I Want To Be Free

It's been almost 30 years in the business, and I've always disliked tasting fees. In Napa Valley, I dodged implementing them most of the time. Jason's willingness to try not having tasting fees was a key component in my joining him on his adventures on the other side of the hill.

Wine travelers may grump and groan, but by now, they expect fees. Wizened old tasters who once came here in their road-dusted Model-T Fords wearing sun bonnets, goggles, and goat skin pantaloons regularly remind us of Ye Good Olde Days when "All the tastings were free."

There are attractive elements to the increasingly expensive tasting fees. They present a filter that can weed out those empty calories who want a nice destination to drink and relax. "We go there for the hang," said one customer about a trendy Carneros winery spot, "but we pay our tasting fees and sometimes buy a bottle."?Winery staff like tasting fees because they don't have to think. Buy wine; you usually get a break; don't buy wine, you pays your dues. They are both a fiscal safety net and an emotional security blanket. You recover something from a no or low purchase visit and don't feel taken advantage of in a "dine and dash" encounter.

So, what's not to like about fees? Well, it creates such a transactional proposition. The hostage part of "buy or pay" is less worrisome than the expectation of providing something worthy of the fee that has nothing to do with wine. It sets up measurement and comparison of the visit experience as the basis of the relationship. Paying customers want to know what they get for their money. You paired aged Gouda with your Cabernet, but at the previous winery, they had three tasty morsels with different local cheeses on homemade crackers. The biggest issue is that fees subtly put the guest in charge of us. They paid for something, and now we have to provide it. The fee is the elephant in the room for creating a bond of reciprocity by pouring great wines and making them feel good. Pouring in the knowledge that we are doing it out of choice, not because we owe them anything, puts you on higher ground.

Not having tasting fees is incredibly liberating. The engagement immediately settles firmly on the wine, how you present it, and how you make the guests feel. It gives you a head start on all that. However, if you embark on a no-fee business model, be extremely careful about how your first engagement with the guest is set up. It works best for groups of six or less. Communicating your philosophy has to happen without being crass or rude. This requires a lot of thought, training, and deft intelligence, but you can do it.

Many self-professed "wine people" enjoy the symbolism of no fees because it says something about them that they are proud of. They are purists who don't need a back rub and foot rub to appreciate their visit. It distances them from being recreational wine tourists.

Some appointments must be diplomatically declined because you "are not the best fit" for what the guest is trying to do. Occasionally, you get burned, but based on membership rates and wine sales, not charging fees has made our customers feel like they had a more authentic experience with us. They have reflected that in their onsite wine purchasing behavior and subsequent referrals. By making ourselves vulnerable, we attract those who value and enjoy contributing to the relationship. Most people who come to the Wine Country can afford your wine. If they don't buy it, it's because they don't like it, you aren't their kind of people, or they were never here to purchase it anyway. A fee doesn't change this; it just provides them with absolution.

As tasting fees climb, it becomes beholden on the industry to keep investing in making the experience inside match the window dressing. Overly experience-led tasting fees fuzzify what we are about. We confuse elevating wine or experience. I'm trying to think of another everyday product where you pay for an experience before you buy. REI doesn't charge you $40 at the door to wander the aisles, feel outdoorsy, savor the air of potential pine needles, and try on some Kuhls.

On the other hand, you don't sit there for an hour and a half as the High Elevation Educator explains how puffy jackets are made and whether Cambodia outstitches Vietnam while doing a blind tasting of Clif Bars. Where I am going with this is that we created the invested risk to return in the wine-buying experience that made tasting fees the prudent business decision.

With our appointments, we choose to work around that and accept the risk. Occasionally, when a group of 4 leaves after 90 minutes and we sell two bottles, I question my sanity. Then, I'll examine whether we communicated our business model effectively beforehand. Often, that was the issue. If nothing is evident, we make a note in their account and let that visit float out into the wine-karmic universe. Because the relationship was unconditional, the good always comes back.