Clever Magazine, The Country Singer (www.clevermag.com)

Wanna read the latest from Clever Magazine?
Click here and return to the coverpage!

The Country Singer
(or one way to survive a performance review)

by Hal Reichardt

Once a year, at performance review time, my boss undergoes a strange metamorphosis from a suburban supervisor into an amateur country singer. He starts coming to work dressed all in black like Johnny Cash and spends the whole day strumming his guitar and singing sad country music songs in
his office.

I know reviews are stressful all around, but even the kindest critics caution against someone with a voice like Michael Bolton trying to sing "Because you're mine, I walk the line."

I'd rather hear my boss singing "Drop Kick Me Jesus Through the Goal Posts of Life" than warbling along with the misconception that I only work for him. Let's get on a positive tack here. I'm working for the common good, the brotherhood of man, and the collective enterprise. I know that includes my boss but I try not to focus on the things I can't change. I just keep him informed once in a while about how hard I'm working to harmonize with a higher authority.

Not all country music is sad, but my boss seems to favor those songs about lost loves and lonely roads on the wrong side of town.

I like the upbeat country sound better. To counteract the assault of "somebody done somebody wrong" songs, I brought in a tape deck to sing along with at work. Now it's the battle of the country music songs all day. When my boss strolls by my cubicle singing that Johnny Cash stuff, I come back with "On the Road Again" by Willie Nelson just to remind him that I could be out of there in a banjo beat if somebody doesn't change his tune.

That usually puts him in a Glenn Campbell kind of mood, which means I have to brace myself for a spin through another rendition of "The Wichita Lineman" (Toto, we are in Kansas!). I know he's just trying to get through to me, but there's nothing worse than a sappy country song. I'm not on that line.

That's when I reach for the roots of country, some good old bluegrass music. When it comes to poor communication there is nothing quite like a few rounds of "Foggy Mountain Breakdown" to get my point across. Even my boss seems to like that one. I suppose he has to concede that communication is frequently an uncertain enterprise, even in the best offices.

Bluegrass music doesn't always slow him down though. After Flatt and Scruggs livens up the atmosphere for a while it's a sure bet that my boss will go straight to the high lonesome sound of the original blade of grass that's blue, Bill Monroe. The mandolin goes better with his squeaky voice
than that guitar, so at this point I know we're making progress. If I could only keep him on Bill Monroe. But no. Once we're into the soulful side of bluegrass there's no stopping him until he gets all the way down to the river with Doc Watson. Flat picking his way through the day, my boss usually ends up hanging his head right along with Tom Dooley.

The only way out of that funk is to segue straight into a few Dolly Parton tunes, and I'm not just talking about "Nine to Five," although that is a good one. My boss may be brazen about some things but he's not crazy enough to try and get Dolly down. In fact, Dolly Parton has such a neutralizing effect on him that I'm thinking about putting a scarecrow with a big, blond wig in my cubicle to keep him at bay, at least until review time is over.

If things don't go my way on the review I'm heading out of town with Willie, posting a phone message in Wichita, and leaving Dolly at my desk as a decoy. I'm going to get a belt buckle bigger than my belly and find an audience that appreciates good music. It's a big country and I've just got to sing.