I'm Not a Sellout... Unless the Price Is Right

 

People have accused me of being a sellout before.

And I just want to set the record straight:

I am absolutely not a sellout.

Now, if somebody wants to make me an offer so ridiculously large that my calculator starts smoking, then I may need to reconsider my position.

But even then, I have provisions.

Lots of provisions.

I’m talking about the kind of deal where there are so many zeros on the check that I have to turn the paper sideways just to count them.

You want me to promote your product?

Sure.

You want me to wear your shirt?

Absolutely.

You want me to stand on a stage and tell everybody that your product is the greatest thing ever invented?

Well… let's discuss the contract.

Because I have standards.

I’m not just going to sell out for a couple hundred bucks and a free sandwich. I have dignity.

My dignity has a price.

And that price is apparently somewhere between “I’ll think about it” and “Where do I sign?”

Of course, I’ve always preferred simple arrangements.

No complicated paperwork.

No fifty-page contracts.

No lawyers explaining what paragraph 17, subsection B means.

Just hand me the money, give me a nod, and we'll both pretend we never had this conversation.

Now, before somebody gets the wrong idea, I'm joking about the whole “under the table, no documentation” thing.

You still have to keep things legal.

But hypothetically speaking, if somebody showed up with a suitcase full of money and said, “Chad, we need you to endorse this,” I’m not saying I'd sell out…

I'm just saying I'd at least sit down and hear the proposal.

Because everybody has a number.

Some people say they could never be bought.

I believe them.

They just haven't been offered enough yet.

Me?

I'm not a sellout.

I'm selectively available for extremely serious financial negotiations.

And if the offer is big enough, comes with plenty of provisions, and includes enough money to make me forget what I was originally mad about…

Well, congratulations.

You didn't buy my soul.

You just rented my opinion for a very reasonable amount of money.

And apparently, my opinion is now accepting bids.

Shop With Chuckle — because apparently even my dignity has a price.