art of guitar buying

I remember having a slight crush on my guitar salesman, maybe just because he was a really, really good guitar player, maybe because he was the cool sort of hippie, witty, environmentally conscious, but still a march-to-the-beat-of-your-own-drum kind of man (or is it play-to-the-riffs-of-your-own-guitar??).

I had surprised myself when I walked into the shop that day. I planned on buying a discount guitar in the mall (I had only been playing for 2 months), but suddenly found myself in the part of town that the mall was not--the momNpop part of town, where all sorts of hidee-hole shops existed--where I found this store of wonders masquerading as a wood shop for handcrafted guitars.

And I had no idea how to buy a guitar. I wanted one that sounded good. And that was easy to play. And that was beautiful. And low cost. Kind of like all the best choices in life should be.

My guitar guy patiently tried to talk me through it. What do you want it to sound like? Do you like this sound? Close your eyes, how about this? Or this, or this, or this...and I began to feel that panic you feel when you are standing on the brink of the most important decision in your life and asked to jump off the cliff at the precise moment that won't kill you on impact...and finally, finally, he played an instrument with the best sound, clear and low and full. It reminded me of brown sugar and butter, and I was pleased.

And while he went to the workbench to make a few adjustments, I saw my guitar. No, not the one my guitar guy propped on the work bench, but my real guitar. The one on the opposite wall. It was blue, and it was better.

Now I could make this a social commentary about how apt we are to judge things by appearance, even though we pretend like it doesn't matter, or on the flip-side, how just because something (or someone) can be momentarily pleasing, it doesn't mean it's the one that will bring cosmic alignment to your soul.

I don't know what applies here. I do know that I was embarrased to change my mind on him (again), but when he got back I pointed out my blue baby--How silly that we didn't see it sooner! He got props for not looking too long suffering.

So I made him play this one. Again, and again. And luckily, it sounded the same as my first choice.

"You have to play this, too, you know," he said, finally handing me the guitar. I played softly, a little afraid of making a mistake in front of him. I sat in the recording room, playing softly and deliberating, asking him questions--did I really want to buy a guitar right now? How did I take care of it? Is the weather too dry for guitars? Could I travel with it? Will it treat me right?
"You are getting a guitar, not choosing a husband," he finally said to me. In retrospect, he was probably felt like I was stringing him along--was she going to buy this guitar or not? Funnily enough, that clinched it, and I bought my blue guitar.

 He threw in a free case. I thought that was appropriate, after all the work I put him through.