The Record Producer
All is not lost; however, the activity director offers us a tour of the
city. We jump in her car and head to the Cleveland flats. It’s cute.
Everyone gets sufficiently liquored up, and Act 1’s crazy lead singer
invites everyone to my hotel room. I had a tiny suite, but they were
all in Hollywood.
Act 1 is last to leave the suite. I survey the dining room table; two of
the legs have been broken off by the lead singer. There’s liquor and
drugs everywhere in the room. “Whatever,” I thought, “the college
will pay for it.”
The activity director stuck around to convince me, once and for all,
of her dedication to the music business. For this, she brought
various oils and lotions. I slept like a baby that night. When I woke
up the next morning, i noticed that she forgot two rings on the night
stand. What a shame, I never contacted her again. Unfortunately,
she did not have hit potential.
I hindsight, I am saddened by how prepared she was for this
opportunity. All because of the imaginary things she associated with
my job title. I call myself a record producer for one simple reason; I
produce records. My job has nothing to do with glamour. In fact, it is
not glamorous at all. I spend most of my time indoors starring at
waveform. Times have changed, although many college girls in small
mid-western and southern towns have no idea. Hey, if the shoe fits...