It’s been a while since my last Second Hand Jokes post. Most of the good jokes I’ve heard, I would not post here. I’d rather tell them. Those who know me know I am fond of the silliest, dumbest, puniest jokes. I also love the dirtiest, sickest, and meanest jokes. This one is neither.
This joke could be Second Hand Jokes meets Selling Magic. It is a specialized joke, one that salesmen tell other salesmen. It was told to me by a customer before he left my store empty handed because he didn’t want to carry that heavy Svengali deck around the pier with him. Hey, he had to pass my store on the way out anyhow he could pick it up then. (This is one of the common, “I don’t want to buy, but I’d rather lie than say so.” Excuses I hear at the store.)
He told it a more of a generic joke. I rewrote it with a more specific bent.
A Svengali pitchman dies and goes to heaven. St. Peter is showing him around, cloud to cloud, when he says, “You know, I’ve been a pitchman all my life and eternity is a long time. What am I going to do?”
St. Peter replies “Don’t worry. We have an area for pitchmen. You can set up there.”
So the pitchman was happily pitching, when after a few hours he has to go to the bathroom. He asks one of the other pitchmen where he can go.
The guy says, “We just go over to the edge and pee over the side.”
The pitchman looks of the edge and says, “But there are a whole bunch of people down there.”
And the guy says, “That’s okay, those are just the be-backs.”
Just about any salesman will laugh at this joke. But then I got to think of the absurdity of the joke and started to break it down. Here is an annotated version of the same joke:
A Svengali pitchman dies and goes to heaven.
Right here everything falls apart. Everyone knows the pitchmen (myself included) are lying, cheating, thieving whores who are all going to hell.
St. Peter is showing him around,
What is it with St. Peter? Gatekeeper/Tour guide? First, Jesus changes his name from Simon to Peter on a whim. Then he sticks him in this dead (no pun intended) end job. Man, Jesus just walks all over this guy. (I almost wrote: Jesus, Jesus walks all over that guy.)
cloud to cloud,
Great, ethereal insubstantial beings walking around on ethereal insubstantial things. The laws of time and space are but a mockery. (Thanks, Jeff Korst. Where ever you are.)
when he says, “You know, I’ve been a pitchman all my life and eternity is a long time. What am I going to do?”
Gee, I don’t know. Maybe, lounge?
St. Peter replies “Don’t worry. We have an area for pitchmen.
See my first note about pitchmen in heaven.
You can set up there.”
And just who is buying Svengali decks up there.
So the pitchman was happily pitching,
Pitchmen are not happily pitching, they are happily selling.
a few hours he has to go to the bathroom. He asks one of the other pitchmen where he can go.
You are a spirit, unbound to the mortal coil. Why do you gotta pee? What are you drinking in the first place?
The guy says, “We just go over to the edge and pee over the side.”
This is exactly the kind of advice you would get from a competing pitchman.
The pitchman looks of the edge and says, “But there are a whole bunch of people down there.”
Who are these people who can feel your pee, but not see you selling Svengali decks in the clouds?
And the guy says, “That’s okay, those are just the be-backs.”
Wait, perhaps this is pitchman heaven.
Hope you had fun. Be back soon.
Bill
Showing posts with label selling magic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label selling magic. Show all posts
Friday, June 20, 2008
Monday, August 06, 2007
Ed and other people I know
This is a first draft, but since I haven't blogged in a while I thought I should post something. The summer has been a serious drain on me energy. I hope you enjoy this anyway. -Bill
Working in a public forum, I meet a lot of people. Most drift in and out of the store and barely leave a ripple in my water. Some become memories. A few just annoy me. There is something about a magic shop that acts as a magnet for every nut bag, jerk or loon.
A class of people exists solely to show me a magic trick. Well, we are not that kind of magic store. It is not the magicians; usually they understand and are content to hang out. It is the amateur who pushes to show a trick.
“You gotta deck? Gimme a deck. I’ll show you a trick. See if you know this one.”
Believe me, I do know that one and every other one they are going to do. As soon as they start describing the trick I can finish their sentences. Of course, they have to continue long past any time a reasonable person would’ve stopped.
Worse is the parent pushing their child to show that trick.
“Hey show him your trick. Do that trick. Here’s a quarter. Do your trick. See if he knows that one. Betcha don’t know this one.”
Really…I guess I got the job because I work cheap. (I don’t.) I might have a little experience with magic trick considering they are my job. If the Chinese ever need me to confess my secrets they now know what to do.
A second species inhabiting Navy Pier is the mall walker. There are several antiqued gentlemen and gentlewomen who visit the mall to pass their golden years. (Days?)
An older Italian man used to come into the store for a visit. This I found hilarious because, although in this country for many years, his English was terrible. He spoke with a thick accent, in a half English, half Italian vocabulary. Only once in a while would I understand a “Fuck” through the garbled talk. But he spoke on and on while I smiled and politely nodded. Until, he started calling the black people he saw monkeys and showed me a picture of Hitler he kept reverently in his wallet. I pulled the plug after that. Was my polite nodding an agreement to his racist ranting? I sure hope not.
Our most regular visitor is Ed. He is nearly 80 years old. Not a real deep thinker, but mostly harmless, and he has some interesting stories. At seventeen, he joined the army and served food on Navy Pier to the soldiers returning from World War 2. He was a drunk, a vagrant, and homeless for many years. He spent a lot of time in theaters, a cheap place to be sheltered, and remembers seeing many legendary performers live. He did a little time in prison again for vagrancy. He goes out to jazz clubs every Friday night, gets his drink on, dances a little, and brags about imaginary girlfriends. Ed was hit by a bus last year, but gets around as well as always. Ed is a survivor.
