{"id":107,"date":"2005-02-24T02:52:10","date_gmt":"2005-02-24T02:52:10","guid":{"rendered":""},"modified":"2006-04-08T12:37:56","modified_gmt":"2006-04-08T18:37:56","slug":"waiting-for-the-phone-to-ring","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.bittermancircle.com\/?p=107","title":{"rendered":"Waiting for the phone to ring"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"fb_share_1\" style=\"clear:left; float: left; margin-right: 10px; margin-top:10px;;width: 55px;\" name=\"fb_share\"><div id=\"fb-root\"><\/div><script src=\"http:\/\/connect.facebook.net\/en_US\/all.js#appId=125029517579627&amp;xfbml=1\"><\/script><fb:like href=\"https:\/\/www.bittermancircle.com\/?p=107\" send=\"false\" layout=\"box_count\" width=\"55\" show_faces=\"false\" font=\"arial\"><\/fb:like><\/div><p>11\/6\/02<\/p>\n<p>I had a conversation the other day with a dear friend that included the<br \/>\nsentence &#8220;You&#8217;re only as good as your last job&#8221;. Actually in her case<br \/>\nit was her &#8220;last deal&#8221; as she sells real estate. I wonder if it has to<br \/>\ndo more with the kind of jobs we have or with the kind of confidence we<br \/>\nhave in our work.<\/p>\n<p>This time of the year is the beginning of the<br \/>\nquestionable mental health period for sub-contractors and other<br \/>\nfreelance workers. The dwindling money and the seasonal slowdown adds<br \/>\nfuel to the silly season fire. As the road people find their way home<br \/>\nfor the holidays and often at the completion of a tour, a small voice<br \/>\ngets louder and louder in the personal mental choir: &#8220;You&#8217;ll NEVER work<br \/>\nagain!!!&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Years of practice, involvement in faith based<br \/>\nsupport groups and the fact that I&#8217;ve got a pretty good credit rating<br \/>\nhelp quiet that hysterical voice. I get by; there has always been a<br \/>\nroof over my head and I never miss a meal&#8230; except when I&#8217;m at work. I<br \/>\nlike to remind myself of the times in the mid-90&#8217;s when I was down to<br \/>\nmy last twenty dollars in my checking account before the first check<br \/>\ncame in. This was before my wife introduced me to savings accounts. It<br \/>\nreminds me to have faith.<\/p>\n<p>Some days it lasts seconds.<\/p>\n<p>In my line of work I&#8217;ve had the opportunity to work<br \/>\nfor some of the greatest musicians in the world. I&#8217;ve never been sent<br \/>\nhome before the tour was over. I&#8217;ve often been called to replace those<br \/>\nwho are. As an old friend used to say &#8220;Nobody yelled and nobody threw<br \/>\nanything; it was a good day.&#8221; That&#8217;s success. I&#8217;m not a world-class<br \/>\nexpert. I&#8217;m just a guy who sets stuff up and makes sure it works so<br \/>\nother people can use it.<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m a roadie.<\/p>\n<p>Now before your mind jumps to some rumor\/ fantasy\/<br \/>\nbad movie scenario, let me share one thing; it&#8217;s just a job. It&#8217;s just<br \/>\na glamorous as accounting or janitorial service (but markedly less<br \/>\nglamorous than marketing research).  It has few benefits (free<br \/>\nblack t-shirts for one): no job security, no health insurance, and no<br \/>\npension. Almost everything financial is a verbal agreement&#8230; no<br \/>\ncontracts, no union. You have to depend on people who go by names that<br \/>\nsound like wrestling holds. Sometimes your workday is affected by a<br \/>\nperson that your seven-year-old nephew knows ingests more toxins than<br \/>\nthe Crocodile Hunter or spends every morning watching the Teletubbies.<br \/>\nIt&#8217;s not that much different than corporate America. In fact, it is now<br \/>\na part of corporate America.<\/p>\n<p>Most of our employers work for one of the big five<br \/>\nrecord companies. The touring promotion business is now nearly wholly<br \/>\nowned by a radio and billboard corporation. Many of the hippies and<br \/>\ncounter culture people who came up through the concert business never<br \/>\nhaving to wear a suit and tie or dress clothes have to go to weekly<br \/>\nlunch and learns or strategy meetings. It&#8217;s not your daddy&#8217;s rock<br \/>\nconcert anymore.