My name is called: I’ve won the “Album of the Year” Grammy for your album, “Unrelied Upon”! I step up to the podium to accept my award and, halfway through, the orchestra tries to play me off. I’ve worked too long and hard to allow this to happen, so I don’t hang my head and let myself be played off the stage. I wait a moment, allowing the microphone to screech, glaring in the general direction of the orchestra.
I clear my throat and I say, simply, “I will not be upstaged on the happiest night of my life.” I continue my speech with a smile and walk off the stage again not giving a second thought to the interruption. The show continues and ends. The other artists and I make our exits with many congratulations and disappointments, but overall no violence presents itself. A producer approaches me. I smile down at the little man and say cheerfully, Come to congratulate me too?
Quite the contrary, he says nervously, looking for cameras to duck and dodge. Your speech stamped out a couple commercial breaks.
Ah, well, I dont see how thats my problem, I say, still beaming and waving at colleagues and fans alike. I find it distasteful to chase off someone new to the business, now, dont you. I look down at him with a ghost of the smile Ive been wearing all night, but my eyes bore into the timid man. I wont be bullied by bigshots like you, I say quietly. I make my way off to cameras and interviewers, leaving the producer stuttering and stammering. I say my piece whether anyone likes it or not.