nursing home blues (slightly OT)

[Tvak@aol.com]

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Today I tuned a Wurly spinet in a nursing home.   I have never experienced 
such negativity anywhere in my brief (6 years) career as a tuner.   There were 
about 10 patients of the nursing home in the activity room where the piano was 
and as soon as I walked in and introduced myself to the attendant, a chorus 
arose.

"He's not going to PLAY the piano, is he?" to which the attendant would 
reply, "No, he's going to tune it."   Five minutes later, "What's he doing at the 
piano?   Is he playing it?"   "No, he's tuning it."   And as if there was a 
tape loop set up in the room, five minutes later, someone else would ask, "What's 
he doing at the piano?   Is he playing it?"   "Does he have to play the 
piano?"   "Why can't he stop?"

I tuned as quietly and quickly as I could.

Then they started a game of BINGO.   I'd respectfully pause as each number 
was called, and then resume striking keys and tuning, but after every number, 
someone would yell out "I can't hear because of that piano!"   One lady threw 
her BINGO board on the floor and refused to play because I made it too difficult 
to hear.

These people in the twilight of their lives had returned to a state of 
childhood, where their only concern was themselves.   

I always try to do the best job I can under any circumstances, whether it be 
noisy kids, barking dogs, no light, whatever...it doesn't faze me.   Never 
before have I felt like I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could.  
 I didn't adjust the pitch, it was about 10 cents sharp.   I tuned it where 
it was; as quietly, and quickly as possible, and headed for the door.   It 
probably wasn't a very stable tuning: I didn't feel like I could really strike 
those hard blows without garnering more animosity.   They made me feel in no 
uncertaint terms that I was intruding.

I know these people have problems much more severe than my own.   This is not 
a happy time in their lives.   This post is not meant as an indictment of 
their behavior.    Rather it is about my reaction to it.

This experience made me realize that I have gotten used to people being happy 
to see me.   I come on time, I provide a service that improves their lives in 
a small way, I'm polite, and everyone comes out ahead.   Day after day.   

I enjoy the general pleasantry of my daily existence.   Without this nursing 
home appointment I don't think I would have been cognizant of that, having 
become accustomed to it.   

I went to my next appointment and met the most delightful old retired fellow 
with a beautiful 1915 Steinway Louis XIV grand.   I think it was rosewood.   

Tom Sivak

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