Saturday, December 16, 2006

Spinmeister, Well-Heel Thyself

Well, there's spindoctors and then there's spinmeisters. And the latter are very well heeled. As in platinum or gold. Turns out, there's this d.j. in New York City who caters to the posh uppercrust, at fund-raising galas and such, pinkies-out affaires, attended by those with interchangeable first, last, or middle names (you know, like Whitney Brewster Harrington, or vice or thrice versa, or Alexandra Bennington Vermont).

As noted in today's New York Times, one Tom Finn is said to command $5,000 to $12,000 per night to play tunes for the rich and famous and powerful (and mostly white and mostly uncoordinated).

He does about 70 nights a year, it says. (What's he do on his off days? Spin pizza dough down at the corner pizza shop?)

You do the math. A minimum of approximately 5,000 times 70. Dollars. Not pesos.

Oh, he used to be with singing group The Left Bank. Remember their song? "Walk Away Renee"? Shite, he almost had his band aptly named. Should've been The Right Bank.

Up to $12,000 a night.

Give him his due. He's not just spinning records or playing CDs. He creates a mood (a mood to help people reach into their alligator-skin wallets or their Coach purses).

The story noted that he's the man for fund-raising galas, such as for New York City Ballet or high-society shindigs.

So let me get this straight. My daughter, and legions of other ballet dancers, train daily, often through grueling injuries, and do the actual performing of the art, and they all probably are lucky to get paid $12,000 a night combined, in total, for all I know!

And my wife, who is a neonatal intensive care nurse, actually makes less than $1,000 a night, even on the night shift. Can you believe it?

What's your salary per night? Or day?

You're right.

Life ain't fair.

We all know that.

But maybe this is what our opponents and "enemies" mean when they refer to our having a morally bankrupt society.

A d.j. at a fund-raiser (maybe even a fund-raiser for the poor -- a word no one would dare use there) reeling it in.

Laughing all the way to the Left Bank, or any bank.

What would Jesus say? (or pay?)

What would Kierkegaard say?

Laugh. Or....

Else.

9 comments:

monicker said...

I used to translate all my purchases in terms of hours worked, as in, "I will have to work three hours to pay off these shoes." Got too depressing.

mist1 said...

Salary?

Oh, like income?

Sheila said...

Wow I'm in the wrong business! ;o)

Andrew said...

You have to figure that the guy is offering extra value of some sort to the rich and righteous. What does he do that any other regular-priced spinmeister wouldn't? Impressions of Wolfman Jack? Or maybe it's one of those things that once it's considered chic to have him, then no self-respecting gathering of the well-heeled would dare NOT have him. Who knows...

Natalie said...

it's just too sad. The people who really do the had and important work rarely get the money they deserve.

manager said...

If money were an absolute and accurate measure of worth, these sums would be outrageous. But money measures the relative worth of things, and the relative evaluation is made by the individual with the money. This DJ is certainly not more important than your nurse in the neonatal intensive care unit!

Michael C said...

I'd say: That just ain't right!!

Glamourpuss said...

If you're going to discuss money I shall have to stick my fingers in my ears and sing 'la la la' until you stop.

Puss

heartinsanfrancisco said...

I have wasted my life. Kierkegaard was just saying...
(I didn't ask Jesus.)