Below you will find an email I sent to my department head regarding a scenario I encountered at work. I wrote the email partly out of exasperation at my ineptitude and frustration that this event was unforeseen and unprepared for. I have changed the names of those involved for a variety of reasons. I hope you enjoy.
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Tim,
With much excitement I received a visit from Customer Bob and his wife last night. After an entertaining round of "Where's Dueco" via the telephone, Bob arrived. Resplendent in his flannel shirt and blue jeans, Bob explained that he had spoken with parts sales earlier in the day and was informed that if he made the pilgrimage from home he would be able to match up and purchase a PTO Flange and a hydraulic pump from Dueco Inc. He was also led to believe that paying for the merchandise with cash would present no problem. Being the eager to please parts guy I am, I bounded off to match up pump and PTO flange. I succeeded in finding both parts much to Bob’s delight.
However, when it came time to process the monetary aspects of this transaction, it became woefully clear that I have no Idea how to calculate sales tax for someone from out of state. Proceedings were further hampered by the fact that I was completely unable to make change. My mind raced as I tried to find the $5.72 Earl needed to satisfy the mathematical arm of our encounter. I strode into the office and went to the first door I saw which was Co Worker A’s office. It was she who offered the suggestion of getting change from Co Worker B’s Slush Fund. I headed back to our patiently awaiting customer, change in hand. We completed our transaction and I wished him a safe and direct trip home with one of my business cards and some literature about Dueco Inc.
The funds ($1000 cash) and Hand written order for Bob is in your locked drawer with the Key for Upstairs. I’m sure you have found it already. Please be sure that B receives the $5.72 we owe her. Next week I would like to address the elements of this experience which I have yet to master like sales tax and change availability. I hope you have a grand weekend.
Sincerely,
Dueco Inc.
Chris Koterba
Parts Coordinator
Your source for
Telelect, Hi-Ranger & Stelco parts
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
A Moment of Sound
Last year, my girlfriend told me she had a surprise for me as an early anniversary gift. I waited in suspense for over a week until the day came. June 21st 2008, a Saturday, we got into her car and headed into Milwaukee. On the way there I began to have suspicions about where we were going due to a billboard we passed. My suspicions were confirmed. She had gotten us tickets to see Les Paul perform at a celebration for his 93rd birthday. I was speechless, not to mention excited.
My introduction to Les Paul was typical of my age group. One of my guitar heroes, Slash, is known for playing Les Paul guitars. At some point my dad told me that the guitar was named for its creator. We went to the library, this was before the internet and Youtube was likely something you’d only find in Porno store, and checked out a couple of his records. That’s right, records. I first heard Les Paul like many of his fans did, on vinyl. I didn’t know what to make of what I heard but I liked it and listen to them several times before returning them to the library. As I grew up I learned just how much he influenced the music I loved and the industry that helped create it.
We made our way to our seats in the Pabst Theater and the excitement grew. We were way up in the seating but even then we had great seats and could see very well. The lights dimmed and the crowd roared and Mr. Paul came out, got in his chair and blew my mind! I have seen countless times footage of people crying hysterically whilst their favorite musical group was performing and never really understood it. I still don’t. I will tell you, and I am sharing a very personal moment with you friends, throughout the first set I was continuously plagued with a lump in my throat and a blur to my vision. I can’t explain why I was as moved as I was but it seemed like I was touched by greatness and gifted with a sense of joy the likes of which I really have never felt before. Maybe it was seeing a legend, or hearing a 93 year old man play with a love for music that flowed from fingers shaped like the roots of an ancient bonsai tree, or it could have been the smile on his face, a smile that cold warm the soul in the heart of the coldest winter. I think it was this; I was in a large room filled with happy people all focused on one thing; music.
As we left that night, I was buzzing slightly from head to toe. We were walking back toward Mel’s car when I noticed that one of the buildings near the theater had its windows filled with colored plastic and that when seen at the right angle created the shape of a Les Paul guitar. I was the first one on the side walk to notice it and my exclamation, although maybe not as polite as was called for, drew the attention of many others in the area and soon cell phones and cameras were flashing away.
