How a bit of business came from a little (un)pleasure . . .
Many of us It’s Pop! readers are familiar in part with Jimmy Sugden. Jimmy is a creative character who attracts a great deal of intriguing characters (such as myself) and somehow he manages to juggle wonderfully balanced relationships without breaking a sweat. His ability to fraternize with so many is enough to make any woman jealous (or question his up-bringing). However this is not centered around our Jimbo –no, no, no. This is about a friend of his, a band mate and opposite in character: Alton.
Now we all know Jimmy is rather nice all around and always has something useful (or so he assumes) to say, but Alton –ah, Alton– is a very different in nature. It was poor of me to un-assume that Jimmy would attract such a creature as fiercely opposite then him, yet there he was in all of his insult-ive and cynical misery. –I swear only his drums and wife keep him happy!– After a friendly hello, pleasantry hand shake and a customary exchanging of names, I found myself insulted by what at first seemed like a rude joke.
Problem was that although it was a joke, it was still rude.
On and on the quips continued as I grudgingly accepted that the boy –they are always boys, even when married. Us, women see this as a known fact– would have to be apart of my little circle if I wished to continue any sort of relationship with not only Jimmy, but also with his beautiful wife Peggy. Before too long the quips became full out insults to out of our way phone calls and then the inevitable happened; exchanging of blows.
You heard me, a fist fight.
It was a near pity that so few punches were thrown before we were pulled apart by the brave bystanders. Now, it is known fact that men hit harder then girls. Men are suppose to be the stronger gender physically, but when Alton finally laid a solid punch I did the only thing any woman would have done in my position.
I laughed.
Sure I felt bad, but the mere fact that he was nursing a wound and I had barely felt a sting let alone felt remotely concerned over any bruising on my face merited my amusement. If I had known that that was all he had then perhaps his tongue was the worst of it and I could live with that. Setting down to the side I got ice for Alton’s face trying not to laugh too much –I did not want to bruise the boys ego any worse than I already had—we started talking.
Perhaps it had been too easy for the both of us to slip into the uncivil behaviour as too often we, or at least I, have to in order to gain the positive reputation to get ahead in this crazy music business. Once the gloves were off, literally, we found it far easier to converse. Then the craziest thing happened. I mentioned that I found it hard to find places that were specific to our genre of music. You see, both Unhinged and The Principles are World Music bands, and in my weakened moral state I admitted that I wanted to start my own company to support the World Music genre in Melbourne.
Then Alton handed me a check, hand still holding the ice on his face, before I could barely say a word in protest. Shocked, I had one singular thought that overrode any other possible response.
“Why?”
“Seemed like a good idea.”
Thusly a company was born.
It just took a few punches to get there. . .Thanks Alton. You may punch like a girl, but I couldn’t ask for anything better than your friendship.
Published in Issue 223 of the Melbourne Edition.
