Stabbing a Cork with a Knife is a Surefire Way to Ruin Good Wine

Ben Olmstead
Corkscrew
Published in
4 min readJan 2, 2018

--

A few weeks ago I celebrated my 25th birthday. It was one which, had it not been for an outlook I’d been taught two years ago on the Corkscrew program, would have been slightly ill-omened. When I was fifteen years old I made fifteen dollars an hour to landscape all summer, a good haul for someone that age.

Roughly five years after that, I was paid in the high twenties an hour range with perks included. It would seem that with each year my dollars per hour went up, and with that, societally speaking, my worth as a person. I certainly didn’t feel that worthy at the time: I put my goals on hold to answer phones all day.

Now at 25, I spent my birthday destroying my hands for ten dollars an hour, polishing glasses, dishes, and silverware for 240 dinner reservations. Most friends and family asked, with all the tact they could muster, some variation on, “Why are you doing that?” A fair question, given the responsibilities of your average adult.

A polishing station under light circumstances. Photo by author.

We’re programmed to think solely in numbers, and as though there is some obvious, straightforward, and most of all, easy path toward our deeply held aspirations. I’ve learned much going from a financial institution to a kitchen. In the kitchen, easy and predictable never factor into the equation.

My goal, since I was young has been to help myself and others experience as much of the outside world as they can, and I find food to be one of the best avenues to accomplish this. Food begins a conversation, is highly sentimental, and piques curiosity in even the most disinterested. By talking about food, we talk about where people come from, their economic situation, the politics that govern said situation, and deeply held memories — to name a few. I started at this restaurant to inform that love of food and write intelligently on it.

My goals, like most people’s, are easier to articulate than execute. They represent challenges that must be addressed with the ingenuity, leverage, and angles found in a corkscrew. After all, we know that simply stabbing a cork with a knife is a surefire way to ruin some good wine.

For this, I have turned to Corkscrew Thinking, a term coined by Winston Churchill during WWII to describe the mindset of people who would go on to help The Allies win the war. Aside from being a mindset, it was also a philosophy of resilience in the face of overwhelming odds. The Blitz was an everyday attack at the morale of the British, who once controlled an empire where it was said that the sun could never set.

Corkscrew Thinkers in the midst of this conflict set to work to reclaim their dignity and protect their homeland in a variety of interesting ways — Operation Mincemeat and the Engima machine immediately spring to mind.

This philosophy is built on the idea that to achieve something really special, something that may seem impossible to those around you, you need vision and a plan. You then move forward from as many angles as possible and outmanoeuvre the inevitable blocks in the road.

Prior to an intense wedding event. Photo by author.

As a dish polisher at an up-and-coming restaurant, I can see the kitchen, the front of house, and observe how the management sets to work on various issues. I watch as they handle things like lulls in the season, hiring employees, assessing food costs, and holding special events with both grace and ineptitude. The knowledge I’m acquiring of this industry is worth far more than the ten dollars an hour I’m being paid. I’m seeing pitfalls first-hand, things that will help me in the future whether I one day become a restaurant critic, a chef, or even just going out to eat.

Corkscrew Thinking is a method to conquer fear and chase the unthinkable, and not to be defined by present circumstances — like getting paid almost nothing.

Thankfully, circumstances change fast when you use Corkscrew Thinking. I start in the kitchen this Thursday, and look forward to the hands-on knowledge I’ll gain. When war was being waged, the British used all the knowledge in their arsenal to defeat and overcome their obstacles — why shouldn’t you or I do the same?

Follow the Corkscrew Publication to be the first to know when we publish new stories!

www.medium.com/corkscrew

--

--

Ben Olmstead
Corkscrew

Coding bootcamp student, game design enthusiast, cook