Performance Anxiety
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I don’t know what I was doing there. I had no business being there.
I was in a large rehearsal hall filled with musicians in black tuxedos. They were randomly scattered about; each one either unpacking an instrument, fiddling with an instrument or tuning an instrument. The air was filled with the sound of chairs being dragged across the floor, instrument cases shutting, the tuning of instruments, coughing and the soft din of human whispering. I was sitting in a folding metal chair against a wall at the far back end of the large room. I was wearing blue jeans, an old tattered light blue denim shirt and fairly worn white tennis shoes. It was an ensemble that I would wear while going for a walk around the ponds at the park or walking |
to the neighborhood store or just around the house. My clothes proved beyond a doubt that I was only there watching; that I had no part in the production of the concert that was apparently soon to begin. I certainly was not a musician and I had no idea how I got into the rehearsal hall in the first place to watch the musicians get ready for the concert.
Suddenly, a man in a tuxedo at the opposite end of the room from me clanked a drumstick against a cowbell to get everyone’s attention. The cacophony of sound in the room quickly diminished as all the musicians put down their instruments and quit talking to look at the man who was standing on a folding metal chair getting everyone’s attention. When the room was quiet the man quit clanking the cow bell and handed it and the drumstick down to someone standing on the floor next to him.
“On behalf of the symphony association and myself I would like to welcome everyone to our grand concert hall and I would like to thank everyone in advance for the concert you are about to….” he looked at his watch, “gift the fine citizens of our city with in just nineteen minutes.” He bowed to everyone. That was followed by a very weak and short round of applause from all the musicians.
The man standing on the chair then took out a conductor’s baton from his tuxedo jacket and held it in the air for all to see. He then stepped down from the chair and began walking in the direction of my side of the room.
I looked around to see if there was anyone waiting for the man to approach them — the conductor perhaps. But I only saw musicians. I looked behind me but all I saw was wall.
I turned back around towards the man who was walking very deliberately — as though marching — directly towards me! I looked around again and quickly realized there was no one around me. He was walking towards me!
What the hell?!
The man stopped just a few feet in front of me and then bowed to me. He then handed me the conductor’s baton. In a state of utter bafflement I slowly stood up from my chair and took the baton.
The man then turned back around to all the musicians and loudly proclaimed, “And now I give to you your conductor!”
The crowd of musicians brought forth another very weak and short round of applause. I looked at the musicians and then turned to see the man who had handed me the baton leave the room through a nearby door.
What the hell?!
I looked back at the musicians and they were all now suddenly back in their routine of talking and tuning their instruments. I then looked back at the closed door through which the man who handed me the baton had just left. I then turned back towards the musicians who now seemed totally oblivious of me.
What the hell?!
I’m not a symphony conductor! I’m not even a musician! Okay sure, I was in band when I was in high school but that was over four decades ago! And I really wasn’t very good. Other than listening to music I haven’t had anything to do with music in all the many years since then. I wasn’t even sure if I remembered how to read music. And I had never in my life ever conducted a symphony orchestra or any musical ensemble for that matter. And I certainly never conducted this particular group of musicians warming up in this hall. And even if I had, I had no earthly idea what symphonies they would be performing tonight.
What the hell?!
I looked at the clock. It read sixteen minutes until eight o’clock.
I could feel the panic set in. There was no longer any time left to question the predicament I suddenly found myself in. The situation was more than crystal clear. I had no earthly idea what the hell I was doing but there was a room full of musicians and I was guessing a concert hall full of audience members relying on me to conduct a symphony concert.
And I had never done such a thing in my entire life!
Looking around, I spotted a nearby door with a sign above it which read, “Conductor’s Office.” I bolted for the door and entered the office.
The first thing I saw was a clothes rack that held a perfectly pressed and cleaned black tuxedo. I guessed that was for me. I then noticed a very large desk. Atop it was scattered numerous symphony scores. With time ticking down I put down the conductor’s baton and I quickly took off my clothes in order to get into the tuxedo. As I put on the tuxedo trousers I started freaking out about the realization that I did not even know what symphonies the orchestra was going to play. How was I supposed to conduct when I didn’t even know what symphonies to conduct? (As though knowing might somehow help.)
