I tripped up in my bid for a fun job at a wine shop. It was the question about chardonnay - Dining and Cooking

September 3, 2026 — 2:30pm

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You may have heard this one before. It goes a little something like: “No one wants to work anymore.” It’s a post-pandemic cliche, born from the belief that people – especially young people – grew too comfortable on JobSeeker and JobKeeper and became lazy, and miraculously allergic to the workplace.

I was on JobKeeper during lockdown – I had been working at a high-end fashion store that was, shockingly, not considered essential work. Where on Earth would people buy their $500 sneakers! JobKeeper was fantastic. I spent my days playing video games, going for socially distanced walks and rewatching the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

After a couple of awkward questions, I decided to leave the interview early. Tero Vesalainen

Those days are over. We are once again expected to perform our jobs in these weird buildings designed specifically for work called offices. They’re truly bizarre. Personally, I preferred working in the same space where I played FIFA and constantly forgot to put away my laundry.

A few weeks ago, I decided it was time to get a job. Being an arts student, I certainly didn’t mean one in my field as those are about as rare as Bigfoot. Studying full-time, I was just looking for a casual position. Something breezy, low commitment and, ultimately, fun. Reading that back, I realise I sound less like a guy looking for a job and more like a divorcee describing his ideal relationship.

I found a job advertised at a bottle shop on Brunswick Street. Perfect.

It wasn’t a Liquorland or BWS, but a family-owned establishment. You know the ones. With the moody lighting, dark walls and little handwritten tags referencing “hints of blueberry” or “subtle minerality” as if anyone has the slightest idea of what that means.

I strutted to this interview. I have spent many years in sales. How hard can selling wine be? How often do people leave bottle shops empty-handed?

It turns out selling wine can be extremely hard.

The interviewer was not there to make friends. I don’t recall if she even asked for my name. After sitting down, she asked me, and I quote, “Can you name the type of grape that goes into a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc?”

Naturally, I started repeating the question aloud as if that would summon some sort of divine intervention. After a few minutes, we moved on to a worse question:

INTERVIEWER: What would you suggest for a customer who wants a chardonnay but doesn’t want a bottle of chardonnay?

ME: Is that a trick question?

Suffice to say, my class on contemporary dance did not cover this one. I took a stab in the dark, and said that I would recommend a riesling, but apparently this was incorrect. I must’ve missed that lecture.

After another couple of questions, I said, “Look, let’s be completely honest. This interview isn’t going anywhere. I’m not going to get this job, you’re not going to hire me. Let’s just call it.”

She responded, “I agree. I actually think you have a little way to go with your wine knowledge.”

Walking home from my latest humiliation ritual, I couldn’t help but wonder why no one wants to put the effort into training people nowadays? Employers want people who can hit the ground running, as if they themselves never had a first day. The problem is less that nobody wants to work any more, and more that nobody wants to train anyone any more.

For an entry-level role like this, I would have thought possessing the ability to converse with customers mattered more than knowing the specifics of grape varieties. The latter can be taught. But, do you know what is actually rather difficult to teach? How to hold a conversation. How to make a customer feel welcome.

Of course, product knowledge is important. But, I would rather have someone who can make customers feel at ease and simply teach them about the wine. I have been to wine shops where the people working there may know everything there is to know about Sauvignon Blanc, but my God they can be standoffish. Sometimes you feel like you’re intruding on their state of zen because you want to buy a bottle of wine.

It concerns me that this is becoming typical for entry-level jobs. When I worked in fashion retail, no one expected me to know everything about denim before my first shift. They taught me. That’s how entry-level jobs are supposed to work.

A friend of mine works at a lighting shop, and they have been dramatically understaffed for months. When I asked why their boss hasn’t just hired someone already, they told me: “They’re trying to find someone who has two years of experience at a lighting shop, can work full-time and, on occasion, be an electrician.”

With all due respect, I doubt that person exists. And if they do, they’re earning electrician money, not working in retail.

Every experienced worker, whether they’re a sales person, a barista or an admin, once knew absolutely nothing about their profession. Somewhere along the way, we forgot that experienced workers exist because someone took the time to teach them.

I did eventually return to that liquor store. I asked the bloke behind the counter: what would you recommend to someone who wants a chardonnay but doesn’t want a bottle of chardonnay? He responded, “Is that a trick question?”

Roby D’Ottavi is a writer and director based in Melbourne.

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Roby D’Ottavi is a writer/director based in Melbourne. He is the creator of the Twitter page, Le Cinéphiles.Connect via X.From our partners