Of Bad Rehearsals

I've been meaning to post about my rehearsal experience on Wednesday night. Or make that non-rehearsal experience. I'm playing in just a few movements of Faure's Requiem and that's all I do for this program slated for Feb. 12. So I went to one rehearsal a couple weeks ago and they said I probably wouldn't be needed again until the rehearsals the week of the concert. But I understood that the personnel manager would let me know for sure. When I didn't hear anything, I emailed her a couple days before this rehearsal. No response. So I called and left a message the day of the rehearsal. No response. So after a day of indecision, I decided to just go anyway and be on the safe side.

I found out that they weren't rehearsing the Faure until 9:00 PM, so I left home around 7:30 to make the nearly one hour trek south. I arrived, unloaded, wheeled my harp, stool, and bags up a ramp, through doors, down another ramp and eventually to the rehearsal room. The personnel manager happened to be standing there and gave me a surprised look. Uh-oh. She said, "You didn't get my message?" "Uh, no. What message?" She then said she'd left a message on my answering machine around 4:30, informing me I wasn't needed at this rehearsal. I was home at that time, so I couldn't understand how I could have missed a phone call. I later realized that my mom and I had stepped out of the house for about five minutes during that time, and thus never thought to check the machine.

She thought that perhaps the conductor might use me anyway, so she went and consulted him. He looked at me and told me to go home, or words to that effect. I didn't understand him at first, so stood there next to my harp with a puzzled look on my face, no doubt looking like an idiot in front of the entire orchestra. But the manager confirmed his words and so out I wheeled. She said she felt bad, but that she had left a message. Why did she wait until 4:30? I didn't feel angry, but I definitely wasn't happy and wheeled out without another word. Back I went up the ramp, through the double doors, and down the outside ramp. I loaded back up, and drove back the hour home. Alone. In the dark. In the drizzle. And feeling pretty sorry for myself and annoyed with the conductor. While I was at it, I dredged up some other past grievances over completely unrelated issues and wept silly tears of self-pity, while telling myself to GET A GRIP!! God allowed it, right? Yup.

After some sensible philosophizing, a good night sleep, a mile on the treadmill, and a day of teaching, I think I recovered. But I'm not particularly looking forward to next week's rehearsal. It was a rather humiliating experience, and it's not like I can just slip unobserved into the corner with my mammoth instrument. Oh, well, it probably won't happen again. And there's my gripey story of the week!