There is an anonymous man in a wheelchair that rolls by everyday and waves hello.
The other day an 80 year plus black woman, who has also anonymously limped by the store for the past couple of years, finally decided it was time to talk to the magic guy.
“How do I look?”
Well, a novel way to start out I think. She looks the same as she always has, as far as I can tell. I am unusually observant and notice much that happens past my store. The woman is average. Maybe a little shorter than average, but otherwise medium build. Medium brown skin tone. What I did notice was the limp and that one leg was considerably thicker than the other. She moves a little unsteady like she is always off balance.
“Um…you…you look fine.” I reply.
“Oh, I was just wonderin’. So I look okay, huh?”
“The same as you have every other time you walked by the store.”
“Well, I used to be 350 pounds.” She shows me the skin hanging from her arm. “I am going to the doctor and gonna get this fixed and down here,” pointing to her stomach, “this too. All fixed.”
Hmmm, I think this may be trouble.
“I’m alone now.” She continues.” My kids they all met someone out of state and married them. But I get along okay. My clothes, where I live they all think they’re new, but I go to the thrift store on North Ave. and the woman there she saves stuff for me and I go and buy it. And they all think I got me a new fur coat. But I look okay huh?”
I want to say, “When I am as close to death as you are, I should be so lucky.” Instead I say, “Fine.” It is taken as her cue to continue.
“I’m alone now, but I had a brother he was a boxer. Here in Chicago. But he never got scarred up. No. The women he had around him. They were like syrup. Honey.”
I will be patient. She is a harmless lonely old woman who needs someone to talk to. I nod my head. Smile. And generally ooh and aah in all the right places. Least, I can understand her.
“Well, I’m glad I look okay. I was a nurse in the war and I was giving the doctor a scalpel when a bomb went off and I looked up and there was no one around. They all dove under the table. I was there with patient. I still have a bullet in my leg. They never took it out. They didn’t want to show me the x-rays, so I called my lawyer Bernstein. He made them. I still got it in my leg.”
She lifts her swollen leg up to show an Ace bandage wrapped around it, slightly above the knee.
“But I’m not afraid to be alone. I lived with my mother. And she was alone, but I never saw her with no boyfriends. My brother he went with all the women. I’m okay. I go anywhere. You got to the liquor store over by **** and they will sell you. Give the cash. I put a silencer on my 45 caliber. No one comes up to me.”
“Gulp.” I gulped.
A family comes in the store and I ask if they need any help, hoping they do. They don’t. But they will just look a moment.
“Bernstein, he’s good. He won’t do a dirty deal. I go there and get some papers done. He won’t charge me. He’s got two sons and they’re lawyers too, but he says come to me. They do dirty deals. They are in the same building. Same floor. But he won’t have anything to do with them. He says, ‘go away, stay there.’ Yep, I had my last baby when I was fifty years old.”
“Wow.” I wowed.
“The newspapers came out. And the doctor he had to do a caesarian because he said my womb was too small. And he said I couldn’t have intercourse with a larger man because of my tiny vagina.”
“ ” I blanked.
I did the only thing I could. “Don’t you folks have any questions yet?”
They did.
The elderly woman turned and left in a wisp of an unintelligible mumble.
As she left, I quietly thanked that family. The mom, who was standing right next to the conversation, asks, “I was only half listening. What was she talking about? Her kitchen?”
I laughed, “Sort of…it was a little more… more anatomical than that. So do you guys do some magic already?”
Yes, another day in the store. I can’t wait until Wednesday when we’ll both be back. Maybe I should introduce her to Ed.
Working in a public forum, I meet a lot of people. Most drift in and out of the store and barely leave a ripple in my water. Some become memories. A few just annoy me. There is something about a magic shop that acts as a magnet for every nut bag, jerk or loon.
A class of people exists solely to show me a magic trick. Well, we are not that kind of magic store. It is not the magicians; usually they understand and are content to hang out. It is the amateur who pushes to show a trick.
“You gotta deck? Gimme a deck. I’ll show you a trick. See if you know this one.”
Believe me, I do know that one and every other one they are going to do. As soon as they start describing the trick I can finish their sentences. Of course, they have to continue long past any time a reasonable person would’ve stopped.
Worse is the parent pushing their child to show that trick.
“Hey show him your trick. Do that trick. Here’s a quarter. Do your trick. See if he knows that one. Betcha don’t know this one.”
Really…I guess I got the job because I work cheap. (I don’t.) I might have a little experience with magic trick considering they are my job. If the Chinese ever need me to confess my secrets they now know what to do.
A second species inhabiting Navy Pier is the mall walker. There are several antiqued gentlemen and gentlewomen who visit the mall to pass their golden years. (Days?)
An older Italian man used to come into the store for a visit. This I found hilarious because, although in this country for many years, his English was terrible. He spoke with a thick accent, in a half English, half Italian vocabulary. Only once in a while would I understand a “Fuck” through the garbled talk. But he spoke on and on while I smiled and politely nodded. Until, he started calling the black people he saw monkeys and showed me a picture of Hitler he kept reverently in his wallet. I pulled the plug after that. Was my polite nodding an agreement to his racist ranting? I sure hope not.
