This here is the English lady who came for lunch. Notice how everyone is filling out the paperwork? I’ll get to that in a moment. This gal was a massage therapist who once worked her way around the world as a croupier. She says that is a card dealer at the casino, and it just passed the spell check, so let’s go with that. It is one of those occupations you never see listed at the unemployment offices out on the prairies. And I personally have no use for a croupier, or a clowder of croupiers.
Fred’s Xmas lunch. The gang all arrived at Wings and Curls. Of course there was a catch, we only thought it was Xmas lunch. We all had to listen to a sales pitch from an investment firm. I’m leery of these because they want you to fill out a form of choices, none of which is “get lost”. Beware of life insurance companies that are now calling themselves investment counselors. Top of the pack is my old company, Prudential. Trust me, these life insurance companies know about investing, but they know zilch about counseling small investors on the topic.This Wings and Curls does not get my vote. Slow service, high prices, mediocre quality. You get one side with anything, usually fries. They serve you the fries right away, so they are long gone by the time your food arrives a half-hour later. Plus, they serve the food in batches, so some people are still waiting while others are finishing. I finally walked up to the kitchen to get a refill. Instead of pouring it, they insisted I sit down and they would bring it to me. They did. Eventually.
The speaker was familiar. Ellen. I’d seen her before but where? She was wearing the same dress and I recognize the way she applied her eye makeup. Yet the only sales seminar I’ve attended recently was that rip-off outfit Noveau Riche University. I’ll remember soon but right now it is gnawing away at me. I chatted her up a bit and she is not a musician, entertainer or bookstore patron. Who is the mysterious Ellen? I even recognized her manner of speaking and posture. Help me out here. (In the end I never could place her, but then, I never saw her again either.
Turns out she was fronting the lunch to the old Prudential "every employee is a salesperson" formula. As a brush up, I was one of several programmers who refused when Prudential began to demand that every employee turn in a list of 150 people that they knew, and a ton of personal information about those people. Then be subject to a monthly review of why or why not had you discussed their life insurance needs during that period. Remember, I'm a privacy advocate, but a lot of people tend to forget I am also out to protect their privacy as well as my own. I quit the company.
After months of fruitless sifting through the ether, I’m beginning to get replies and responses for legitimate writing assignments. My ideal situation would be a part-time teaching job and writing on the side. By legitimate, I mean the ones who don’t insist that in addition to writing, you have to promote, interview and answer the phone. Those jobs are done by the salesman, the reporter and the secretary. That is where I stand on the issue. I had enough of make-busy work during the 80’s.
ADDENDUM
I can’t get through to South Miami, but it would appear that Christmas Dinner is Monday, the 24th. Sure enough, Alaine wants me to bring the guitar and does not get it when I say that I cannot play it. The only song I know is Happy Birthday. Except for Mary Jo, the family is unmusical and I don’t play any Christmas carols. I don't play guitar. I don't sing. I can't play a solo show.
Speaking of music, I placed several on-line ads for the jam session. The angle I’m pushing is that this is mid-afternoon. This town is bad for late night jams, which I call the midnight crawl. Some of these places you don’t play until after one in the morning. All email so far is 100% positive, but you watch. I’m also up-playing the fact that there is no “house band”, which I’ll explain.
In yet another idiotic Florida quirk, jam sessions here are not only (generally) a rip-off, they are also poorly organized. I don’t blame the clubs because the jams tend to be run by musicians who are trying to generate a crowd. But they also tend to be musicians who don't have what it takes to run a real gig. In a real jam session, the band gets each new musician who walks in up onto the stage as quickly as possible. In a Florida jam session, they make you wait as long as possible. That is, to "play audience" and run up a tab at the bar.
This is doubly stupid. You came to hear other amateurs, not listen to the house band. Then, the house band hogs all the standards before asking the jammers what material they have ready. I’ve repeatedly seen the Hippie play “Johnny B. Goode” and “Before You ‘Cuse Me” in front of guitarists he’d invited and then do the little argument on stage to find out “what else” they know. Only to find out the house band can't play it. Well, Hippie, if the guy could play solo, he'd be out gigging, you dumb ass.
This is also around the era when I began to call the bullshit about the Hippie's tale of being a university grad. For all the bad things that can be said about university, you still have to think somewhat logically to get through it. Have you not noticed that very few "New Age" sorts have advanced degress? If not, read some of the doo-doo on the New Age shelf at Barnes & Noble. You'll figure it out.
[Author's note 2015-12-19: this is another redacted entry. In the last segment, what I'm saying is that a jam session traditionally has a house band. But that band does not play its own sets. It gets featured but usually amateur musicians on stage and backs them up. However, in Florida, the house band is more likely to play a few sets while you wait, then use your songs as their beer break. This is wrong and I never saw it as standard practice until I got to Florida.
So, what they call a jam session is more like a coffee house with a band that lets you take a turn late in the evening when they want time off.]
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