At 2:15 PM in this afternoon on the day before I go to that concert, and I'm sitting at the Grand Palace waiting for someone to say, ''Hello, Countess Coloratura would like to see you now.''
Meanwhile, I'm stuck in the waiting room of the Palace, and bored to death listening to their radio, which is tuned to that station that plays nothing but old things all day long. Not that I don't like its brand of music. I do. A lot. But when you have an important assignment on your hands, the last thing you want to do is sit in the waiting room for so long that you now hear somebody singing the very same song that somebody else sang 2 minutes ago!!
And then it happened. Just as ol' Pat Boone was about to break into the third verse of that God-forsaken song, in comes the announcer to say over the intercom, ''Hello, Mr. Joe Blazer, Countess Coloratura would like to see you right now.'' I've been here for an hour now! I'm glad that I can't sit here any longer because the radio said it would next play a song some little jerk sang about roses.
Sure enough, Countess was all smiles when she saw me, but somebody else wasn't looking too happy. Yes, I'm talking about that old boss from the Eye Exam.
''So . . . I heard this gal told ya to tote half your family along to her concert, huh?''
''Uh . . . yes.''
''SIR! That's taking my whole statement - the one about just bringing your pen and paper - IN COMPLETE AND UNDENIABLE VAIN. I don't care if this low-lifed deviant told you to break my rules because of your stupid troubles, all I'm gonna say is, we're gonna a long long talk with ourselves following the concert that's being hosted by this dunce tomorrow.''
I was horrified by what he had said not only about me, but also about Countess Coloratura. She was clearly NOT low-lifed, NOR a deviant, NOR a dunce! She was a well-bred, highly skilled, highly talented, highly intelligent mare, and all Mr. Saqua had to do in front of the both of us is hurt our feelings for no good reason.
I gained my comfort from this lady, who said to me: ''Joe . . . this guy doesn't care about you or your job. He just cares about the number of bits in his wallet. I dunno how many knots his head is tangled in, but there seem to be a lot of knots. He's a complete and total jerk and you don't deserve to spend the rest of your God-given life with that man.''
I said ''Y'know what, you're right. On Friday, I'm gonna quit this paper that I work for the amount of time left before he gets fired or something.''
''I HEARD THAT!''