Yesterday I brought a group of people to the Musem of Modern Art in New York City. Due to minor mishaps I had two extra tickets.

This is not a huge deal and I immediately considered just writing them both off as donations, it's a worthy cause after all. But we did decide to try offering them to folks in the ticket line, for something less than original price. Waste not, want not. Habits of a lifetime.

Nobody was interested. As someone in our group pointed out, this could be because they didn't know if I was honest, and that's a good point, although it's also easily solved: come with me when I go through the entrance; see if you get in or not; pay me then.

But what stopped me from even suggesting that was the looks people gave me. They weren't doubting looks. They were incredulous, snooty, dismissive looks.

You speak of MONEY, sir? You disturb the AESTHETIC of this LOBBY? How GAUCHE! This is an ART MUSEUM!

These are the same people who probably wrote poignant tweets when they encountered the Minimum Wage Machine, a performance piece in which anyone can turn a crank to produce a trickle of coins, which is exciting until you realize they are being disbursed at the rate of $8 per hour and gradually become depressed by the knowledge of how little that is.

Screw those people and their faux concern for the truly poor and their open disdain for the middle class. I'm glad I made them see me and my Target clothes and my perfectly good extra tickets.

(Yes, I'm sure I'm misjudging somebody in that line, but they'll live. Very well.)