Throwback of the Day, where I’ll post some old random picture from the past and share a story about it.
My dream job. Singing for my supper.
I have no idea actually how old this photo is. I haven’t had a jade bracelet since 2009, so it’s, at least, seven years old, but I’m going to guess this photo was taken in 2008 or so, due to the cabinet in the background, that I built and designed, myself.
The bar that I’m singing in, while hosting karaoke was my longest running gig. I hosted shows there, at the Fort Carson bowling alley bar, The Brass Rail, sometimes, three nights a week, from 2004 to 2010. I quit doing karaoke when they failed to renew my contract and I haven’t picked up a microphone since.
I ran a very tight ship and I tried to make sure that everyone got to sing as many times as they desired and I didn’t tolerate rude or disrespectful treatment of my guests. I couldn’t work for any other karaoke businesses, though I did try, because they often played favorites, including the owners injecting themselves and taking over the show preventing other people from singing, which made the night drag on and made my guests impatient. My friends would eventually stop coming when I would host shows for other businesses because they knew that I had no real control over the night. So, when my business stopped getting business I could not in good conscience work for anyone else because I couldn’t stand how they ran their business (never mind the crap pay, compared to working for myself, and the limited song selection compared to my own, which was incompatible with their karaoke systems). The fat lady had finally sung.
Not having my friends around was probably the hardest part about giving up karaoke. We always had so much fun, even when somebody got a little too drunk and could barely stand to sing or someone took some sad song a little too seriously and got too emotional to continue or when a supposedly shy person would belt out a tune, a lot off-key, and the room would support them by singing along.
I’ve got so many stories that make me laugh and smile; so many people that I remember fondly and even some that I remember not so fondly, but they are all memories that remind me that, “Once upon a time, a little girl who was born to sing, got the chance, for a few short years, to sing for her supper, provide a platform for others to sing, made a lot of friends, and made people smile every weekend for six years.”
Good times. Good times.