Today started so great!! I got asked to lay down some vocals for my friend Bernie from The Ojai Underground on a cool tune he wrote for his wife. Obviously, I said YES!!
Walker had one last day in the studio, so he got his serious face on to get to work!
I got in some awesome friend time with my CA bestie and my WA bestie all together!
Jared filled his heart with joy by taking a much missed bike ride with Phil on our old bike path in Ojai. This bike path hosted hundreds of rides for Jared and I, as well as bearing witness to our proposal on Thursday, January 27th, 2011. This bike path is probably in the top three things we miss most about our time in California, so I’m grateful Jared got to visit it again.
Going into this next part of the blog, I originally wanted to go on and on about how our job is unique in that so many people who don’t understand it feel the need/desire/invitation to tell us how to do it. But then I felt convicted in my assumption that we are alone in that. I truly believe that we are not. I think there are certain types of people who will tell anyone with more knowledge and experience in a field or topic, how to do THEIR job, or how they are failing at doing THEIR job. These are the kinds of people who will belittle a waitress, speak down to a mechanic, scrutinize a landscape crew, scream at an insurance agent, or straight up tell a doctor they don’t know what they’re talking about. And, although I took comfort in knowing we are not alone in our vulnerability to public opinion and scrutiny, it sure as shit doesn’t soften the blow when it presents itself as a 6’5” ogre, with strangely small hands and a not surprisingly huge attitude problem.
After checking in with the staff (who were ALL amazing, friendly, and lovely to us, by the way) about where to set up and display merchandise, etc, we began to bring in our equipment. Now, I am fully aware how daunting it looks. But we always say, “Once it’s all set up, we really don’t take up a ton of space.” The biggest difference on this tour is the drum kit. Also something that one might see and tend to have a certain preconceived notion of. So, with our gear barely loaded in and us just trying to stay out of servers’ ways, it wasn’t too weird to have this giant man come over, sweaty, twitchy and ready to oppress me with his bigness until he received a satisfactory response.
“What IS ALLLLL this?” (Insert grand gesture to our stuff here)
“This all has to be pushed back. And what about the stuff on this table? That’s going to lose me SO MUCH MONEY!” (As I look around at a restaurant 1/10 at capacity)
“And THESE?!” (Gestures with his tiny hands to the drum kit) “You can’t be playing THESE in here! How are people going to HEAR? We usually have ONE guy with a guitar. Who booked you?! I’m going to have to have a talk with whoever booked you!”
Wiping the spit off my forehead, and forcing myself to smile, I said, “Hang on a second. What is your name?” and I reached to shake the end one of his small appendages.
“Jeff.” Begrudgingly placing his lady hand in mine.
“Well, let’s see…Jeff, was it? This is my full time job. My actual profession. And I PROMISE you that I want these customers to be unhappy about as much as you do. So if you think you need this one table in the back (where your staff told us we could sit) then we will move our stuff from it and free it up for the turnover you are sure to get.”(Note the sarcasm and passive aggressiveness seeping out of my mouth)
Jeff begins to interrupt “Well, if you were going to sit there…”
“No. It’s a non issue now, Jeff. Also, as for the volume that you are concerned about. We are aware, that for the first hour we are to play a bit quieter for the “dinner crowd”, and then build up the energy for the remainder. Then, Jeff, how about this? At any time during the night that you need us to turn down, you may approach me and RESPECTFULLY let me know and we will 100% and GLADLY turn down. How does that sound?”
“Well, drums are just loud and we don’t usually have a drummer and there’s so much stuff here. You guys have a lot of stuff. Why is there so much stuff?”
“Jeff. LITERALLY ANY TIME YOU NEED US TO TURN DOWN, Please let me know. Will that work?”
“….sure. I guess.”
Within one minute of Walker’s set, Jeff came up and said, “Well this isn’t so bad. You can probably turn up some.”
I said, “Jeff, please wait til the whole band is up if you are concerned and let me know after you hear all of us.”
And then Jeff left…
He just went home.
Jeff stirred the pot
And then left us alone.
Jeff bullied his way into getting his way,
Spitting and sputtering like it was ok,
Leaving us angry and sad in his wake.
Jeff wouldn’t admit that he’d made a mistake.
Jeff made a noise louder than drums
To keep us so quiet that nobody comes…
to see the trio from Tacoma.
Jeff made a mark.
Jeff made me sad.
Hopefully Jeff isn’t somebody’s dad.
He could have chose kindness,
He could have been chill,
He could have said “sorry” and footed our bill.
While cheers came in loud and reviews were all rave,
Jeff slunked away without asking my name.
With all human decency you seem to lack,
Suck it Jeff, we’re not coming back.
