Do You Know Who I Am?

By Elaine Viets

"Do you know who I am?"

Do you know how many times I heard that question when I researched my seventh Dead-End Job mystery, "Clubbed to Death"?

For that novel, Helen Hawthorne and I worked in customer service at a country club. It was a lovely place with tennis and afternoon tea. The sort of club I could never enter, except in a uniform.

In "Clubbed to Death" Helen’s ex-husband, Rob, reappears and gives her more grief. She also has to deal with Rob’s scary second wife, the Black Widow. Then a club member is murdered and Helen’s life goes downhill.

Here was the real mystery: Why did the country club members ask the staff: "Do you know who I am?"

This may be the saddest question on the planet. If you have to ask it, then you know the answer: You’re nobody.

The President never has to ask, "Do you know who I am?" Neither does Madonna, Oprah or the Pope. They know. We know. They know we know.

There were big names at the club. Even if you got your news from MTV, you’d know who they are. The big guns never asked, "Do you know who I am?" In most cases, the more important the people, the nicer they were – even to us underpaid clerks.

But we encountered way too many country club members who made impossible demands, and when they were refused, they’d ask: Do you know who I am?

If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I could buy the country club.

Margery, Helen’s 76-year-old landlady, had a theory about why people asked that question. "They aren’t asking you," Margery said. "They’re asking themselves. They don’t know. They’ve never had the chance to find out who they are. You’re the lucky one."

"Oh, please," Helen said. "These people have everything. I have nothing. I know who I am – a failure."

"To fail," Margery told her, "you have to try something first. They’ll always be cushioned by mummy’s money and daddy’s lawyers. If they screw up, their parents will rescue them and find them a safe place in the family business. They can’t even fail."

"Lucky them," Helen said.

Many of these club members had houses the size of hotels, new cars and no money worries – at least not by our standards. But the staff used to wonder how people with so much could be so unhappy. They lived in paradise.

A coworker known as Jackie in the book explained, "Adam and Eve weren’t happy in paradise, either. We have two groups of members here. The young ones, the trust fund babies, have no concept of work. They inherited their money. They are rude, arrogant and demanding.

"The old ones earned the money. They’re usually in poor health. Their spouses are either sick or old, or divorced and living with someone younger. Their children are gone. Their choices are gone. Their families are sitting around waiting for them to die so they can get the money.

There’s nothing left for them to do. That’s why they spend all day quibbling their bills and complaining. We shouldn’t envy these people."

"I don’t," Helen said. "They’re so unhappy. I always thought I wanted to be rich. Now I realize I just want enough money."

"But when do you know you have enough?" Jackie said. "That’s the key."

That’s when you know who you are.

CLUBBED TO DEATH: A Dead-End Job mystery by Elaine Viets is $21.95 from NAL/Obsidian. The ISBN is 978-0-451-22394-4.

Comments

[Karen in Ohio]

Elaine, I so admire your work ethic, and how you throw yourself, literally, into your research. I have truly enjoyed all your Dead-End jobs books, as well as the Josie Marcus ones. Best of luck with Clubbed to Death!

[Nancy martin]

I bought the book at the Festival of Mystery, Elaine, and was delighted to discover you had autographed it! Anyone else need a signed copy? Check it out: http://www.mysterylovers.com/

[Elaine Viets]

Karen, if I'd had any sense, I would have had a series like Lynn Hamilton's -- she travels to exotic locations, including Greece and Machu Pichu.

[Karen in Ohio]

LOL! I know exactly what you mean, Elaine. Maybe your next series?

Hey, no pressure there. ;-)

[Kathy Sweeney]

You are going to LOVE this book - it's even more amazing given what Elaine has gone through, but regardless, it's terrific.

I read Shop 'Til You Drop - the first in the Dead End Job series, before I even met Elaine - my mother discovered it and told everyone. Now we can't wait for each new one - and we're no longer able to share copies either - immediately after the Festival, I sent Clubbed to Death to Florida (my sister) and New Jersey (where my Mom is heading) - two states who certainly know Country Clubs.

Elaine - at a time when we need laughs more than ever, thanks for writing some for us!

[Pam aka SisterZip]

Elaine, in 1975 I started working at Stix, Baer & Fuller (now Dillard's) to set up & open the Chesterfield Mall store. We didn't have much to do but stand around and talk to each other or the rare customer that wandered through the door. I found it interesting how easy you could tell the "old money" from the "new money". The "Old Money" didn't need to prove it or insist you know who they are. Very common, down to earth people who worked hard and didn't mind spending their money when necessary, but didn't show off. "New Money", now that was where the "Do you know who I am" stuff came in and it was never flattering. I guess I should be glad I don't have to worry about it...I will never have "Money".

[Mothrababe]

I love this post, Elaine. Makes me think I'll like the book even better. I'm adding you to my 'authors to buy' list. :-D

Did you ever see the British doco series called "Airport"? It had an episode where a flight had been cancelled and two ticketing agents were harried by a long line of mostly polite people trying to rebook their flight. One suit pushed to the front of the line and rudely demanded to be served. He was politely told he'd have to wait in line and that all of these people were ahead of him. Then came the "Do you know who I am?" demand for attention. Without batting a harried eyelash, the agent picked up the microphone, called for everyone's attention. SHe then asked them if they knew who this man was, as he sadly didn't know. The line collapsed in laughter. The man snarled "#(&*$ you" to the agent, who announced sweetly to the microphone that he'd have to get in line for that too. The line of people laughed twice as hard, while angry disgruntled, and now highly embarrassed twit in suit went to the end of the line. I love it when things like that happen, and the British do it so well.