Our most regular visitor is Ed. He is nearly 80 years old. Not a real deep thinker, but mostly harmless, and he has some interesting stories. At seventeen, he joined the army and served food on Navy Pier to the soldiers returning from World War 2. He was a drunk, a vagrant, and homeless for many years. He spent a lot of time in theaters, a cheap place to be sheltered, and remembers seeing many legendary performers live. He did a little time in prison again for vagrancy. He goes out to jazz clubs every Friday night, gets his drink on, dances a little, and brags about imaginary girlfriends. Ed was hit by a bus last year, but gets around as well as always. Ed is a survivor.
There is an anonymous man in a wheelchair that rolls by everyday and waves hello.
The other day an 80 year plus black woman, who has also anonymously limped by the store for the past couple of years, finally decided it was time to talk to the magic guy.
“How do I look?”
Well, a novel way to start out I think. She looks the same as she always has, as far as I can tell. I am unusually observant and notice much that happens past my store. The woman is average. Maybe a little shorter than average, but otherwise medium build. Medium brown skin tone. What I did notice was the limp and that one leg was considerably thicker than the other. She moves a little unsteady like she is always off balance.
“Um…you…you look fine.” I reply.
“Oh, I was just wonderin’. So I look okay, huh?”
“The same as you have every other time you walked by the store.”
“Well, I used to be 350 pounds.” She shows me the skin hanging from her arm. “I am going to the doctor and gonna get this fixed and down here,” pointing to her stomach, “this too. All fixed.”
Hmmm, I think this may be trouble.
“I’m alone now.” She continues.” My kids they all met someone out of state and married them. But I get along okay. My clothes, where I live they all think they’re new, but I go to the thrift store on North Ave. and the woman there she saves stuff for me and I go and buy it. And they all think I got me a new fur coat. But I look okay huh?”
I want to say, “When I am as close to death as you are, I should be so lucky.” Instead I say, “Fine.” It is taken as her cue to continue.
“I’m alone now, but I had a brother he was a boxer. Here in Chicago. But he never got scarred up. No. The women he had around him. They were like syrup. Honey.”
I will be patient. She is a harmless lonely old woman who needs someone to talk to. I nod my head. Smile. And generally ooh and aah in all the right places. Least, I can understand her.
“Well, I’m glad I look okay. I was a nurse in the war and I was giving the doctor a scalpel when a bomb went off and I looked up and there was no one around. They all dove under the table. I was there with patient. I still have a bullet in my leg. They never took it out. They didn’t want to show me the x-rays, so I called my lawyer Bernstein. He made them. I still got it in my leg.”
She lifts her swollen leg up to show an Ace bandage wrapped around it, slightly above the knee.
“But I’m not afraid to be alone. I lived with my mother. And she was alone, but I never saw her with no boyfriends. My brother he went with all the women. I’m okay. I go anywhere. You got to the liquor store over by **** and they will sell you. Give the cash. I put a silencer on my 45 caliber. No one comes up to me.”
“Gulp.” I gulped.
A family comes in the store and I ask if they need any help, hoping they do. They don’t. But they will just look a moment.
“Bernstein, he’s good. He won’t do a dirty deal. I go there and get some papers done. He won’t charge me. He’s got two sons and they’re lawyers too, but he says come to me. They do dirty deals. They are in the same building. Same floor. But he won’t have anything to do with them. He says, ‘go away, stay there.’ Yep, I had my last baby when I was fifty years old.”
“Wow.” I wowed.
“The newspapers came out. And the doctor he had to do a caesarian because he said my womb was too small. And he said I couldn’t have intercourse with a larger man because of my tiny vagina.”
“ ” I blanked.
I did the only thing I could. “Don’t you folks have any questions yet?”
They did.
The elderly woman turned and left in a wisp of an unintelligible mumble.
As she left, I quietly thanked that family. The mom, who was standing right next to the conversation, asks, “I was only half listening. What was she talking about? Her kitchen?”
I laughed, “Sort of…it was a little more… more anatomical than that. So do you guys do some magic already?”
Yes, another day in the store. I can’t wait until Wednesday when we’ll both be back. Maybe I should introduce her to Ed.
Monday, August 28, 2006
The Other Side
Okay, now I want to talk about some magicians that I’ve never had a bad experience with and continue to purchase their products. As always, other people’s experiences may be different, don’t just take my opinion about it.
David Acer is a terrific lecturer, fun and still a decent guy.
Joshua Jay has every right to be arrogant. When I was his age, I was and I had one-tenth the talent he possesses. However, he is talented, knowledgeable, and down-to-earth. His parents raised him right.
Tom Mullica has been mentioned several times on this blog. He is my favorite magician of all time. The magic world is lessened without him.
David Williamson is just a regular guy who deserves all the good press he gets.
Bob Sheets love of magic oozes out of every pore and gets me excited about this stuff ever when I feeling down.
I saw Chris Capehart lecture only once. He lived up to all the buzz. Chris did one thing I have never seen. When he lectured in Chicago, he went to Michigan Ave. and did some street performing. Since this was the subject of his lecture, he went and “proved” it worked. Genius.
Jimmy Molinari was one of the more entertaining lectures, maybe because of all those great stories from doing magic in the seventies in Chicago. Just remember, you have to keep asking to get those stories out of him.
There are only a few lecturers I never miss, one is Docc Hilford. Yes, he is a bit of a conman. His books are generally overpriced and over-hyped. But, damn, if that material doesn’t look really cool when he performs it. Even if his material is not you kind of work, go see his lecture. He is one strong performer.
One of my first lecturers was Eugene Burger; he is continually engaging and thoughtful. I like to think of him as a friend.
Ross Johnson only did a few lectures, but they were great. Alas, he says he won’t do any more. Ross is a brilliant mentalist who is one of the few people that can fool me.
