169 Dollar Thursday
$17.50/hr. Plus Bonus
The 135 Dollar Tip Rears Its Head
I had been having a conversation with my friend Bobby in building C, which has been a recurring one, and involves him wanting to help me to make more money; in general, doing anything, whether busking or not.
He was going to try to get me an amplifier so I could play on Royal Street, and has even put such on layaway at Guitar Center.
There would be "more" money there, but it would be the "large group where everyone throws some change or a dollar" market, rather than "the individual, or couple, who want to sit down and have a private encounter with a street musician.
The Royal Street money seems to come a dollar at a time, and a lot of those buskers approach the job like an 8 hour work day. Someone in a group of 50 people will throw just a single dollar tip, thinking that, if everyone else in the group does the same, then the artist will have done well enough.
It also favors the extroverted personality types that are comfortable interacting with people, trying to coax them to stop, and in extreme cases, trying to get groups of people to dance, or otherwise "participate," in the performance. "Let's hear it from all the Eagles fans, here. Sound Off! You're not leaving, you haven't danced yet!" type of thing.
"Well, that's gotta be better than what you've been making at your spot,' said Bobby.
I then told him that my spot will indeed be dormant for certain periods of time, but will pay off with a tip of over a hundred dollars out of the blue, every so often.
The Royal Street performers almost never see this, because, unless a tourist wants to draw attention in some way: "That's the song that was playing when my wife and I first met, so that's why we're giving you this (hundred dollar bill)..." type of thing, then people will get in line and throw their single dollar as they leave, treating the tip jar kind of like the basket that is passed around during a Catholic Mass, with the anonymity associated with it. They aren't gonna know that this is our 50 dollar bill after they dump the bucket out and start counting...
So their idea is to play from noon until 8 at night, so a few thousand tourists will be encountered, with the program being mostly generic, "When The Saints Go Marching In," type stuff; mass appeal -no room for: "This is a song I wrote last night, after I had talked to an old friend on the phone" material.
Then Bobby asked something like: "When's the last time that happened?"
I had to admit that it had probably been about 11 months since the last "huge" tip I had gotten.
That was 175 bucks from a guy who had listened to a couple of my songs and had identified with one of them. He told me, at one point, that he was a millionaire, perhaps so I wouldn't feel any shame in taking a tip of that amount. "Sir, I don't want you to wake up hung over tomorrow morning and regret this..."
I bought the laptop I'm using now within a couple days of getting that tip; and I've had it since March 5th, of last year, so...
I was thinking about this exact thing -not having gaffed a "big tuna" in a while- as I walked towards the Lilly Pad, at the reasonably early hour of about 10:15 PM; how long it had been since I had gotten the large tip.
Then, I played, and at one point a couple of guys came along with one of them asking: "You don't mind if we listen?"
And, I can't remember exactly what I played, but one of them handed me a lump of folded over money "Here," he said.
I could see a 5 dollar bill and a 20, and it was thick enough so that, even if the rest were ones, it would be a good amount.
At that point, I had been playing for maybe 45 minutes and had made about 8 bucks.
"Count, it" directed the guy, at which point I flipped the wad over to see that there was a 100 dollar bill on the bottom.
"And then keep it safe," he added.
I didn't bother unfolding it and counting it exactly, because that would have attracted skeezers.
I estimate it to have been 135 bucks, since a hundred, a twenty, a ten and five ones were bunched together in my pocket, separate from the other couple clumps that I pulled out to count at The Quartermaster.
To my credit, I kept playing longer, even though my night had been "made," and I could have taken it as a cue to divide my time between busking and other pursuits at home. It was hard to feel like continuing to play for more money. I felt like I had gotten what I came for, in that regard. If the hunter shoots a deer an hour after he starts hunting, does he still spend the whole day hunting? Trying to get a second deer? I guess it depends upon the hunter...
It took some discipline, but I played for another 45 minutes or so and made another 33 bucks.
I think it was my attitude towards those that had no money to throw me that persuaded those that did to, if that makes sense.
"Hey, Thank You, I Mean It..."
I saw the appearance of "the guy who say's 'thank you,' in lieu of tipping,' who walked by twice.
This particular one stopped and held up a finger to get my attention, and then said "Thank you," before walking away.
It's almost as if this occasional guy does this as a way of calling me out on the fact that I am technically playing for free, tips not required, and thinks: "I wonder how long these guys would keep coming out if everyone just walked past and said 'Thanks for the music,' but never gave them a cent."
