I Deserve a Discount for Being Me

It all started when I walked into a high-end home goods store to buy a candle. Not just any candle—this one was labeled “Hand-poured with artisanal intention.” It cost $48. For wax.

Now, a lesser man might have paid quietly. But I, Hot Josh, am not lesser.

I take the candle to the counter and say, “This doesn’t feel like a $48 candle.”

The cashier smiles politely. “It’s made with sustainable ingredients.”

“So am I,” I say. “And no one’s paying me to exist.”

She blinks, unsure if I’m joking. I’m not. “Look,” I continue, “I’m not asking for charity—just a recognition of value. You wouldn’t charge Michelangelo full price for marble, would you?”

Her confused silence encourages me. I start explaining that I’ve been a loyal browser of this store for years, which, in my mind, qualifies me for a loyalty discount—despite never having bought anything. I even mention that I’ve influenced at least three people to think about maybe shopping here someday.

Finally, she says, “We don’t have a discount program.”

“Then create one,” I reply.

A manager appears, trying to defuse the situation. I sense weakness. “Okay, how about this,” I say, leaning in conspiratorially. “You give me 20% off, and I promise to post about it online. Exposure for you, enlightenment for my followers.”

The manager sighs and offers me a 10% courtesy discount just to move me along. I take it triumphantly, as if I’ve just brokered peace in the Middle East.

As I leave, I raise the candle high and say to the stunned line behind me, “Remember—price tags are just suggestions.”

Because when Hot Josh walks into a store, he’s not just a customer. He’s a movement.