I never thought I would say this, but recently I went to a David Solomon lecture and it was one of the better lectures I’ve seen. Great fun and accessible material.
Pit Hartling is a nice guy. He is also one of the best magicians in the world. The Flicking Fingers as a group tend to over shadow him. But his material, and his performance of it, ranks as a don’t miss event.
There are other great lecturers and good guys in magic. I am sure I missed a few, but these are the ones that come to mind.
Now I want to talk about some people who have reached a high level of fame and esteem in magic. All of which have treated me as an equal, even though they didn’t even know me.
We know the late Bob Read was a great performer and lecturer. He was also very generous with his time and knowledge. He didn’t have to be, He just was.
Paul Daniels is treated like magic royalty when he comes to the states. He was/is a huge star in England. Once, at Abbott’s, we closed down the VFW. He sat with me and talked about magic and television. Comparatively speaking, I was nobody, but that didn’t matter to him. Twice he has stopped into the store at Navy Pier and both times, he didn’t act like a prima donna. He has been a class act.
Jim Steinmeyer may be one of the most important figures in magic today. From his illusion designs to his historical writings, he will influence a generation of magicians. He has always treated me as an equal, whether I deserve it or not.
The same could be said for Teller, the good cop half of Penn and Teller. Even though, he deluged with attention, his patience amazes me.
Famous for being a curmudgeon, Ricky Jay has been nothing but a gentleman to me. I only wish I could express myself as well as he does in his writings.
I want to publicly thank all of these performers for not only the example they set by how they treated me, but for their generous sharing of their talent and knowledge.
My life is better for it.
Okay, did we learn anything from this?
David Acer is a terrific lecturer, fun and still a decent guy.
Joshua Jay has every right to be arrogant. When I was his age, I was and I had one-tenth the talent he possesses. However, he is talented, knowledgeable, and down-to-earth. His parents raised him right.
Tom Mullica has been mentioned several times on this blog. He is my favorite magician of all time. The magic world is lessened without him.
David Williamson is just a regular guy who deserves all the good press he gets.
Bob Sheets love of magic oozes out of every pore and gets me excited about this stuff ever when I feeling down.
I saw Chris Capehart lecture only once. He lived up to all the buzz. Chris did one thing I have never seen. When he lectured in Chicago, he went to Michigan Ave. and did some street performing. Since this was the subject of his lecture, he went and “proved” it worked. Genius.
Jimmy Molinari was one of the more entertaining lectures, maybe because of all those great stories from doing magic in the seventies in Chicago. Just remember, you have to keep asking to get those stories out of him.
There are only a few lecturers I never miss, one is Docc Hilford. Yes, he is a bit of a conman. His books are generally overpriced and over-hyped. But, damn, if that material doesn’t look really cool when he performs it. Even if his material is not you kind of work, go see his lecture. He is one strong performer.
One of my first lecturers was Eugene Burger; he is continually engaging and thoughtful. I like to think of him as a friend.
Ross Johnson only did a few lectures, but they were great. Alas, he says he won’t do any more. Ross is a brilliant mentalist who is one of the few people that can fool me.
I never thought I would say this, but recently I went to a David Solomon lecture and it was one of the better lectures I’ve seen. Great fun and accessible material.
Pit Hartling is a nice guy. He is also one of the best magicians in the world. The Flicking Fingers as a group tend to over shadow him. But his material, and his performance of it, ranks as a don’t miss event.
There are other great lecturers and good guys in magic. I am sure I missed a few, but these are the ones that come to mind.
Now I want to talk about some people who have reached a high level of fame and esteem in magic. All of which have treated me as an equal, even though they didn’t even know me.
We know the late Bob Read was a great performer and lecturer. He was also very generous with his time and knowledge. He didn’t have to be, He just was.
Paul Daniels is treated like magic royalty when he comes to the states. He was/is a huge star in England. Once, at Abbott’s, we closed down the VFW. He sat with me and talked about magic and television. Comparatively speaking, I was nobody, but that didn’t matter to him. Twice he has stopped into the store at Navy Pier and both times, he didn’t act like a prima donna. He has been a class act.
Jim Steinmeyer may be one of the most important figures in magic today. From his illusion designs to his historical writings, he will influence a generation of magicians. He has always treated me as an equal, whether I deserve it or not.
The same could be said for Teller, the good cop half of Penn and Teller. Even though, he deluged with attention, his patience amazes me.
Famous for being a curmudgeon, Ricky Jay has been nothing but a gentleman to me. I only wish I could express myself as well as he does in his writings.
I want to publicly thank all of these performers for not only the example they set by how they treated me, but for their generous sharing of their talent and knowledge.
My life is better for it.
Okay, did we learn anything from this?
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Selling Magic 5
Now, I want to tell you why I don’t buy products from Jay Sankey. It is for different reasons than the previously mentioned, Darryl. I have been a huge fan of Jay. I believe he is one of the most talented and creative magicians in the magic world and I would not hesitate to recommend his material. I attended every lecture of his in the Chicago area. In my experience, I have never seen him treat anyone poorly. I have never had a bad experience with him. All which have made my decision very difficult.
The first thing that started to bother me was the repeat selling of effects. A trick is written up in a book, then in the lecture notes, then on video, and, yet again, sold as an individual item. Now, some may say he is just giving the marketplace more options. I don’t think so. Jay, by the way, is not the only magician who commits this sin of over commerce.
Next, he signed an exclusive contract with Penguin Magic, effectively shutting out the magic shops that have supported his career. You could only get his magic in one place, Penguin. Wait...that is not quite true. Jay also wanted the shops he just screwed to pay him to come to their stores and sell the products they were not allowed to sell. Some nerve.
