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Saturday, February 19, 2011


Over the years, I have come in contact with people from every walk of life--rich, poor, middle class and low class. What matters to me? None of those classes matters: What matters is how that person acts and treats others. And to me, uppity people are the worst whether they are rich or poor. Putting on airs or as some would call it "being fakey" is so pretentious! Really wealthy people or classy people [any class included here] do not put on airs.

About twenty years ago or more, I was getting ready to do a big style show in town: It was for a big cause that raised money for something here. Not only did I have to find the clothes and accessories to the women to model but also for me, for I had two roles--that of being the coordinator and also modeling an outfit. I was doing this show in conjunction with an organization I belonged to. And whenever we did these style shows, we charged a fee. The fee which was minimal was given back to the organization for usage.

 The woman in charge of the even bigger style show that combined about eight stores and a couple of organizations had contacted me. I told her about the price and she said that was fine. And "Oh," she said, " We will be serving finger foods afterwards, so please let the models know so that they can eat. We'd just love to share that with you." And so, we were a part of all of these stores who had models represented as well as their own speakers.

The day arrived and it was mid-summer, hot and humid. I had also asked some of my friends who were going to model if their daughters would like to be in the show; they did  and they were there--ready and waiting. As we all walked into this giant well-known building in town, there was a lovely table set up complete with flowers, drinks and finger foods. And behind the table was standing the woman with whom I had to talked to on the phone. She greeted me and handed me the check that I had to have and she was so uppity: She wanted to be so superior and she acted out her part well. The others proceeded to go on into the auditorium and I followed them.

Table after table was filled with elderly women, younger women and girls. And all of them were having their luncheon served.
We had to walk past them to the front of the room and go up steps behind the stage curtains: It was there that we had to change our clothes and be prepared for the show. Luckily, my friend was going to narrate. But a good friend of mine who owned a store in town, came running through those curtains and was hysterical! She couldn't stay for the show and would I coordinate her models as well? I told her I would and  the show went on...and on.

Somehow my friend who was narrating had the sharp wits to combine that store along with us.
The entire style show was a huge success for the audience was so appreciative. All of us had to wait till the audience cleared out before we could leave.
After everything was packed up, picked up and put away, I was the first to head to the main front doors where that table was set up.
None of us in my group or the store group hadn't eaten or drunk anything  prior to the start of the show.
You can imagine that after a two hour show and the talking, etc. how we were: We felt like we had been out in the desert.

The two young girls who had modeled for me ran to the table and asked for a drink. The uppity woman looked at them as if they had snakes in their hair! "Absolutely not!" she roared. A minute later, the mothers of those two girls descended upon the uppity woman and I can't write what they said. But the girls and their mothers went flying out the double doors and left.

And here I was with my friend, the narrator, and the models at the front table. Just as one woman reached for a plate on which to put some finger sandwiches, the uppity woman looked over at me and said, "Well!
Do you think that all of you can have food and drinks after you charged me to be in the show? Absolutely not!" I was plain out dumbfounded. Everyone left except my friend, the narrator and me; we were waiting on my then-husband to pick us up. As we approached the double doors to go outside, we could see that it was pouring down the rain in sheets. We were stuck in there for what seemed like an eternity. Meanwhile, I glanced back at the table where finger sandwiches and drinks still sat--that is till the uppity woman grabbed a huge cloth napkin and covered up a huge stack of sandwiches and shoved them into her huge pocketbook.
Oh but my eyes met hers. Caught! She looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. Tacky!
I said nothing.

When my then-husband arrived to pick up my friend and me, we dashed out into the rain, got in the car and had him take us to the quickest place he could find so that we could get something--anything--to drink. My friend and I told him what had happened and none of us could get over the uppity woman's behavior, much less her cramming food into her pocketbook.

If you think that I just let this go, I didn't. For the more I thought about it, the more furious I got: Not for me but for the little girls and the friends of mine who had done this for me and were met with her repugnance.
A week later I contacted the man for whom the luncheon had been held. He was the head of the organization. As I politely told him what the uppity woman had done, he was aghast. Of course, what could he do? The damage had already been done.

The uppity woman continued acting out her part for a long time in town. She might have had followers but she didn't impress me nor my friends. Besides being wealthy, she was a fake. And whenever I did see her off and on, I chose to ignore her. You don't have to be wealthy to have class or manners: It's not a requirement at all.  It is something that is learned.  Give me plain honest people any day for uppity people really get to me!

Sherry Hill
P.S. I do have some very wealthy friends. But if you were to meet them, you'd never know it for they don't  put on airs and don't act the part, thankfully. And I have middle class friends and poor class friends. All of them have class. You can't buy it!

If  you want to read another story written  about class check out my friend's posthttp://www.pegylu.com/2011/02/class.html?spref=fb

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