I am so entirely thankful to my sweet Mel for giving me memories I will cherish forever. So I offer this suggestion, in Mr. Paul’s memory, choose some of your favorite songs and listen to them and enjoy them with your whole self. I believe that is what he would want.
I solute you Les Paul.
Thank You
My introduction to Les Paul was typical of my age group. One of my guitar heroes, Slash, is known for playing Les Paul guitars. At some point my dad told me that the guitar was named for its creator. We went to the library, this was before the internet and Youtube was likely something you’d only find in Porno store, and checked out a couple of his records. That’s right, records. I first heard Les Paul like many of his fans did, on vinyl. I didn’t know what to make of what I heard but I liked it and listen to them several times before returning them to the library. As I grew up I learned just how much he influenced the music I loved and the industry that helped create it.
We made our way to our seats in the Pabst Theater and the excitement grew. We were way up in the seating but even then we had great seats and could see very well. The lights dimmed and the crowd roared and Mr. Paul came out, got in his chair and blew my mind! I have seen countless times footage of people crying hysterically whilst their favorite musical group was performing and never really understood it. I still don’t. I will tell you, and I am sharing a very personal moment with you friends, throughout the first set I was continuously plagued with a lump in my throat and a blur to my vision. I can’t explain why I was as moved as I was but it seemed like I was touched by greatness and gifted with a sense of joy the likes of which I really have never felt before. Maybe it was seeing a legend, or hearing a 93 year old man play with a love for music that flowed from fingers shaped like the roots of an ancient bonsai tree, or it could have been the smile on his face, a smile that cold warm the soul in the heart of the coldest winter. I think it was this; I was in a large room filled with happy people all focused on one thing; music.
As we left that night, I was buzzing slightly from head to toe. We were walking back toward Mel’s car when I noticed that one of the buildings near the theater had its windows filled with colored plastic and that when seen at the right angle created the shape of a Les Paul guitar. I was the first one on the side walk to notice it and my exclamation, although maybe not as polite as was called for, drew the attention of many others in the area and soon cell phones and cameras were flashing away.
I am so entirely thankful to my sweet Mel for giving me memories I will cherish forever. So I offer this suggestion, in Mr. Paul’s memory, choose some of your favorite songs and listen to them and enjoy them with your whole self. I believe that is what he would want.
I solute you Les Paul.
Thank You
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Trivia
1. My Favorite number is 42. For the reason why this is, please read “The Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy” by Douglas Adams.
2. I have worn steel toed Boots since 10th grade. At the time I wore them for going to concerts so my feet didn’t get stomped on in mosh pits, plus I like the style. Now I wear them because they are required by my employer, plus I like the style.
3. I am left handed but play the guitar in the traditional right handed method. There are many things in which I am ambidextrous but I am a proud South Paw.
4. I cannot kneel down on my left knee to tie my shoe. I always end up falling over. I have no idea why.
5. I was born in October of 1974 and moved to Wisconsin when I was nine in 1986. I started working at my currant job at Dueco in May of 1996 which means I have spent over half of my life in Wisconsin working for Dueco Inc.
6. I have a phobia of Bees and Hornets and Wasps and such even though I am not seriously allergic to them.
7. I have dreams with a reoccurring theme; I always end up getting shot.
8. I once performed with Bluefire in a chicken house that was cleaned out in order to hold a party.
9. I have never smoked anything in my life, however; I believe a smoking ban is an unconstitutional and grievous intrusion of the government on private business owners.
10. I don’t have a problem with homosexual people getting married
2. I have worn steel toed Boots since 10th grade. At the time I wore them for going to concerts so my feet didn’t get stomped on in mosh pits, plus I like the style. Now I wear them because they are required by my employer, plus I like the style.
3. I am left handed but play the guitar in the traditional right handed method. There are many things in which I am ambidextrous but I am a proud South Paw.
4. I cannot kneel down on my left knee to tie my shoe. I always end up falling over. I have no idea why.
5. I was born in October of 1974 and moved to Wisconsin when I was nine in 1986. I started working at my currant job at Dueco in May of 1996 which means I have spent over half of my life in Wisconsin working for Dueco Inc.