After buttoning the trousers I went to the desk to peruse the scores scattered atop the desk. There must have been the sheet music for a dozen symphonies on the desk. Surely the orchestra was not going to perform all of them. I realized that I desperately needed to find out what the orchestra was going to perform tonight so that I could bring the right scores with me to the conductor’s podium.
So I went back out to the rehearsal hall and I called out to all the musicians asking them if anyone had a printed program of the concert. To my dismay, they all completely ignored me and did not even look my way. So I started walking around the room looking for a printed program on a music stand or on a chair or on someone’s music case. I was frantic.
Suddenly, I found myself face to face with Gilbert. He was holding his trumpet to his chest and he had a huge grin on his face. Gilbert and I had sat next to each other back in high school symphonic band class. I had been one chair higher than him. Shocked to see him, I looked into his eyes.
Smiling, he said, “Don’t worry. You’ll be just fine. And don’t worry about me….” His smile suddenly turned into a scornful scowl, “I won’t let you down like you let me down in high school!”
What the hell?!
Holy shit! High school karma had shown up to exact revenge — as though I didn’t have enough problems on my plate. I quickly turned away from Gilbert and resumed my search for a printed concert program. I didn’t get far when a thought quickly crossed my mind, What a minute! Didn’t Gilbert die in that tragic car accident like twenty years ago?!
I did not look back. Continuing my search, I came across a tall man standing stiffly with his violin. “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “I have a question. In the coda at the end of the third piece I’m not sure exactly when the diminuendo ends and the crescendo begins.”
I looked into his steely eyes and had no earthly idea what the hell he was talking about. But I could not let him see me as confused and unknowing. The success of the concert depended on my leadership. So, very confidently, I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “Find the answer within.” With my other hand I then patted on his chest right above his heart.
The muscles in the man’s forehead suddenly knotted together as he looked at me with a menacing scowl. (That happens a lot whenever I answer anyone’s question with a new age platitude or zen aphorism.) I quickly turned and resumed my desperate search.
And then I saw her…. I stopped in my tracks as I saw a stunningly beautiful long-haired Asian woman tuning her violin. I stared with deep wonderment and lust at her incredible beauty. I then violently shook my head and the stereotype dissipated.
I resumed my search. Surely there was a printed program of the concert somewhere. Then I found myself face to face with Chris. She was holding her saxophone provocatively and smiling at me seductively. “What’s the matter? You lose something?” she asked.
I came within a heartbeat of losing my virginity to Chris back in high school. I would have if I didn’t get busted. Once I was busted, her father (the local district attorney) forbade her from ever seeing or talking to me again. And she chose to obey her father rather than continue to be seduced by my high school charms.
I had encircled the room and had not found a printed program. What the hell was I going to do?
I then suddenly realized that all the musicians were staring at me. But they were not staring at me but rather at my crotch. I looked down and to my horror I realized that I was completely naked. And not only was I naked but my genitals had completely shriveled up as though it were twenty degrees below zero in the room. But it couldn’t have been that cold because sweat was pouring down from my temples and forehead. I looked like a middle-aged man with a ten-year-old’s penis.
Just then I saw a printed program for the concert sitting on a music stand just a few feet in front of me. I quickly grabbed the program and used it to cover my genitals as I raced back to the conductor’s office.
Once back in the office I saw the black tuxedo pants on the floor and quickly put them back on. (I don’t remember underwear being involved.)
I remember thinking how glad I was that neither of my two ex-wives were among the group of musicians in the hall. But then I had the horrific thought that they were both probably in the audience out in the concert hall.
I then looked at the printed concert program and saw that the orchestra would be performing four different symphonies. When I am in a state of utter panic the first thing I try to do is get organized. So, among all the symphony scores atop the desk I found the scores to the four symphonies the orchestra would be performing according to the program and I put them together in a stack corresponding to the order they would be performed. Atop that stack I placed the printed program. I was ready. I knew what was going to be performed and I had the music for it.
But seriously, what good was that? I still didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Was a stack of papers going to change anything?
Just then, the door to the conductor’s office opened up. Looking up, I saw that it was Suzanne. I tried to lose my virginity with her, too, back in high school but she ended up admitting to me that she was a lesbian and it wasn’t going to happen. Looking at me, she began giggling. Looking at her, I realized that she was not looking at my face but rather at my crotch. Looking down, to my horror, I realized that I was again completely naked — and yes, still shriveled.
