The Social Climber's Bible: A Book of Manners, Practical Tips, and Spiritual Advice forthe Upwardly Mobile (25 page)

Of course, there’s no denying that senior citizen social climbers have their own health issues to worry about. Remember, part of being an older great guest is being able to listen to your aging Big Fish friends complain about their aches and pains, while never giving in to the temptation to kvetch about the parts
of your own body that need replacement. If you’re a “walker” who can’t keep up or starts falling down, get a walker. And remember . . . if, God forbid, you have a heart attack while your host/hostess is giving a party, have the good manners to do it quietly and think of the bright side. If you survive, chances are your host/hostess will feel so guilty, they invite you to convalesce in their retirement home in the style you, by now, have become accustomed to.

T
he single most important individual in a social climber’s life, other than themselves of course, are members of that rare breed who, due to a combination of talent, influence, and newsworthy achievement, possess a kind of celebrity that has such magical properties their celebrity status rubs off on those around them. The climber who is smart and lucky enough to become their friend not only gets to enjoy the perks and privileges normally accorded to those who have done something extraordinary, he or she also gets to enjoy the thrill of being semifamous for simply having become the friend of someone who’s genuinely famous.

Whereas a Big Fish or, better yet, a Whale can give you a huge boost up the ladder, friendship with one of these game changers can beam you up to a universe where everyone is a somebody. Because of the magical effect they can have on a social climber’s life, we like to think of game changers as “Unicorns.”

Neither money nor fame nor power nor beauty nor talent
alone make someone a Unicorn. A Unicorn’s good fortune must come in multiples. For example, the Clintons, George Clooney, Angelina Jolie, Jay Z, Beyoncé, Prince William, Anna Wintour, and Sir Paul and Stella McCartney are certified Unicorns. The alchemy of that Holy Trinity of accomplishment, power, and bold-faced fame makes Unicorns sexy even if they’re totally lacking in sex appeal. Examples: Henry Kissinger and Chelsea Clinton.

Movie stars and directors of movies that gross over $500 million worldwide or have won an Oscar are Unicorns until they have three flops in a row. However, celebrities like Angelina Jolie and Bono have lifetime status as game changers because they not only have fame and fortune and sex appeal, they are also professional do-gooders. All ex-presidents are Unicorns, except Jimmy Carter, who lacked Unicorn status even when he was president. Madonna still thinks she is a Unicorn, because her friends are afraid to tell her that she’s not.

Unicorns’ status is relative and can have geographical limitations. For example, if you live in Minneapolis, becoming new best friends with the local legendary Purple Unicorn, Prince, or pals with Zygi Wilf, owner of the Minnesota Vikings, will make you the toast of Minneapolis. However, the magic of those friendships will get you invited to little more than the grand opening of a Taco Bell in LA or New York.

For those who think they don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of ever knowing the excitement and unearned access that comes to those who have the good fortune to hitch a ride to the top on the back of a Unicorn, ponder this: Since every one of the
aforementioned Unicorns is surrounded by social climbers, why not you? There’s always room for one more hanger-on.

Remember, because of the fame factor, their high-profile public persona, Unicorns are far more skittish than Whales. They should never be approached directly.

Whereas Big Fish and Whales are suckers for blatant flattery, Unicorns are so used to being fawned over that direct praise will raise the short hairs on the back of their necks and send them running. Your garden variety of suck-up compliment, “I loved your last movie,” “My son/daughter wrote a history report about you,” “I can’t believe I’m meeting you,” “What’s it like to win the Nobel Prize?” is as much of a social no-no as asking a major league ballplayer to autograph your genitalia.

Unicorns already have fans: You are a social climber, not a fan. As such, you should know what the Unicorn needs and lacks is a friend like
you
—a Mountaineer equipped with the wit, charm, and self-confidence to make the Unicorn believe that you are attracted to them as a person, not the bold-faced name they worked so hard to become.

The narcissism of the Unicorn is paradoxical. The need to be special, which coupled with talent makes them special, also eventually and inevitably makes them feel they’re so extra-special that they’re entitled to be both special and normal at the same time. Though this is physically impossible, it does open the door for Unicorn–social climber friendships. Make Unicorns feel that they are normal. Pretend to be immune to their magic, oblivious to their superstar status, and they will be the ones who will be pursuing you for friendship.

How does one get close enough to a Unicorn to give them the false impression that they are a normal person and you are unfazed by the magical powers that come from their Unicorn status?

If you live in a major city and have done your homework, you will eventually succeed in social climbing your way, via a Big Fish, to a charity gala and/or a Whale party where the invite will indicate a Unicorn will be the guest of honor. Do not be intimidated. Remember that none of the above-mentioned game changers started out life as a Unicorn.

Rupert Murdoch, at the age of twenty-one, was an Australian Turtle. Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis was just another Swan until she hooked JFK.

As always, planning is the key to making a success of your first encounter with a Unicorn. Say, for the purpose of this exercise, you have wangled a Big Fish into inviting you to a World Wildlife Fund charity event at which Bill Clinton and Angelina Jolie are being honored. Naturally, as a social climber, you would love to get to know Bill and/or Angelina. Fat chance of that happening, unless you think out of the box when it comes to your conversation starter.

