She came in through the front door trailed by the valet. She was either ignoring him or simply could not yet hear his plaintive attempts at getting her attention. He caught up to her just as she filled a recently vacated barstool next to her waiting friend. "Ma'am," said the valet politely struggling to catch his breath. "You can't park your car there," he said in between little gasps. She turned slowly, the annoyance and disdain clearly displayed on her face. "Why not?" "Well," he started carefully. "Because you are blocking all the other cars from getting into the parking lot as well as half blocking the only handicapped space that we have." "Harrumph," she responded. Taking her black Mercedes key out she practically threw it at the valet. "Go move it," she barked, before turning to her already seated friend at the bar. "I can't believe how rude he was," she said to her sympathetic friend's nodding. It occurred to me that she had to drive over several plastic street cones and past a number of signs saying no self parking before arriving at her purloined semi-parking spot. This did not bode well for the rest of my evening. I handed her a wine list and she traced a line down it with her perfectly manicured forefinger which sported the second largest diamond ring that I have ever seen. It was as big as my thumb and probably equaled my yearly salary. It was only slightly smaller than the other diamond ring that she had worn the other day. Tracing along the price column on the list, she settled on the most expensive white wine that we had. "I'll have this one," she said without looking up from the list. I have been seeing a lot of her lately. On that larger diamond trip she had done the same thing with the wine list except had ordered the most expensive red wine that we had. There are some people in this world who just expect the best of everything. She and her friend ordered the most expensive appetizers and the two most expensive entrées. It also became clear why I was seeing so much of the women lately. They were slumming it. "My broker told me that my stocks are way down," said Ms. Diamond. "It is like right after September 11,"said Ms. Sapphire sympathetically. "It's terrible," they commiserated. Remember that benefit cruise we went on?" said Ms. Diamond. "Yes, I do," said Ms. Sapphire filling her mouth with fresh oysters. "We did everything that we could for those poor people," said her friend solemnly shaking her head slowly. I remembered the cruise that she was talking about. A fellow bartender that I know had worked it as a side job. Three hours on the Bay featuring champagne, caviar and lobster, $300 a head if memory serves, with a portion of the proceeds going to 9/11 families. A portion of the proceeds, the rest I'm guessing covered the lobster, caviar and champagne, plus all the necessary people needed to pull something like that off. Sacrifice means different things to different people. While this little drama was unfolding another couple sat down three spaces down. His hands had the gnarled cracked look of someone who has spent a lifetime in the construction business. His lovely companions short but neatly trimmed nails also showed signs of a life of work. Picking a middle level white wine and a bottle of domestic beer the two waited patiently for their table to be ready. It was clearly a special night for them and they didn't mind spreading that specialness around by politely engaging everyone whom they came into contact with. When their table came ready they waved me over. "Can you put this on the dinner tab?" he asked. I nodded. "This is for you," he said placing $5 in my hand. "I want to make sure you guys get taken care of," he said acknowledging my efforts at making them comfortable as well as the manner in which I make most of my salary. "Thank-you," said his companion warmly and sincerely. Ms. Diamond and Ms. Sapphire watched the whole thing haughtily. When it came time for their check, the ladies at the top of the Mohl scale spent about ten minutes dissecting it. Ms. Diamond pointed her crystal-burdened finger at a $1 substitution charge. She complained so bitterly that we finally took it off. For our efforts she rewarded us with $5 of her very own. "They made plenty of money from that other couple," she explained to her friend. "Do you need change for the valet?" said Ms. Sapphire as they rose to leave. "No I don't," she said. I had a feeling that I new why. The words of John Stienbeck in the Grapes of Wrath came back to me at that moment. Out of the mouth of Ma Joad, in the doorway of the company store. "If you're ever in trouble or hurt or need-go to the poor people. They're the only ones that'll help-the only ones." The world does indeed seem cyclical, I'm just hoping that the vintage from this generations grapes of wrath is shorter and sweeter.

The Haves and the Have Nots