It's hard to tell how sincere this is, or if the guy is hoping the musician will become annoyed and mumble under his breath: "Put your money where your mouth is, if you appreciate it so much..."
There definitely seems to be a bit of a smart ass attitude involved. When I delivered pizza for Dominoes there were those customers who cited the "free delivery" written on the box and said "Hey, it say's 'free delivery.' I'm just taking you at your word; it's right on the box, you have to honor it!"
When these people visit New Orleans, they walk by the street performers and say "Thank you for the free music," and don't tip them, I guess.
A pessimist might observe that only about 15 people had actually tipped me in the 2 hours that I played, and that, without the 135 dollar tip, it would have been a 34 dollar night...or, right at the $17.50/hr that I have averaged over time...
But, that was kind of an answer to Bobby's question.
"About 11 months ago" can now be updated to "Why, just last night I got one."
I have a feeling that, if I tell Bobby I had a 169 dollar night, he will press me to pay off the balance on the electric guitar and amp that he has put on layaway at Guitar Center. 165 dollars, coincidentally enough, is the balance on it.
I could set up on Canal Street at night and be heard 3 blocks away and make decent money with that gear, but it isn't as easy as that.
For one thing, playing acoustically for the past 10 years, I have fortified my repertoire with ample material of the type that gets requested by people who see the acoustic guitar and the harmonica and think "Neil Young/Bob Dylan."
I'm not sure I want to have to field requests for all kinds of electric guitar stuff. "Any Metallica, Iron Maiden? Surely you know some Pantera!"
Plus, I need a bike to pull the trailer that Bobby has also given me, which needs its wheels aligned, and then a microphone that clips onto the harmonica harness, so that I can sing and play harp through the second channel of the amp.
But, then I would be poised to show up at Tanya Huang's spot one morning at 10 AM and play until she shows up at 11:30 ("I was keeping the spot warm for you") and while she sets up. Then hope that she would want to play for an hour or so with me before I left. I'm ready to split the tips 70/30 with her. That way the two of us wouldn't have to make twice as much as she would alone in order for it to be feasible for her, and I would still be getting a raise in the deal.
This would hopefully turn into me developing a voracious appetite for learning the chords to more and more songs that she knows, and the hour might become two, then three, and so on.
A lot would depend upon the dynamics between Tanya and I.
I would most likely be the one who chatted up the tourists. I believe that, if I were to tell a funny story and keep the audience amused for a few minutes in between songs, not only would it encourage them to tip more, having been entertained both by music and story, it would give Tanya a couple minutes of a break from playing, without any money having been lost.
How we might work my own material into the mix would be something to consider.
It would be all about being "ourselves" and seeing if it worked or not. There is no point to trying to second guess things and say: "I'll be the folk type guy and wear jeans and a plaid shirt, and you be the classy lady and wear a nice dress, and maybe it will be a magical combination..."
It will (naturally) be either a magical combination or a disaster. It's out of our hands and in those of a higher power.
But to put all the money towards getting the guitar and amp might be foolhardy; putting a lot of eggs in one basket. It's a fine 200 dollar guitar, but might not be up to my standards. Then batteries become an issue...
It is Friday night, 8:30 PM. There is a light fog in the air and the ground is spotted with raindrops that haven't dried yet. It is incumbent upon me to go out as soon as possible and play for as long as possible, and then to worry about how to spend the money at a later time. Sock it away, put the anxiety over where my next can of cat food or roll of toilet paper is coming from, and then catch up on rest after Fat Tuesday has come and gone. My first thought, upon seeing the money was that I could order a new harmonica and have it within a few days
Ben Lambie is to arrive the day after Fat Tuesday. I hope he doesn't expect me to accompany him the whole time and "show" him the city. But, if he wants to compensate me for lost busking income, I'm game.
I still need to figure out which bus to take to get to the airport. We will take a cab back to my place, on Ben.
Rose And Ed
Ed called me this morning, asking me if I had any catsup.
I had seen about a half dozen catsup packets on the sidewalk last night and almost scooped them up, but they had high fructose corn syrup in them, so I didn't
He and Rose were about to make macaroni and cheese.
Ed lost his food stamp card and has ordered a new one, but it hasn't come yet.
They seem to be totally broke and out of food.
Rose is the one who had taken care of me when I was sick by bringing Ibuprofen and stuff.
They didn't ask me for anything. They have no idea that I'm sitting on about 200 bucks.
I offered to let them use "10 dollars" off my food stamp card, to be paid back when Ed's card arrives.