On a tangent: The dirty little secret about magic lectures is that the magic shops that sponsor them make little to no money. Often, the shop loses money. The admission fee pays the lecturer’s fee and his hotel. The lecturer also makes considerable money selling his wares. Nice, we pay him for the privilege of buying his stuff. The only money the shop makes is when the sell some of their own products. There is something very wrong with our current system of booking lectures.
Then, when Jay left Penguin, he came up with another scheme. He created “approved dealers”. These dealers had to buy large amounts of his products up front in order to become “approved”. Sure, some dealers like Hocus Pocus could buy a large amount, but most shops buy small quantities. We are talking one, two, at most a dozen items at a time, not 50 to 100. It is not economically feasible to buy large amounts. The best magic shop in the Chicago area, Midwest Magic, does not move 50 Sankey items in a year.
And then, of course, Jay wants to lecture at the shops that can’t afford to sell his products.
Why not just sell stuff in large quantities to a distributor like Murphy’s Magic and let them sell to all the shops? You would sell many more products, but you would have to sell them at a jobber rate than a wholesale rate. In the long term, the net profit would be the same.
Here is the thing; Jay Sankey has every right to sell his products in any way he wants.
But I don’t have to like it and I don’t have to support it.
So, what have we learned from this?
The first thing that started to bother me was the repeat selling of effects. A trick is written up in a book, then in the lecture notes, then on video, and, yet again, sold as an individual item. Now, some may say he is just giving the marketplace more options. I don’t think so. Jay, by the way, is not the only magician who commits this sin of over commerce.
Next, he signed an exclusive contract with Penguin Magic, effectively shutting out the magic shops that have supported his career. You could only get his magic in one place, Penguin. Wait...that is not quite true. Jay also wanted the shops he just screwed to pay him to come to their stores and sell the products they were not allowed to sell. Some nerve.
On a tangent: The dirty little secret about magic lectures is that the magic shops that sponsor them make little to no money. Often, the shop loses money. The admission fee pays the lecturer’s fee and his hotel. The lecturer also makes considerable money selling his wares. Nice, we pay him for the privilege of buying his stuff. The only money the shop makes is when the sell some of their own products. There is something very wrong with our current system of booking lectures.
Then, when Jay left Penguin, he came up with another scheme. He created “approved dealers”. These dealers had to buy large amounts of his products up front in order to become “approved”. Sure, some dealers like Hocus Pocus could buy a large amount, but most shops buy small quantities. We are talking one, two, at most a dozen items at a time, not 50 to 100. It is not economically feasible to buy large amounts. The best magic shop in the Chicago area, Midwest Magic, does not move 50 Sankey items in a year.
And then, of course, Jay wants to lecture at the shops that can’t afford to sell his products.
Why not just sell stuff in large quantities to a distributor like Murphy’s Magic and let them sell to all the shops? You would sell many more products, but you would have to sell them at a jobber rate than a wholesale rate. In the long term, the net profit would be the same.
Here is the thing; Jay Sankey has every right to sell his products in any way he wants.
But I don’t have to like it and I don’t have to support it.
So, what have we learned from this?
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Selling Magic 4
I do not buy any of Darryl’s products.
I can really hold a grudge. Some might say I am a stubborn S.O.B. and they might be right. But the first and only time I met Darryl Martinez, he was a jerk.
Now, I can certainly look at the work Darryl has accomplished and agree that he is a talented magician. I will not debate that I have read many stories about him were he doesn’t seem like a jerk. So maybe this was a one-time problem, but I doubt it. Besides, how often does a magic magazine give you get the real story about one of their advertisers anyway? (I am speaking about all of our magazines, not one in particular.)
A few years ago, I went to see Darryl lecture at a local magic shop. This would be my first time to see him and I was eager because he has a sort of “legendary” status among magicians.
I paid my money, stood in back, as I usually do, and witnessed this conversation before the actual lecture started.
Darryl (to someone in the front row): So do you have my tapes?
Front row magic-geek: Sure I do, I have them all.
Darryl: Well, I have the new ones.
Front row magic-geek: I have those, too.
Darryl: The new ones? How? Where did you get them?
Front row magic-geek: I bought them from Bob, (the guy sponsoring the lecture), as soon as they came out.
Darryl: What? This is ridiculous! I came here to sell stuff. I gave up a well-paying gig to come here and...(sputtering) Bob...Bob...What are you doing selling him my tapes? I came here to sell this stuff. Why else would I come here? The conversation continued like this for a few more minutes.
Later, still before the lecture, Bob made the mistake of asking Darryl if he would take a picture with the group of magicians that paid to see him lecture to which he replied, “No. No, I’d rather not..” Shook his head, “NO”. The room is not big enough to hold this guy's ego.
I didn’t want to screw Bob or I would have asked for my money back. I stayed for the lecture, stone faced and contemplating beating the shit out of Darryl. (I am still thinking about it.)
How could he throw such a tantrum, before his lecture, in front of everyone? He just stopped short of stomping his feet and holding his breath. How could he be so mad that someone bought his tapes? He should be happy someone bought his tapes. How much more profit does he need to make? Does that one set of tapes make that much of a difference?
There are two postscripts to this story:
1) I cannot believe anyone bought anything from this douche bag during the break.
2) The next day Darryl called and apologized, not for his behavior, but because how he acted would be all over the internet. SO, you are not sorry you acted like a dick, but you are sorry other people will find out about it. Nice Guy.
Now, your experience with Darryl may be very different and that is fine by me.
