The $1.98 Opera Circuit Revisited: 21st Century Communications and Trending

Those of you who have known me for a lllllooooonnnnnnnggggg time may remember the series of articles I wrote in the late 1980s and early 1990s, called “Singing on the $1.98 Opera Circuit.” These articles were all about young opera singers starving for our art, as we built up our resumés. Wacky things seemed to happen in every production (opera company sued by blind bass player, citing discrimination against the visually impaired; three conductors in a row come down with pneumonia before opening night of the show; rehearsal space burns down after volunteers throw linseed rags in a container on the hottest day of the year… stuff like that), and it seemed only right to document these happenings.

I may have those original articles somewhere, but here is a new one. And I mean NEW.

This is a story from a friend of a friend.

This friend of a friend sang for an event, and one of the other singers came up to her afterward. “I love your voice,” this lady enthused, “I would love to talk to you about this classical music group I am trying to put together.” The friend thanked the woman and said she would enjoy speaking to her about it, at some point; she didn’t have a business card handy. The woman said, “oh, that’s okay; I can get your email address from the conductor.”

My friend thought nothing more about it. Weeks passed, busy and full of adventure, heartache or whatever.

Suddenly, from out of the blue, a Doodle poll message appeared in this friend’s email inbox. The poll was requesting that people fill in dates to meet about a new Opera Company. My friend gazed at the many people who had been sent the email in utter bewilderment: reviewers, composers, directors, and singers were among the people whose names and email addresses she could identify. My friend, being rather busy at the time, decided not to respond; she and the woman organizing this new “classical music group” hadn’t actually had a conversation. If my friend had known the venture was an opera company, she would have declined immediately because of the huge amount of travel that would be involved, and the number of other projects she was involved with. She figured that if she did not respond to this unsolicited poll, the non-response would be understood as meaning “I’m not interested.”

Well, reminder messages started coming in. As well as messages from a messaging service that requested the information of the recipient in order to read the incoming message. My friend didn’t really want to be receiving ever more communications from yet another message service, and with the recent hacking incidents occurring across the entire spectrum of retail and other computer network services, she didn’t want to give her information out to one she had never heard of that had “terms of service” small print. So, she was never able to read the additional messages.

Finally, another email, addressed to slightly different huge group of people, arrived in her inbox. This message contained a rebuke to everyone because they had not answered the request for Doodle poll responses.

“‘If you do not fill out the doodle pool, I may have to start calling monthly mandatory meetings,’ was the officious threat.”

“You’re kidding! But,” I said, as we were talking about this over coffee, “you hadn’t agreed to do anything, had you?”

“No!” she said, “I never spoke to the woman prior to getting spammed.”

“Wow.”

“I am not the only one irritated. One of the reviewers who had been among the group emailed replied to everyone, asking how could they get off this list, as requests to be deleted from it had gone unanswered.”

The three of us had our heads together, but fell silent. There was quiet coffee sipping. The whole thing was just too ridiculous.

“So, finally, I did respond to one of the emails, saying I could not commit to anything, at this time. I figured it would all stop, after that.”

“I gather it didn’t?” I asked.

“Well, she wrote me back, telling me she would keep my name, and to let her know when I was available.”

“So, what are you going to do, now?” asked my friend.

“I was hoping you could give me some ideas… See, I just got another email with the ‘company roster’ attached. I am listed as a ‘comprimario.’”

“No way!”

“Yes!”

“But, you never, like, auditioned or signed a contract or anything…”

“Nothing. And now I don’t want to get near this thing with a ten-foot poll. If the gal running it is so pushy with all these unwanted communications, I cannot even imagine actually working with her.”

“I don’t get it…”

“Well, I think she is trying to validate her start-up by including the names of people who have a presence in the music community. I mean, I think I am being used…”

“Sort of a weird compliment. Geez…”

“I don’t think I can get off the list! And I am worried that being on it will come back to haunt me, at some point. I mean, what if this group is bad or a scam or something?”