Just as a professional soccer player might feign a limp to put an opponent off guard, you need to make a move that will shift the game in your favor. For example, before you put on your tux or dress, apply a large bandage to your calf if you’re a man and to your thigh if you’re a woman. Now dab a bit of ketchup on the bandage as if you have a leaking wound. Make no mention of your imaginary injury to anyone you are sitting with at the party.

When you see Bill and/or Angelina or whatever Unicorn you’re stalking being bored by less cunning social climbers than yourself, approach the feeding frenzy with a limp—but do not make eye contact with the Unicorn. When you are within three feet of the Unicorn, stop short and wince in seemingly excruciating pain. Now, still ignoring the Unicorn, raise the pant leg of your tuxedo or the hem of your dress and expose the bandage.

Unicorns like to show off the fact that along with having more talent, influence, and celebrity than mere mortals, they also possess a superior sense of empathy when it comes to the suffering of non-Unicorns. Nine times out of ten, the sight of your wound and your obvious discomfiture will prompt curiosity and concern,
especially if they are bored with the conversation they are having and looking for a way out.

Now, if you are a woman displaying a bandaged thigh to a Unicorn like Bill Clinton, chances are you will have to do little else to get his immediate and undivided attention. But even as skittish a Unicorn as Angelina Jolie will not be able to resist an opportunity to show her superior empathy by taking the time to ask you some version of the following: “What happened to your leg?”

At which point, you will stop wincing and answer casually, “I got bit by a baby cheetah I was rescuing from a poacher’s trap on the Serengeti.”

No matter what they think of your legs, the odds are that neither Angelina nor Bill will have encountered anyone suffering so noble a wound, at least not in the last twenty-four hours. Hence, the Unicorn is going to be impressed, sympathetic, and interested enough to ask you who you are. Resist the temptation to give the Unicorn your last name. Only give your first name.

This will make them charmed and curious, and most important, put you on equal footing. They will then introduce themselves. Which is something Unicorns haven’t had to do in so long, they will get a kick out of saying their own name. When they ask what you were doing in the Serengeti rescuing the baby cheetah, simply say, “I’m an accountant/yoga instructor/insurance salesperson who likes animals.”

They will think you are being modest and then invite you over to their table so you can tell Brad Pitt/Hillary Clinton about saving the cheetah. Important: Keep the cheetah story to a
minimum. Talk about the boring details of your own life. How the bloodstains from your nonexistent baby cheetah bite have ruined three pairs of pants/dresses and the dry-cleaning bill is cleaning you out, i.e., discuss things they used to talk about before they became Unicorns. If you remind them of the person they used to be before they became magical, they will like you. Why? Not because you saved a cheetah, but because you make them feel normal.

Now, before they get bored with you, excuse yourself from the conversation. But before you leave, write your name down on a matchbook and as you hand it to them say, “Give me a call next time you’re in town. We’ll hang.”

Guaranteed, you will be the first person who has given Angela or Bill a matchbook with a name and number and invited them to “hang” in over twenty years. Obviously, the chances of their responding to this simple and unpretentious invitation and calling you are slim to none. But because by now you are a great social climber, odds are you’ll run into them again at another big party where they will undoubtedly be surrounded by even more obvious climbers. Which means there is a better than fifty-fifty chance that they will use you and your story of your imaginary cheetah bite to escape yet another boring conversation, i.e., the Unicorn will actually say hello to you. You have now begun to flip the power dynamic.

If you’re lucky, a photographer will take your picture with the Unicorn, and when that appears in a magazine or on a blog, you will now be officially friends with a Unicorn. Female readers who were discreet enough not to have mentioned to the press that, when they first showed their wounded thigh to Bill
Clinton, he offered to change their bandage in the back of his limousine will now also be officially trustworthy to both Bill and Hillary, giving them yet another reason to call you when they are in town.

Of course, if you pull off the above, you will either have to wear pants whenever you next see Bill/Angelina or self-mutilate a wound worthy of a baby cheetah. But there is no arguing that is a small price to pay for the entrée to be gained by being new best friends with a Unicorn.

Note: We are not being facetious about the cheetah bite ploy. In our research we came across an ex-supermodel who charmed the New York social set with tales of a tropical childhood that she would illustrate by revealing a jagged scar just above her bikini line, which she would heroically explain was the result of a childhood shark bite. Men felt particularly sorry for her when she detailed the number of lingerie jobs she lost to the unsightly wound, and in a few short years, her scar helped her hobnob her way to a marriage with an Italian industrialist with a textile empire. It was only later, when we tried to locate the account of the shark bite in her hometown newspaper, that we discovered the scar was in fact the result of an infected boil.

But to fully understand the benefits of tricking a Unicorn into thinking you’ve been bitten by a wild animal, let’s backtrack for a moment to the World Wildlife Fund charity event at which you first encountered the Unicorn. When you return to the table of the Big Fish who invited you, he or she will have observed you talking to Bill or Angelina. Because of this, he or she will not be annoyed you’ve stayed away from the table for an unacceptable
length of time. Instead, he or she will be overjoyed and inquire, “Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with Bill/Angelina?”

To which you will answer, “You never asked me.”

When your Big Fish host wants to know the details of your conversation, do not push your luck with the cheetah bite story, simply say, “Just gabbing with old friends.” Which in the alternate universe the social climber lives in, they are.

As a “friend” of Bill Clinton or Angelina Jolie, your value to the Big Fish who invited you to the charity gala has been exponentially raised to the tenth power. In short, the game has been changed.