On being the "piano bitch"--a rant

Yes mom and dad, I'm aware that you may not enjoy the title of my post. But let's face it, there's really no other phrase that adequately fits the way I have been treated the past few days.

So I learned a Mormon lesson a very long time ago--never, ever, under any circumstances, let anyone in the church know that you play a musical instrument--ESPECIALLY the piano. This is an invitation for disaster my friends. Perhaps it works this way in all churches--I don't know, I've only had experience with one.

It started in my first singles ward post-high school graduation. Despite the fact that I knew nothing about the organ (yes, contrary to popular belief, it IS different from the piano), I was still called to be the ward organist. And I did it. It was important to me that the songs I played in this calling had to be those with which I was already familiar, as trying to learn a new instrument (with foot pedal notes!) was hard enough. Yet still, I came every Sunday. And most Sundays, without fail, the chorister would "mention" to me that she had "changed" some of the songs for the day. Bye-bye to a week of practice. Hello to sucking it up in front of 200 people as I try to sight read through a new song on an instrument that I don't really know.

Next came the calling to be the ward choir pianist in my university ward in Seattle. You would think that when scheduling a choir rehearsal, the pianist would be the FIRST person you would want to assure could be there--after all, you can't rehearse very well without the accompaniment. But time after time, I would only learn that there was a rehearsal the day that it was being held. Sometimes, if I was lucky, I would actually get the music a few days in advance. If I was really lucky, I'd have more than a days notice that we were performing in sacrament meeting. It was just assumed that I could make time for all of this--nevermind that I was attempting to be a decent student, and that I might have a lot of homework that day that I was planning on actually completing.

On to my latest experience. I had learned to keep my piano talents a secret--but the problem is, three couples from mine and Cameron's new ward helped move us in--and the piano was hard for them to miss. Inevitably, word got around. Fast forward to the Christmas season. My "visiting teacher" asked me if I wouldn't mind playing some songs for the "Night in Bethlehem" pageant thing that the ward is having this Saturday. I knew it was the day after finals ended, and I knew that I would be really busy and stressed this week, but I figured the music would probably be easy enough so as not to cause a problem. Besides, this woman who asked is actually very nice, and I do like her. So, I agreed. I know, it's my own fault.

So the woman actually taking care of this whole pageant (we'll call her Sister Smith) gives me three pieces of music two weeks ago. This is enough notice for me, and the music is simple enough. Then, last night. So, I'm studying for an extremely stressful final that I had this morning. A knock on the door. My visiting teacher. Just dropping off the music from Sister Smith in a helpful binder, rather than looseleaf. I thank her. Then, I look in the book. There are TWELVE pieces of music in that book. Wait, it's three days before the pageant and I'm supposed to learn NINE new pieces of music that no one bothered to tell me about whilst in the middle of finals week? What's that visiting teacher? There's also a rehearsal tomorrow? Wait, I have learn nine new pieces by TOMORROW? When I'm in the middle of studying for a final tonight? What's that? There's also a rehearsal Saturday that no one thought I was important enough to tell about?

Great.

Just great.