“Crazy! Most of the time, we are trying to get on a list, somewhere… I don’t know what to tell you. This is really the most bizarre thing I have ever heard of.”

“Maybe I should fill out the Doodle poll, make myself unavailable for all the proposed dates?”

“That might just mean you’d be required to come to mandatory meetings.”

We laughed.

But really, although this is a joke, it isn’t funny.

Meditations in Fast Times: 40. We may come out of the desert

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others. This entry completes the series.

                40.

We may come out of the desert
or down from the mountain
thinking the end is the end,
but truly I say unto you:
the end is only the beginning.

From the time we are born,
we learn about sound.
By forming words
and attaching meanings,
by the twin arts
of speaking and singing,
we experiment in order
to discover the ways in which
words can be formulated, just so,
to make bridges
that connect
every last to every next,
binding past to future
by way of now.

We hope to speak properly
—just as we hope every bridge we build
will be firmly welded and bolted—
with phrases begun and completed
properly, meaningfully, even tunefully.

Even so,
despite all best intentions and pronouncements,
the avalanche will fall,
the boat will sink,
the plane will crash,
the land will slide,
and in each case
the dead go before us.

We hope that they help
to prepare a place for us;
truly, that is faith
—and that is how time is both timeless
and redeemed,
for it never ends.

This can never end,
our seeking and our striving;
our experience here is everything,
even when nothing can come of it.

Every path to elsewhere leads nowhere,
leads home;
home is where we start from
and where we return.

While we are about it,
whatever it is,
there is always the chance
that the earth will quake,
that the stone shackle
will be cast aside,
and an Angel will appear,
saying that all shall be well.

The Angel would be right,
of course,
for the Angel’s voice
is the voice of God
telling us that,
in the end,
there is no end.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 39. I am torn open

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others. This is the penultimate poem of the cycle.

                39.

I am torn open,
The land is shaking;

mend me from my fears,
for all is quaking.

I look around me,
among the rubble of the place,
this is a community, this is home;
the people here have risen together here,
not all of us brilliant, rich or even nice,
but determined here to be,
united in this time and this space,
unwilling to accept defeat, to roam
aimless, beaten, to descend wholly into vice;
disasters help us to see.

The land is torn open,
the whole world is shaking;

save us from our fears,
for all is quaking.

I think of a King,
of three or more touched by Art,
plying their peculiar genius to some service,
uniting despite the challenges of time and division,
of places remembered, re-visioned, restored;
I hear a bell ring,
calling each of us to take some part,
in making or renewing bonds, soothing the nervous,
returning things to rights with care and precision,
finding and cherishing places we thought we’d explored.

We are all torn open,
all the buildings are shaking;

guide us from our fears,
while all is quaking.

We bury the dead,
but we cannot stop while others lie dying,
we must keep calm and carry on the healing,
finding new protocols, building better systems,
because we cannot go back;
it has all been said,
if we say we have not heard it, we are lying,
the life in our care is not for wanton stealing,
yet despite our miserable failures, still glistens,
with vitality even we cannot crack.

Our gates are torn open,
but all has stopped shaking;

Let us dry our tears,
and serve our remaking.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen 

Meditations in Fast Times: 38. We all walk this path

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                38.

We all walk this path,
The blood in our veins dances
As we follow the stars;
Each pattern is a math
Of blind schemes and chances,
Of discovery solely ours.

We seek the still,
Where at the still point
There might be peace
Within which to find will
To withstand all disappoint,
To accept a final cease.

Where have we been?
It is difficult to say;
Perhaps we are the place
Where there is no sin,
Only experience may
Mark our path and face.

We watch one we love
Ascend the final tree;
Sacrifice does not mar
The healing of the Dove,
It is here for all to see,
Being reconciled to the Star.

Freedom and release,
Both time and timeless,
Past and future join now,
Where the only timepiece,
Is being, explicitly ceaseless
—Only truth hangs from the bough.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 36. If you apply for this job

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                37.