But, I will never buy a product from Darryl.
Now, what have we learned from this?
I can really hold a grudge. Some might say I am a stubborn S.O.B. and they might be right. But the first and only time I met Darryl Martinez, he was a jerk.
Now, I can certainly look at the work Darryl has accomplished and agree that he is a talented magician. I will not debate that I have read many stories about him were he doesn’t seem like a jerk. So maybe this was a one-time problem, but I doubt it. Besides, how often does a magic magazine give you get the real story about one of their advertisers anyway? (I am speaking about all of our magazines, not one in particular.)
A few years ago, I went to see Darryl lecture at a local magic shop. This would be my first time to see him and I was eager because he has a sort of “legendary” status among magicians.
I paid my money, stood in back, as I usually do, and witnessed this conversation before the actual lecture started.
Darryl (to someone in the front row): So do you have my tapes?
Front row magic-geek: Sure I do, I have them all.
Darryl: Well, I have the new ones.
Front row magic-geek: I have those, too.
Darryl: The new ones? How? Where did you get them?
Front row magic-geek: I bought them from Bob, (the guy sponsoring the lecture), as soon as they came out.
Darryl: What? This is ridiculous! I came here to sell stuff. I gave up a well-paying gig to come here and...(sputtering) Bob...Bob...What are you doing selling him my tapes? I came here to sell this stuff. Why else would I come here? The conversation continued like this for a few more minutes.
Later, still before the lecture, Bob made the mistake of asking Darryl if he would take a picture with the group of magicians that paid to see him lecture to which he replied, “No. No, I’d rather not..” Shook his head, “NO”. The room is not big enough to hold this guy's ego.
I didn’t want to screw Bob or I would have asked for my money back. I stayed for the lecture, stone faced and contemplating beating the shit out of Darryl. (I am still thinking about it.)
How could he throw such a tantrum, before his lecture, in front of everyone? He just stopped short of stomping his feet and holding his breath. How could he be so mad that someone bought his tapes? He should be happy someone bought his tapes. How much more profit does he need to make? Does that one set of tapes make that much of a difference?
There are two postscripts to this story:
1) I cannot believe anyone bought anything from this douche bag during the break.
2) The next day Darryl called and apologized, not for his behavior, but because how he acted would be all over the internet. SO, you are not sorry you acted like a dick, but you are sorry other people will find out about it. Nice Guy.
Now, your experience with Darryl may be very different and that is fine by me.
But, I will never buy a product from Darryl.
Now, what have we learned from this?
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Selling Magic 3
This is a sort of 4 for 1 post.
1) Listening is a skill.
Today I asked this question of a customer, "Did you have a question; something I could help you with?"
To which he answered, "A few years back I did, but nothing recently."
And I thought, “Wha...?”
Now I realize his statement could possibly be an answer to my query. However, my guess is that he was not listening an answered a totally different question that existed only in his head. Listening is a skill that needs to be cultivated. Do so. Now.
2) The people I meet.
Monty Gabor stops into the shop on Saturday and asks me about the magician Thurston. As when anyone asks about any magician, I give him a thumbnail biography on the magician. To which he replies, “Oh, wow, I never realized he was so famous. I thought he was just a local guy. My grandmother used to tell stories of him all the time. She was a chorus girl in the theater and assisted Thurston in Chicago.”
Monty’s grandmother, Bernice, died ten years ago. His memory is hazy on some of the stories; I hope his parents will have more information. He did remember some other details about twins being used, etc. He also remembered that she lived in a settlement house during the depression with many other performers who were not making ends meet.
It sounds like his grandmother had an amazing and interesting life.
And this comes to my point, seek out and listen to those who have stepped through life before us. Every life is a story. I am slowly piecing together much of my grandfather’s life and it is every bit as heartbreaking and moving as Angela’s Ashes, but I will never know the full story because I didn’t ask him when he was alive. I regret I didn’t. Now, I seek out stories, try to ask questions, and listen to what is said. You should also.
There is an interesting story waiting for you right in your own home.
3) Don’t be a jerk.
This scene happens more often than it should: A dad or mom brings their child into the store with this exhortation, “Do you want to do some magic? Do you want to learn a trick?” The child, of course, does.
I show them a few things that would be suitable, that being my job and all. And I give them the whole spiel about how these are the tricks suitable for that age and how I will show them how it works and that I will give their money back if the child can’t do it.
At which point the parent turns to their child and says, “Well, I don’t know that looks too hard for you. I don’t think you can do that.” etc. Any reason not to buy.
You know; if you are going to be a cheap fuck, don’t blame your child. Don’t be a dick and tease your child with the prospect of buying something only to mind fuck them and take it away. If you are not interested in boosting their morale, stay out of my store, asshole.
4) The other people you meet.
I had a young cute, very blonde couple stop in the store. They were both quiet and seemed shy. Finally, they started to talk to me and when they did; they couldn’t stop. They asked question after question. “When did you start magic? What was your first trick? Do you have magic friends? Who is the best magician? Who is your favorite?” And so on.
I have had these types of questions before and, at times, my inclination is to give a smart-ass answer. Heck, sometimes they are asking personal questions. Is it really any of their business? What do they care? Now I try to answer honestly.
I figure I must be a strange person to them, with an exotic job. They are genuinely curious as to how someone comes to magic as a life choice. It is who I am, so I never think about it. But to most people it might as well be another planet.
This couple was fun to talk to and made for a nice break in my day.
Until...
