I'm a union man...reluctantly.

When I first joined the symphony here, I was amazed at how many curmudgeons there were. I was ecstatic to have a job playing music. It didn't seem like work! I loved coming to work everyday, and swore I would never become one of those jaded, cynical musicians who seemed to find playing in the symphony to be drudgery.

These people seemed to view management with disdain, to always be suspicious of them, and always seemed to look for ways to "get them." They always jumped at any chance to pounce on management. When I served on the negotiating committee, I remember our lead negotiator state that his goal was going to be to make one of our lead managers cry during contract talks. I didn't understand this and found it pretty reprehensible.

As I've been in the orchestra, I've moved up the ranks of the internal leadership. Besides serving on the negotiating committee, I’ve been a member of the Orchestra Committee, the liaison group between management and the musicians. This year marks my second year as chair of the committee.

It turns out I'm pretty good at the job. My natural mode isn't to complain, and since that it is often my assigned role, I try to temper my requests to management. I always try to approach them from a collaborative standpoint, attempting to help solve the problem rather than simply get in their face about things. Management has appreciated this, and I take pride in the nature of the relationship we have built.

Sometimes, however, like tonight, I can see why the old timers have turned into such curmudgeons. Too often, it seems that the only way any change can take place is if we threaten management with a grievance, and that we show them some righteous indignation. I get exercised most when the safety of the musicians and the safety of our instruments is concerned. There are many, many instruments onstage that are worth over $50,000, and some that are close to $250K. These instruments are investments for the string players, and we take very seriously the ability to walk safely to our seats, unencumbered.

Since Thursday, I've been working to correct a one of these safety issues. I received assurances from our General Manager on Friday morning that it would be fixed by Friday night. Last night, there was no change, and so the vice chair and I spoke with the Operations Manager, asking why things hadn't been fixed. She apologized and assured us that tonight the problem would be resolved.

I came to work tonight, and saw that a half-assed effort to remedy the problem had been attempted. I found the management rep on duty, pointed out the problem, and made a firm statement that this needed to be corrected by tomorrow's concert. He evaded the question, coming up with all kinds of reasons why they couldn't follow through with their commitment. It was at this point that I had enough with their recalcitrance and intractability. My blood was beginning to boil, and I made it perfectly clear that we didn't care one iota about the reasons why it couldn't be done, since they were hogwash. I told him very forcefully to fix the problem, and if this problem existed tomorrow, that we would be forced to file a grievance. I had to get in his face.

I was incredibly angry, angrier than I've been in a long time. As I walked it off backstage, I began to see how the curmudgeons became that way, why they view management with such disdain, and even hatred sometimes. I believe that management's directives are to always say no first, and to fight every request made to them by the musicians. This grows old, particularly when I only try to take the most pressing and legitimate issues to management. I am not about frivolous requests.

I was furious at this guy, and I genuinely like the man. But to run into this kind of attitude at every turn wears me down. I can see cynicism and disdain for management creeping into me. A good friend of mine told me not long ago that he's seen a change in me. Where once nearly everything would roll off my back, he now sees a man who can be more easily unbound. I don't like that this is the case.

These two years have the potential of causing me to become disillusioned with a job I love. It could be too high a price to pay. It is unfortunate that management is so obstinate in their refusal to honor our requests. And it is unfortunate that it is my job, and the job of the committee, to insure that they do not get away with that. I realize that it is sadly too often a battleground, and there is no quarter that can be given. I have grown into the job, and I am good at battling them, but I do not always like playing that role.

I am making a conscious effort to choose the opposite path of the curmudgeons. In talking to the vice chair tonight, we were discussing the cynicism we were feeling, and he said that management caused the curmudgeons to be that way. We both agreed that we didn't want to let that happen to us. It's times like these where words to live by, passed on by one of my pastors, come to mind: my response is my responsibility.

May I have the will to choose the path of joy, and choose the path of extending grace and forgiveness towards management. Bitterness and disillusionment are not the responses I will choose.

(But they sure can be stubborn bastards sometimes).