When I looked back at Suzanne she was no longer Suzanne. Now she was the character Darlene from the TV series Roseanne. Darlene looked from my shriveled genitals up to my face and snickered and snorted then left, closing the door behind her.
Oh, the horror of a lesbian snickering at the shriveled genitalia of a straight guy!
Once again, I realized that the black trousers were on the floor. I put them on again but this time I immediately put on socks and shoes as though to somehow keep the trousers from coming off again.
I then put on the white frilly shirt and the black tuxedo tie. Before putting on the tuxedo jacket I went to the door and opened it just a crack. I saw that all the musicians were slowly filing out of the rehearsal hall into the corridor that led to the stage.
Closing the door, I put on the tuxedo jacket and looked in the mirror. I looked pretty good. For about one-half of a second I felt just a little twinge of confidence. And then I remembered my predicament.
Wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, I went to the desk and gathered up the four symphony scores with the program atop them. I then turned and left the office. I quickly realized that the warm up hall was empty. The orchestra members were surely all in their seats on the stage of the concert hall and they, as well as all the audience members, were eagerly awaiting my appearance on the stage for the concert to commence.
As I walked to the double doors leading to the corridor which led to the stage I looked up at the clock on the wall. It read one minute until eight o’clock. In less than twenty minutes I had somehow prepared myself to conduct a symphony orchestra concert even though I had no idea what I was doing and even though I never volunteered to do such a thing. I was hopelessly caught in a precarious position from which there seemed to be no backing down. The orchestra and audience were depending on me.
What the hell?!
As I reached for the door handle I was abruptly overcome with panic. I had a very, very strong impression that I was forgetting something. I looked through my stack of sheet music and program and it was all in order. I looked down at my body and, to my great relief, I was fully clothed in a tuxedo. Pulling my free hand away from the door handle, I brought it to my chin. As I tugged on my chin I tried to figure out what I was forgetting.
And then it hit me! I forgot the conductor’s baton!
I raced back to the conductor’s office. I searched the desk top and the surrounding furniture but I could not find the conductor’s baton that had been given to me by the man who had stood on the chair. I looked on the floor and I looked everywhere but I could not see it. My panic meter hit the very highest setting.
And then I looked at the desk. I went around to the side of the desk with drawers and I opened the short drawer just under the desk top. There were pens and pencils and paper clips and all manner of office supplies. But there were also three conductor batons!
Eureka! I grabbed one of the batons and put it in my tuxedo jacket pocket, closing the drawer. I went back around the desk headed for the door to the conductor’s office when I stopped in my tracks.
I suddenly remembered a high school symphonic band concert. I was sitting in my chair with my trumpet to my lips watching the band director as well as the music on the music stand when I saw a horrible thing. The band director’s baton came flying out of his hand. It went flying through the air and ended up hitting the back of the music stand of the oboe player. I was horrified but when I looked back at the band director he magically still had a baton in his hand directing his high school musicians.
Of course, I knew that it was not magic. I knew the band director kept a few batons in his inside jacket pocket. With no one noticing he had simply reached into his jacket pocket and quickly withdrew a new baton….. and kept on directing.
I went back around the desk and reopened that top drawer. I took the other two conductor batons from the drawer and put them also in my tuxedo jacket pocket. I suddenly felt way more confident. I had three conductor batons on me.
I left the conductor’s office and walked to the double doors leading to the corridor which lead to the stage of the concert hall. Before opening the doors I stopped and took a very deep breath. As part of being organized I checked everything. With the scores and programs in my right hand, I patted my tuxedo jacket and could feel the three batons in my pocket. I then looked down at my body to make sure that I was not naked. I still had on the tuxedo. With my free left hand I then grabbed my genitals and much to my relief I realized that they were back to their normal size.
I was ready even though I could not have been less ready. I had no idea what I was doing and I had no idea why I was doing it since I never volunteered to do it. But I realized that I had to do it. I had to.
I then realized that the only way I was going to pull this off was to utterly fake it. There was nothing else I could do. I had to not only fake it but fake it really well.
