Many years ago I was at a convention with my friends. I went up to the empty table of one of the celebrities there. It was someone whose work I had admired from the movies that he had done. All I will say is that it was someone who does special effects make up. I had never really met anyone in the that industry before. I had said hello, and politely asked for an autograph after I paid for one of his photos. Even though he clearly was not busy, he could not be bothered to even look up. He did not say a word. He signed his name and then flicked the photo away with his fingertips as if he were dismissing me. I walked away and said that he must have been having a bad day. My friends disagreed and said that he was a dick and has no right to treat a fan like that, especially one who is putting money in his pocket.
Fast forward quite a few years later. I am friends with a pretty well known fantasy artist. I was asked to accompany him to a really big convention. We had met because I was wearing some plate armor covered in bones, spikes and skulls, kind of something you would see in World of Warcraft or D&D, and we got to talking about his work doing illustrations of characters dressed similarly to me. I was suppose to be kind of like a mascot. One day of the convention The hall was empty except for the Playboy centerfolds who were setting up, and me. I was suited up, and I had met them the day before, so they called me over and I was talking to them and enjoying the sympathy that they were giving me because of the hot and heavy stuff I was wearing. I did not make a big deal of the fact that they won the genetic lottery, so I guess they felt comfortable around me, especially since they knew that I was there to work, and not hit on them. (Like I would have had a chance.)
Guess who comes walking up at the moment I am hanging out with a group of beautiful young women. Mr "I am an ass to my fans." The girls all had a look of disgust and whispered that this guy "gives them the creeps and is a jerk." I guess he was all over them the day before. He comes up to me and says, "Wow, Very cool costume!" I looked at him and with my best, and unmistakable dismissing voice said, "Yeah. Thanks." I then turned my back to him and said, "Ok ladies, now where was I.... " and continued with my story. One of them muttered loud enough for him to hear, "Beat it asshole," they started to laugh a little and he walked away. Damn that felt very satisfying. I am sure that he did not care, but I hope that he had the same "WTF was that?" moment that I had, the first time that we met. The next day, I talked to the girls when I was on break, and they gave me quite a few pictures and autographs for free. Since then I do not place too much importance on what you do, but who you are. And I guess for the record I should have been polite to him, and been a bigger person. Nah. Screw that. He had it coming.