Sunday, March 28, 2010


I got a tattoo back in December 2007. Its purpose was to serve as a reminder that I will never allow anyone to treat me like shit ever again.

I was asked to be a guest singer for a benefit dinner/concert last night. At rehearsal last week, I asked the organizer what my call time would be.

"9:30pm and you'll go on in the 3rd set."

I arrived at 9:35pm (spent 5 minutes looking for parking) and after about 20 minutes of sitting around waiting (whilst listening to the other musicians play LOUDLY), the organizer made his way over to see me.

"You're late!"

"Yeah, I couldn't find parking. Sorry about that."

"No, you're an hour late. You missed your set."

"I'm 5 minutes late, not an hour! You told me 9:30pm."

"No I did not. I told you 8:30pm."

This went back and forth a few times until I finally said, "If that's what you want to believe, then so be it."

He shot me a look, and then waved me off with a flick of his hand and yelled, "Well you can just fucking go home now!"


I left my friend's competition early that day so I could get ready and get to the gig on time. I gave up going home to Niagara to see my Dad and brothers for the weekend so I could do the gig. I spent time and money on getting myself to and from rehearsal and the gig.


I jumped up and made a beeline for the door. On my way out, his wife stopped me. She asked me where I was headed and I told her what happened.

"Well you know he's an asshole. He does that to me too."

In that moment, I felt just awful for her. Here was a bright, articulate, vivacious and drop dead gorgeous woman who allows that stupid fuck of an excuse for a man to treat her like garbage on a daily basis.

"Please, don't go! Stay for me."

Oh gawd. Guilt trips always work on me.

I tried to maintain my ground in that I was leaving but she made me promise to stay until at least she had a chance to talk with my bass player.

A few minutes later, my bass player found me and told me he spoke with the fucktard and all was well, I could stay.

Oooooh, I *could* stay. Wow, I should have fucking dropped to my knees and thank the Lord Almighty for being granted permission to breathe the same air as he.

My bass player told me numb nuts apologized to him. Well, wasn't that gracious of him? He apologized to someone that wasn't ME! I made sure to point that out to my bass player. He agreed it was a douchey thing of him to do, but he begged me to stay.

I did end up staying, but only because I really needed the money and because I've NEVER bailed on a gig. I have professional integrity and I wasn't about to compromise that because the organizer was being a world class ASSHAT.

Ironically, when it was finally my turn to sing, I belted out "Respect" by Aretha Franklin.

At the end of the night, I thanked and said good night to each and every one of the twelve other performers, as well as the organizer's wife. I threw him a cold stare and left with my head held high.

This morning I received an email from my bass player asking me how I was doing, and to let me know that the guitar player and drummer emailed him to have him check on me. I also had two Facebook requests from the sax player and the trombone player.

See? Professional integrity ALWAYS pays off.

I emailed my bass player back to let him know I was fine and that I will never do another show for that assclown again.


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