Stop Texting Me

If you have had even a casual interaction with a nightclub promoter (interpret ‘casual’ at your discretion), then you probably have spent every day since regretting that you gave him/her your phone number, because now they send you text messages every day letting you know that they’re hosting a party and itssofreakingamazingtonight!  Be there!  anddont’forgettosaymynameatthedoor!
The truth is, I can’t blame them, especially in light of the economy.  Back in the day (eh, before 9/11? That seems about right), being a promoter was about bringing hot/rich/interesting people in.  It only takes about 40 great people to make an entire club look and feel like a great party, and if you can bring those people in on a consistent basis, you can make everybody else pay exorbitant prices to stand around and watch them.  But the Black American Express card days are over (a few can be spotted at Tenjune, but its not worth the trouble), and you can no longer expect to sell one guy eight bottles of Crystal.  If you’re lucky, you’ll get five guys with popped collars splitting two bottles of absolute between five Discover cards.   And so clubs aren’t so interested in seeing 40 great people as they are in seeing 300 people,  from anywhere (New Jersey!  Its your time to shine!)
So instead of focusing on a core following, promoters have armed themselves with massive mailing/phone lists, and are blasting every electronic orafice with their invitations (on average, I get around 90 a week from facebook alone.)  Its gotten so that when I go out, I can decide where I should be going by where I haven’t been invited.
Is there another way?  In the days before cellphones (yes, there were days before cellphones), we would sit in the office on the day of a party and call each and every name on our list.  And it worked.  Turns out that people like being paid attention to if they know the person contacting them has taken the time to invite them personally.  But that was back when I had 200 people on my list. When it got to 1600, I hired an assistant (ok, two), and they called each and every person on my list.  I called the ones that wouldn’t stand for being invited by my assistants (which is funny, because they were better at organizing my guest list than I was.)
Then came the text message.  And I confess, I was one of the first to check off every name in my phonebook and hit ‘send’.  And boy, am I sorry.
The thing is, we’re only human.  The average promoter is doing four parties a week and has to deliver fifty people a night, including celebrities and models (yeah, well, boo hoo, right?).  But with the club scene moving (read: running) towards a commercial model, promoters themselves might become obsolete (maybe not. Somebody has to tell the Olsen Twins where to relapse.)
So take care of your promoters people.  And someday, we promise we’ll call you (and we’ll have drink tickets!  And bottles!  And itwillbefreakingcrazy!).


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