                                      If you apply for this job,

Regardless of your qualifications, you are starting from nowhere,
In any moment of any day, in any season, for any reason.
It will always be like this: you will be put off, or if hired, it is a case of

We own you, now. You are not here to verify,

Instruct yourself, inform curiosity, be truly helpful

Or carry report. For minimum wage, you are here to kneel;
Our control of you has been made completely valid. And work is less

Than a reasoned order of protocol, the conscious occupation
Of the intelligent mind, or the skillfully measured speech.
With you, the dead are speechless; While living,

They could have warned you. Being dead, their frustration is

Sympathetically felt far beyond the language of the living.
Here, the timeless witness of the witless moment

Is everywhere and nowhere, never and always, endless.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 35. The Lord GOD set a seal

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                35.

The Lord GOD set a seal

Upon this, my trembling heart;

Beneath such healing hands, I feel

Compassion and love—the Healer's art

—Resolving this turmoil and tangle apart.

Healed from confusion back to ease
By the touch of this Master Nurse

Whose constant care is to bring release,

From those bitter dreams that threaten to curse,

And to insure our sickness not grow worse;

We realize the earth is our hospital,

Fostered by the careless billionaire,

Who would prefer it if we take ill and fall,

To succumb to an expensive paternal care

That persist in costing the highest fees anywhere.

Warmth ascends from feet to heart,

The healed soul, moved by gratitude, inspires
Those who seek better ways and art
Than what the billionaire’s business requires,

Adding to the ranks of the healthy by building tuneful choirs.

Wine, mixed with fresh water, to drink,

Organic produce and homemade bread for food,

In spite all we have been told to think,

We are more sound, and more enhanced is our mood
—But we are more aware now, how dis-ease is brewed.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Privacy Matters: Hot On the Trail of Ms. Gloria A—!

When my husband and I settled in the small community where we now live, we got new phone numbers. This was the year 1999, and cell phone usage was not as ubiquitous; most people still had landlines. We each got separate lines because my husband uses the phone much more than I do, and experience had already shown that I would end up being a de facto secretary.

I had already experienced many phone calls such as this: “Do you know where he is? I need to speak to him right now about…” Most of the time, I could not help such callers. Things improved a bit after he got a cell phone; at least I was able to call him to let him know someone needed to speak to him right now.

So, now that we were married and settled into our new home, we each had (and still have) our separate lines. We also have cell phones.

When we got our land lines, little did we know that my husband had actually signed up to be harassed by phone, daily.

The quarry is actually not my husband, but one Gloria A—, and her overdue account is quite old, being as, apparently, she had my husband’s number before my husband did.

The calls started coming in almost immediately. Messages were left on the answering machine. Call immediately to clear up this complaint!

My husband dutifully called the number. He explained to the person who answered the phone that he was the new owner of this phone number, was obviously not Gloria A—, and please stop calling.

The man on the other end of the line asked, “Do you know Gloria A—?”

“No,” my husband patiently answered, “we just moved here.”

The man then got surly, “Well, we have found that people who say they don’t know the people we are looking for really do know them.”

“This number may have been hers before, but we moved to this house and the phone company gave me this number; it is mine now.” My husband tried to reason.

The man persisted, “Can you tell me how to get in touch with Gloria A—?”

“Look,” my husband said, “I am telling you that I do not know Gloria A— and you don’t believe me. If I were to now suddenly say I know Gloria A—, would you believe me, then? This is my new phone number, and I have nothing to do with this. Please stop calling.”

And so it is that the calls have been coming regularly, between 9am and 10am, every morning. My husband tried several times to get this to stop, to no avail. So, we screen the calls and let the answering machine collect the useless messages.

Although the calls originally may have come from one company, they are now coming from another company. I’ll tell you the name of this company because they are quite notorious, and they will probably think of it as publicity: Debt Recovery Solutions. This company specializes in what are known as “zombie debts,” that is debts that have gone uncollected from other debt collection agencies. These other agencies have given up but, believe it or not, they sell these uncollectable accounts, rather like the old junk bonds the banks used to sell, to much more sleazy operations down the debt collection food chain.