6. I have a phobia of Bees and Hornets and Wasps and such even though I am not seriously allergic to them.
7. I have dreams with a reoccurring theme; I always end up getting shot.
8. I once performed with Bluefire in a chicken house that was cleaned out in order to hold a party.
9. I have never smoked anything in my life, however; I believe a smoking ban is an unconstitutional and grievous intrusion of the government on private business owners.
10. I don’t have a problem with homosexual people getting married
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Run Away!!
I remember playing a gig with Bluefire at a friend’s house in Janesville. It was for their 4th of July party and we were set up in a tent in the orchard in their backyard. They had a kiddie pool full of bottles of beer and a fridge full of Jell-O shots. They had also gone to Illinois and bought fireworks in the amount of several hundred dollars and had quite a show prepared. We would start playing about 7:30 PMish and were going to play until sundown. Then the fireworks display and then finish playing until we got tired or the cops were called.
It was an outside gig so there are all sorts of things you have to deal with. The main issue was of course the weather. The sky had some clouds but nothing that looked sinister. The forecast called for scattered showers, which I think they say when they are even less sure of what’s going to happen then usual. Of course three songs into the set it starts to sprinkle. Nothing you could call a shower or even drizzle, just a light, brief, smatter of water from a cloud that was walking to fast with a cup that was too full. We didn’t even stop playing. It lasted maybe 10 minutes. I had been struggling with hay fever all day and was glad for the moisture hoping it would knock down some of the pollen so I wouldn’t have to keep slamming down antihistamines just to make it through the show.
Their property stretched for several acres and they often employed an old golf cart to travel around the grounds. As I mentioned before there was a considerable buffet of alcohol to be had and it was flowing with much ease so when I saw the golf cart hurtling toward the tent we were playing in I became concerned and looked for an escape exit. I have some strange gig stories but being run over while playing “Pink Cadillac” by a drunken golf cart driver in an orchard would be one of the top ones. The driver managed to slide to a “Blues Brothers” style stop and inform us that they would be starting the fireworks in about 15 minutes and that I should make an announcement to that fact and also that I wasn’t nearly drunk enough yet. I told him I would make the announcement, watch the fireworks and proceed to drink myself into a pickled corpse like state. He gave me the thumbs up and careened off into the orchard. In fact, I had not intentions of having anymore alcohol that night because I wanted to drive home to my own bed and sleep away the allergies that had been the bane of my day, but there is no arguing with a drunk, just smile and send them on their way. We made the announcement and grabbed a seat to watch the display. From where we were, we could just make out the site where things were set up; four little figures moving around quite a large banquet of explosives. It’s at this point when I thought about the potential interaction of inebriation and explosives, but there was not a lot I could do except hope for the best.
The first few shots were wonderful, giant, brilliant flowers blooming in the sky. I think it was the fifth or sixth shot we saw the flare of the torch and the fizzle of the fuse and then a little “foop” followed by distant cries of “run away!” “Run away!” It appears as thought our little rain shower disagreed with firework that were already set in place when it happened.
So here is the situation; there are several drunk people standing near a pile of fireworks that have been dampened to where it is unknown if they will light right away, not light at all or stall out and then explode. In the end everything turned out fine. Most of the fireworks went off with out a hitch and if one did “foop” out the guys would scatter and wait to see what would happen and if they remained dormant the guys would proceed with the next show. After the show, they came roaring back on the golf cart to a huge round of applause and the rest of the evening was spattered with cries of “Run Awaaaaayyy!!”
We finished out gig around 1 AM when I no longer could even sing. We packed up the gear and headed on home. Almost everyone there stayed and camped out or slept where they landed but I wanted my shower and bed. And that’s what I got, in addition to a pretty good story.
It was an outside gig so there are all sorts of things you have to deal with. The main issue was of course the weather. The sky had some clouds but nothing that looked sinister. The forecast called for scattered showers, which I think they say when they are even less sure of what’s going to happen then usual. Of course three songs into the set it starts to sprinkle. Nothing you could call a shower or even drizzle, just a light, brief, smatter of water from a cloud that was walking to fast with a cup that was too full. We didn’t even stop playing. It lasted maybe 10 minutes. I had been struggling with hay fever all day and was glad for the moisture hoping it would knock down some of the pollen so I wouldn’t have to keep slamming down antihistamines just to make it through the show.
