Stephl and I (and BGarah, JennN, Ash and Pat) spent the weekend at Camp Bisco, soaking up the sun and basking in the rain. It was the mix of elation and despair you’d expect when spending 3 days sharing port-a-johns with tens of thousands of other people, but the music was phenomenal and the food was actually pretty good too.
Normally at a music festival, I’m the one SPENDING money. Once I got creative and decided to sell cigarettes I’d bought on the cheap at an Indian reservation, but, generally speaking, the entrepreneurial spirit has passed me by. Not so this time, people. This time, Stephl convinced me that we should sell anecdotes. We’re a witty pair, she and I, why not share the love? Friday afternoon was sunny and warm, so we made a sign, grabbed our chairs, and hit shakedown street. My sign read “ANECDOTES $1”, and her sign offered “FREE ADVICE WITH EVERY ANECDOTE”, an inside joke from a festival we’d attended two years prior. We were a startling diversion from the other unofficial vendors, who wandered to and fro peddling ecstasy, MDMA and ketamine, so people didn’t know quite what to make of us.
“You’re selling WHAT?” asked one passerby.
“Stories!” I’d reply cheerfully, “Quick little stories. Want one?”
“You’re actually CHARGING for this?” scoffed another.
“New economy, man,” I’d counter. “Everything’s changing.”
We made exactly one dollar, but we gave away several free anecdotes in a show of goodwill. Stephanie had a story about her too-awful-to-be-real ex-boyfriend, while I trotted out a quick version of the Jake saga (punchline: My husband and I are now getting divorced. Guess who keeps the cat?). I mean, come on, you’d pay a dollar for the Jake story, wouldn’t you?