A Lesson in Snobbery

 by Lisa

I’m worried about something. I think I have become a snob. A painting snob. And I don’t want to be. Not after what happened last night. I will have nothing to do with snobbery anymore.

Last night I went to watch my tennis team play North Ranch Country Club. My team is not from a fancy country club. We are riffraff. The serfs, who come from the public courts. We were playing North Ranch in the play-offs to see who will go to sectionals. I did not get to play this time, but we all wanted to go to support our other teammates. I arrived a little late, after playing had commenced, and walked into the clubhouse and up to the front desk. I explained why I was there, and the cute little girl with the turned up nose and the bob informed me that she was really sorry that she could not let me go in because I was in jeans and they have a no denim rule.

After my initial reaction of incredulity, I explained to her that I had come quite a distance to see my team play, and that if they did not want denim tainting their manicured grounds, their team captain should have made that clear to our team captain. She apologized again and explained that a number of my teammates had shown up unaware of the rule as well. She offered to sell me pants from their swank shop (WORK OUT PANTS!!! Oh, much better!!!) which some of my teammates had taken her up on. I happen to be a size two and wear junior sizes, and no way did they have pants to fit me. I did ask her, being of smart ass mind and body, if I could buy pants and return them later that night if they did not fit. She said no. I asked if she meant to tell me that they had a no return policy. At this point she didn’t seem to know what to say to me, and referred me to the manager. Perfect.

I walked out through the door opposite the entrance, into Eden. Like a fly on shit, the manager was bee-lining toward me with her denim radar on high. I beat her to the punch.  “No denim right”? And so began the new argument. I tried everything.  I told her their team captain was at fault.  I told her it was beyond snobbery. I wanted to speak to the board members which she claimed were on the grounds, but she denied me access. I told her I was wearing “7” jeans that cost $187 (okay they were on sale). Nothing worked. She told me I could go and watch from outside the fence. I’m just sure. Boy was I pissed by the time I was escorted out of there. I could have come ALL THE WAY HOME and changed and gone back, but I knew that if I did, and we lost to them, I was going to be a tad cranky and the wrath of Lisa would be on full display.

I still do not know yet whether or not we won, but will post that info next time since I know this is such a cliff hanger for all of you so interested in painting. Which brings me back to my original point. I am guilty of being a painting snob, and have poo-pooed (I tried to come up with a more eloquent term, but couldn’t quickly, and the thesaurus does not have poo-pooed) many a painting style other than classical realism, or painters other than Rembrandt, Sargent and Odd Nerdrum. Because of North Ranch, I feel like Scrooge being liberated by the spirit. I will never trash Pollock again.

I hope we kicked their denimless asses…

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9 Responses to A Lesson in Snobbery

  1. wrjones says:

    Nice story, Debbie Downer.

    I’m getting you a pair of sweat pants to wear to these formal matches in the future.

  2. Janet says:

    Wow! You sound like you reacted the same way I would have.

    I remember making a purchase (for cider and honey) at some fancy garden place on my debit card. When my card was charged twice, I called to complain and was told they were too busy to take my call and they would call back. After two days, I had to call back and was, again, told that they were too busy. I then said that if they didn’t take my call, I drive back there and make a scene in front of their customers! Then they answered.

    The result? They gave me credit one day then debited my card again the next!!! THIS WIMP GOT TIRED AND GAVE UP!

    I’m glad to hear, though, that you’re no longer going to be a snob about art (cause I like wildlife art and landscapes … and hear, too often, that wildlife art is just “couch art” … whatever that means!).


  3. kevmoore says:

    So, this Pollock guy, does he make work out pants, or what??
    Seriously though, this is EXACTLY the kind of thing that drives me crazy too. I hate this sort of thing. Separatist rules for the chattering classes, exacerbated by the fact that they dont tell you about them. I was about to regale you with a story of a similar nature, but I think I’ll post it in my blog.

  4. Caol King says:

    YOU WEAR A SIZE 2 !!!!!! Wow!

  5. lbtowers says:

    Yes, but I’m 3 feet tall.

  6. Michael says:

    You say, “I think I have become a snob.” That is your perception of yourself and most likely not the perception of others. And, “And I don’t want to be,” is the choice you are making. A stand if you will. But in reality Lisa courage, and I think you have it, is in part, not to care about what others think. Is this not true, really? I am curious.

  7. wpm1955 says:

    I am so sorry this bad experience happened to you!

    Where I grew up (in Denver) the establishments (restaurants and country clubs) which required a certain dress code DID keep a supply of coats and ties on hand which could be borrowed just for emergencies such as this.

    When I grew up in America, everyone knew that it was disrespectful to wear denim, which is why there is the prejudice against it, while not against sport pants (even though they would seem to be the same thing, they came in later than jeans, and are not out of denim material). I think you are from a younger generation that may not have been brought up with these same standards (and I’m not talking about money or social class, I’m talking about everyone), yet you have the country club adhering to standards that have become old-fashioned today. If they are adhering to these standards, of COURSE they should have informed your team when the match was set up! (unless it was their secret plan to keep out “riff-raff” who they felt “might” show up for the games)

    So sorry you were caught in the middle, and that they didn’t have the class to inform people ahead of time! If it had happened to me, I would be SO upset, too.

    Madame Monet

  8. Susan says:

    I live in North Ranch and it is not necessarily a loving, warm
    place. I always think that there should be a sign on Westlake Blvd.
    that says “Welcome to North Ranch- a place where Our “Poo-Pooed”
    does not smell.” I will bet that had your denim been covered with sparkly
    things, had a matching Jacket and a denim style Louis Vuitton Handbag-
    you would have been admitted.

  9. lbtowers says:

    Yes, or if I had been the likes of even Britney Spears without panties on.

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