Multi Responsive

[Larry Fisher]

Hi all,

RE:  "What would YOU do"

I'd find the phone call mildly entertaining.  If he didn't call back, oh
well.  If he did, and actually scheduled an appointment, I follow through
like so many other calls.  Arrive promptly in clean attire (make sure you
don't have any dried boogers dangling from yer nose hairs), remove shoes at
the door (providing there's a clean carpet, if dogs and cats have overrun
the place, ask for boots), casually wait for you to be escorted to the piano
if it's not in sight (casual glances only, leave the binoculars and
magnifying glass at home), as you approach the piano ask if there's been any
problems with the piano and somewhere along the line, indicate that Kawai
makes a really nice piano (that's if it's a Kawai of course, if it's
anything else ......  well... you know).  Then as you strike a few notes,
ask who's the dumb turkey that let it go this long ...... or ....... no
wait, wait .........  say "Hmmmmm, it has been a few years huh".  Carefully
remove the cabinet pieces and line them up carefully somewhere out of the
traffic pattern in the room  (stacking them is good if you have a cat or dog
to use as padding between the layers).  Get right to business.  Strike the
reference note of your choice and compare with your fork or ........   uh
...... ELECTRONIC CRUTCH  and notify him of any extra charges if there will
be any before you get started (like it's an extra $25.50 if anyone smokes
tobacco while you're there, a discount if anything else is smoked,
screaming bozos, dried discusting little do-dads on/betwixt the keys that
needs to be removed for elementary function of key to tune by, etc.), look
for mouse calling cards, roach hazards, moth entrails, and other little
indications that life has not been so spotless for the last 15 years.
Discuss your findings if needed.  Tune as you have for years doing nothing
different (taking a nap while tuning is not a good idea on this call).
Reassemble, chat, write ivoice, collect fee, leave (run like hell).  Maybe
he'll call again in 15 years.  Maybe not.  He's probably familiar with the
therapy routine.  Wear one of them head pieces that looks like you got an
arrow going from ear to ear and some google eyes.  He'll probably not react
since you'll probably look normal ......  just like everyone else in therapy
right guys??

But then again, you could BAIL!!!  BAG IT DUDE!!!  (personally I find no
challenge to this route)



RE:  Brass Rails

There's a bar on Hennipin Ave in Minneapolis by this name "Brass Rail".
Across the street is a bar named the "Copper Squirrel".  The Rail is a gay
bar and the Squirrel is a strip bar.  Strange times I had in my twenties.  I
found out that guys ready to do the trip, would go across the street after
only being able to afford half of it, and hope to make enough to have the
other half of the operation.  Uh, a roommate was the announcer at the
Squirrel.  Minneapolis was a strange place for me.  (Who needs to travel to
exotic places when you live in the U.S.)


RE:  (I don't remember) (is there a penalty for this??)

Tuning in public places can be an exercise in tolerance ........ to say the
least.  I was in a nursing home north of here a year or two ago, fixthing a
Wurthlessor player pianner and I had my multi-compartmented plastic storage
box open (full of balance rail and front rail punchings) laying on top of
the bench off to the side by the wall.  This old gomer with a creeper
(probably used to work construction driving a bulldozer) bulldozed his way
through the chairs and tables in the room to get a closer look at what I was
doing.  In the process, he dumped all my nicely sorted punchings on the
floor.  It took him a few minutes (he's pretty slow in the head) to realize
he'd really ruined my day, and proceeded to bulldoze his way outta there.
By the time I had cleaned up all my punchings, and packed up all my tools,
he was dozing down the hallway in the opposite direction I had to go to get
to my car.  That evening, I sorted punchings while doing ham radio.  I cudda
tossed them all, but what the heck, I wasn't doing anything intellegent for
the evening.  Two hours later, I had them all back in the right places
again.  I learned not to leave that thing open when there's a wayward,
antique, out-of-adjustment, drug enhanced, synaptic disaster collective,
construction site bully in the area.

In that same place, while I was tuning, this little old lady (bag) came over
and had a serious look on her face (clad in her nightgown at 4:30 PM) and
moaning now and again as if to say "What are you doing to my piano??".  An
attendant assured her that I was tuning it and that it was ok for me to play
it that loud.  She'd escort the old lady off and a few minutes later there
she was ....  moaning and glaring.  This process was repeated a few times
during the hour long tuning.  I felt like rockin' out with "Mony Mony".

And then there was Billy.  He was probably in his 60's, pear shaped, acted
like he was 5 or 6 years old, played a harmonica periodically (cows play
harmonicas better than he did, I've herd 'em) and then he'd applaud .....
viciously, vigarously, rapidly .......  putting his hands together 6 to 8
times each time.  The attendants would say to him, "OH, Billy, you play so
nicely.  Maybe when the pianoman gets finished tuning the piano you can play
a duet."  Yeah, right, I don't think Billy knows what a duet is, let alone
play in the same key.  That kid had his priorities in the right place
though.   He knew where the food and music was.  Everything else was a total
waste.  Rock on Billy.

Another relic rode up in her shiney new 1997 American Wheelchair model
3250-A57-B with dual EZ Brakes, washable hidden plastic moisture barriers
(shhh we don't talk about these things), plaid side storage pockets, cup
holder, comfort grip hand rims, and Molybdenum alloy frame, and said in a
gruff and explosively loud grumble, "YOU NEED LESSONS!!"   Yeah right lady!!
I burst out laughing and got the approving giggle from the sane members of
the house (staff).  It took everything I had to stifle the sensation to flip
her off (just to see if she'd hit me). 

As I found my way out of there, being quite exhausted with the usual effort
of a tuning in an echo chamber full of depleted mentallia, I noticed I was
smirking.  Ah yes, life deteriorates in a variety of ways.  For some, life
is what you make of it, while for some, life is how you compost it.

Sickly yourn,

LarBear

                                    Larry Fisher RPT
   specialist in players, retrofits, and other complicated stuff
      phone 360-256-2999 or email larryf@pacifier.com
         http://www.pacifier.com/~larryf/ (revised 10/96)
           Beau Dahnker pianos work best under water