Works Every Time

I usually work on Sunday. I play matinee piano for the tourists. I think most of these folks would rather have a skinny, blond boy playing an acoustic guitar but they’re stuck with me. The other day, a bald man with a beer belly partially covered by a beautiful Hawaiian shirt stiff legged up to my keyboard and said, “I guess you’re good at what you do but it’s really not my brand of scotch.”

I said, “You’re Preachin’ to the Choir, baby.”

“You agree with me?”

“Hell, yes, I agree.”

“Then, why are you here?”

“Coz, I was asked, by the management of this establishment to come here and play the piano.”

“And you always do what you’re asked?”

“If the price is right.”

“They pay you?”

“Hell, yeah, they pay me. I mean, I wouldn’t put y’all through this Bloody Mary torture unless I was well compensated. I get no pleasure from this. I’m not a sadist.”

He shook his head and walked away. Then, he stopped in his tracks, turned back toward me and dropped a dollar in my tip jar.

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About joefingas

I am a songwriter, poet, blues singer, and a boogie woogie piano player. I have a grandson but I have no children of my own. All my women have wised up and left me. I was a bum, a wino, a drug/alcohol counselor, a prevention/intervention specialist and a pretender. I have no more time to pretend.
This entry was posted in 12 Step Meetings, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, Love, Memoir, Money, Poetry, Relationships, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Works Every Time

  1. LOL!

    Keep playing, but more importantly, keep blogging.

    Enjoy your week!

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