Taking another deep breath, I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was two minutes after eight o’clock. That was good. Being slightly late helps to build anticipation. Every good performer knows this.
I then opened the right door of the double doors leading into the hallway. I took another deep breath and stepped out into the corridor. Calmly, confidently and utterly resigned to, “whatever happens, happens,” I stepped forward and proceeded to the light at the end of the corridor.
And then my alarm clock went off and I woke up.
Suddenly, a man in a tuxedo at the opposite end of the room from me clanked a drumstick against a cowbell to get everyone’s attention. The cacophony of sound in the room quickly diminished as all the musicians put down their instruments and quit talking to look at the man who was standing on a folding metal chair getting everyone’s attention. When the room was quiet the man quit clanking the cow bell and handed it and the drumstick down to someone standing on the floor next to him.
“On behalf of the symphony association and myself I would like to welcome everyone to our grand concert hall and I would like to thank everyone in advance for the concert you are about to….” he looked at his watch, “gift the fine citizens of our city with in just nineteen minutes.” He bowed to everyone. That was followed by a very weak and short round of applause from all the musicians.
The man standing on the chair then took out a conductor’s baton from his tuxedo jacket and held it in the air for all to see. He then stepped down from the chair and began walking in the direction of my side of the room.
I looked around to see if there was anyone waiting for the man to approach them — the conductor perhaps. But I only saw musicians. I looked behind me but all I saw was wall.
I turned back around towards the man who was walking very deliberately — as though marching — directly towards me! I looked around again and quickly realized there was no one around me. He was walking towards me!
What the hell?!
The man stopped just a few feet in front of me and then bowed to me. He then handed me the conductor’s baton. In a state of utter bafflement I slowly stood up from my chair and took the baton.
The man then turned back around to all the musicians and loudly proclaimed, “And now I give to you your conductor!”
The crowd of musicians brought forth another very weak and short round of applause. I looked at the musicians and then turned to see the man who had handed me the baton leave the room through a nearby door.
What the hell?!
I looked back at the musicians and they were all now suddenly back in their routine of talking and tuning their instruments. I then looked back at the closed door through which the man who handed me the baton had just left. I then turned back towards the musicians who now seemed totally oblivious of me.
What the hell?!
I’m not a symphony conductor! I’m not even a musician! Okay sure, I was in band when I was in high school but that was over four decades ago! And I really wasn’t very good. Other than listening to music I haven’t had anything to do with music in all the many years since then. I wasn’t even sure if I remembered how to read music. And I had never in my life ever conducted a symphony orchestra or any musical ensemble for that matter. And I certainly never conducted this particular group of musicians warming up in this hall. And even if I had, I had no earthly idea what symphonies they would be performing tonight.
What the hell?!
I looked at the clock. It read sixteen minutes until eight o’clock.
I could feel the panic set in. There was no longer any time left to question the predicament I suddenly found myself in. The situation was more than crystal clear. I had no earthly idea what the hell I was doing but there was a room full of musicians and I was guessing a concert hall full of audience members relying on me to conduct a symphony concert.
And I had never done such a thing in my entire life!
Looking around, I spotted a nearby door with a sign above it which read, “Conductor’s Office.” I bolted for the door and entered the office.
The first thing I saw was a clothes rack that held a perfectly pressed and cleaned black tuxedo. I guessed that was for me. I then noticed a very large desk. Atop it was scattered numerous symphony scores. With time ticking down I put down the conductor’s baton and I quickly took off my clothes in order to get into the tuxedo. As I put on the tuxedo trousers I started freaking out about the realization that I did not even know what symphonies the orchestra was going to play. How was I supposed to conduct when I didn’t even know what symphonies to conduct? (As though knowing might somehow help.)
After buttoning the trousers I went to the desk to peruse the scores scattered atop the desk. There must have been the sheet music for a dozen symphonies on the desk. Surely the orchestra was not going to perform all of them. I realized that I desperately needed to find out what the orchestra was going to perform tonight so that I could bring the right scores with me to the conductor’s podium.
So I went back out to the rehearsal hall and I called out to all the musicians asking them if anyone had a printed program of the concert. To my dismay, they all completely ignored me and did not even look my way. So I started walking around the room looking for a printed program on a music stand or on a chair or on someone’s music case. I was frantic.
