manners, anyone?

aloha,

i wanted to wait until i cooled down a bit before posting this, just to see if i really was mad. and yep, i checked. i really am mad. though less mad with the days that pass, because really, what good does it do to harbor anger if already tend to be a type-A personality in the first place? :)

so the story goes like this. i was working up at lignano two nights ago (background: my friends run a restaurant up in the mountains nearby, in a city park called lignano. i am helping out on the busy nights until i leave for the czech republic). it was a really, really busy night, as the city was putting on a festival for the night of san lorenzo, the night of the falling stars (when supposedly you can see tons of them, but sadly for us, it was overcast the whole night).

amanda and i were waiting tables, and the place was packed. however, we were all in good spirits and everything was moving along swimmingly. i was helping a table of 4 brits and an italian, and we struck up a conversation. they wanted to know why i was in italy, and when i explained that i was a musician, they asked me to give them a concert at their table. i joked and smiled and said i couldn't because i didn't have my guitar but that maybe they could catch me in london, where i am/was planning a tour in october. the only guy in the group kept pressing me, but i was slammed with 1000 other tables and i told them i was sorry, but i just didn't have time right now. he sniffed a bit and said, "we heard that people from texas are supposed to be nice. you're not so nice, are you?"

okay, so maybe he was just being sarcastic, the famous dry british humor. so i smiled and laughed it off, returning to work. everytime i passed the table, they bugged me about doing a concert. so finally i went inside and grabbed lignano's copy of Thin Thread off of the cd rack and took it out to them.

"look," i said. "i really don't have time to sing for you guys right now, but if you want to hear what i do, here's a copy of the disc. you can take it over there to the dj (i pointed) and ask him to play a bit of it. he's a friend of mine, he'll do it if you ask."

so this is where i get pissed.

the guy says, "how about if i just take this copy home and make a copy of it and bring it back to you tomorrow?"

laughing, i said, "actually, how about not?"
"why not?" he says. "everyone does it."
i am starting to get angry. "why not? because that's how i make my living," i said. "that is my job."
"oh, come on," he said. "you're in italy where everyone steals everything." okay, starting to get really pissed now. "what does it matter to you if i make a copy of it?" he is sneering and i want to slap him.

"look," i said. "you can take it over there and listen to a few tracks, or you can give it back to me and i'll bring you guys the bill. i am sorry, but you can't copy it. that is copyrighted material, and that would be stealing."

more sneering. "look, vanessa," he says, "i am a photographer. you think people don't make copies of my photos and steal them all the time? you should get over it."

"exactly my point," i said. "you should know i feel. i could let everyone steal the CD, but then I would be doing odd jobs during the day and playing music at night for the rest of my life, and that's not what I want. I am sorry; this discussion is closed. please hand me the CD."
"no, no, I'll go listen at the DJ stand."

fine, I say. I force a smile, I go inside, continue working. Every so often, i poke my head into that section of the restaurant to make sure they are still there. at some point, the italian girl and another british girl leave, but the CD is still on the table with this jerk. I never hear it playing through the DJ system.

Some amount of time later, I notice they are gone. The table is cleared and the CD isn't there. I run outside and just catch a glimpse of them headed down the mountain path. I run after them.

"hey, wait!" i said. "where's the CD?"
more smirking. "don't have it," he says. "my italian friend took it with her when she left to make a copy at home."
but i can see it, barely, under the jacket he has draped over his arm.
"Liar," i all but snarl. "I can see it under your jacket. Give it to me, now."
This guy really had the sneer down to a fine art.
"Oh, give it a rest," he said. "What's the big f-in deal?" And he throws me the disk, which I catch in mid-air.
"Why would you just steal it?" I asked, shocked. "That's a really bastard thing to do."
"Grow up," he says. "Why would I buy it, when it probably isn't worth what it's printed on?"
"Then why even bother copying it?" I say, ice in my voice.
He has nothing to say. He just laughs, not even embarrassed to be caught stealing, and starts to walk away. I am so filled with rage that I am beside myself. I was so nice to these people, bringing them free chocolate chip cookies (I had made them for the staff that night), giving them travel advice when they asked, and though I refused to sing at their table, I did so in a polite and joking manner. Who knows, maybe the guy was drunk on red wine. But you just can't steal something from someone, right? And you sure as hell can't justify it by telling me to "grow up." What the hell???

All of this to say this: I have had random people, upon finding out I am a musician, say something like, "oh, cool, can I make a copy of your CD?" By now it is ingrained in our culture - ooh, free music. But usually when I explain that's my job, and that's how I make my living, the light comes on and they say, gee, I never thought about it that way. Sorry I asked. How much are the CDs?" And they buy one or they don't. But I have never had anyone treat me that way before, as though I wasn't worth his 10 euro, or even his politeness. It was kind of shocking.

be kind to the musicians you meet - to anyone you meet who is working lots of odd jobs to support doing the thing they love to do. everyone has to start somewhere. i don't harbor delusions that people will say, "ooh, vanessa peters, she waited on our table in a small town in italy once." but that doesn't mean you can steal my cd, dammit, just because to you i am an unknown singer/songwriter bringing you cookies. sheesh.

okay, off the soapbox now. :)
calmer, more-italy-oriented post coming soon shortly,
vanessa