<\/p>\n<p>A business that was fueled on drugs, sex and cash<br \/>\nwhen it started has grown up to be an arm of someone&#8217;s media<br \/>\nconglomerate. The tribal act of gathering to watch someone perform,<br \/>\nentertain and commune with the divine has become a way to sell<br \/>\nconcessions and charge for parking. The recording and promotion angle<br \/>\nstill has some worth, but it&#8217;s becoming a way to stoke egos, sell<br \/>\nt-shirts and get the last of someone&#8217;s disposable income spread around.<\/p>\n<p>The last paragraph seems pretty cynical, but it&#8217;s<br \/>\njust one facet of the touring world. It&#8217;s still a way for artists to<br \/>\nmake a living sharing their music with people in real time and perhaps<br \/>\nbringing a bright moment to some mundane existences. There are some<br \/>\nvalid artists out there in stadiums, arenas and theatres, not just on<br \/>\nstreet corners and living rooms. There are also nice people who enjoy<br \/>\nentertaining others because it is their calling. For every three<br \/>\nemotionally damaged, ego driven attention magnets onstage there<br \/>\nprobably is one person sharing what they have the best they can, for<br \/>\nbetter or worse.<\/p>\n<p>The reason why this time of year is an issue is that<br \/>\ntouring has become more of a seasonal business. With outdoor<br \/>\namphitheaters all over the continent and kids being on summer vacation,<br \/>\nit provides an entire circuit for bands to play. As the fall arrives<br \/>\nand the temperature drops, bands wander home and begin to record their<br \/>\nnext project. The process can take months and then the media company<br \/>\nwants time to market, advertise, promote, time and schedule the<br \/>\nrelease. Out in the spring, tour all summer and back in the studio in<br \/>\nthe fall&#8230; the machine cranks out more CD&#8217;s to sell.<\/p>\n<p>When I started writing this I wanted to<br \/>\nexpress my feelings about how my work and it&#8217;s insecure nature makes me<br \/>\nfeel&#8230; insecure. I think it&#8217;s a bit of a stretch to describe the road<br \/>\nlife as a calling. Those who are not cut out for it are thinned out<br \/>\nquickly. Many of us were fooled into it initially. Once you get<br \/>\ncomfortable out there, it&#8217;s got you until you&#8217;re done. Many &#8220;retire&#8217;<br \/>\nfrom the road and return time and again. The money has a lot to do with<br \/>\nit but the moving plays a big part.<\/p>\n<p>Showbiz, the circus, the irresponsible life&#8230; many<br \/>\npeople are running from something, perhaps all of them. The long hours,<br \/>\nthe mostly thankless work, bad food, suitcase living&#8230; how can that be<br \/>\nappealing? As much as some of us yearn for a home and something to<br \/>\nreturn to, the being away is what makes it so special. I do enjoy the<br \/>\ntravel, the time off in different places, the old and new faces&#8230; and I<br \/>\nenjoy the job.<\/p>\n<p>Doing shows has more than a few dualities. You&#8217;re<br \/>\noften in a brand new place doing the same old thing. Once the schedule<br \/>\nand itinerary smooth out, it&#8217;s easy just to read the day sheet and plan<br \/>\nyour day around that. It&#8217;s a job that people see as exclusive and<br \/>\nglamorous that can grind like factory work some days. Because it is<br \/>\nshow biz, regular folks treat you different now and again. It can be<br \/>\nfun&#8230; even if you know me and my infamous inability to have fun, I will<br \/>\nsay that about the job.<\/p>\n<p>Packing my bags and leaving the house for a period<br \/>\nof time is still an adventure for me. I&#8217;m not sure if others feel the<br \/>\nsame way as part of the job is acting jaded and indifferent. I&#8217;ve<br \/>\nalways said to people who ask me how to get into the business to be<br \/>\ncareful, that it is a trap. Once you go out and survive for a while,<br \/>\nit&#8217;s hard to go do something else.<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;ve actually tried to think of what else I would<br \/>\nwant to do, a dream, an alternative, something to keep me close to home<br \/>\nand earn a living. I still don&#8217;t have a clue. Perhaps it&#8217;s because a<br \/>\npart of me won&#8217;t let go of the road. Writing like this sometimes gives<br \/>\nme a glimmer of something else, a creative possibility that will allow<br \/>\nme a voice and a path elsewhere. I find my use of words interesting<br \/>\nhere too&#8230; else, as in or else or what else.