Auditioning

As you know, a lot of things disturb me... weather, politics, the stupid... but very little gets to the core of things and has me running for the closet like interviews and auditions. Must be a theme here somewhere...  There is no doubt that I can perform the job functions and/or play the guitar better than a lot of people up for the job. It's the damn first step that has sometimes left me out in the cold. I dare not harken back to my most recent job interviews, lest the PTSD kick in, so I'll stick with the equally frustrating auditioning.

I've been playing guitar for a long time. I have a pretty good idea what I'm doing. But put me in a room full of other musicians and I'm back in first grade. Ok, maybe third. My playing should speak for itself... unfortunately it comes up mute.

T Minus Two Days

Got an email from the other guitar player in my last band, asking if I was doing anything and would I like to come and check out his latest project. An opportunity to play toward a real band is great, so he sent me a setlist and off I went. I already knew over half of them and I'm known for my ability to pick things up quickly (the last time, I had to learn 5 sets in a week or two). Since the band had a female singer, a lot of the songs would be sung by... wait for it... females, plus regular old classic rock and whatever else I wanted to sing. Zappa was completely out. It's a shame because I do a really good Zappa.

T Minus One Day

Hey, the keyboard player isn't coming, so could you learn these songs specifically? Well smack me with a Chevrolet, wasn't this particular list the one including pretty much everything I didn't already know? You got it. Hey, why worry? I pick up quickly.

Out of the blue, work became an absolute cyclone of activity. I haven't seen it like that since the Great Data Robbery of 2012. I couldn't even listen to my new songs. When learning tunes, it really helps if you've ever heard the song in your life before. I hadn't.

At home, with great trepidation, I got my first listen to Amy Winehouse. What kind of sheltered idiot has never heard an Amy Winehouse song? This particular sheltered idiot, thank you. In my defense, I'm more likely to listen to something if it has spectacular guitar work in it, and nobody recommended it. Hey, this Winehouse chick can sing... and the songs aren't bad. Maybe the public screwed up and picked a talented one... So I learned Rehab and Valerie.

Day Zero

Oh, by the way, the email went.. concentrate on these.

Uh-oh.

There were people I've never heard of on this part of the list. With song titles that were beyond stupid. I'm flashing back to my lounge band of the 80s, where we played Madonna and all that crap. If I'm going to have flashbacks, those aren't the flashbacks I want to have.  Musicians learn songs these days by watching YouTube videos, so off I went. As if the songs weren't bad enough, I get those awful video images stuck in my head. While learning something called Exes and Oh's, I was working on a way to gouge my eyes out and puncture my eardrums at the same time. We the People can use way less women who sound like little girls singing. Singing vapid songs.

Home from work, with about two hours to spare, I got busy with the rest of the list. Now here's where things really get fun. You've read about how things just happen, like a cartoon or Three Stooges episode. I was in for a hell of a ride. [this clever literary device is called foreshadowing. It's fairly useless when I use it.]

Ok, so what's next?
Oh, here's another one I never heard before.. guess I'll give it a shot.

Hey.. my printer committed suicide a few weeks ago, in a bizarre incident involving a stuffed donkey and several bottles of Diet Dr. Pepper.. how am I going to write this information down so I can read it? Ah, I have a phone and a tablet - one of these will allow me to see things.... let's continue...

Next song.. I know this one.. write down chords... good.

Mrs lefty enters room. Immediately spills hot soup all over a table. While leaning over to clean it up, she spills her Coke on top of the soup, creating a kind of inedible stew, chock full of papers and trinkets, as well as a house key in the shape of a guitar. Fortunately this wasn't too distracting.

Next song... never heard it either.  YouTube provides again. Another overweight female, dressed in a medium size tent, dancing with nearly naked men. I dunno about you, but my Yawn Level was at the end of the scale.

BANG! Marshall decided I was too involved in learning, so he knocked over a guitar onto the floor. Fortunately this, too, wasn't distracting. At this point, the YELLING started. I had exactly an hour to learn the rest of the songs, which were numerous.

POP went the string.
With time causing much distraction, complicated by not remembering where I put my collection of spare strings, I grabbed another guitar, hoping those strings would stay together long enough for the audition.

Finally through, with all notes taken, I emailed them so I could retrieve them with the phone and tablet. Opening the phone.... and no. No email. Anywhere. The yelling was accompanied by growling this time. Meanwhile, I hadn't had time to get my equipment together for transport. Dressed, equipped, and still no email. Yes, sure enough, my provider sent my email to Junk. My own email. Now there are no doubts how they feel about me.

Two phones start ringing at the same time.
Fortunately this wasn't too distracting. At this point, I'm looking around for a parade of trash trucks to come through my living room.

I had directions for the hood I was going to but not how to get there. Out a long highway, I discovered I was going to Boonieville. Farmland, almost. I was waiting for tractors, people with vegetation in their mouth, and corncob pipes. I found myself completely lost in a place the directions took me. Streets that were supposed to be there, weren't. Streets that weren't supposed to be there popped up as detours. Ok, I lost the battle.. time to pull up some maps or something. Where was the backup tablet? Backup at home, where I left it.