I started to explain to them that Tom Mullica was my favorite magician of all time. They asked if he was still doing magic. So, I tried to tell them how he was now doing a Red Skeleton tribute show. Now when I said the name Red Skeleton, they looked at each other with that blank look. A look void of recognition. I suddenly felt 70 years old instead of 38.
I feel lucky. I think I am the last generation to experience the true greats of comedy, acting and magic. Not that many of these people can’t be seen on video, it is just most kids these days (There is a phrase I never thought I’d say.) don’t seek them out. I have had conversations with people even my age that refuse to watch anything in Black and White.
Maybe that’s good, I can keep it to myself. Don’t listen to me. You are not missing anything.
1) Listening is a skill.
Today I asked this question of a customer, "Did you have a question; something I could help you with?"
To which he answered, "A few years back I did, but nothing recently."
And I thought, “Wha...?”
Now I realize his statement could possibly be an answer to my query. However, my guess is that he was not listening an answered a totally different question that existed only in his head. Listening is a skill that needs to be cultivated. Do so. Now.
2) The people I meet.
Monty Gabor stops into the shop on Saturday and asks me about the magician Thurston. As when anyone asks about any magician, I give him a thumbnail biography on the magician. To which he replies, “Oh, wow, I never realized he was so famous. I thought he was just a local guy. My grandmother used to tell stories of him all the time. She was a chorus girl in the theater and assisted Thurston in Chicago.”
Monty’s grandmother, Bernice, died ten years ago. His memory is hazy on some of the stories; I hope his parents will have more information. He did remember some other details about twins being used, etc. He also remembered that she lived in a settlement house during the depression with many other performers who were not making ends meet.
It sounds like his grandmother had an amazing and interesting life.
And this comes to my point, seek out and listen to those who have stepped through life before us. Every life is a story. I am slowly piecing together much of my grandfather’s life and it is every bit as heartbreaking and moving as Angela’s Ashes, but I will never know the full story because I didn’t ask him when he was alive. I regret I didn’t. Now, I seek out stories, try to ask questions, and listen to what is said. You should also.
There is an interesting story waiting for you right in your own home.
3) Don’t be a jerk.
This scene happens more often than it should: A dad or mom brings their child into the store with this exhortation, “Do you want to do some magic? Do you want to learn a trick?” The child, of course, does.
I show them a few things that would be suitable, that being my job and all. And I give them the whole spiel about how these are the tricks suitable for that age and how I will show them how it works and that I will give their money back if the child can’t do it.
At which point the parent turns to their child and says, “Well, I don’t know that looks too hard for you. I don’t think you can do that.” etc. Any reason not to buy.
You know; if you are going to be a cheap fuck, don’t blame your child. Don’t be a dick and tease your child with the prospect of buying something only to mind fuck them and take it away. If you are not interested in boosting their morale, stay out of my store, asshole.
4) The other people you meet.
I had a young cute, very blonde couple stop in the store. They were both quiet and seemed shy. Finally, they started to talk to me and when they did; they couldn’t stop. They asked question after question. “When did you start magic? What was your first trick? Do you have magic friends? Who is the best magician? Who is your favorite?” And so on.
I have had these types of questions before and, at times, my inclination is to give a smart-ass answer. Heck, sometimes they are asking personal questions. Is it really any of their business? What do they care? Now I try to answer honestly.
I figure I must be a strange person to them, with an exotic job. They are genuinely curious as to how someone comes to magic as a life choice. It is who I am, so I never think about it. But to most people it might as well be another planet.
This couple was fun to talk to and made for a nice break in my day.
Until...
I started to explain to them that Tom Mullica was my favorite magician of all time. They asked if he was still doing magic. So, I tried to tell them how he was now doing a Red Skeleton tribute show. Now when I said the name Red Skeleton, they looked at each other with that blank look. A look void of recognition. I suddenly felt 70 years old instead of 38.
I feel lucky. I think I am the last generation to experience the true greats of comedy, acting and magic. Not that many of these people can’t be seen on video, it is just most kids these days (There is a phrase I never thought I’d say.) don’t seek them out. I have had conversations with people even my age that refuse to watch anything in Black and White.
Maybe that’s good, I can keep it to myself. Don’t listen to me. You are not missing anything.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Selling Magic Part 2
A lot of magic and just as many customers...
Eleven years,
50 weeks a year, 4 days a week, 10 hours a day,
Roughly a total of 22,000 hours.
I estimate I have performed many of the tricks I sell well over that 22,000. Some as many as 40,000 times.
Magicians all experience the same kinds of situations, no matter what venue you work. Working in a high traffic magic shop geared to the public, I run into those situations with a much higher frequency.
I went through phases. I tried to find the right line to answer the situation. Then, I tried to ignore it. Now, these things just annoy me.
First, if you are a non-magician, please know that while your friends my laugh at you occasionally; you are not a comedian. The first thing that comes into your head, that you think is funny, somebody has thought of it first. I've heard it before. So, keep it to yourself. It's not that funny anyhow.
Here is a list of things I’ve heard over 22,000 times and want never to hear again.
This first line has a few variations:
“Can you make my wife disappear?”
Pal, it sounds like you’re doing a good enough job already.
“Can you make my husband disappear?”
Lady, it’s Chicago, 5,000 dollars can make anything happen.
“Can you make my kids disappear?”
You won’t be saying that when they’re gone.
There should be a special place in hell for the jerks that ask this.
The second line has a few variations, but essentially all the same:
“Can you turn my one into a hundred? Can you make money appear in my pocket? Can you make my bills disappear?”
If I could do that, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you. I'd be at home in my underware, makin' hundreds.
Next up, the ever popular:
“You’re a magician, make me skinny.”