"Oh, that's good, because for ten bucks we can get pasta, sauce and everything we need to make a spaghetti dinner, said Ed."
I had thought that they were prepared to eat macaroni and cheese but just needed catsup. I guess they were going to upgrade to better macaroni and better cheese and sauce rather than catsup.
I'm thinking of telling them that I have money. I was out of commission for so long that I guess they have taken it for granted that I am still broke.
I do hate to see them suffer, when it would be relatively easy for me to help them out.
Giving my food card and the pin number to Ed was kind of a way of testing him.
I told him that I would have to check the balance and then call him back.
When he showed up he asked: "How much was on it?"
He probably meant to ask me if there was at least the 10 dollars on it that they wanted to borrow, not how much total.
"$49.99," I told him truthfully.
After he left and then didn't come back right away, I imagined him, standing in front of the store, trying to sell the 50 bucks off my card to someone for, say, 40 bucks in cash. And then running to his dope dealer to buy 40 bucks worth of pain pills, and then running around selling them for a profit; and then coming back to me with some story about why he had to use all the money on the card, but promising to pay me back next Monday, when he gets cash, somehow.
Ed returned with my card. How could I have doubted he would.
"I used 14 dollars," he said, and then told me that he had had to buy tuna fish to feed their cats.
This told me that he was broke, which made me feel sorry for them, but it also used the cats to tug at my heartstrings; can't let the little balls of fir starve, now...
But a deal is a deal, and I had said ten dollars, but he spent 14.
He probably figured out some way to get a pack of cigarettes for Rose in the deal. Who knows, maybe he sold the whole 14 bucks off the card to someone just so he could get her smokes.
He told me he was going to bring back the receipt, to prove that he had only spent 10 dollars, but didn't do so. Maybe because it would show that he didn't buy pasta and sauce, but rather, some random thing that someone would have given him the cigarette money in exchange for.
You never know with a conniving guy like Ed. I should have asked to see the cans of tuna fish.
But, I am thinking of offering to help them out cash-wise, especially if I can charge some interest on it. I just have to make sure I have a new harmonica and something to wipe my ass with before deciding to do so...
I
$17.50/hr. Plus Bonus
The 135 Dollar Tip Rears Its Head
I had been having a conversation with my friend Bobby in building C, which has been a recurring one, and involves him wanting to help me to make more money; in general, doing anything, whether busking or not.
He was going to try to get me an amplifier so I could play on Royal Street, and has even put such on layaway at Guitar Center.
There would be "more" money there, but it would be the "large group where everyone throws some change or a dollar" market, rather than "the individual, or couple, who want to sit down and have a private encounter with a street musician.
The Royal Street money seems to come a dollar at a time, and a lot of those buskers approach the job like an 8 hour work day. Someone in a group of 50 people will throw just a single dollar tip, thinking that, if everyone else in the group does the same, then the artist will have done well enough.
It also favors the extroverted personality types that are comfortable interacting with people, trying to coax them to stop, and in extreme cases, trying to get groups of people to dance, or otherwise "participate," in the performance. "Let's hear it from all the Eagles fans, here. Sound Off! You're not leaving, you haven't danced yet!" type of thing.
"Well, that's gotta be better than what you've been making at your spot,' said Bobby.
I then told him that my spot will indeed be dormant for certain periods of time, but will pay off with a tip of over a hundred dollars out of the blue, every so often.
The Royal Street performers almost never see this, because, unless a tourist wants to draw attention in some way: "That's the song that was playing when my wife and I first met, so that's why we're giving you this (hundred dollar bill)..." type of thing, then people will get in line and throw their single dollar as they leave, treating the tip jar kind of like the basket that is passed around during a Catholic Mass, with the anonymity associated with it. They aren't gonna know that this is our 50 dollar bill after they dump the bucket out and start counting...
So their idea is to play from noon until 8 at night, so a few thousand tourists will be encountered, with the program being mostly generic, "When The Saints Go Marching In," type stuff; mass appeal -no room for: "This is a song I wrote last night, after I had talked to an old friend on the phone" material.
Then Bobby asked something like: "When's the last time that happened?"
I had to admit that it had probably been about 11 months since the last "huge" tip I had gotten.
That was 175 bucks from a guy who had listened to a couple of my songs and had identified with one of them. He told me, at one point, that he was a millionaire, perhaps so I wouldn't feel any shame in taking a tip of that amount. "Sir, I don't want you to wake up hung over tomorrow morning and regret this..."