Their property stretched for several acres and they often employed an old golf cart to travel around the grounds. As I mentioned before there was a considerable buffet of alcohol to be had and it was flowing with much ease so when I saw the golf cart hurtling toward the tent we were playing in I became concerned and looked for an escape exit. I have some strange gig stories but being run over while playing “Pink Cadillac” by a drunken golf cart driver in an orchard would be one of the top ones. The driver managed to slide to a “Blues Brothers” style stop and inform us that they would be starting the fireworks in about 15 minutes and that I should make an announcement to that fact and also that I wasn’t nearly drunk enough yet. I told him I would make the announcement, watch the fireworks and proceed to drink myself into a pickled corpse like state. He gave me the thumbs up and careened off into the orchard. In fact, I had not intentions of having anymore alcohol that night because I wanted to drive home to my own bed and sleep away the allergies that had been the bane of my day, but there is no arguing with a drunk, just smile and send them on their way. We made the announcement and grabbed a seat to watch the display. From where we were, we could just make out the site where things were set up; four little figures moving around quite a large banquet of explosives. It’s at this point when I thought about the potential interaction of inebriation and explosives, but there was not a lot I could do except hope for the best.
The first few shots were wonderful, giant, brilliant flowers blooming in the sky. I think it was the fifth or sixth shot we saw the flare of the torch and the fizzle of the fuse and then a little “foop” followed by distant cries of “run away!” “Run away!” It appears as thought our little rain shower disagreed with firework that were already set in place when it happened.
So here is the situation; there are several drunk people standing near a pile of fireworks that have been dampened to where it is unknown if they will light right away, not light at all or stall out and then explode. In the end everything turned out fine. Most of the fireworks went off with out a hitch and if one did “foop” out the guys would scatter and wait to see what would happen and if they remained dormant the guys would proceed with the next show. After the show, they came roaring back on the golf cart to a huge round of applause and the rest of the evening was spattered with cries of “Run Awaaaaayyy!!”
We finished out gig around 1 AM when I no longer could even sing. We packed up the gear and headed on home. Almost everyone there stayed and camped out or slept where they landed but I wanted my shower and bed. And that’s what I got, in addition to a pretty good story.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
At the show
I recently played a gig at The Rave. I’ve played there two times previously, once with Bluefire as pre-show entertainment for Collective Soul and once with Tankapillars in a Battle of the Bands (which we took 2nd place). This time I played a solo show, just me and my guitar. The set list was as follows;
1. Broken Glass Slippers – Chris Koterba/Spendthrift Sai
2. Long Black Veil – Lefty Frizzel
3. In The Air Tonight – Phil Collins
4. Tattoo of a Killer – Chris Koterba/Spendthrift Sai
5. Old – Chris Koterba/Bluefire
6. Living Life – Daniel Johnston
The show went well aside from some difficulties with the sound. I was having a good time. And I got some good response from the audience.
When I perform, I can only concentrate on the song a certain amount or I will screw up the song. My mind is of the sort that often during the song I will daydream or plan the next bit of improve between tunes or something in the room will catch my attention. As it happened I was distracted by the sound from the P.A. and monitors during most of the set but it occurred to me that I actually performed the song “Old” with Bluefire when we played there. “Old” is a heavy song in its original form. There are lots of pounding drums and overdriven guitars and anger emanating from this song about a man who finds his wife cheating on him and flies into a murderous rampage. It is one of the better tunes I have written and, performed in its original form, can be quite a memorable song.
I look back at the Bluefire gig at The Rave and smile. It seemed every song we played lasted for about 167 years and yet the performance was over in about 3.5 seconds flat. It was such an intense gig because everyone in the band had always come to The Rave to see bands we loved and now here we were, playing in the same building that many of our hero’s had played. I briefly attempted to share this with the audience but quickly realized that it would take considerable more time than I had left on stage and that, moreover, most of the people there wouldn’t care.
I finished the gig and was happy I got through it with out too much hassle. I like playing shows. I like getting a set together. I like playing the gig and seeing people react to something I’m doing and I like it when it ends. I walk off stage or set my guitar down one last time and I have a new set of memories and some potential new stories to share. It is something I look forward to doing as long as I can.
Photo by Mel Vyvyan
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