As a piano tuner who tunes by ear, clients sometimes say, "So you have
perfect pitch, do you?"  I then proceed to disappoint them by telling
them what they don't want to hear: that I have relative, not perfect
pitch.

Invariably I end up in a long lecture about the meaning of the two
terms and how my ability to tune their piano was not a gift the angels
gave me while still in the cradle, but rather a skill I acquired
through more training than I care to remember.  By the time I get to
the part of my sermon about how having perfect pitch is little more
than a nice party trick, I can see a change in how they are looking at
me.  Up until now, I was a mysterious character with a strangely wonderful
innate power; now the cloud of mystique I was veiled in fades away in
their eyes.

The next time I am asked about having perfect pitch, I may just say,
"It's essential."  That way I can remain the "Mystery Man".

Speaking of piano tuner mystique, a friend told me about growing up in
a semi-isolated rural area.  When the piano tuner came to town, no one
was allowed in the room while the instrument was being tuned.  Once
finished, the tuner said no one was allowed to play the piano for three
days, otherwise it would go out of tune again.  Of course, in three
days he was safely over the hills.

Jurgen Goering
Vancouver Island, Canada