Mark Zuckerberg took a sip of Guinness the other day, and the internet noticed.
Specifically, a clip from the Meta founder’s appearance on a podcast called The Cheeky Pint—which involves talking tech over a beer with host (and Stripe cofounder) John Collison—caught his notably unenthusiastic facial expression in response to the Irish stout. He looks, as one observer put it, as if he has just “accidentally swallowed the little paper cup of fluoride at the dentist’s office.”
Funny. But what’s the big deal? Zuckerberg isn’t the first to discover that Guinness isn’t for everybody. Why did the Guinness Wince morph into a viral roasting?
Probably because, you know, he’s Mark Zuckerberg. Surreally rich and powerful, he’s a figure who remains effectively cloistered and out of reach from most of the routine frictions of everyday life. Like his billionaire peers, he inhabits spaces he controls (mansions, yachts, private jets) or where his appearance is carefully choreographed (congressional hearings, product unveils, whatever this is), while other people literally make movies speculating about various phases of his career. Seeing a master of the corporate universe do something as human as wince at an unfamiliar brew is just . . . weird.
And in a way, these rare incidents function as a litmus test for authenticity, maybe even normality. The last similarly high-profile example was the promo clip of McDonald’s CEO Chris Kempczinski gingerly biting into the chain’s then-new Big Arch burger. Again, the internet noticed, and judged Kempczinski a man who did not eat fast food. Burger King and Wendy’s noticed, too, offering videos of their top executives taking ravenous burger bites, converting the physical act of consumption into a brand-reputation performance.
These moments don’t always read like the actions of confused aliens. Elon Musk has, not surprisingly, made his mark in this genre with fully characteristic displays of excess, knocking back three beers in his own appearance on The Cheeky Pint, and infamously puffed a blunt on Joe Rogan’s podcast. NVIDIA chief Jensen Huang has turned his public food moments into signals of accessibility and cultural curiosity: He’s been recorded eating Beijing street noodles and Korean fried chicken, and handing out red bean buns in Tokyo. There’s a site devoted to his food forays.
But for most billionaires, such scrutiny is more of an adjustment. Politicians, for whom performing normality is part of the electoral process, learn the tricks of public consumption early: hoisting a beer with salt-of-the-earth gusto, while avoiding gaffes such as eating pizza with a fork, or having anything to do with a county fair corn dog. CEOs, in contrast, are not required to rub elbows with the hoi polloi.
And that is exactly why these occasional awkward appearances are so funny and fascinating to the rest of us. We don’t have much sense of the Zuck life, but at least we all eat and drink, and know what that’s supposed to look like, regardless of income status. Weird variations—particularly involving familiar brands (or even a CEO’s own brand) are not just amusingly suspicious but almost reassuring.
In retrospect, The Cheeky Pint gimmick of serving beers seems like a deliberately humanizing move. In the wake of the Zuckerberg commotion, another show, European Technology Network, has posted a ranking that purports to document which Cheeky Pint guests drank the most. (Musk is winning.)
“That’s just my face,” Zuckerberg joked in response to the episode—and in fairness he apparently drank two beers on the show. The incident comes at an interesting time in the arc of the Meta chief’s public image. He recently granted an interview to The New York Times’ chief fashion critic to talk about the role of aesthetics and style in his company’s next chapter, and how that relates to his own evolving taste (which has included a “bro-next-door” makeover, combined with mixed-martial-arts and strength training).
In other words, he’s hard at work trying to control how he’s perceived. And most of the time, the rest of us can only look on and wonder. Incidents like the Guinness Wince have a kind of leveling function: They give us the rare chance to peek through all that image management and distance, and pass judgment. On such matters, however silly, we’re the ones in control.