I bought the laptop I'm using now within a couple days of getting that tip; and I've had it since March 5th, of last year, so...
I was thinking about this exact thing -not having gaffed a "big tuna" in a while- as I walked towards the Lilly Pad, at the reasonably early hour of about 10:15 PM; how long it had been since I had gotten the large tip.
Then, I played, and at one point a couple of guys came along with one of them asking: "You don't mind if we listen?"
And, I can't remember exactly what I played, but one of them handed me a lump of folded over money "Here," he said.
I could see a 5 dollar bill and a 20, and it was thick enough so that, even if the rest were ones, it would be a good amount.
At that point, I had been playing for maybe 45 minutes and had made about 8 bucks.
"Count, it" directed the guy, at which point I flipped the wad over to see that there was a 100 dollar bill on the bottom.
"And then keep it safe," he added.
I didn't bother unfolding it and counting it exactly, because that would have attracted skeezers.
I estimate it to have been 135 bucks, since a hundred, a twenty, a ten and five ones were bunched together in my pocket, separate from the other couple clumps that I pulled out to count at The Quartermaster.
To my credit, I kept playing longer, even though my night had been "made," and I could have taken it as a cue to divide my time between busking and other pursuits at home. It was hard to feel like continuing to play for more money. I felt like I had gotten what I came for, in that regard. If the hunter shoots a deer an hour after he starts hunting, does he still spend the whole day hunting? Trying to get a second deer? I guess it depends upon the hunter...
It took some discipline, but I played for another 45 minutes or so and made another 33 bucks.
I think it was my attitude towards those that had no money to throw me that persuaded those that did to, if that makes sense.
"Hey, Thank You, I Mean It..."
I saw the appearance of "the guy who say's 'thank you,' in lieu of tipping,' who walked by twice.
This particular one stopped and held up a finger to get my attention, and then said "Thank you," before walking away.
It's almost as if this occasional guy does this as a way of calling me out on the fact that I am technically playing for free, tips not required, and thinks: "I wonder how long these guys would keep coming out if everyone just walked past and said 'Thanks for the music,' but never gave them a cent."
It's hard to tell how sincere this is, or if the guy is hoping the musician will become annoyed and mumble under his breath: "Put your money where your mouth is, if you appreciate it so much..."
There definitely seems to be a bit of a smart ass attitude involved. When I delivered pizza for Dominoes there were those customers who cited the "free delivery" written on the box and said "Hey, it say's 'free delivery.' I'm just taking you at your word; it's right on the box, you have to honor it!"
When these people visit New Orleans, they walk by the street performers and say "Thank you for the free music," and don't tip them, I guess.
A pessimist might observe that only about 15 people had actually tipped me in the 2 hours that I played, and that, without the 135 dollar tip, it would have been a 34 dollar night...or, right at the $17.50/hr that I have averaged over time...
But, that was kind of an answer to Bobby's question.
"About 11 months ago" can now be updated to "Why, just last night I got one."
I have a feeling that, if I tell Bobby I had a 169 dollar night, he will press me to pay off the balance on the electric guitar and amp that he has put on layaway at Guitar Center. 165 dollars, coincidentally enough, is the balance on it.
I could set up on Canal Street at night and be heard 3 blocks away and make decent money with that gear, but it isn't as easy as that.
For one thing, playing acoustically for the past 10 years, I have fortified my repertoire with ample material of the type that gets requested by people who see the acoustic guitar and the harmonica and think "Neil Young/Bob Dylan."
I'm not sure I want to have to field requests for all kinds of electric guitar stuff. "Any Metallica, Iron Maiden? Surely you know some Pantera!"
Plus, I need a bike to pull the trailer that Bobby has also given me, which needs its wheels aligned, and then a microphone that clips onto the harmonica harness, so that I can sing and play harp through the second channel of the amp.
But, then I would be poised to show up at Tanya Huang's spot one morning at 10 AM and play until she shows up at 11:30 ("I was keeping the spot warm for you") and while she sets up. Then hope that she would want to play for an hour or so with me before I left. I'm ready to split the tips 70/30 with her. That way the two of us wouldn't have to make twice as much as she would alone in order for it to be feasible for her, and I would still be getting a raise in the deal.
This would hopefully turn into me developing a voracious appetite for learning the chords to more and more songs that she knows, and the hour might become two, then three, and so on.
A lot would depend upon the dynamics between Tanya and I.