You know me.. my tin foil hat was vibrating because the location function had never been turned on since I purchased the phone. It physically hurt to allow Firefox to access my location. The phone is locked down twelve ways to Sunday. I had no idea if it would even locate itself, no less me.

POOF - it found me. When I say found me, I mean Firefox went DING. then the maps site still couldn't find me, only it hid that notice, just to make things more 'interesting'. I had to pull over to make this happen, because it's wrong to play with your phone and drive, plus my glasses won't let me read close up while I'm driving - this is a General Failure of the General System. At this point, the text messages started coming in - absolutely nothing relevant. But it's fun to hear DING DING while you're desperately trying to figure out where you're going and where you are now. It's like a metaphor for life.

The screaming and vibrating continued, this time attempting to call up their friend, Crying. Crying was busy, along with muttering, so they'd have to do. Still no location, but I did get a map. Just no idea where I was on the map. YOU ARE HERE. No, I'm not. Phone rings, it's the guitar player, how was I making out. Rather poorly, thank you. Here's where I am. I have no $&@)ing idea where that is. Well, it's close to your *$&@ing house, you tell ME. Ok, try this.... I tried this, with no luck. He called back, because he's a mad control freak, and still failed to know where I was. Finally he figured it out, sending detailed directions. Unfortunately they were detailed directions to getting further lost. Highways where they weren't supposed to be. I literally had to take Rt456, make a right, and go down to the dead end, turning left on Rt 456. Huh? Yes, there was a Business Rt456 and a Regular Rt456. Fortunately this wasn't a distraction.

I checked my phone again, which told me I was six minutes away. It occurred to me to wonder how the phone knew I was six minutes away if it didn't know where I was. This is yet another reason I don't use location. There was another map, still with no indication of where I was. When I don't know where I am, West is not a legitimate direction.

HEY - I brought the work iDevice just in case. It would tell me where to go! I fired it up and it told me where to go! It told me to go F- myself, because it had updated and required passwords I didn't have on me. That was helpful. Back to my phone, which had given up snickering under its digital breath and was all out laughing directly at me. Another incoming... how was I making out? General ball-busting. I could hear the rest of the band laughing in the background. Mrs. Smith was at the blackboard, asking me to do long division in front of the class.

I'm a (physically) grown (partially) adult, or I can play one when necessary. I'm relatively intelligent and for my entire life, managed to get where I was going. I suggested having him put out one of those locator beacons to guide my car in, like they use with airplanes. Unfortunately his beacon was out of service, in the shop for repairs. Fortunately he was standing at his driveway, with those flashlights they use to help planes park. More ball-busting ensued, making me feel at home. The lady singer had a low cut shirt and bent forward, which had the effect of welcoming me in a silent but very pleasing way. Don't get me wrong.. I wouldn't have gone up to her and spent the rest of the evening with my face there, although it might have been fun. She bent over, not me. More ball-busting about my genius phone.

Thus far, every bit of technology had failed me. Turning his amp on, it started making horrible noises, like morse code with an air conditioner running in the background. Unplugging the guitar, the noise was still there, indicating it was the amplifier. Removing my phone from the top of it solved the noise issue. Loud, improper shielding in the amp and phone...

So we played. I damn near remembered all the songs I learned, with my phone sitting there on the music stand. My phone, which I didn't have time to charge; its humongous bright display eating up the battery, like me with chocolate cake. I didn't make an idiot of myself. It sounded good. Maybe the hex was off!

Nah.

After two hours of hard playing, I was soaked. And sore. I hadn't played that long in years, and felt twice my age.

Afterwards, much ball-busting went on about my ability to get home with my genius phone. The route was absolutely straight, except where it turned. And where the road wasn't marked. And the dead end at the light, with the five minute cycle. I guessed. Wrong. But it's easy to guess wrong when there is absolutely no route markings and few street signs. The signs helped not one bit anyway, as they read Broad Street instead of Rt1349 And A Half. While sitting at this interminable light, I seriously looked for the parade of clowns, elephants, and old Ford tractors to come by. This was actually good, as I could seriously use some water and cotton candy... I didn't have dinner and it was 10:00pm.

Somehow, perhaps with Universal guidance, I made it home; passing every restaurant possible on Restaurant Row. The cursing continued, this time with teeth-gnashing and banging on the steering wheel, in rhythm with the defroster, because it was very cold outside and I was very hot and still soaked.

Marshall greeted me when I walked in the house. And when I say greeted me, I mean he continued to lay on the tile by the door, which pushed him across it when I opened the door. My wife greeted me in similar fashion, being nowhere in sight, with no promised dinner waiting for us. I rejoiced.

Eventually appearing, she was amused at the idea of preparing dinner at this hour. I stood there, waiting for audience laughter that never came. Two aspirin later, I sat on the couch, waiting for the pain to abate and wondering what I could make for dinner. Perhaps a really good donut from days before. A peanut butter and chocolate sandwich. Some of the dog's meat loaf, prepared by my mom. She makes it special for him, so he'll eat after chemo. I grew up on the stuff but only he gets some. Are you feeling my pain of inequity and eating after 10:00pm? Can you hear the BOING sound effects and hear the junior high marching band coming down the street? The audience in hysterics and my wife cracking up, unable to keep a straight face?

I gave up and went to bed, hoping the audience had gone home and couldn't see me in my pajamas.