Lunch at Piperade

Chris ("You can always tell a Harvard man, but you can never tell him much") reads some prepared remarks at a farewell lunch for a colleague.

Piperade has become a favorite with the Metrosexual crowd. (A Metrosexual is: "An urban male with a strong aesthetic sense who spends a great deal of time and money on his appearance and lifestyle.") With its artsy decor, elegantly prepared dishes (small portions on large white plates), expensive entrees and wine list, and fancy desserts, it's not a place that I hang out regularly. But the people in my office, for the most part upscale boomers who go to a place like this once a week, are fond of it.

I said goodbye to a lady whom I worked with for 17 years. She likes opera and the New York Times, so Piperade is her kind of place. But I like her anyway. She will travel to Europe, then go off to the greener pastures of consulting. We wished her well, and one of us, the retired CEO, ex-Marine pilot, and Ivy League graduate, gave her a piece of advice: "Don't give it away free; put a contract in front of them." Now he tells us.