I am fighting the urge to put my fist through a wall, and I’m hoping that a bit of venting via this blog will be the emotional escape valve I need. Here goes. . .
A big event for choral directors is coming up this week at Carthage sponsored by Hal Leonard Music Publishers. . . with two of America’s leading choral conductors, Weston Noble and Dale Warland, as the illustrious headliners. As soon as I heard that this was happening at the college, I offered to help out with some of the piano accompanying, especially for Mr. Noble’s sessions. (I thought it would be neat to collaborate with him one more time.) And although the initial response at Hal Leonard apparently was “thanks but no thanks- we have it covered” Peter Dennee (our choral activities coordinator and the go-between with the event organizers at Hal Leonard) told me that on second thought Hal Leonard were happy to accept my offer. (Peter was pleased, because he said that he was excited that Carthage would another of its own staffing the event.) At that point, I dutifully blocked off all day Wednesday and all day Thursday in order to be available for whatever I might be called upon to do. But then I never heard anything about the specific schedule of events or exactly what I would be doing or when . . . which led me to call Dr. Dennee today to ask if he had heard anything more from them. His understanding was that they were going to send me a contract and an outline of what I would be doing- but that never came, so he promised to pursue the matter with them. (I needed to know so I could figure out whether or not I could play for a funeral at Holy Communion on Wednesday.) Tonight when I got home from visiting my friend Playford, there was an email from Dr. Dennee stating that he had just heard from Hal Leonard that they had everything covered and my services were not required after all. Just like that.
I am trying to remember when I have been this mad; it has been a long long time. What makes it especially tough is that I can’t direct my anger towards anyone in particular; I have no way of knowing who at Hal Leonard is treating my offer so callously or is being so cavalier in rejecting my offer without so much as an email or phone call to let me know. I think if there were a Person XXX responsible for this, I would at least have someone with which to be angry. (Too bad there isn’t a guy there named Hal Leonard behind desk somewhere. Boy, would he feel my wrath! ) As it is, I’m mad at an entire faceless corporation – and it’s a corporation to which I dream someday of submitting some of my compositions for possible publication, so I’m not about to picket their corporate headquarters in Milwaukee or send them an envelop of anthrax. But I can and will think unhappy thoughts about them and will feel royally sorry for myself that I am missing out on what was almost certainly going to be my final collaboration with Mr. Noble. That’s the part which makes me unhappiest of all.
Unfortunately, I will be going to bed mad tonight, but I hope before too long, I will come to realize that there is not all that much to be gained from wallowing in anger and hurt. . .
Please pardon my pity party. I hope the very sour taste in my mouth will have subsided somewhat by tomorrow.