Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs

This weekend, I assumed the persona of my alter ego, The Bee Man of Blackwood. No, I didn't put my beekeeper's suit back on but I did complete my first book signing at the Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum in Atlantic City, NJ for Stop and Smell the Silk Roses. I am free publicity for the Ripley's museum. They sell my book in their gift shop and I make free personal appearance to boost ticket sales. Quid Pro Quo.

I learned a lot about public relations this past weekend. It is not that easy to sell a book even in a museum housing your exhibit and playing your TV episode on a continuous loop. Yes, I moved some books but it was far from a circus maximus arena. The museum averages one thousand customers during the summer but the gate was lighter this weekend. Advertisements appeared in the Atlantic City Press and Atlantic City Weekly magazine so can I blame the picture perfect weather that would not drive vacationers from the beach and into air conditioned buildings? Enough excuses.

Back to the learning experience. I learned that if I charged $1.00 per autograph and scrubbed the book signing I would have been a better business man than author. Nevertheless, I signed about 500 free autographs this weekend and met people from all walks of life. Sitting tableside, it was awkward asking people if they wanted my autograph when I really didn't know if they gave a flying frock. Likewise, it was awkward being asked for my autograph when I doubted myself of being in a position of celebrity to dole it out. But autograph I did. I even autographed the bikini top of a sun worshipper but please don't tell my wife. It may sound like a whole lot of guilt-ridden rationalization but I pressed lightly and scribbled as fast as I could. I also learned that people spell their first names so differently that this unalienable right should never be taken for granted by a signer. I also never once envisioned myself being a part of another family's scrapbook but I posed for pictures with vacationers from as far away as Columbia and Spain. I got a chuckle by an adept interpreter explaining in sign language to a deaf man that I was the Bee Man of Blackwood.

I had almost left the city to enter the Atlantic City Expressway, when I began wondered how many people are in a position to even have a book signing. I felt fortunate. That is when I saw a frail homeless man holding a cardboard sign that read HOMELESS, I'LL DO ANYTHING FOR FOOD. I was signing books for cold cash and this beggar owned little more than the one cardboard sign. Back to the learning experience. Signs come in all shapes and sizes.