I want to spoon to my honey,
I'll croon love's tune...”
Rod was a tall, dark and handsome
romantic. He knew exactly how to serenade the crowd as he strummed his
guitar and sang in front of the local plaza. Those who appreciated his music
tossed coins into his guitar case. As soon as Rod saw ten dollars in his case,
he pocketed it immediately.
“You will never make a living in music,”
warned his father, a prominent lawyer. “You need a real job.” Rod’s father was embarrassed.
His son did not have a summer job. In fact, he did not have a job in the fall,
winter or spring, either. His life was his music.
“Other musicians have
succeeded,” Rod argued.
His father became adamant about
him compiling a resume and lining up job interviews. “You are an embarrassment to
our family. No one in our family has ever been a musician. We are lawyers.”
“Music has to be in my genes
somewhere, Dad.”
“Maybe, it is on your mother’s
side!” Rod’s father grew angrier by
the day. His son was eighteen and a high school graduate who had no plans for
the immediate future. He wanted his son to be a prominent member of his law firm. “You either come up with a
positive, constructive, business
plan for your music by the
end of the summer, or find another place to live!”
Rod was stunned, but knew his
father was serious. He had no idea where to start with respect to creating a
business plan, but suddenly, he had an idea.
“I’ll talk to the bank
manager.” Rod had deposited all of
his money in the bank, on a weekly basis.
“You have done well, son,” said
the bank manager when Rod explained his plight. He had earned enough money to
pay his full tuition into a college music program. The bank manager handed Rod a
business plan cd. “Look at this, then come back and
talk to me. You are going to succeed.”
By the end of the day, Rod had
registered his own music business and placed an application at college.
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