The Lunch Hour by Jennifer Eremeeva

The three martini lunch is sadly a thing of the past, and business negotiations in these troubled times are more likely to be held over a dodgy SKYPE line rather than the traditional 16 oz porterhouse steak, but the business lunch appears to be alive and well. There is something inherently relaxing in combining the discussion of a new marketing strategy, share float, debt restructuring or compensation package, with the consumption of food. Sharing a bottle of Puligny Monrachet, a sensitively grilled sea bass, and undeniably the garlic soup at Remy’s, has the potential to smooth even the roughest paths to mutual cooperation and agreement.

Equally, however, the business lunch can massively backfire, as a friend recently recounted to me in graphic detail. Lured to a Georgian restaurant by a dubious hopeful, itching to pitch her on something she neither wanted nor needed, she was subjected to a four hour session of watching her interlocutor eat khinkali in the traditional Georgian manner: hoisting the tear-shaped dumpling to nose level, positioning himself underneath and then sucking the juices through the pastry “sack.”

Yuck.

Times may be hard, but no one needs that kind of lunch, even if it is on the other guy’s VISA. The khinkhali fan didn’t get his gig, and nor should he have. I’m a sucker for a good khinkali (pun intended) but there is a time and place for everything, and khinkali and the business pitch is not a match made in heaven. These days, you may only have one shot to clinch your deal over a lunch or dinner, so, as a public service message, here are the definitive guidelines to what and, more importantly what not to order during that all-important working lunch or dinner.

Opinion is divided on whether or not you should drink alcohol at lunchtime. The occasion may mandate something a tad more festive than mineral water without gas, but consider carefully before ordering a bottle of tequila, four limes, and the saltcellar if you are in the final stages of interviewing for the six-figure CEO job, with the Head of EEMMMEEAAAC. I stay away from carbonated drinks of any kind for reasons I think should be abundantly clear. Transparent drinks such as gin and white wine are safer than Campari or Merlot if you think there is even an outside chance you might spill your drink down the front of your just-back-from-the-dry-cleaner Thomas Pink shirt. I don’t recommend using a straw to consume your drink, as it instantly lowers your perceived IQ to subterranean depths, unless, of course, you are trying to seduce your interlocutor; and if this is the case, try to confine your use of the straw to the by-products of the grain (vodka, gin etc.) rather than the grape (champagne, wine).

As you navigate the menu, try to visualize the manner in which you will consume the dish. Nothing says, “I’m not capable of managing 100 grams of melted Gruyere, let alone a US$100 mn M&A deal,” like classic French Onion Soup. Soup can knobble you before you even get into the starting gate, so don’t be shy: ask the waiter if the vegetables are cubed (julienned veggies may be the last word in nouvelle cuisine, but they are hell to get into your mouth in one go.) If you must order soup, stick with a cream soup, in neutral colors (unless you feel your Hermes scarf and the spinach soup are going to blend well) and, while this is not lecture on table manners, let’s all remember to spoon away from ourselves, and that slurping, no matter what your granny told you, is not the way to show your appreciation for the chef. Paying your bill and leaving a hefty tip is.

Salad may strike you as a safe choice, particularly if you are one of those women who only orders a hamburger in the dead of night, but salads are full of hazards. Russian restaurants were never really on top of the lettuce situation, but the current economic climate has seen a number of restaurants, (who should really know better), sneaking things like frisse into garden salads This bitter leaf is too large to be forked into your mouth in one go, and conceals hidden pockets of dressing, which will spray all over your silk blouse. Frisse tastes so disgusting that you will be forced to swallow it in one go, just as you are trying to press for that extra percentage point.

Many men I know, to prove what studs they are, like to order the spiciest thing on the menu, which is just plain stupid. Apart from looking like the Coco-Cola sign at 9 pm on a Saturday night, you will end up drinking your water, your partner’s water, your perspective client’s water, and your perspective client’s wife’s water too: and this can be perceived as slightly “grabby.”

Cherry tomatoes should be left on the side of your plate, untouched, because the last thing you need to do is to cut into one of those little culinary grenades, letting loose a spray of acidic juice right into the face of your Managing Director. The same holds true for grapefruit, Chicken Kiev, and McDonald’s fruit pie range.

Try to avoid anything that involves complicated dissection, even if you got top marks in High School biology: small birds and artichokes top this list – you want your attention firmly fixed on the conversation, not ransacking your handbag for a pair of tweezers so you can de-choke your heart. Steer clear of lobsters altogether: ordering them is way too ostentatious, and consuming them should only be done at the height of summer on the back porch, wearing your oldest T-shirt.

Food you consume with anything other than a knife, fork and spoon is iffy. I realize that in this day and age, any 6 year old in Moscow can successfully spear a piece of sushi with chopsticks, but there’s no point in getting cocky; all it takes is one wasabi and soy sauce coated piece of tuna to slither into your lap, and you can kiss the ad revenue good-bye. If you don’t know how to expertly twirl the long pastas (Capelli d’angelo, linguine, fettuccine, and the real killer papparadelle) adroitly onto a fork using a companion spoon or the side of the pasta dish, then I suggest you check out the risotto instead. Finger food is also a grey area, since you’ll inevitably start licking your fingers, and this sends a business message that isn’t always received with enthusiasm. See Josh Brolin’s portrait of George W. Bush eating a sandwich in “W.” if you need further convincing.

Unless you just deposited twice your expected annual bonus and your wife runs a huge construction company, I recommend steering clear of food that can end up between your teeth: lamb chops, pizza, figs, hamburgers and spinach. Which brings me to the subject of toothpicks. I don’t care if they are on the table, or brought to the table with a flourish by the guy dressed like Alexander Pushkin, toothpick use in public is a definite no-no. It is not okay to cup one hand over your mouth while you attempt to manipulate the toothpick with the other. This is why God invented dental floss. If you think you have something between your teeth, excuse yourself to the bathroom and deal with it there.

A final word: my friend the khinkali victim’s four hour ordeal watching someone consume something that looked exactly like a human testicle reminds me that if you really want to be safe, avoid all food that resembles – or is in fact – a bodily organ, particularly a sexual one. No matter how delicious, they can put your fellow diner off. The great exception to this, and, indeed to each of the rules above, is oysters, because they are just so fantastic. Eight, not twelve, be prepared to share, and make sure the month has an “R” in it.

Guest Blogger, Jennifer Eremeeva is a freelance writer living in Moscow. She is currently working on her first book: Herring Under A Fur Coat.

Tags : business-lunch, drinks, food, G.Bush, tasty things, бизнес-ланч, вкуснятина, Дж. Буш, еда, напитки, обед

Filed under Leadership/Management, Job Search, Career Advice, For a laugh