—by Heather Hills

My first gig was a birthday party on Long Island, three hours away from my home in rural New Jersey. I had never moved the harp by myself before, but I was brimming with all the eager confidence of the young and inexperienced.

It was pouring rain the day of the gig, but I was dressed and ready half an hour early and feeling great until the light failed to come on when I opened the car door. Sure enough, the battery was dead. Trying not to panic, I grabbed the phone to call my parents, who were traveling out of state. “Hi, Dad. How do you jump-start a car?”

My dad walked me through the process over the phone while my mom hid in the next room, trying not to listen as he warned me not to spray battery acid in my face. She urged me to ask our neighbor for help, but considering he had gotten stuck in a tree for four hours earlier that summer until we got him down, I suspected I was better off on my own. 

Trotting between my family’s two cars in my gown and high heels, I succeeded in reviving the harpmobile. Next, I got the harp safely down the steps and into the car despite the torrential rain. Now half an hour late, I was ready to go.

After three hours of driving through the ceaseless downpour, I arrived at the venue. Due to the rain, the party had been moved under a banquet tent with hardly room enough for the tables, let alone the harp. I found the only available corner, set up, and began to play. 

Ten minutes in, I felt a small stream of water pour down onto my head. I looked up to discover that I was sitting under a weak point where the tarps met. They gradually filled with water, which would unload on me at regular intervals. It wasn’t long before I had a black puddle on my skirt from the mascara now running down my face. I was beginning to feel seriously underpaid. 

When it was over, the birthday girl thanked me profusely for my performance, although she admitted hearing almost nothing over the rain pounding on the top of the tent.

Since that first gig, I have learned the importance of contracts, how to load my own harp, and how to value my own services. Still, I have never returned to Long Island.