Today marks the fifth anniversary of the end of a chapter in my life. It was the last day of my job as a classical music publicity assistant. The following week I began my career in the New York State courts system. I had spent almost seventeen years working for a woman who could be rather difficult at times. When I started working for her in 1987 she had a roster of over a dozen artists in the classical music field; none of them superstars but all active performers with good bookings and most with at least a few recordings to their credit. By the end she was down to one client with limited US engagements. It was a stroke of luck for me that the court opening came through when it did. Over the last few years of my employment I had been working only four, and finally three days a week. What happened was a combination of downturns in the music business, elimination of recording contracts and reduced bookings, plus the advancing age and deteriorating health of my employer. During the last five years she had two knee replacements, a kidney removal, hand surgery and constant pain from arthritis. I became more of a companion, accompanying her to doctor appointments, doing her grocery shopping and running errands. Client work came to take up a smaller portion of our activities.
Always a perfectionist, she went from rewriting my press releases to critiquing my selection of fruits and vegetables. She had been a tough boss while in the best of health; office staff generally averaged about six months with her. Health problems made her even crankier and I was eager to find another job. I interviewed with other firms in the music field, hoping my experience would secure some sort of job, but no other offers ever came through. For a while I worked part time at a record store, but that was another field headed the way of the dinosaurs.
When I finally got the offer of the court job it was a welcome rescue. But the parting was not pleasant. Even though she could no longer offer me full-time work, she resented my abandonment. I had hoped we could make our farewells in a civil fashion, especially after the long years of service I had given her, but she was brusque; "turn in your keys" and a snappish good-bye. I would never see her again. She died two years ago.
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