<\/p>\n<p>Many people go through life without realizing their<br \/>\npassion or acting on it. The folks who are compelled, won&#8217;t stop, can&#8217;t<br \/>\nstop, the ones who it verges on a mania, I admire them. I used to play<br \/>\nmusic and at some point the joy departed and the flame went out. I<br \/>\nthink I was using it to light a bong. For too many years I went through<br \/>\nlife without a creative outlet and perhaps that was the time when I was<br \/>\nthe closest to death.<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m sure my addictions were the main reason, but the<br \/>\nthing about spiritual bankruptcy is there is nothing left but self. I<br \/>\nstill have days when I don&#8217;t like living with myself; back then I would<br \/>\nhave drowned myself if I had the chance. Believe me, I tried.<\/p>\n<p>Things changed. Life is full now; many blessings<br \/>\nhave been bestowed upon me. I&#8217;m back on the path most days and the<br \/>\nsearching continues. I have lived on the road three times longer sober<br \/>\nthan I did drunk. It can be done; better, faster and happier. Even the<br \/>\nparty cities are better and I can visit the places I was too paralyzed<br \/>\nor hung over to enjoy.<\/p>\n<p>I really wish that travel or schooling abroad were<br \/>\nmandatory for American kids today. They could use the perspective of<br \/>\nwhy the USA is so amazing and so truly fucked up at the same time. I<br \/>\nhave guys in their 50&#8217;s who I travel with who I&#8217;m still trying to show<br \/>\nthe difference between &#8220;different&#8221; and &#8220;wrong&#8221;. To look in from the<br \/>\noutside can change your life. It&#8217;s too bad that so many Americans can<br \/>\nleave the country and never really be outside.<\/p>\n<p>Off I go again, a valid point but not the one I set<br \/>\nout to make. In speaking with someone about this issue who is outside<br \/>\nthe business he had this comment that floored me with its insight:<br \/>\nperhaps I don&#8217;t have an identity or autonomy until I&#8217;m on the road.<br \/>\nWhat a heavy thing to consider about yourself after nearly forty years.<br \/>\nWhy would a somewhat well adjusted adult feel like a visitor in his own<br \/>\ntown sometimes? But then stick him in a crew of strangers in a foreign<br \/>\ncountry and he feels like he belongs?<\/p>\n<p>Moving to another state and getting married was a<br \/>\nmajor change for me after living alone for fifteen years. Having a<br \/>\nhouse as opposed to storage with AC and a phone line is a thing of<br \/>\ncomfort and no small amount of pride. When Angela and I completed our<br \/>\ndining room and then had a place to feed and entertain guests, I<br \/>\nrealized that something had changed. I never had a guest room where<br \/>\nanyone could spend the night. I never had a room where eight people<br \/>\ncould eat a meal together. Angela and, to a small degree I, had created<br \/>\na home to share with friends and family. It may seem strange to you<br \/>\nthat these things are new first time experiences for an old fellow like<br \/>\nme. If you are in my business you&#8217;re probably wondering what the hell<br \/>\nI[base &#8216;]m talking about.<\/p>\n<p>There is a balance here somewhere. The problem is<br \/>\nthe work is so unpredictable: too much, too little, no security. The<br \/>\neasiest way to get a work call is plan a trip or an important event;<br \/>\nthe phone will ring. As the dining rooms are built and the plans are<br \/>\nmade the only question is: what is more important?<\/p>\n<p>(I wonder if this is more of a personal question rather than rhetorical&#8230;)<\/p>\n<p>Well, home is more important. Your family and your<br \/>\nhealth is too. This is the strange thing about work and work away from<br \/>\nhome especially. To build and maintain these things you have to earn a<br \/>\nliving so you can live your life. Many people can not delineate between<br \/>\nliving and life. The fibrous tangle of our jobs holds us back or pulls<br \/>\nus down. How many children have spent their childhood wondering where<br \/>\ntheir parent is? How many marriages have ended when the answer to the<br \/>\nquestion about whether the job or the relationship is more important is<br \/>\nnot acceptable? The road is littered with divorce papers and sad notes<br \/>\nfrom sons and daughters. There are a lot of bachelors too.