Literary Agent Orson: The French Paradox

“Welcome to Café Dilettante, table for three?” the maitre’d asked.

“Yes,” Chloe said.

He lifted the menus and nodded for them to follow.

She’d glommed onto the wine list before Orson had the chance. “A bottle of Stag’s Leap Fay, please,” she said to the sommelier.

Orson cocked an eyebrow, leaned and whispered across the table, “This is a French restaurant,” he whispered, at an angle trying to see the wine list. “Don’t you think that’s an insult?”

“Orson, do you think the French give a hoot what you or I think? No, they don’t. And I don’t give a damn about the effete French. These prices for French wine, that’s the insult.”

“Six hundred for that bottle hardly seems cheap.”

“You are our guest this evening. Let us not concern ourselves with things such as price.”

“Of course,” he said.

The wine was brought and served.

“Oh that’s good,” Orson said after a sip. “To the French Paradox,” he said, “and a toast to my best selling author,” Orson said as he raised his glass. “Ten-thousand units scanned last month, and a hefty advance on her next book. Very nice work.”

“Here, here,” said William, her husband. They smiled and clinked glasses. “Two years ago we couldn’t have afforded this bottle of wine on my salary,” he said to Orson. “Now we’re thinking about off-shore accounts and tax shelters.”

“If you’re serious, I have just the bank for you in the Caribbean,” Orson said. “I’ve funneled money there for years. My CPA has some aggressive avoidance plans, too.”

“Orson, what are your thoughts on our president’s new ideas?” William asked as he leaned back with his wine.

“I happen to think universal health care, better roads and schools are a great idea, and you have to admit, our health care system is a shambles.” Orson said.

“You say that, but at the expense of someone else,” William said, leaning in. “Listen to yourself: practicing aggressive tax avoidance and in the same breath touting huge spending.”

“The irony’s not lost on me,” Orson said, a little bead of perspiration upon his brow.

“You and I want the same things. The only difference is that I am honest about my money. You pay lip service.”

“I prefer to think of it as pragmatic.” Orson smiled at William.

“You can’t have it both ways, that’s all I’m saying.” He smiled back at Orson.

They finished first bottle and Chloe ordered another bottle with appetizers.

“Now that I’m successful, every politician feels he is entitled to the product of my labor. They speak as if I’d done something wrong, and I’m a bad person because I want to keep more of what I earn. When I had nothing, I was very liberal. William always said nothing would make me conservative quicker than acquisition. He was right.”

“But Chloe, you must admit there are segments of our population who really need help. Don’t you think it is our duty as a civilized and altruistic people to help them? Don’t you think it’s fair to spread the wealth?”

“The French are civilized and altruistic. They spread the wealth. Look where it’s gotten them. They are a lazy, racist and stagnant nation. That’s the real French Paradox. America is still a little uncivilized. That is her vitality. Forty percent of our population pays no tax at all. Instead of spreading wealth, it’s time to spread the responsibility. It’s time for them to pay.”

“God, this Escargot is good. The rewards of hard work! She’s right: it shouldn’t be done by penalizing the productive class,” William said, finishing his snails. “Dear, I’ve just been struck by a notion.”

“What is it, honey?”

“Since Orson is okay with handing the bill to someone else, why don’t we hand him the bill for tonight’s dinner?”

“Inspired thinking, William!”

“Can you say expense account?” Orson said as he hoisted his wine again. They all laughed and clinked glasses.