As much as my constitution allows, I stay away from train wreck television. Which means when the glass boob is glowing, it’s showing me a good movie or news or history or the goofy graphics associated with the music channels I listen to. And that means I don’t watch network “news” or what passes for entertainment (although these days, there’s not much to delineate ABC/CBS/NBC news and sitcoms.)

But I do admit I watch The Apprentice. If you haven’t seen it, I won’t waste the space to describe why. If you do watch it, there’s no need for me to explain why I watch it, too.

The phrase now most associated with Donald Trump is no longer “comb over” or “bankruptcy” — it’s “you’re fired.” He even filed with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office an application over the thing.

You’re fired.

If you’ve ever been told that by an employer — and I have — you know the emotional impact it can have on you. Aside from the obvious loss of income, there’s something that doesn’t feel good about the implication that you somehow don’t measure up to some standard set by someone else, especially when you’ve done your level best.

Of course, some people are just begging — or, at least, daring — to get fired. Their level of performance screams “I don’t care about this job, so let me see just how clearly I can make that known.” (For a demonstration of this, visit most any restaurant where the per-person cost is less than $40 or so.) And the only thing that keeps them from getting fired is the fact that customers cannot fire employees. Directly, anyway. Only supervisors can. In cases like this, the best a customer can do is fire the business and take their dollars somewhere else.

But this isn’t about an employee getting fired. This is about you firing a client.

This is also a post that’s been in the making for quite long while. It wasn’t until this morning, when I replied to a post in a private email list for magicians, that the reminder came to me that I needed to finish this subject.

Firing a client seems to be a concept as foreign to some people as is proper punctuation. As many years as I have suggested that people do this I never fail to get a blank stare in response. But I assure you that your long-term prospects of having a business you enjoy go up dramatically when you fire clients who don’t add to your well-being.

You don’t even need a good reason — “good” as defined by anyone other than you, I mean. If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t right, and you’re better off in the long run to just let the business go.

Depending upon your financial situation, this will seem counter-intuitive. Granted, I clearly acknowledge there are times when you just have to eat the proverbial shit sandwich. I know I’ve had my belly full of them from time to time and, like cooked spinach, I just can’t find a way to acquire a taste for them. But most of the time, this is not the case. Most of the time, chowing down on one of those indelicacies is strictly optional and we accept them only out of convenience or weakness — like deciding whether or not to pass up a McDonalds when you’re hungry.

An example to consider: you have an open date on your calendar. The Mother From Hell wants you to perform for her darling’s birthday party. The child is eight years old.

As the conversation progresses, you learn there will be roughly sixty eight year olds at the party — all of them fellow students of an exclusive private school with no identifiable curriculum outside of being The Last Stop for kids who have been kicked out of every other school in the state.

But that’s not the worst part.

You will be required to perform outside — along with the three face painters, the clown, and the poor guy hired to watch the rented inflatable bouncy castle, into which everyone involved is betting will be filled with dead cats by the end of the party.

But that’s not the worst part, either.

You’re requested — and expected — to include live animals in the act, and do the show for $45.

But that’s still not the worst part.

Your name is Max Maven.

(Actually, truth be told, I’d be willing to lay odds that Max could handle that gig if he was of a mind to. And I’d fight to be the first guy in line to happily pay a hefty ticket price to watch.)

No, the actual worst part — and this will be confirmed by anyone who has done kid shows for a living — is that you and the other performers will be outside doing your respective things while all the parents are inside slamming down Cosmopolitans.

The truly sad thing about this scenario is not that someone would actually want to book a gig like this (because it happens every day) but because some performers will take the gig.

Just say no.

Now, I’m not one to tell other people how to conduct themselves in a situation like this, but it would be my humble suggestion to say, “no thanks.” (And if there’s a performer in the area you particularly despise, send the client his way. Two birds, one stone, and all that.)

It can be argued that the number one killer of adults is not auto accidents, the dreaded “C”-word, or even the prospect of public speaking; it’s stress. Stress kills. I firmly believe we could rid the world of the roach population if we could just figure out what gets them sufficiently stressed out.

It’s already difficult enough to know you’re likely to be faced with a venue substantially different than what was described to you. When you perform long enough, you’ll be able to pick out code words that would strike absolute terror in any reasonably intelligent, though inexperienced human being. (But, that’s just the sort of thing you should come to expect when you work regularly.)

But then you add the clearly identifiable signals that, even if your brain fails or refuses to acknowledge as a problem, your stomach is doing everything it can to signal you to turn the job down. Sometimes we just plain won’t listen. It’s the one part of our teenage years that remains fully intact once we reach adulthood.

As Pete Seeger said:

Education is when you read the fine print.
Experience is what you get if you don’t.

My favorite, though, is:

Experience is what you get when you didn’t get what you wanted.

Experience is also that little voice in the back of your head that reminds you that you’ve been around this tree once before and it didn’t turn out so hot the last time. (This could also be the voice of your wife. If you’re lucky, those voices will be nearly indistinguishable from one another. If you’re smart, you’ll listen.)

Reducing the amount of stress associated with your job is a good way to ensure you continue looking forward to each day’s work. Nothing drags you down and fertilizes a field of growing procrastination as does hating what you do. Taking gigs that make you hate performing is just a bad idea for so many reasons, not the least of which is that it kills your joy, and it’s hard to hide that from your clients. So do everyone a favor and just pass on the jobs that add to your level of stress.

How do you recognize which jobs those are? Experience.