"should I stay or should I go?"

[J Patrick Draine]

"Should I stay or should I go?" Yeah, that's the title of an old Clash 
tune (which still seems to be on continuous rotation on the local radio 
stations) -- have you ever asked yourself that when you're tuning a 
piano?
Hey, if the lady of the house answers the door and says "omigod we've 
all got the flu could you please come back next week", no problem.
Sometimes a similar scene plays out if the wall in the next room is 
being ripped out for remodeling, or the maids/cleaning service are 
running around the house vacuuming thoroughly and loudly. Too often 
I've "gone for it" and continued to work, foam ear plugs in and ETD 
assisting. It's nice to maintain one's schedule, but noise, fumes, 
plaster dust etc. make for extra stress.
Yesterday the first appointment started out with the sunny 
dispositioned Yankee Brahmin/Master of the Universe type husband 
ushering me into his multimillion dollar home, eager to have me tune 
their U1 for the occasion of his son's piano recital. Oh yeah, the 
piano teacher had convinced him it would be a good idea if the 
students' recital was at Mr. Master of the Universe's home. So I get to 
work, and then his wife rambles in, howling at him as to why he had 
ever agreed to this recital thing, that he had no right to impose this 
on her and their son, and assorted other topics at high volume and 
hurricane force. They settled into a couple chairs a few feet away from 
the piano for ten minutes of high drama until she stalks off, seeming 
ready either to pack her bags or go get her gun, as he is calling out 
to her "Eunice! Come back! Don't walk away from me while we're 
discussing this!" (while he sits 4 feet away from the piano). By this 
point the middle section of the piano is roughed in to A440 while the 
rest of the piano is about 4 beats sharp.
I was sorely tempted to announce that I thought it would be best if I 
came back some other time (like in 10 or so years from now) to finish 
the job, but I didn't.
Eventually they moved their "discussion" to some far part of the 
estate, with occasional outbursts from the wife echoing my way.
Well I tore through that one as quickly as possible (and I'm always 
otherwise obsessive about getting things dead on); husband and wife 
appeared to have "worked things out" at least long enough to put a 
smile on as I headed out the door.
Yikes! Talk about stress! It certainly made me value my good natured 
spouse (and thankful for the sanity of most of my customers)!

Patrick Draine