Skin in the Game: Hidden Asymmetries in Daily Life

by Nassim Nicholas Taleb

The other customers seemed, as we say in Mediterranean languages, to have a cork plugged in their behind obstructing proper ventilation, causing the vapors to build on the inside of the gastrointestinal walls, leading to the irritable type of decorum you only notice in the educated semi-upper classes. I noted that, in addition to the plugged corks, all the men wore ties. Dinner consisted of a succession of complicated small things, with microscopic ingredients and contrasting tastes that forced you to concentrate as if you were taking some entrance exam. You were not eating, rather visiting some type of museum with an affected English major lecturing you on some artistic dimension you would have never considered on your own. There was so little that was familiar and so little that fit my taste buds: once something on the occasion tasted like something real, there was no chance to have more as we moved on to the next dish. Trudging through the dishes and listening to some bull***t by the sommelier about the paired wine, I was afraid of losing concentration. It costs a lot of energy to fake that you’re not bored. In fact, I discovered an optimization in the wrong place: the only thing I cared about, the bread, was not warm. It appears that this is not a Michelin requirement for three stars.