I would most likely be the one who chatted up the tourists. I believe that, if I were to tell a funny story and keep the audience amused for a few minutes in between songs, not only would it encourage them to tip more, having been entertained both by music and story, it would give Tanya a couple minutes of a break from playing, without any money having been lost.
How we might work my own material into the mix would be something to consider.
It would be all about being "ourselves" and seeing if it worked or not. There is no point to trying to second guess things and say: "I'll be the folk type guy and wear jeans and a plaid shirt, and you be the classy lady and wear a nice dress, and maybe it will be a magical combination..."
It will (naturally) be either a magical combination or a disaster. It's out of our hands and in those of a higher power.
But to put all the money towards getting the guitar and amp might be foolhardy; putting a lot of eggs in one basket. It's a fine 200 dollar guitar, but might not be up to my standards. Then batteries become an issue...
I don't have a picture of Ben Lambie, my friend from Massachusetts, but he looks a lot like Ray Flynn, the former mayor of Boston (left) and probably has some of the same Irish blood in him..
It is Friday night, 8:30 PM. There is a light fog in the air and the ground is spotted with raindrops that haven't dried yet. It is incumbent upon me to go out as soon as possible and play for as long as possible, and then to worry about how to spend the money at a later time. Sock it away, put the anxiety over where my next can of cat food or roll of toilet paper is coming from, and then catch up on rest after Fat Tuesday has come and gone. My first thought, upon seeing the money was that I could order a new harmonica and have it within a few days
Ben Lambie is to arrive the day after Fat Tuesday. I hope he doesn't expect me to accompany him the whole time and "show" him the city. But, if he wants to compensate me for lost busking income, I'm game.
I still need to figure out which bus to take to get to the airport. We will take a cab back to my place, on Ben.
Rose And Ed
Ed called me this morning, asking me if I had any catsup.
I had seen about a half dozen catsup packets on the sidewalk last night and almost scooped them up, but they had high fructose corn syrup in them, so I didn't
He and Rose were about to make macaroni and cheese.
Ed lost his food stamp card and has ordered a new one, but it hasn't come yet.
They seem to be totally broke and out of food.
Rose is the one who had taken care of me when I was sick by bringing Ibuprofen and stuff.
They didn't ask me for anything. They have no idea that I'm sitting on about 200 bucks.
I offered to let them use "10 dollars" off my food stamp card, to be paid back when Ed's card arrives.
"Oh, that's good, because for ten bucks we can get pasta, sauce and everything we need to make a spaghetti dinner, said Ed."
I had thought that they were prepared to eat macaroni and cheese but just needed catsup. I guess they were going to upgrade to better macaroni and better cheese and sauce rather than catsup.
I'm thinking of telling them that I have money. I was out of commission for so long that I guess they have taken it for granted that I am still broke.
I do hate to see them suffer, when it would be relatively easy for me to help them out.
Giving my food card and the pin number to Ed was kind of a way of testing him.
I told him that I would have to check the balance and then call him back.
When he showed up he asked: "How much was on it?"
He probably meant to ask me if there was at least the 10 dollars on it that they wanted to borrow, not how much total.
"$49.99," I told him truthfully.
After he left and then didn't come back right away, I imagined him, standing in front of the store, trying to sell the 50 bucks off my card to someone for, say, 40 bucks in cash. And then running to his dope dealer to buy 40 bucks worth of pain pills, and then running around selling them for a profit; and then coming back to me with some story about why he had to use all the money on the card, but promising to pay me back next Monday, when he gets cash, somehow.
Ed returned with my card. How could I have doubted he would.
"I used 14 dollars," he said, and then told me that he had had to buy tuna fish to feed their cats.
This told me that he was broke, which made me feel sorry for them, but it also used the cats to tug at my heartstrings; can't let the little balls of fir starve, now...
But a deal is a deal, and I had said ten dollars, but he spent 14.
He probably figured out some way to get a pack of cigarettes for Rose in the deal. Who knows, maybe he sold the whole 14 bucks off the card to someone just so he could get her smokes.
He told me he was going to bring back the receipt, to prove that he had only spent 10 dollars, but didn't do so. Maybe because it would show that he didn't buy pasta and sauce, but rather, some random thing that someone would have given him the cigarette money in exchange for.
You never know with a conniving guy like Ed. I should have asked to see the cans of tuna fish.
But, I am thinking of offering to help them out cash-wise, especially if I can charge some interest on it. I just have to make sure I have a new harmonica and something to wipe my ass with before deciding to do so...
I
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