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So me and my fellow farmlings aren't up to too much, just trying to keep our heads above this endless winter. As we wait for everything to thaw and to start up production again, let me tell you a tale of another family member.
My father works in instrumental repair for schools, helped out by my other older brother. He's one of those who go above and beyond in his profession. The kind of guy who will unding your instrument, lube your keys, replace the screws, and even polish and vacuum out your instrument's case, all while still being the best value in town. Let's call him E.
So despite being a small, mostly self-run business, E gets a lot of clientele. Some are pretty cool, most friends he made when he played guitar in a few rhythm and blues groups. But there's one school band director that I'd like to talk about here.
Hiding his actual name, I will refer to him as 'Doof'.
How to begin to describe Doof. Well, he's one of those people who responds drastically when he doesn't get his way. No, he doesn't scream, cry, and throw a tantrum. He mopes, and boy does he ever. His mope generates its own gravitational field with its negativity.
Doesn't help that he doesn't have that good a grip on reality either.
For example, the sound system in his school broke down. Now, for some reason, this made him super happy and chipper. Whistling through the day, skipping, and generally having the exact wrong reaction to this type of occurrence.
When someone asked why he was so happy about it, he said, "Because this means E is going to buy us a new sound system!"
What?
Doof: "He's the guy who makes sure the band is sounding good. Therefore, this is his problem!"
When explained to Doof that that's not how the world works, he fell into the mope. Well, nobody told him! How was he supposed to know? He only teaches the kids and runs the concerts...
Buddy, E just fixes your instruments. What broke down isn't even in the same line of budget.
So we got that into his head. Unfortunately, it's still a long road before Doof gets the big mental breakthrough that would bump him up to 'semi-competent'. There was another incident that happened after that.
Phone rings at the shop. E picks up. It's Doof.
Doof: "E! Our flex-a-tone is broken! We have a huge concert tonight and we absolutely need it!"
For those curious, a flex-a-tone is a percussion instrument with little balls at the end of wavy poles against a flat piece of metal. It's a funny sounding thing, mostly for comical effect.
E: "I don't know, I've got a ton of other instruments I need done by-"
Doof: "Pleeeaase?"
E: "...Alright, how's it broken? Just the end?"
Doof: "No! It's snapped right in the middle!"
E: "Um... okay, well I can't leave work during the day, I need to stay here customers."
Doof: "Can't you come fix it?"
E: "No, I need to stay here."
Doof: "Can't one of your assistants do it?"
E: "No."
Doof: "Can they stay there and you come fix it?"
E: "No, because... look. From what your said, my little travel torch isn't going to weld that thing back together. I need my big acetylene torch for it. I'm not dragging it out to your school, an hour away, because it looks like a bomb and I will be tackled by every security guard in the school."
Doof: "C-Can't you h-help me in any way?" (MOPING ACTIVATED)
E: "Well, do you have any of your students coming by to my shop before the concert? You can have them bring it by and I can fix it quickly, give it back, and they can give it to you in time for the concert."
Doof: "No... I'll j-just try to c-come up with something... M-Maybe I'll t-tape it together..."
E: "That won't work."
Doof: "I know, but you w-won't help me so I got n-no choice!"
*click*
...Uh huh.
Well, as it turns out, there actually was a student from his class coming by to pick up an instrument. So E is telling the story to the parents of the child and they're all nodding their heads having dealt with this individual before. I guess they won't have their flex-a-tone for the concert. Kind of bad luck that it broke so close to-
"Oh, that thing?" pipes up the seventh grader from his class. "Yeah, that thing had been broken for WEEKS!"
Everyone just stares at the student.
"The kid who plays it just stands in the back and yells 'SPR-OING-OING-OING-OING!'"
Collective facepalm.
My father works in instrumental repair for schools, helped out by my other older brother. He's one of those who go above and beyond in his profession. The kind of guy who will unding your instrument, lube your keys, replace the screws, and even polish and vacuum out your instrument's case, all while still being the best value in town. Let's call him E.
So despite being a small, mostly self-run business, E gets a lot of clientele. Some are pretty cool, most friends he made when he played guitar in a few rhythm and blues groups. But there's one school band director that I'd like to talk about here.
Hiding his actual name, I will refer to him as 'Doof'.
How to begin to describe Doof. Well, he's one of those people who responds drastically when he doesn't get his way. No, he doesn't scream, cry, and throw a tantrum. He mopes, and boy does he ever. His mope generates its own gravitational field with its negativity.
Doesn't help that he doesn't have that good a grip on reality either.
For example, the sound system in his school broke down. Now, for some reason, this made him super happy and chipper. Whistling through the day, skipping, and generally having the exact wrong reaction to this type of occurrence.
When someone asked why he was so happy about it, he said, "Because this means E is going to buy us a new sound system!"
What?
Doof: "He's the guy who makes sure the band is sounding good. Therefore, this is his problem!"
When explained to Doof that that's not how the world works, he fell into the mope. Well, nobody told him! How was he supposed to know? He only teaches the kids and runs the concerts...
Buddy, E just fixes your instruments. What broke down isn't even in the same line of budget.
So we got that into his head. Unfortunately, it's still a long road before Doof gets the big mental breakthrough that would bump him up to 'semi-competent'. There was another incident that happened after that.
Phone rings at the shop. E picks up. It's Doof.
Doof: "E! Our flex-a-tone is broken! We have a huge concert tonight and we absolutely need it!"
For those curious, a flex-a-tone is a percussion instrument with little balls at the end of wavy poles against a flat piece of metal. It's a funny sounding thing, mostly for comical effect.
E: "I don't know, I've got a ton of other instruments I need done by-"
Doof: "Pleeeaase?"
E: "...Alright, how's it broken? Just the end?"
Doof: "No! It's snapped right in the middle!"
E: "Um... okay, well I can't leave work during the day, I need to stay here customers."
Doof: "Can't you come fix it?"
E: "No, I need to stay here."
Doof: "Can't one of your assistants do it?"
E: "No."
Doof: "Can they stay there and you come fix it?"
E: "No, because... look. From what your said, my little travel torch isn't going to weld that thing back together. I need my big acetylene torch for it. I'm not dragging it out to your school, an hour away, because it looks like a bomb and I will be tackled by every security guard in the school."
Doof: "C-Can't you h-help me in any way?" (MOPING ACTIVATED)
E: "Well, do you have any of your students coming by to my shop before the concert? You can have them bring it by and I can fix it quickly, give it back, and they can give it to you in time for the concert."
Doof: "No... I'll j-just try to c-come up with something... M-Maybe I'll t-tape it together..."
E: "That won't work."
Doof: "I know, but you w-won't help me so I got n-no choice!"
*click*
...Uh huh.
Well, as it turns out, there actually was a student from his class coming by to pick up an instrument. So E is telling the story to the parents of the child and they're all nodding their heads having dealt with this individual before. I guess they won't have their flex-a-tone for the concert. Kind of bad luck that it broke so close to-
"Oh, that thing?" pipes up the seventh grader from his class. "Yeah, that thing had been broken for WEEKS!"
Everyone just stares at the student.
"The kid who plays it just stands in the back and yells 'SPR-OING-OING-OING-OING!'"
Collective facepalm.
He is my Black Dragon (and yes, a good one) strong, protective, the guardian. I am his Silver Dragon, always by his side, shining for him, cherishing him.
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