The Moral of the Story: Bank of America Sucks!!

So I've been laying low around here trying to keep a secret from you all.  The thing is I don't know who reads this blog so I wasn't sure if it was safe to post my news here or if I would jinx it all somehow.  At this point I've got to fill you all in.  The names have all been changed to protect everyone but the sleezbags who run Bank of America so get yourself a drink and some snacks, sit back and prepare to be briefed on the latest.

I was contacted by an old friend of mine exactly a month ago.  She said there was this amazing band who was looking for a singer to do a wedding gig with them on May 22.  She recommended me and the guy who runs the band was waiting to hear from me.  At first I wasn't feeling it.  It would require that I actually get up off my ass and produce something which I was strongly opposed to.  Plus I don't have a car which makes everything in the entire world inconvenient. 

Also I was scared shitless.  I prance about here like a cocky fat strumpet but I'm not nearly as self confident as I appear.  I like myself well enough and think I'm somewhat together looks wise but I know that is not what everyone thinks.  People hate fat people in this world and all the civil rights arguments in the world aren't going to change that.  Big fat woman = ugly, period.  For years this has kept me from doing certain things.  This is not some imaginary hangup like the rest of you frauds out there struggle with.  It's an ACTUAL thing!  People like me are discussed behind closed conference room doors.  What are they going to do about us?   We're epidemics, we're a drain on the ozone layer, we are incompetant, we are overwhelming the population while we're too fat to bear offspring all at the same time - and we make babies cry.  We're often seen as headless torsos walking about on news programs with grave language talking about diabetes, heart disease, restaurant closings, swine flu and airline travel worries.

I won't make this post longer than it has to be.  So I will just say that some form of bold reasoning had me go on ahead and try for it.  Not to mention the promise of $350.00.  Shees, how long have I been bitching on here about putting out all the time musically and never getting paid for it?  I've day dreamed about doing this sort of thing for almost the whole of my life.  It would have been foolish of me to say no and somehow through the haze of paralyzing fear I was aware of that on some level.  I timidly replied and things shot off quickly from there.  I was pretty much offered the gig without even being heard yet which is astonishing to me.  That old friend must have talked me up something fierce.

This band is comprised of the creme de la creme of local area musicians who are paid for their time and now so will I.  These aren't your garden variety garage band deadbeats.  These were mostly older more seasoned musicians with wife and kids.  The drummer seems young though.  In his 20s, a student at Berklee College of Music, very good and quite funny.  I like him.  In fact, I like them all.  The guy who runs it felt it would be really important for me to get along well with the other band members.  Despite my fear I made an effort to be warm and friendly, introducing myself unprovoked.  It wasn't saccharin, just trying to be myself only a little bit better.  People seemed pretty nice in return.

I had three weeks to learn 30 songs and improvise 10 harmonies.  We had three rehearsals where we probably got a chance to run a song once and then discard even if it was bad.  There was supposed to be another singer with us but unfortunatley he couln't make any of the rehearsals so I wasn't going to meet him till the day of the gig.  The day before that wedding I had a major anxiety attack.  I left the office feeling like my innards were going to cave in and I might suffocate.  I was horrified and thought I might be crazy.  How did I get in to this mess?  My reputation will be ruined if this goes bad.  The plan was for me to hitch a ride to the wedding with one of the band members and the wedding was to take place outdoors under a tent on a beach.  I had to leave work early and meet him in Malden for the drive and I brought three different outfits with me so I could choose at the last minute.  I decided to wear the black dress and the purple burnout silk velvet scarf.  It matched what the rest of the band had on: black suit, white shirt, purple brocade vest.

The day of the gig I felt surprisingly normal and enthusiastic.  I guess I got the butterflies out.  Making the long drive to CT was okay.  I got to chat up the guitarist whom I now have a crush on.  When we got to the venue I got the meet the other singer who I also have a crush on.  We got to chat and I was completely honest with him.  Told him I'd never done anything like that before in my life and had only sung karaoke.  That I had only just met those people three weeks prior and we had three rehearsals for 30 songs I had never sung before. Yeah, I did it on purpose to scare the shit out of him.    Hey, I was telling the truth though!  I wanted him to think, "Who the hell dug up this vagabond?"  LOL  He was completly nice though.  Nurturing would be the word I'd used to describe his attitude towards me.  I liked him right away.  What a nice guy.  

