The Checklist Generation
As we sat eating breakfast in Burbank this past weekend, my sister-in-law gave me the play-by-play of her recent visit to Disneyland with my nephews, detailing the temper-tantrums and torrential outbursts from parents and children alike as they attempted to navigate the crowded park on Veteran’s Day.
“People were freaking out everywhere,” she recalled; “They treat the entire experience like a checklist, and whenever they can’t check off one of the boxes they have a complete meltdown. Where’s the fun in that?”
Indeed, that sounds like no fun at all. Yet, it reminds me of something else…what could it be?
Oh, that’s right: whiskey.
I remember a time when broadening one’s whiskey horizons was simply an enjoyable thing to do, rather than a panic-inducing, life-defining activity that can completely make or break your entire year. But that’s what the “appreciation” of whiskey has become for a number of people I know, and the comparison to a rushed theme park checklist couldn’t be more appropriate. Does anyone else remember when Cartman only had two minutes to see everything at Casa Bonita?
It’s not too far off from what I see happening today.
The actual appreciation of whiskey—as in the enjoyment it brings—isn’t only a secondary thought for a number of today’s consumers; for many, it’s merely an afterthought. The idea of the experience is what matters most. Being able to say “I have tasted Pappy Van Winkle” is more valuable than actually having enjoyed a glass of Pappy Van Winkle.
Ever wonder why people spend $500 to see a live concert, then spend the entire time taking videos on their phone? Same answer.
A good number of consumers I speak with today often split purchased bottles into 50ml minis that can be shared and swapped with other collectors they communicate with on social media. By making contacts in the online whiskey-verse, and trading with other like-minded drinkers, they’re able to maximize the total number of experiences available to them.
But as someone who both appreciates and values the complete drinking experience—the people, the atmosphere, the music, the setting, etc—tasting a 50ml sample of a whiskey isn’t even remotely the same experience as enjoying a full glass of it with the right person. It’s the difference between tasting a sample of the 2005 Château Haut-Brion at a wine tasting, and sitting down with a full glass next to a juicy filet mignon. It’s night and day!
Your mood and your mindset are paramount to the formation of any meaningful experience, which is why rushing around Disneyland in a panic, riddled with anxiety about getting on all the rides, is more likely to result in post-traumatic stress than a positive memory later in life.
And isn’t that the point? To be on your death bed one day, evaluating the life you lived, completely content with all the wonderful experiences you were able to enjoy, not wishing you had slowed down, savored each moment, and truly appreciated the opportunities you were given.
“I can die happy now,” someone told me last year when I gave them a small pour from my remaining William LaRue Weller Bourbon. That’s a pretty low standard, if you ask me. I’d trade an entire bottle of Knob Creek over the course of an evening with a group of my best friends and a handful of cigars any day of the week. That’s a memory I can take to my grave.
-David Driscoll