The more they talk, the less they know.
I was in a local photographic shop, and for reasons which I CANNOT understand they had the reputation as being THE shop to go to. (couldn't be further from the truth, but that's another story!). Being very unhappy at the way I was treated, I was in the process of leaving the shop when a "real" photographer announced himself and started talking at me.
Yes, that grammatical misfire was deliberate, he was talking AT me.
He was, you understand, a REAL photographer, who only used a 135mm lens (the choice of REAL photographers), and the choice between F4.0 and F5.6 is critical, and being a REAL photographer the choice of film speed is SO important and ...
{shudder}
I can still hear his whining, slightly nasal voice even now. The temptation to assault him with my pride and joy (a 1980 Zenit EM, from the Moscow Olympics) was almost more than I could bear. Just SHUT-UP! That was all I wanted him to do!
Somehow I managed to get out of the shop without beating him about the head, which I'm sure would have done my camera no good at all!
(when I did some work for the local paper this "real" photographer came up in conversation, apparently I did rather well in containing myself, I am told that someone literally grabbed him by the throat to make him be quiet).
Anyone else suffered from meeting "real" photographers?
I was in a local photographic shop, and for reasons which I CANNOT understand they had the reputation as being THE shop to go to. (couldn't be further from the truth, but that's another story!). Being very unhappy at the way I was treated, I was in the process of leaving the shop when a "real" photographer announced himself and started talking at me.
Yes, that grammatical misfire was deliberate, he was talking AT me.
He was, you understand, a REAL photographer, who only used a 135mm lens (the choice of REAL photographers), and the choice between F4.0 and F5.6 is critical, and being a REAL photographer the choice of film speed is SO important and ...
{shudder}
I can still hear his whining, slightly nasal voice even now. The temptation to assault him with my pride and joy (a 1980 Zenit EM, from the Moscow Olympics) was almost more than I could bear. Just SHUT-UP! That was all I wanted him to do!
Somehow I managed to get out of the shop without beating him about the head, which I'm sure would have done my camera no good at all!
(when I did some work for the local paper this "real" photographer came up in conversation, apparently I did rather well in containing myself, I am told that someone literally grabbed him by the throat to make him be quiet).
Anyone else suffered from meeting "real" photographers?
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