Sale! Take 50% off retail price!!!

I got a call today from a woman I knew in passing during middle school and high school. She and I were never friends. We went to the same school and thus, we knew each other. But when I spoke to her today she tried to act like we had been buddies in high school. She knew that was baloney! We never once socialized together. She used to look down her nose at me. I wasn't good enough. I wasn't wealthy enough. I wore the wrong clothes. She was one of the snobs.

We are all familiar with those sterotypical, high school movies. There are the "cool" kids and then there are the "geeks" or nerds". I was a geek, sans glasses. She was (and is) the bourgeoisie. I was (and am) the proletariat. I never had anything against her back then nor do I now. But please, don't give me false pretenses!

She called looking for entertainment for her kids birthday party. She knew I was in the business and wanted to know what I do at parties. She has seen me at work before too, so she knows I'm good. She has discriminating taste. I told her what she wanted to know and then quoted her my standard rate. She balked at the price. So I told her I could give her a discount-which amounted to 10%. (I realize in retrospect that I should never have offered her the discount. I should not have devalued myself that way.) She still balked and said she would have to speak to her husband and maybe call back. I've been in this business for 14 years. Women traditionally plan the parties, they know exactly what their budget is. When a woman says she needs to speak to her husband it means she's not booking the party. She called me because she figured she could finagle a good deal (by way of aforementioned false pretenses-what she failed to realize is that I can smell bullshit a mile away).

She lives in a wealthy neighborhood and drives a high end car. She had money when we were in school and she married money. She doesn't need a discount from me. But this is what I do for a living. She doesn't value what I do. Fine. As I said, I've been in the business for 14 years. I know my work well. I am among the best; I kick ass. (There is a reason one of my monikers is "Dynamite".) Let her hire an el cheapo fly by night who will look like something out of Stephen King's "It", will paint the kids faces with craft paint instead of hypoallergenic face paint and doesn't know the first thing about performing a kid's show.

I am not Wal-Mart! I am not Payless Shoes! It infuriates me when certain types of people treat me like I am. I am Bloomingdales-Coach and Prada. Honey, if you want quality you have to pay for it!