How Did I Get to be Such an Expert?
Some people will believe anything you tell them
Some Say I’m the Gangster of Wine (slight twist on the lyrics of “some say I’m the gangster of love — Steve Miller Band — The Joker) Last year my husband and I hosted a wine and cheese party for about thirty guests. Wine and winery hopping is a passion of mine, so the concept of such a gathering was right up my alley. I purchased a very useful book that elaborated on all the proper pairings of wine with cheeses, both exotic imports and common local grocery store offerings. From those pages I garnered enough knowledge to host my little soirée. Yeah, maybe I did go a little overboard. I offered up six red wines and six white wines, along with a mystery bottle with the label covered for guests to take a stab at guessing what they were drinking based on the taste and a few clues I threw in throughout the night. No one guessed correctly. (Spoiler alert — the wine was a Gruner Veltliner from Austria) My cheeses spanned the taste palate from a simple sharp cheddar to Manchego (the best possible match to a Spanish Rioja wine) to a creamy Camembert — all paired nicely to please the most finicky taste buds. None of my guests were, what you might say, sophisticated wine drinkers (in fact, one guest didn’t like wine at all and preferred, instead, to arrive with her own bottle of vodka). I get that. The heart loves what the heart loves — the same goes for the enjoyment of alcohol. I had few expectations for the evening other than sharing an enjoyable evening with friends. It wasn’t long, however, before my guests started coming up to me with questions and comments (and tons of flattery) about my wine selections, their history and roots, the fine taste and what it represented. (Okay, I may have thrown in a few comments about the “finish” one could expect from a certain wine or the “notes” of chocolate or citrus to be found in another wine. I swear, I got most of the fancy lingo from my wine and cheese book in the days preceding the wine and cheese party!) The point is, by the end of the evening, my guests were looking at me like I was the most educated and sophisticated wine expert they ever encountered in their lives. (I acknowledge a few of them may have been a little tipsy at that point) In the blink of an eye, I became an “expert.”
My Green Thumb is Infamous Another interest of mine is deck gardening. We have a substantial amount of space on our deck where I enjoy planting the best that summer in Pennsylvania can offer — all while protecting my little garden from the constant ravages of the deer population that seems to thrive on any delicacies that bloom. I am not a master gardener. In fact, I’m mostly a clueless gardener. Much of my gardening knowledge works like this: — Go to the garden center. — Become enamored with the pretty colors and fancy (sometimes exotic) plants. — Take a bunch of the aforementioned pretty and fancy plants home. — Arrange plants on the deck in an assortment of attractive planters on some very sturdy plant stands built with love by my husband. — Water according to when plants start to droop. — Hope for the best. If something withers and dies, and it’s still early enough in the season, I will replace it with another pretty, fancy specimen and follow the same procedure. I have had surprisingly good luck with my deck. Again, fans from far and wide have stopped me to compliment my accidental “green thumb.” The kicker came when my neighbor stopped me in my driveway. He had two different pots in his hands, one relatively small, the other about two inches wider in diameter. He had a special plant he had received as a gift from his sister in Florida. It needed transplanted into a larger pot but he didn’t want to do anything until he checked with me about which pot would work best. It seems he had been admiring my deck garden for several years and decided I was the expert he needed to give his cherished plant the future life that would give it the best chance of survival. He was waiting to talk to me before he did anything. Again, I was elevated to “expert” status.
Who Are the Real Experts? I’m flattered that people think highly of my perceived knowledge. I’m also more than a little frightened. After all, if someone sees me as an expert (albeit, in a harmless and rather insignificant way) in areas of wine and garden plants, how easy is it for someone to convince others about their expertise in much more significant matters? What does it take to convince people about the correct medical procedure they should follow when illness strikes? How much knowledge does an “expert” in the political arena really have about world affairs and powder keg issues? Who is really expert enough to know if we will land humans on Mars safely? (And, who really wants to be that guinea pig?) How much are YOU willing to risk on “expert” advice. Let’s face it, when’s the last time you ever checked the credentials of anyone you relied on to advise you in matters of importance? People lie on their resumes every day and, apparently, get away with it for years (or forever!). People believed in my level of “expertise” because I could throw around a little bit of jargon or keep a hibiscus in bloom throughout the summer. Would these same people take a drug recommended by a medical professional with some sort of diploma framed on the wall (how reputable is the Guatemala School of Medicine, anyway?)? Would they purchase products for their home because the “expert” at the big box store said the competition is inferior? Would they invest their life savings in “the next great industry” because the “experts” warn them about the dangers of missing out? I’m not sure I’m “expert” enough to provide the answer to these and many other questions when it comes to judging the validity of someone else’s “expert” opinion. I am sure that I am now a very skeptical person when it comes to accepting information at face value. It pays to look at the motivation behind someone’s desire to convince you of their point of view. What do they have to gain by pulling you over to their side? As a wine “expert,” my only gain was adding a little entertaining banter to an otherwise simple drinking party. As an “expert” gardener, my only gain was the joy of sharing my limited knowledge and opinion with someone whose knowledge and opinion was more limited than my own. When it comes to life-altering decisions, the line of demarcation becomes a little finer. Medical providers may have a financial stake in convincing you to follow a medical procedure or take a drug. Politicians may or may not be true “public servants” as much as they are more concerned about their own power plays. Scientists — we’ll — how many proven theories have been disproved with the passage of time and the acquisition of more knowledge? The list of “experts” and the motivation behind their “expertise” can go on and on. The point is, before you follow blindly in the footsteps of the next self-proclaimed expert, evaluate what you may have to gain or lose in your decision. If it’s enjoying a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon with a delicious cheese pairing, trust the “expert.” If it’s a decision to schedule elective surgery next week, get a second (third?) “expert” opinion.