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And the drums, the drums, the drums, the drums.

"Well," he said. "I had an idea and you just totally shot it down." I sighed. I was suddenly exhausted. Too many similar, circular arguments in too short of a span of time. "You didn't give me an idea," I replied. "You just got upset and defensive." He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Fine," he said. "You can just be the only innovator." "Was your idea communicating?" I asked. "Because that's not an idea. That's not a suggestion. That's something I'm actually trying to do with you and you keep fighting me."

I had been so excited to play music with him, too.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm in a band but..." "But what?" I asked. "I don't know," he replied. "They just aren't on my level. They're good but just not as good." "Is that frustrating?" I asked. "Yeah," he said. "I have to write out music sometimes because they don't know what to play." I thought for a moment, choosing my words with delicacy. "Why don't we play music together?" I asked. He thought for a moment. "Okay." He said. I thought back to my friend and his brother, who seemed to play together frequently. "Let's do it," I said. "I've got an idea."

"What, you think I can't play drums?" He asked. He was getting riled up again. "Can you keep steady 16th notes?" I asked, snapping out a tempo. He stared me down while tapping his hands on his legs. The rhythm fell uncomfortably, but he was determined to make a point. It was a struggle to keep calm. "Are you kidding me?" I asked him. I was done with the conversation. "You and your ego." "What," he stated. "You thought I couldn't drum." "You can't." I replied. "You told me you have never played the drums before. You told me that in confidence and I believed that. I still do. You want to communicate? I'm trying to. Meanwhile, you are fighting me every chance you get."

His head dropped.

"I know you can play guitar. I'm sure you have a great sense of rhythm. That's not the point. I'm trying to arrange these songs to fit our strengths. The fact is, I'm comfortable on the guitar. I'm comfortable on percussion. I'd say I'm stronger on those instruments than you, would you agree?" He didn't respond. "There's a reason I asked you to play the piano. There's a reason I asked you to play the bass. There's a reason I asked you to play the saxophone. It's because I think you're stronger on those instruments than I am. Yes," I said. "I think you're probably better on saxophone than I am." Still, he didn't respond. "I asked you to do this because I wanted to. That was a conscious decision. I actively decided that I wanted to play music with you. I wanted to work with you. I am 100% invested in this project. I honestly want to do this." He stared down. "If you aren't into it, tell me. If you don't honestly want to do this, tell me. This is only going to work if you're 100% in. 99.99% is not good enough. That's not acceptable to me, so don't waste my time." He looked up at me, finally. "If you want to leave and do your own thing, fine. Do not think for a second that I need you for this. I can do all of this by myself just as easily. I asked you to do this with me. Think about it and give me an answer."

And I turned and walked away.

People are difficult, sometimes. Most times. All of the time, honestly. People are near impossible to deal with at any given point in time. It astounds me, often, that anything worthwhile is ever accomplished. That anything lasting is ever made. Teamwork is just an incredible thing. It's the simplest, most difficult thing we rarely execute. Pride is a delicate thing that we can't help but wield wildly. What an awful thing. So easily injured and yet so often put in a position to be injured. I can't remember the last time I was so disappointed.

Jokes.

Comments

Carolynn said…
That sounds like a tricky situation. What ended up happening?
October 26, 2011 at 9:22 AM
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