias left HBC to work for JP Morgan Chase. He just moved to California."
"HBC?" I asked. " That international finance."
" Yes," Mathias chuckled. " Unfortunately, I'm going through a divorce at the moment. I just got a house in Mill Valley for my family."
" How many kids do you have?" Dee asked.
" Five."
"Five?!" Dee and I asked in unison.
" Germans have a lot of children." Barbara said with a wink. "Richard and I met at Bank of America. I was his assistant..oh 30 years ago? He was a VP at the time....and married."
Barbara laughed and took another sip of her drink.
" That's an accurate summary. " Richard said.
" Well, alright." Dee said, with her half surprise, half sarcastic tone. She leaned into me and whispered, " I think I need to get into finance."
" Matthias, what do you do? " I asked
" Mergers and acquisitions analysis." ( Translated that means he determined what rich corporations can buy for a steal to get bigger and richer ).
This was the moment where Dee and I realised, without a word between us, that this crew were stinking, six-seven-eight figures - rich.
I had met an HBC executive lesbian in New York in the mid-2ks. All her partner did was play tennis and take fancy cooking classes. HBC wasn't very cool. In trying ( awkwardly ) to relate, she shared that she'd been in a meeting with colleagues who were analyzing income data of African-American women in major US cities, the highest earners in Black communities, and how to tap into that market. That tripped me out - that black women in America are a global target demographic. I also get bored with the wacky shit white women reach for in order to be relatable. Couldn't she just be a regular person? What could she have expected telling me about black women as data points to capitalists?
Dee and I were chopping it up, reminiscing about friends and waxing philosophical about relationships. Dee had become disillusioned with dating, one clown after another, she said. She started to weep and I took her hand. Like most women of our generation, she was reacting to to the stress of expectation, rooted in tradition, that we were raised to want and become - wives and mothers.
" It's okay, Dee." I said. "The most important relationship you have is one with yourself."
An older white lady seated with several people nearby overheard us and invited us to join them for a round.
" I'm Barbara." She said, kindly. "This is my husband Richard, Ahmed, and Matthias. Ahmed is from Iran and Matthias just moved here from Germany."
"Nice to meet you." Dee said. "I'm Dimitria, but everyone calls me Dee. This is Lisa. How did you all end up at Vesuvio's?"
" We're colleagues that work in finance." Barbara said. " Where did we meet Ahmed? New York or London?"
" London!" Ahmed said, raising his glass.
" Mathias left HBC to work for JP Morgan Chase. He just moved to California."
"HBC?" I asked. " That international finance."
" Yes," Mathias chuckled. " Unfortunately, I'm going through a divorce at the moment. I just got a house in Mill Valley for my family."
" How many kids do you have?" Dee asked.
" Five."
"Five?!" Dee and I asked in unison.
" Germans have a lot of children." Barbara said with a wink. "Richard and I met at Bank of America. I was his assistant..oh 30 years ago? He was a VP at the time....and married."
Barbara laughed and took another sip of her drink.
" That's an accurate summary. " Richard said.
" Well, alright." Dee said, with her half surprise, half sarcastic tone. She leaned into me and whispered, " I think I need to get into finance."
" Matthias, what do you do? " I asked
" Mergers and acquisitions analysis." ( Translated that means he determined what rich corporations can buy for a steal to get bigger and richer ).
This was the moment where Dee and I realised, without a word between us, that this crew were stinking, six-seven-eight figures - rich.
I had met an HBC executive lesbian in New York in the mid-2ks. All her partner did was play tennis and take fancy cooking classes. HBC wasn't very cool. In trying ( awkwardly ) to relate, she shared that she'd been in a meeting with colleagues who were analyzing income data of African-American women in major US cities, the highest earners in Black communities, and how to tap into that market. That tripped me out - that black women in America are a global target demographic. I also get bored with the wacky shit white women reach for in order to be relatable. Couldn't she just be a regular person? What could she have expected telling me about black women as data points to capitalists?
The best I could come up with was, " That's interesting." ( the broad, general, non-engagement response ).
"Come with us to dinner!" Barbara said. " We have reservations."
We walked a few blocks to Kearny, south of Broadway, to a Chinese restaurant. Ahmed had a few words with a waiter and we were escorted to a private dining room in the back. We sat around a large circular table draped in crisp, white linen.
" The brandino looks interesting." Ahmed said, perusing the menu
" What do you think? It's in season."
"Lisa and Dee whatever you like - enjoy! "
" I like eggplant basil over rice." I said.
"Let's get the roasted duck and the Szechuan cashew chicken." Barbara said.
A whole duck? This went on for awhile without any mention of the price. Then it was Oolong tea before dinner and California wine with dinner. The food was laid out like a feast and we shared family style, passing each dish around.
We had a fascinating conversation that night with Barbara and her tribe. Ahmed shared how he fled Iran and the Ayatollah's regime to London where he started his education in finance, going from one firm to another.
Richard was semi-retired and working with big wig clients as a consultant. Barbara was the VP of another bank and dabbling in state politics. Dabbling as in, you know, market research lobbyist or some ish like that. It's a hobby of mine, analysing capitalism and politics, and America's dysfunctional relationship to both. I've lost count of how many big wigs in corporate finance have ended up in cabinet positions, McNamara and Rumsfeld among them.
Mathias was charming, but he seemed out of sorts adapting to a new job in a new country while going through a divorce. The new house in Mill Valley was likely over 1 million dollars. Barbara and the crew paid for dinner effortlessly with barely a glance at the bill.
After dinner we all parted ways into the night. Dee and I headed back to my car, to a spot I usually park closer to the wharf, down the hill. Parking anywhere near Broadway and Washington Square is either impossible or on steep, nerve-wracking incline side streets.
" You thought Matthias was attractive." Dee said,
" I like sophisticated men, but no." I said. " He's going through some heavy life stuff. A nice person though."
" Why didn't they ask us to hang out again?"
" I don't know. " I said. " Sometimes we encounter people in the moment - and then it's gone."
Dee rolled her eyes. " Okay, philosopher! I thought it would have been a friendly gesture. Maybe they just want to brag to their friends they treated two working black chicks to a lavish dinner. They're down for the revolution! "
We laughed as we got in the car and drove back to the East Bay along Front street to the Bay Bridge. That area of the city, as you approach the Ferry Building and the port, sure is pretty on a summer night.
No comments:
Post a Comment