I’m a magician, not a miracle worker.
The increasingly popular:
“Can you do magic?”
Well, of course I can, I work in a magic store. Do these people go into McDonalds and ask if they know how to make burgers?
On occasion, I am alone at the store and have to eat my lunch where the public could see it:
“Look, he’s making his burger/water/soda/lunch/food disappear.”
Wow, I've never heard that before. “Really?” No.
Next:
“Don’t do anything funny with my credit card.”
That would hurt repeat business.
Last and very similar:
"I better be careful giving a magician my money." or "I had better watch my wallet.”
Fuck you, if I wanted to steal your money I would have hit you over the head and ran.
After hundreds of years as just performers, magicians are still thought of as thieves.
I need a long vacation...
Eleven years,
50 weeks a year, 4 days a week, 10 hours a day,
Roughly a total of 22,000 hours.
I estimate I have performed many of the tricks I sell well over that 22,000. Some as many as 40,000 times.
Magicians all experience the same kinds of situations, no matter what venue you work. Working in a high traffic magic shop geared to the public, I run into those situations with a much higher frequency.
I went through phases. I tried to find the right line to answer the situation. Then, I tried to ignore it. Now, these things just annoy me.
First, if you are a non-magician, please know that while your friends my laugh at you occasionally; you are not a comedian. The first thing that comes into your head, that you think is funny, somebody has thought of it first. I've heard it before. So, keep it to yourself. It's not that funny anyhow.
Here is a list of things I’ve heard over 22,000 times and want never to hear again.
This first line has a few variations:
“Can you make my wife disappear?”
Pal, it sounds like you’re doing a good enough job already.
“Can you make my husband disappear?”
Lady, it’s Chicago, 5,000 dollars can make anything happen.
“Can you make my kids disappear?”
You won’t be saying that when they’re gone.
There should be a special place in hell for the jerks that ask this.
The second line has a few variations, but essentially all the same:
“Can you turn my one into a hundred? Can you make money appear in my pocket? Can you make my bills disappear?”
If I could do that, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you. I'd be at home in my underware, makin' hundreds.
Next up, the ever popular:
“You’re a magician, make me skinny.”
I’m a magician, not a miracle worker.
The increasingly popular:
“Can you do magic?”
Well, of course I can, I work in a magic store. Do these people go into McDonalds and ask if they know how to make burgers?
On occasion, I am alone at the store and have to eat my lunch where the public could see it:
“Look, he’s making his burger/water/soda/lunch/food disappear.”
Wow, I've never heard that before. “Really?” No.
Next:
“Don’t do anything funny with my credit card.”
That would hurt repeat business.
Last and very similar:
"I better be careful giving a magician my money." or "I had better watch my wallet.”
Fuck you, if I wanted to steal your money I would have hit you over the head and ran.
After hundreds of years as just performers, magicians are still thought of as thieves.
I need a long vacation...
Friday, July 14, 2006
Selling Magic Part 1
20 years. That is how long I’ve make a significant amount of my living selling magic retail. 20 years, two 10-year blocks. The first block was from age 11 to age 21. I started sweeping up the floors of a magic and costume shop for a few dollars an hour. The second block continues. I just began my eleventh year at a national chain magic store.
Now, I have a love/hate relationship with this part of my chosen profession. At times, I feel like a whore; selling off my life piece by piece. Mostly to people who don’t love it or respect it. Every dickhead with a Svengali deck thinks he is a magician. I fantasize that the secrets are not so available. I dream of another time when the real secrets were hidden in a back room, only for a select few. Magicians would serve an apprenticeship. The art was earned, not just given up for a few pieces of silver. You would be part of a legacy that spanned centuries. But, I am not naïve; the capitalist box of tricks, once opened is a bottomless pit.
Yet, there are days behind the counter when everything I do is right and every ad-lib I tell works and life is beautiful. Most performers get to feel this type of euphoric moment, but in the shop, I get to feel it a couple of dozen times on a good day. Some days, I am lucky. I get to meet some very wonderful and interesting people. (Even one special woman, Danielle, who was in my life for three years and someone I still think about, everyday.) These people come from all walks of life and all over the country. I love stories. They all have one, whether they know it or not. A few come in to tell me that as a child I sold them their first trick and started them on the path. I knew I was starting to get old when that happened. I still enjoy it.
That’s it for now. I’ll write more about the things I’ve learned in future installments of Selling Magic.
Now, I have a love/hate relationship with this part of my chosen profession. At times, I feel like a whore; selling off my life piece by piece. Mostly to people who don’t love it or respect it. Every dickhead with a Svengali deck thinks he is a magician. I fantasize that the secrets are not so available. I dream of another time when the real secrets were hidden in a back room, only for a select few. Magicians would serve an apprenticeship. The art was earned, not just given up for a few pieces of silver. You would be part of a legacy that spanned centuries. But, I am not naïve; the capitalist box of tricks, once opened is a bottomless pit.
Yet, there are days behind the counter when everything I do is right and every ad-lib I tell works and life is beautiful. Most performers get to feel this type of euphoric moment, but in the shop, I get to feel it a couple of dozen times on a good day. Some days, I am lucky. I get to meet some very wonderful and interesting people. (Even one special woman, Danielle, who was in my life for three years and someone I still think about, everyday.) These people come from all walks of life and all over the country. I love stories. They all have one, whether they know it or not. A few come in to tell me that as a child I sold them their first trick and started them on the path. I knew I was starting to get old when that happened. I still enjoy it.
That’s it for now. I’ll write more about the things I’ve learned in future installments of Selling Magic.
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