That was a bit overstated, but if it sells more shirts, I may start saying it. There is almost no act more shaming in comedy than selling merch post show. You have to stand there and fake smile while people slide their gazes up, down, and anywhere but your hopeful face. I hate doing it, but every once in a while, you sell a lot and it’s awesome. That happens about three times a year.
I thought after a recent show in my hometown I would clean up after the show. I even had a nice local reference. “I used to canister for baseball down the road. Thanks to you cheap bastards, I had to wear skintight pants and a purple mesh hat with a cord. You owe me some DVD sales!” I sold one. Maybe everyone doesn’t find my insults as charming as I do.
The very next evening, I sold well, except that a lady offered me $5 for a shirt (that would be great, if it was 1983 and t-shirts cost $3 to make). She was actually mad when I wouldn’t do it. Another biker looking chick bought both my items, then proceeded to tell me the flaws of my act. She bought my crap, I would let her boot kick me in the testes once the money is in hand. My fave was a guy who asked how much my DVD was. “$5.” “Ooh…I don’t have that much on me.” Then he bought another beer. What was he expecting? “Oh, the DVD is only 47 cents. It’s a recording of me cutting my toenails with left-handed scissors. I’ve never sold one ever.”