Also, if I didn't value my job that much, I might be tempted to respond to the proverbial "Do you know who I am?" with: no sir/madam, I don't have the leisure to read the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, or any of the tabloids every day - I work for a living." :-D

Cheers,
Marianne

[Karen in Ohio]

Fortunately, I've only had to deal with one rude person like that, that I can remember, at any rate. Her husband was an assistant VP of a very large American corporation, probably one of hundreds of assistant VPs, actually. I still don't get what she hoped to accomplish by being such a snob to me.

Marianne, I've heard that story before, but it's golden. We all aspire to have that sort of comeback, but few of us manage it at the time.

[Karen in Ohio]

Fortunately, I've only had to deal with one rude person like that, that I can remember, at any rate. Her husband was an assistant VP of a very large American corporation, probably one of hundreds of assistant VPs, actually. I still don't get what she hoped to accomplish by being such a snob to me.

Marianne, I've heard that story before, but it's golden. We all aspire to have that sort of comeback, but few of us manage it at the time.

[Rita Scott]

Elaine, did you have to go around the corner and laugh? " Do you know who I am? I'm the bitch that's going to make you a famous fool!"
Oh yeah, all the club people will recognize each other (but not themselves! LOL) Some how, I don't think your name will come up for membership!
You did keep the 'BITCH' necklace to wear on your last day of these research jobs, didn't you?

[Peg H]

Answer to a rude man who asked me the same question. I haven't a clue who you are. Are you someone in the porn industry? With balls as big as yours I would think you'd be a success there. That was the day I'd already told my boss I was quitting and the man was just one more very rude customer.

[Me, Margie]

Hi. It's Me, Margie, and there is nothing that can give me the redass faster than a pompous idiot.

Peg - loving that comeback - I may use it at some point instead of my usual response, which is:

"Know YOU? Honey, you just blew any chance you ever had of knowing ME, and if your brain is even one tenth the size of your ego, you'd know what a crying shame that really is. Buh-bye."

[Elaine Viets]

Peg, loved your comment.
Margie, they will have missed a chance to know you, but there's only room for one person in their little world.
Rita, we weren't allowed jewelry with the staff uniform, but the word was engraved on my heart.

[Me, Margie]

Elaine - I'll bet that hurt like a mofo.

[Harley]

Here's the thing: even if they were Somebody and I actually DID know him/her, dollars to donuts it wouldn't come to me until about 9 hours later, as i was dropping off to sleep. "My GOD! That was . . . that was WHATSERNAME! Cutting ahead of me in line!"

I've even forgotten the Pope's first name. And Madonna's last name. Not that the Pope would try cutting ahead in line. Unless it were at the Pearly Gates.

[Pam aka SisterZip]

Elaine, there are a few people around here today that I would like to engrave it on their a$$.

[Becky Hutchison]

Elaine, great blog. I encountered a few of those self-important people when I worked for a congressman in DC. But for the most part the BIGGER egos were the congressional and administrative STAFFERS. It was like a pissing match to determine who worked for the better-known boss! When meeting new people at bars (I was single then), frequently the first question asked was "Who do you work for?" The men were the worst offenders, but women did it too. I'm grateful that I'm in a much smaller pond now and the people are much nicer.

[William Simon]

I actually had someone say that to me today, about fifteen minutes ago. "Do YOU know WHO you're talking TO? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?"

I tried not to laugh, I really did. But it was like holding a champagne cork in the bottle after it's been shaken....

[Josh]

Harley, did you meet Madonna and have to refer to her as Ms. Ciccone or Ms. or Mrs. Richie? That seems overly formal for someone who starred in Suddenly Seeking Susan, and, more notoriously, Shanghai Surprise. (I would be lost without IMdB.)

Pope, too. What difference does it make what his name is, as long as you don't use the name from Candide? For us Jews, Popes are just johnny-come-lately's anyway.

[Mary Storyteller]

the 'BITCH' necklace
I want one of those necklaces!! ;-)
A friend who worked in the VIP lounge for TWA (remember them?) used to come home so stressed by the rude treatment she had to endure. We agreed that we'd rather have to put up with those *%$ for a few minutes than to live as one -- imagine the unhappy life and the stress levels involved. She couldn't (and wouldn't) give them what they were trying to bully their way into (especially not change the weather and unground the planes), but she would often find ways to help nice folks above and beyond the rules.
I remember a story of a couple who, after a flight cancellation, were most insistent that they should be given the aisle (or window) seats they had originally booked. The agent complied -- and then moved all the other waiting passengers to first class seats. There is justice.

[kathie]

Wow, your book looks really great. I have some close relatives that are younger than me and their bank account is the relative size of each of their many homes. But, I wouldn't trade my life for theirs for anything. Not that more money wouldn't be nice, but keeping your head and heart where they matter is so much more important that tons 'o money. Can't wait to read your book.

[kathie]

PS, did your employer and members know what you were doing there?

[gaylin in vancouver]

My response to the DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? types:

I'm sorry, have we met before . . .

[Avis in NH]

I just barely finished Clubbed to Death, and I enjoyed it very much. Excellent story!

[Mary Storyteller]

Here's a different take -- I just came back from the library for the book club that will be discussing _Between the Covers_ next month. I stopped to check out reserved books after the meeting, the librarian came over with two, one of which was _Clubbed to Death_, and then told me "oops, that one is for the OTHER Mary Garrett." No lie! I still say it was a mistake . . . and I really have to meet her sometime.