Suddenly, I found myself face to face with Gilbert. He was holding his trumpet to his chest and he had a huge grin on his face. Gilbert and I had sat next to each other back in high school symphonic band class. I had been one chair higher than him. Shocked to see him, I looked into his eyes.
Smiling, he said, “Don’t worry. You’ll be just fine. And don’t worry about me….” His smile suddenly turned into a scornful scowl, “I won’t let you down like you let me down in high school!”
What the hell?!
Holy shit! High school karma had shown up to exact revenge — as though I didn’t have enough problems on my plate. I quickly turned away from Gilbert and resumed my search for a printed concert program. I didn’t get far when a thought quickly crossed my mind, What a minute! Didn’t Gilbert die in that tragic car accident like twenty years ago?!
I did not look back. Continuing my search, I came across a tall man standing stiffly with his violin. “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “I have a question. In the coda at the end of the third piece I’m not sure exactly when the diminuendo ends and the crescendo begins.”
I looked into his steely eyes and had no earthly idea what the hell he was talking about. But I could not let him see me as confused and unknowing. The success of the concert depended on my leadership. So, very confidently, I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “Find the answer within.” With my other hand I then patted on his chest right above his heart.
The muscles in the man’s forehead suddenly knotted together as he looked at me with a menacing scowl. (That happens a lot whenever I answer anyone’s question with a new age platitude or zen aphorism.) I quickly turned and resumed my desperate search.
And then I saw her…. I stopped in my tracks as I saw a stunningly beautiful long-haired Asian woman tuning her violin. I stared with deep wonderment and lust at her incredible beauty. I then violently shook my head and the stereotype dissipated.
I resumed my search. Surely there was a printed program of the concert somewhere. Then I found myself face to face with Chris. She was holding her saxophone provocatively and smiling at me seductively. “What’s the matter? You lose something?” she asked.
I came within a heartbeat of losing my virginity to Chris back in high school. I would have if I didn’t get busted. Once I was busted, her father (the local district attorney) forbade her from ever seeing or talking to me again. And she chose to obey her father rather than continue to be seduced by my high school charms.
I had encircled the room and had not found a printed program. What the hell was I going to do?
I then suddenly realized that all the musicians were staring at me. But they were not staring at me but rather at my crotch. I looked down and to my horror I realized that I was completely naked. And not only was I naked but my genitals had completely shriveled up as though it were twenty degrees below zero in the room. But it couldn’t have been that cold because sweat was pouring down from my temples and forehead. I looked like a middle-aged man with a ten-year-old’s penis.
Just then I saw a printed program for the concert sitting on a music stand just a few feet in front of me. I quickly grabbed the program and used it to cover my genitals as I raced back to the conductor’s office.
Once back in the office I saw the black tuxedo pants on the floor and quickly put them back on. (I don’t remember underwear being involved.)
I remember thinking how glad I was that neither of my two ex-wives were among the group of musicians in the hall. But then I had the horrific thought that they were both probably in the audience out in the concert hall.
I then looked at the printed concert program and saw that the orchestra would be performing four different symphonies. When I am in a state of utter panic the first thing I try to do is get organized. So, among all the symphony scores atop the desk I found the scores to the four symphonies the orchestra would be performing according to the program and I put them together in a stack corresponding to the order they would be performed. Atop that stack I placed the printed program. I was ready. I knew what was going to be performed and I had the music for it.
But seriously, what good was that? I still didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Was a stack of papers going to change anything?
Just then, the door to the conductor’s office opened up. Looking up, I saw that it was Suzanne. I tried to lose my virginity with her, too, back in high school but she ended up admitting to me that she was a lesbian and it wasn’t going to happen. Looking at me, she began giggling. Looking at her, I realized that she was not looking at my face but rather at my crotch. Looking down, to my horror, I realized that I was again completely naked — and yes, still shriveled.
When I looked back at Suzanne she was no longer Suzanne. Now she was the character Darlene from the TV series Roseanne. Darlene looked from my shriveled genitals up to my face and snickered and snorted then left, closing the door behind her.
Oh, the horror of a lesbian snickering at the shriveled genitalia of a straight guy!