Most often, “zombie debts” are old phone accounts, or book and music club accounts that went delinquent ages ago. And I mean, these debts are really old, quite often more than 8 years old. Many times, these are not even legitimate claims—the debt had either actually been paid and not properly posted, or was subsequently cleared, but the debt file still exists because it was sold to this other operation, having never been properly cleared up. These accounts are all beyond the statute of limitations.

Debt Recovery Solutions leaves at least one message on my husband’s answering machine, every day.  We have received messages from actual people, telling us to call a toll free 877 number. Sometimes, however, the message is a prerecorded one, saying “Hello, this call is about a debt collection. We need you to return this call immediately. If you are—” and here there is an abrupt cut in by different mechanical voice, “Gloria A—” which then cuts back to the original mechanical voice, “please press 1 now. If you are not,” cuts again, “Gloria A—” cut, “please press 2 now and stay on the line.”

Really?! If you were Gloria A—, would you accept such an invitation? And if you are not Gloria A—, but somehow foolish enough to press 2 and stay on the line, I wonder what will happen? I suspect you will just be signing yourself up to continue to be harangued by some abusive nitwit for years, because you obviously are in cahoots with Gloria A—. What I know for certain is that pressing 2 and staying on the line will not be a way to get them to stop calling you.

And, so the calls and messages have continued, even unto the present day.

At a certain point, the National Do Not Call Registry came into being (in 2004, after a court challenge), and we registered our numbers right away, thinking this might solve the problem. Unfortunately, this does not solve the problem. Collection agencies and Charities are still allowed to call any number they want. And I think that carpet cleaning companies are also somehow allowed, although they shouldn’t be; perhaps they are illegally registered as charities. But it doesn’t matter; the unwanted calls continue.

Debt Recovery Solutions is the end of the line for zombie debts, I suspect. They have managed to bully many people into paying them money that should not be paid to them. The hapless victims think this will get these bottom feeders off their backs. Unfortunately, nothing could be further from the truth, as you can see by doing a simple search on the web. Debt Recovery Solutions is a prize bully. Known for putting dings on credit ratings, this company cannot be reached with certified cease and desist letters, and you cannot fight them through the legal system, apparently.

Legally, you are entitled to at least $1000.00 if a case goes to court and you are innocent. But guess what? You will have to hire a lawyer, and guess what, there are tons of bottom feeding attorneys out there who specialize in this kind of litigation. (Perhaps these attorneys are actually clandestine employees of the debt collection agencies, themselves, and this whole racket is a system that is self-perpetuating.) And I have read, among the many consumer complaints I found online, that even if you can contact the company, bring them to court and prove your case, the dings stay on your credit record, are not removed. Somehow, the company cannot be compelled to clear things up. Seven years of bad credit luck ensues.

Where does this leave us, with regard to truth, justice and matters of privacy? The only conclusion one can come to is that There Is No Such Thing As Privacy and your life is irrevocably open to such unwanted intrusions. Companies like this are an untraceable menace, seeming to exist beyond the arms of a legal system that really doesn’t care to bother with protecting consumers from phone harassment.

My husband and I consider, from time to time, giving up the phone number. He mostly uses his smart phone now. We do get many calls on this landline, from people who have known us for a long time, from family, friends and neighbors. We have never met Gloria A—; as far as we know, she does not live in our community.

I think the reason we have kept this phone number, despite the continuing aggravation, is because we feel somehow protective of Gloria A—. This all might be over the last bill she was sent for the number that is now my husband’s. If she moved without a forwarding address, that bill would have gone into limbo. All of this bother could just be for a partial month’s phone bill from 1998.

The messages are left daily. We delete them from the answering machine.

After more than 15 years, they are still hot on your trail, Gloria A—! Watch out!