<\/p>\n<p>It takes tremendous efforts on both ends of the<br \/>\nphone to make it work. Understanding and sacrifice are needed as well<br \/>\nas both parties being somewhat comfortable and secure apart. It&#8217;s just<br \/>\nlike any other relationship in that there has to be acceptance of who<br \/>\neach other is. This is the idealized opinion of someone on one side of<br \/>\nthe argument though&#8230;<\/p>\n<p>I still want to make a living by touring. I also<br \/>\nwant my marriage strong, warm and growing forward. I need my home to be<br \/>\ncomfortable, safe and part of who I am as a living, breathing evolving<br \/>\nhuman being. I need to do my part and be present and productive in both<br \/>\nplaces. I need to be open to both my wife and family and who I am, who<br \/>\nI have become. I am part of the production staff, the technical crew,<br \/>\nthe traveling party, the bus riders, the lobby dwellers, the airport<br \/>\nthrong, the backstage group, the road dogs, the tour scum. I am also a<br \/>\nhusband, partner, brother, son and friend.<\/p>\n<p>When I first go into this business I went to work<br \/>\nfor a cartage company in Los Angeles. My boss was a long time road<br \/>\nperson who had bought the company to be home and make a living. For a<br \/>\ntime I was his only employee and we often put in 90 hours a week. We<br \/>\nshared our warehouse with another business nearby. We returned one<br \/>\nafternoon to find the other tenant removing the roll-up door, the<br \/>\nsecurity system, all the lighting fixtures and who knows what else. He<br \/>\nwas basically going to leave our inventory wide open to the honest<br \/>\njunkies of Hollywood Blvd. as he took what he felt were his belongings<br \/>\nand moved out.<\/p>\n<p>My boss Pat shifted into a gear I&#8217;d never seen him<br \/>\nin before. He mobilized friends, solved scheduling problems, ran the<br \/>\nbusiness and secured the building before sundown. He turned to me as it<br \/>\nbecame clear that we handled this unbelievable day with an angry yet<br \/>\nvictorious eye. He said &#8220;They shouldn&#8217;t have screwed with us. They<br \/>\ndidn&#8217;t know who we were. We&#8217;re road people and the show always goes on,<br \/>\nno matter what.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>This is the other family I was adopted into. They<br \/>\ngot me through some tough times, took me places and got me home in one<br \/>\npiece. I learned a lot, earned a lot and it&#8217;s part of who I am today.<br \/>\nI&#8217;m someone who gets paid to wake up in parking lots. I&#8217;m someone who&#8217;s<br \/>\ntired of your favorite song. I&#8217;m someone who was onstage all night but<br \/>\nyou won&#8217;t recognize me five minutes afterwards. I&#8217;m a roadie. And I&#8217;m<br \/>\nstill waiting for that phone to ring.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>11\/6\/02 I had a conversation the other day with a dear friend that included the sentence &#8220;You&#8217;re only as good as your last job&#8221;. Actually in her case it was her &#8220;last deal&#8221; as she sells real estate. I wonder if it has to do more with the kind of jobs we have or with [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_mi_skip_tracking":false,"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/peNcU-1J","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bittermancircle.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/107"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bittermancircle.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bittermancircle.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bittermancircle.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bittermancircle.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=107"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.bittermancircle.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/107\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bittermancircle.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=107"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bittermancircle.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=107"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bittermancircle.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=107"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}