After my LinkedIn posts about my Frippicisms™, Rich Ermlick wrote “You have more Zingers than Zig Ziglar.”
This brought back two wonderful memories I have not thought about in years.
In the early stages of my speaking career, I attended one of Zig’s Richer Life courses in Dallas. At that time, my reputation as a top men’s hairstylist preceded me. Zig, intrigued, asked if I would cut his hair. Delighted by the results, he insisted he take me to lunch. As we queued to pay—standing beside the most renowned speaker in the US, in his very hometown—the woman in line behind said, “Excuse me, aren’t you Patricia Fripp? Two months ago, I came to one of your hairstyling events in Lubbock, Texas.”
Zig’s mouth dropped. My comment was, “I told you I was famous.”
Fast forward a few years to Redding, California, where I was slated as the opening act for Zig in front of a two-thousand-strong audience. Post-performance, the atmosphere backstage was tense; Zig’s plane hadn’t landed. Facing the anxious promoter’s team, I declared, “Somebody better entertain them until Zig gets here, and I assume it is none of you.”
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