Wednesday, June 29, 2011
From Coed Magazine.
You’d think that someone whose profession revolves around making people feel better would be good at, you know, making people feel better. But if your experience has been anything like ours, getting some antibiotics usually involves being talked down to for the few minutes the doctor’s in the room and being reminded what a dumbass you are for not taking your omega-3s.
You can’t really hold it against these tenacious sons-of-bitches for calling you all the damn time. It’s not their fault you didn’t pay off your student loans. After getting your voicemail for two years, you figure they’d catch the hint, but no--they keep calling. Until one day you answer, and they guilt you into coughing up $1,200 that you don’t have, which is why you’ve been ignoring them in the first place.
When you answer to nobody but your own creative instincts, your agent and a bottle of Jack Daniels, it’s pretty hard to not become a raging sh*thead. And if you’re extremely talented and/or successful the task of remaining a pleasant human being becomes that much more difficult. Luckily, most of us don’t have to deal with full-time musicians on a regular basis, so if they want to be an asshole while they crank out rockin’ tunes, so be it.
Anybody who’s ever had to file an insurance claim knows what complete and total butt-munches insurance agents can be. If the deductible on your car is $1000, you can be sure that the estimate the agent gives you for that banged-in back door will be for something around $1,008.64, just to rub it in. And God forbid you try to get health insurance with a ‘pre-existing condition,’ because you won’t. Which is your fault, really. I mean, what kind of idiot goes out and gets sick?
(See the rest on Coedmagazine.com)