Once again, I realized that the black trousers were on the floor. I put them on again but this time I immediately put on socks and shoes as though to somehow keep the trousers from coming off again.
I then put on the white frilly shirt and the black tuxedo tie. Before putting on the tuxedo jacket I went to the door and opened it just a crack. I saw that all the musicians were slowly filing out of the rehearsal hall into the corridor that led to the stage.
Closing the door, I put on the tuxedo jacket and looked in the mirror. I looked pretty good. For about one-half of a second I felt just a little twinge of confidence. And then I remembered my predicament.
Wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, I went to the desk and gathered up the four symphony scores with the program atop them. I then turned and left the office. I quickly realized that the warm up hall was empty. The orchestra members were surely all in their seats on the stage of the concert hall and they, as well as all the audience members, were eagerly awaiting my appearance on the stage for the concert to commence.
As I walked to the double doors leading to the corridor which led to the stage I looked up at the clock on the wall. It read one minute until eight o’clock. In less than twenty minutes I had somehow prepared myself to conduct a symphony orchestra concert even though I had no idea what I was doing and even though I never volunteered to do such a thing. I was hopelessly caught in a precarious position from which there seemed to be no backing down. The orchestra and audience were depending on me.
What the hell?!
As I reached for the door handle I was abruptly overcome with panic. I had a very, very strong impression that I was forgetting something. I looked through my stack of sheet music and program and it was all in order. I looked down at my body and, to my great relief, I was fully clothed in a tuxedo. Pulling my free hand away from the door handle, I brought it to my chin. As I tugged on my chin I tried to figure out what I was forgetting.
And then it hit me! I forgot the conductor’s baton!
I raced back to the conductor’s office. I searched the desk top and the surrounding furniture but I could not find the conductor’s baton that had been given to me by the man who had stood on the chair. I looked on the floor and I looked everywhere but I could not see it. My panic meter hit the very highest setting.
And then I looked at the desk. I went around to the side of the desk with drawers and I opened the short drawer just under the desk top. There were pens and pencils and paper clips and all manner of office supplies. But there were also three conductor batons!
Eureka! I grabbed one of the batons and put it in my tuxedo jacket pocket, closing the drawer. I went back around the desk headed for the door to the conductor’s office when I stopped in my tracks.
I suddenly remembered a high school symphonic band concert. I was sitting in my chair with my trumpet to my lips watching the band director as well as the music on the music stand when I saw a horrible thing. The band director’s baton came flying out of his hand. It went flying through the air and ended up hitting the back of the music stand of the oboe player. I was horrified but when I looked back at the band director he magically still had a baton in his hand directing his high school musicians.
Of course, I knew that it was not magic. I knew the band director kept a few batons in his inside jacket pocket. With no one noticing he had simply reached into his jacket pocket and quickly withdrew a new baton….. and kept on directing.
I went back around the desk and reopened that top drawer. I took the other two conductor batons from the drawer and put them also in my tuxedo jacket pocket. I suddenly felt way more confident. I had three conductor batons on me.
I left the conductor’s office and walked to the double doors leading to the corridor which lead to the stage of the concert hall. Before opening the doors I stopped and took a very deep breath. As part of being organized I checked everything. With the scores and programs in my right hand, I patted my tuxedo jacket and could feel the three batons in my pocket. I then looked down at my body to make sure that I was not naked. I still had on the tuxedo. With my free left hand I then grabbed my genitals and much to my relief I realized that they were back to their normal size.
I was ready even though I could not have been less ready. I had no idea what I was doing and I had no idea why I was doing it since I never volunteered to do it. But I realized that I had to do it. I had to.
I then realized that the only way I was going to pull this off was to utterly fake it. There was nothing else I could do. I had to not only fake it but fake it really well.
Taking another deep breath, I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was two minutes after eight o’clock. That was good. Being slightly late helps to build anticipation. Every good performer knows this.
I then opened the right door of the double doors leading into the hallway. I took another deep breath and stepped out into the corridor. Calmly, confidently and utterly resigned to, “whatever happens, happens,” I stepped forward and proceeded to the light at the end of the corridor.
And then my alarm clock went off and I woke up.
* * * * *
Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved.
