This afternoon, I had the pleasure of handing off my mid-70’s Slingerland 80N set to DFO member ParkerMike. We spent a couple of hours talking drums, tapping on cymbals, and sharing drum stories. It was easier and better for both of us for me to drive 2 hours to hand-deliver the set than going through the trouble of carefully packing them and then worrying about their safety in the shipper’s hands. It also saved him over $250 in shipping expenses. This is the ideal way to handle receipt after a sale. Many thanks to Socic for the purchase and fellowship.
He didn't "reneg" on a drum deal, he didn't complete the trade. The OP sent his item but member...and not for long ...jshand did not
send his item, nor has he responded to the OP or me, after repeated attempts.
Renege means “to fail to keep a commitment or promise”. Did I misuse the word? Member in question failed to fulfill his commitment to send the paid-for item.
So, I’m a boomer who has played for 50 years. I get a call to play a 2-3 hour gig for free/$50/$100.
I can (1) turn it down, sit home, and play in my little room knowing that I’m helping another drummer who wants $250/500 for the gig.
(2) Play the gig, enjoy myself, get better by playing for and with others.
What’s the logical choice?
I know what I do. And I’m an AFM member. I’ve gotten only a handful of gigs called by the union over the years.Up to this point in late July, I’ve played slightly over 100 rehearsals and gigs, almost all of them non-union with non-union, excellent musicians.
In a regional concert band performance a few years ago, we had one two-hour rehearsal the afternoon of the evening concert. I had to leave my timps, quickly cross the back part of the stage and do a few xylophone measures. At the same time, a percussionist near the xylophone had to cross to play something else.
On the full stage, things went fine. For the performance, though, the back curtain was closed, cutting a good five feet off the area just behind percussion.
The time came for the quick cross. I rapidly moved, counting measures in my head so as not to lose my place.
I collided with the other percussionist in the narrow space. One of us knocked the shaky gong stand, releasing and dropping the gong, which rolled on its edges like a spinning coin, right through a delicate flute passage. We both froze under the glare of the director for a few moments until the noise stopped, then completed our cross and the rest of the song. Nothing was ever said, but I avoided the director that night after the concert.