
Originally Posted by
Daniel, Grand Duke of Stony Island
Everyone is too old for believing bullshit and processing it into their worldview.
Once, to a club owner, I was offered a fee to perform six shows for the week: 1 on Thursday and Sunday and 2 on Friday and Saturday. It was a big deal at the time, and I was taking the gig anyhow, but I got on some ol' swole-chested shit and demanded that I receive an amount commensurate to 75% of what the headliner was making. I had some television and movie credits and I had a little name recognition and, thus, I thought I was a draw. I thought I could make the case...although the case was based upon rumors of what the going rate for headliners with a television appearance were getting. I mean, PARROTED around during every open mic, every coffee house writing session. Every time I share a cup of coffee with a broke comic, he's tellin' me I should be a headliner and making what Steve Bernie Harvey Wilborn makes a weekend, which is $2500. I have as much TV. I have two movies and working on a third...don't let them treat me like that...assert myself...
...yeah...YEAH...YEAH!!! Fuk 'dat shit!
So I deliberate on this long and hard - on some ol' smart dumb nigga shit - come up with a commensurate rate based upon my experience and how much work I would be doing as a feature, take my young stupid ass to the club owner and demand, with all the highmindedness I could muster, to be treated the same as soandso because I'm doing just as much in the spotlight as they, blah blah bla-zay skippy...
Then the club owner said, "Take it or leave it."
And I took it.
So I do the gig, and do really well, and got good marks from the crowd, so I'll get to come back. I used to think this club owner had it out for me because he wasn't friendly with me like the other comics. I'm waiting around for my check after the show on Sunday and the owner comes out with his check register. Instead of the envelope, he brings out the entire book and, as he makes out the check to me, he positions the business check book on the table in such a way as to leave the stubs exposed.
Oh, the names that were on those stubs...and the AMOUNTS, all of them shockingly less than the rumors - the RUMORS I BASED MY FEE UPON. He's having a ball, too, flipping pages, as if he's looking for the right check number, just so I can see all the names and amounts. Damn, I feel small. Like, microscopically small.
He writes out a check for his standard fee for feature acts, which wound up being about $100 more than my well-researched and calculated percentage of the ACTUAL AMOUNT the last BIG NAME (pfft) received. Then he tells me, in a straight deadpan with no respect for my feelings, "No one makes what they are rumored to make. We hear about this $2,500 number and we laugh at it. Club owners and show bookers communicate. Otherwise we'd get ripped off. Don't listen to these guys. You're going to ruin your career."
This was when I was 20 years old. You cats are in your 40s. Grow the fuck up. Seriously. Or at least stop spreading the negativity around. Performing for others is a privilege, not a right. You want to make Sasha Grey Rumor Money and have Cumshot DJ status?
Make sure you're worthy.
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