The Twenty-Dollar Millionaire

Saturday, January 3rd, 2009

Tom Chiarella took two grand in twenties, rolled them up, and left for New York, planning to spend three days greasing palms from gate to gate to see what it got him. Thus, he became the twenty-dollar millionaire:

I bought my way into a good table at a Les Paul show with a twenty. I got an usher at NBC to hold a front-row seat for Busta Rhymes on the Carson Daly show. I got a seat at Dos Caminos, Manhattan’s jumpingest Mexican restaurant, in five minutes despite the two-hour wait. I cut to the head of the line at the half-price Broadway ticket booth in Times Square. I got my shoes resoled in twenty minutes instead of two weeks. I got a little love by shoving a twenty into a homeless guy’s coffee cup.
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A twenty can’t buy everything. I failed often enough with my twenties that there were times when I doubted whether they could do anything at all. I tried to get into the Guggenheim when it was closed. I pushed the docent to let me roll one ball in the Frick museum’s secret bowling alley. I asked a stripper for a big wet kiss. I tried to get an ABC security guard to show me Peter Jennings’s car. I attempted to jump to the head of the rotation at a karaoke place. I tried to get into the premiere of Analyze That by passing a twenty folded in the shape of a ticket. The doorman looked at me like I was a mime.

Then I realized something else: Most people aren’t willing to lose their job for twenty bucks, but if they have something they already take for granted — a place in line, a seat, a ticket to a show they’ve already seen — they’ll jump on a twenty like a possum on a wet bag of groceries. It’s a matter of opportunity. You have to find your moments.
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It’s all about attitude and need. You have to have the attitude. You must discern the need. If you are the least bit hesitant or apologetic for offering the money, you are doomed. No one likes to take money if he feels as though the person is stretching himself to give it away. Remember, the more public the favor, the more private the pass. Whip out the bill, move swiftly. Fold it in quarters for discretion. Use the right palm. Smile knowingly. Wave it flat, like a flag, when you’re after more favors, more fealty. In this case, use the fingertips. Either way, it’s really just a sort of greeting. Treat it like a how-do-you-do and nothing more.

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