The Thanksgiving Feast - All Food, Not Much Music

Another tale of a hard working, gigging musician - 

The Thanksgiving Feast - All Food, Not Much Music

We got a call to play a Thanksgiving feast at a church, and the offer for pay was just great for the short time we would need to play.  This was right before Eva was to be born, so the extra income would be really nice, and Shelley wouldn't have to exert herself too much at all, especially since the pastor told her they had a new sound system that we could plug into.  The problem with using their sound system, or should I say multiple problems were as follows:
1)  The guy helping us with the sound was the youth pastor, focused on selling his pies to raise money that night, and had little interest in helping us with the sound.
2)  He couldn't get the monitors working, so we lost 20 minutes of sound check time.
3)  He went and did something else, and never really returned as soon as he got the monitors working, so I was left to run back and forth to try to get us sounding good.
4)  The drums were locked in a glass booth, and their monitors were headphones that Glenn said never sounded any better than a buzzing humming mess.
5)  The drums were badly tuned, but we were told that the regular drummer would be upset if we tuned them.  (I shudder to hear his playing).

Well, the dinner was scheduled to start at 6, but at 6:15 they were setting up more tables and chairs because more people came than expected.  By 6:30 the pastor was getting people geared up to get in the line to eat.  That was when I realized that it was a community trough, and pastor had already told us not to shake anyone's hand because swine flu had ripped through the congregation.  Suddenly I was realizing that I was going to stop at Taco Bell later that night.
     They did have us go through the line first which was nice, because I thought we were going to play during the dinner.  boy was I wrong.  People ate, and sat, then the pastor sent them through for seconds.  20 minutes later (it was 7:30 by now) they started auctioning off the pies.  This was when the not-so-enthused sound man, became a very enthused pie autioneer.  There must have been 50 pies.  By the time it was over, it seemed like 100 pies.  It was 8:10, and NOW, they were ready for us to play.  

     Pastor gave a really nice introduction for us, but there was one problem.  People were now tired and ready to go home.  They had eaten, and sat through a long pie auction, and were now putting on their coats, and walking out.  The crowd started at nearly 250 people, but by our second song, that had dwindled to around 75.  by the time we were finished 1/2 hour later, there were roughly 20 people there.  I realized they were all staying because they were the crew to clean up the tables, chairs, and close the place up.
     Pastor apologized for messing up the time as there was no-one there to see us.  We told him we understood, as that has happened many times before, which was totally true.  

You know you are a true musician when the event planner apologizes to you for no one being there for you to play in front of...and it is the 1000th gig this has happened to you.

You Know You Are a Real Musician When...

You  re a Real Musician When:
    
You realize that the cheers from the audience after
    a particularly
    
difficult passage are for a sports play on the  big
    screen TV over the
    
bar, and that in fact, no one
    is listening to you.


    
When the gig you drove 200 miles for to make $100,
    and had to pay for a
    
hotel room, is later referred
    to as your "summer tour".
    
When your most sincere, heartfelt comments are made
    by people that are
    
drunk  and who won  t
    remember you in the morning.
    
When you are repeatedly told that the lead singer
    who can  t read, never
    
practices and has been singing
    for only six months is "The strongest
    
part of the band", primarily because she has big
    tits.
    
When you are pleased that the pay for the gig, when
    looked at hourly
    
from the time you leave your
    house to when you return meets minimum
    
wage.
    
When someone comes up to you to tell you how much
    they love your
    
playing, because they didn  t think anyone played those things
    anymore.
    
You get to the gig to find out that nothing is
    comped, and you  re
    
charged $10 to park.
    
When someone seeks you out to complement  your
    playing as the "best sax
    
player they have ever heard", and you  re the trumpet player.
    
When you realize that a small piece of equipment-
    such as a wireless
    
mike you need- will take months of weekly gigs to pay
    for.
    
When you have to add $30 or $40 out of your pocket
    to find a sub, cause
    
no one will cover you for what you  are paid.
    
You aren  t offended
    when all of the young wedding guests leave after
    
the second set to dance to the DJ at a club down the
    street.
    
When you are told that you must play until the very
    end of when you
    
were contracted for, when your
    only audience is the bartender, and
    
you  re being paid 40 or 50
    bucks for the night.
    
When the bandleader or club owner wants to pay you
    in food or drinks,
    
and you have $100,000 in school loans to pay off for that
    music degree.
    
When the guy collecting money at the door for the
    band  s performance
    
makes twice over the course of
    the evening what you do as one of the
    
band members.
    
When as a member of a blues band you no longer even
    pretend to  smile
    
when asked to play "Free Bird".
    
When you know that other musicians who routinely
    claim they don  t work
    
for less than $100 a night only work a few times a
    year.
    
You notice that all of the musicians playing the
    better functions to
    
young audiences are mid
    40  s ,  and
    up, and balding, because young musicians that
    
read don  t exist
    anymore.
    
When people who are drunk tell you that what you are
    doing is
    
absolutely great and the best
    thing thing they have ever seen or heard,
    
but refuse to pay more than $5 at the door.
    
When someone calling the cops for noise is a good
    thing. You get to go
    
home early and  you still get paid.
    
When you realize that asking women out that you meet
    on gigs doesn  t
    
work, for now they know you  re a musician. 
    
When you get invited to play the same gig the
    following year, which
    
means that you don't have to 
     tear down after this year's gig.
    
When you have, for several years, been paid the  same
    amount for a gig,
    
but are afraid to say anything
    about it for fear that you might lose
    
the gig.
    
When you spend more  on the bar
    tab than you get paid for the gig.
    
When you finally have to resort to playing Proud
    Mary in order to get
    
the audience
    dancing.