Moochers.
That's what we were getting at the jazz club tonight. Anytime we host an event,
they show up. Tonight we were celebrating the band leader's birthday, so the
club owner and birthday boy invited everyone they knew. They had generously
decided to donate the night's cover charges to a charity that benefits animals.
They modestly drew a parallel to the band leader and St. Francis of Assisi. I
expected to see him with a halo of colorful songbirds, frisky squirrels
scurrying about, and a doe-eyed doe or two staring up at him. Instead we had
the detritus of society who expected free admittance by using passwords of their
own device. Granted, I am just The Doorman and this is just a jazz club, but I
felt like I was on a mission to help the least of the generalized
"us" in the world. In my mind's eye I saw a cute, but
pathetic-looking chipmunk face looking at me with its yearning beady eyes which
say "help me, help me!" Fortified by the chipmunk image, I resolved
to collect the five buck covers from everyone who walked in. That's why it grew
irritating to hear the give-me-a-fee-pass excuses that included
I've-known-the-band-leader-for-years, we-used-to-be-neighbors, I work with him,
and the worst of the lot was a group of several well-dressed men who had worked
with the previous governor and are now political lobbyists--professional
moochers! When I reminded them all that the cover charges are going to charity
and point to signs and the flier that explains it, they would give me a look
like... "Come on... Is that the best scam you can come up with?"
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