He was a tall fellow. Long, kind of stringy, brown hair was hanging down over his shoulders onto the faded black t-shirt with a Black Sabbath band logo. It was barely legible from the combination of sweat and multiple hot water rinses. A pair of old, well worn brown shoes was sticking out of the bottom of the tattered bell bottom jeans clinging to his long, skinny legs. His dark horn rim glasses gave him the look of a studious, though perhaps a bit confused, math student at UNT. With an infectious grin he sheepishly apologized for running “a bit late”. He went on to explain with a high pitched, staccato voice that he was having some problems with his gear but he felt sure we could fix it quickly and ,that we would be ready to get the audition started with minimal delay! The first clue that this could be a wasted evening was his continued use of the word “we” when it came to describing his, still unclear, problems. I offered to help bring in his equipment to get us moving along. Jammed in the backseat of the grayish car of unknown make and model in which he had arrived, rested a massive contraption, he lovingly referred to as his “Kick ass bass amp”! I spotted his Bass guitar, a nice Fender Mustang bass, probably 15 years old was on the floor leaning against the passenger seat. Well worn, but, at least at first glance, well maintained. I offered to help him as he was struggling to remove the large wooden (!) crate of a bass rig from the backseat. “No, thank you it is easier for me to do it alone because I know where I can grab it and pull without damaging any components.” was his polite response. He did agree for me to get the guitar, which was now starting to slide over toward the passenger door, as the car was shaking from his endeavors of removing his rig. As I was walking towards the front door, carrying his bass, I noticed there were only three strings on the guitar. I assumed he had the missing A string with him. An old college professor once explained the breakdown of the word assume to me. It went something like this: ASS/U/ME. Some things are eternal truths. We found that out as the evening progressed. Or, perhaps more accurately, digressed!
Gloria, with some impatience in her tone, wondered out loud when we might get started, since the clock on her wall was now approaching eight. Our prospective bassist was struggling up the walkway towards the door with his apparently homemade amplifier when suddenly a piece of his high tech creation fell out and hit the grass with a dull thud. It missed the concrete sidewalk by a few inches. That combination of falling metal and concrete would have made a much louder thud than the thick grass of Gloria’s yard. “Shit!” he muttered as he put down the crate to retrieve the small power amp. It had a bit of dirt sticking on it and some long, multi colored wires hanging out of it like the helpless tentacles of a beached squid. I walked out and grabbed one side of the wooden box and just said” let’s go!” We carried the box in the house and placed it on the old rug Gloria had already spread out. It was there to protect her carpet from any possible dirt brought in by some stranger’s gear. Smart thinking as later events will show.
I had placed the bass guitar in an extra guitar stand of mine and, as he was surveying the apparent damage done to his creation, I asked about the missing “A” string on the bass. I offered to replace it while he was setting up his amp. First he seemed perplexed by the fact that a string was even missing. Then he explained that he thought that someone named Paul had “borrowed” it and was supposed to return it but apparently failed to do so! He wanted to know if “we” had an extra “A” string for him. He offered to pay for it by mailing us the money when he got back home because he was a “little short tonight”! Good hearted Gloria, always the champion of the downtrodden, asked if I had any bass strings and as it turned out I did. He appeared very relieved and grateful as I got a string and began to wind it onto his guitar.
He had been messing with his amplifier for a good twenty minutes, when with a red face, bathed in sweat he emerged from behind the wood paneling and exclaimed proudly:” Almost there! We just need a soldering iron and some solder.”
There it was again! That word! “We”!!!
I took a deep breath and with as calm a voice as I could muster I told him that “we” had neither available here at this time!
He shrugged his shoulders and said:”Ok, Is there a “Home Depot” nearby?”
Before I could respond Gloria said: “Yes, only five minutes away! Why?”
“I will run over there real quick and buy a small soldering iron and some solder come back and fix this and we’ll be ready to roll in twenty minutes.”
He stood up, adjusted his glasses and grabbed his car keys off the top of his amp. He quickly walked towards the front door. As he reached for the doorknob he hesitated. I prepared myself for what I knew was bound to come next. I was right, but with a unique twist. I thought he would just ask for some money! He turned around and calmly said:” Oh, by the way, I only have one check with me and if I write a check for the solder iron and stuff I won’t be able to write a check for gas later and I am almost on empty. Can I write you a check so I can get enough money for gas and the solder iron”?
This audition was over.
It was nothing compared to the next one!
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