I opened the gig with Me, Myself and I by Billie Holiday.  When I finished I got a round of aplause from a table full of older people and a surprised but approving look from my fellow singer.  By the second song people actually got up to dance and from then on they never sat down again.  Before long the whole lot of them were up and these people danced to every song.  After the second or third song the other singer looked at me with his mouth seriously agape.  His eyes were wide with amazement and awe as if he never expected me to be that good or that seasoned a performer.  That part really made me feel good. 

Back to the wedding party though.  It's clear they all love music and some are avid concert goers.  They requested in advance a song by Jack Johnson, Phish and Soulive.  When we played those songs they sang all the words.  Both children and adults, young and old, crowded that tiny dance floor having a ball and screaming at us for more.  They loved everything. 

We were ending the gig with Proud Mary, the Ike and Tina Turner rendition.  I announced the last song before I begun and folks, I sang the sh*t out of that song.  I love me some Ike and Tina.  I had such a blast when that fast section came up in the end and sang like I was barelling down that river myself.  I swung the mic stand down in my fists and sang down in to it dancing to the beat and motioning towards the crowd.   The crowd was litterally in a frenzy by this time.  When we finished they screamed for another despite my telling them it was the last song.  The bass player and sax player were unplugging and wrapping up their gear and the crowd began to lurch forward and chant, "ONE MORE SONG!  ONE MORE SONG!"  I turned around to face the band quizically knowing danged well there was no way we were going to get out of there alive if we didn't play something else.  We plugged back in and ended with KC and the Sunshine Band's Play That Funky Music White Boy.  The crowd seemed pleased, rendered their last rousing applause and finally began to disperse while we dismantled.  One after another people approached us raving about the music and the singing. 

This all sounds like it was a dream but it wasn't.  It was real.  All of it.  I still feel like any minute now lightening is going to strike me down and I will be killed instantly.  I feel like something I dreamed of for my whole life finally happened, and it was better than I dreamed it.  It just can't possibly get better. When I got home I checked inside the small compartment in my bag to see if the check was still there and there it was.  All weekend long I would suddenly rip the bag open and look inside the little pocket just to see it again just to remind me that what happened really did happen.

Which brings me to the next chapter of this tale.  Why Bank of America (BoA) sucks.  The folks who hired me out to do this gig paid me $350.00 written via a personl check.  It was a business account, not that any of that matters really.  This afternoon I took it to a local Bank of America which is the institution for which this check was issued.  I looked in my wallet before I went and noticed that my bank card was missing.  I must have taken it out last night and forgot to put it back in my wallet so it's at home somewhere.  I needed cash and was hungry so I decided to go to BoA to cash the check since I had my ID with me.

I go to the bank and after being ushered round and round was told that the bank charges $6 to cash the check.  SIX DOLLARS!!!  Can you believe that 'ish?  Like a dummy I was about to go through with it but at the last minute aborted.  I was aprehensive (stupidly so) about going to my credit union, which is across the street from BoA, because of the missing bank card.  Then suddenly it dawned on me that not only do they not need it but they have my ID on file.  I technically don't need anything to do business in my credit union, I could just walk in and withdraw and deposit if I like.  So that is exactly what I did.  While I was at BoA they were trying to entice me to open an account there.  Are you crazy?  When the feds catch up with them they're going to have to pay up for such highway robbery and guess who's going to have to pony the bill?  No way do I want a penny of my money in there.  SIX dollard to cash a check.  So ghetto.  I could have taken that check to Griffy's Liquor Store on Amory Street, paid about the same price and would have been happy to do so.  The money helps a small business owner and brings joy and happiness to thousand of drunks all over the commonwealth.  No way am I going to give another handout to bank execs.