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- Growing Up Bronx
Recently I was approached by a music and club promoter who will remain unnamed, no free press for you pal. He invited me to perform at a local club here in Queens, and it really caught my interest. The venue looks really cool and I wanted in.
I wrote him on Facebook, and we exchanged phone numbers. A few days later he called me up and asked me if I wanted to do the show. I explained that I did and then he inundated me with information about the arrangement. I tried to catch everything, but he was just dropping way too much info on me.
At the end of it all, he says listen man, give me your stage name, and your home address and I’m going to get these tickets printed up for you. They’ll come to your home address and then you can begin selling them. I replied that I wasn’t clear on all the details and asked if he could recap everything for me in writing via email. He replied, well we usually just do things over the phone, that’s our way. Go ahead and give me your home address. I replied once again, I respect that, and I’d love to work with you guys, but I don’t feel comfortable giving my home address to someone that I just met over the phone. Please send me all of the details via email so that I may verify who I am dealing with.
Now he begins his attempt to intimidate and strong arm me. “Hey man, we do things our way, if you want to be part of this show, you gotta do it this way. It doesn’t sound like you want to be part of the show. You don’t wanna be on the show? That’s what it sounds like to me. So what’s up?”
He was starting to piss me off, the mere belief that his tone and method would work on me was a huge insult. I’m a Boricua who was raised in the South Bronx. I’ve had guns pointed at my face. Blades put on my neck. I’ve been jumped more than once in my life time. I went to boot camp. I survived several street gang initiations. Give me a break, homie. I kept my cool and I replied, you are right, it doesn’t sound like I want to be a part of this show. You expect me to give you my home address under this pretense that you are going to feature me at a show? Do I look like a doe eyed child to you, homie? Thank you for your time, and I hung up at that point.
Let me tell you something, I love to perform, and I’d love to get out there more. However, I will do it on my own terms, I will not bend over for you promoters. Your self appointed importance doesn’t mean a damn thing to me! Get the FOH!
Growing Up Bronx