"I will hold you to that, but two jacked, hot as fuck football players walking into a gay club will make the front page of Sports Illustrated or at least a quick story on Sports Network!" I joke.
I am so tired, but Marcus keeps babbling about how amazing this team is. He keeps mentioning that he must introduce me to the team quarterback, Josh Miller, and how much of a lunatic he is. He also won't stop talking about the numerous charity events we have to attend during training camp.
I guess these charity events are for a good cause, and there will definitely be an open bar at these events, so I can't complain. I'm not even listening to Marcus anymore, but I think he mentioned that I could bring a guest to these events. If that is an actual fact, I will invite Becky. She could be my beard or wing woman. I guess it depends on whether I find someone who is worth the risk.
Before Marcus hangs up, he quickly states, "See you tomorrow at Training Camp. We got this! Let's both make the 53-man roster this season and kick ass like college."
Once Marcus hung up, I lay in bed with a sense of optimism and excitement. Things won’t be too different from Boston. Thankfully, I still get to wear my lucky number 33 on my jersey, just as I did during my time on the Wolverines.
I was going to message Becky, but I need to sleep. Tomorrow is Monday, marking the beginning of a long week.
Nate
It’s a gloomy Monday morning in late July, and I’m already contemplating giving up on my search for a singing gig. It’s been what, maybe a few hours? And I already want to quit. If only I were one of those smoke-show singers with a million Instagram followers. That would make launching a music career way easier.
At this point, I’d settle for anything. I’m sitting on my couch in fuzzy pajama pants and a thin, knitted tank top, quietly humming some Ed Sheeran songs. I wish Evan were still in New York, but he headed back to Philadelphia before I even woke up. All my friends are in Philly now, and I’m just here, friendless, jobless, and helpless in a city that doesn’t care.
Sure, there are a million ways to meet people, but they all involve the one thing I dread most: actually speaking to them. In a perfect world, I’d make friends through work. I’ve always gotten along with the loner types, the weird ones, the eccentrics who blurt out bizarre shit with no filter. I love people like that.But let’s be real, there’s a big difference between quirky and creepy, and the line between them is razor-thin.
Still, I’d hang out with just about anyone at this point. I need to fill my time somehow while I try to find gigs.
It’s now noon, and I still haven’t found any leads. I’ve been scouring Craigslist and Instagram for anyone looking for a singer or guitar player. Ideally, I’d be part of a group, not the center of attention. Honestly, it’s kind of pathetic that someone who wants to make it in the music industry hates being the center of attention. But for me, it’s never been about the attention. I just want to share my music, not have people obsess over me.
Just as I'm about to give up, I stumble across a Craigslist post looking for a lead singer in a band called The Revolution. First of all, what kind of name is that? And second, do I really want to be a lead singer in a band? Their bio mentions heavy metal, but it's not exactly the alternative rock or pop I'm used to. Still, I've got zero other options, and this is the only real opportunity in sight.
I grab my iPhone 7 and call the number. It rings six times before someone answers.
“Hello, who is this?” mutters a man, who I assume is middle-aged.
"Um, hi. I'm responding to your Craigslist post; it appears you're seeking a lead vocalist. Is that still the case?" I ask.
“Oh! Yes! Thanks for calling. We haven’t had many responses, probably because no one uses Craigslist anymore, especially to find bandmates,” laughs the man. His name, I soon learned, is Tom.
I grab a notepad as Tom launches into a laundry list of what they’re looking for in a vocalist: someone who’s not shy about the spotlight, can hit big notes, improvise on the fly, and, oddly enough, be attractive.
Attractive? Really? I mean, sure, looks matter in this world, but it’s always kind of depressing when people just come out and say it.
Once he finally stops rambling, I blurt out, “Is this gig paid? Do you have any events lined up?” Because yeah, I kind of need to know that before I audition.
He answers quickly. "The band's just me and my buddy Ron. I'll be playing guitar and singing backup vocals, and Ron will be on drums. We're looking for someone who can sing and play guitar. We've got a few weddings lined up, which are paid. The plan is to split everything evenly and build up word of mouth."
It doesn’t sound ideal. I need a steady income because my bills don’t pay themselves. And Tom’s giving off a weird vibe. Plus, I’ve been telling myself from the start that I don’t want to lead a band. I’d rather back someone up, especially while getting my feet wet.
Still, when he offers me a Zoom audition, I agree. He sends over the invite, and I hesitate before accepting. Zoom auditions feel awkward as hell. When the screen loads, I see Tom and Ron; they both look like they're in their mid-forties, which makes me feel like a toddler in comparison. My first thought is that they're lucky if they can land a cute 25-year-old like me. They seem nice enough for me to give this a go.
“Ready when you are,” Tom says, louder than necessary.
I go with "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day; it's easy to sing and well-known. But halfway through the second verse, they stop me.
Tom looks absolutely thrilled, which is both endearing and a little off-putting.
“We’ve heard enough!” he exclaims. Ron actually claps.
Tom insists I come out to Brooklyn to meet them in person, run through some songs, and test our harmonization. I told him I'd be open to meeting next week. I don't want to be too blunt,but let's be real: this isn't what I'm looking for. I need income, not just vague promises and a couple of weddings.
Still, I give him my email for the details, and when I hang up, I exhale, deeply relieved. That wasn't technically socializing, but it was still exhausting. Meeting new people always is. All I want now is a cold beer, but what I have to do is keep searching for a job.
Okay, let's keep hunting on Instagram. I need something, anything.
