I wrote a letter to Google several months ago, hoping it would meet this criteria. Didn’t hear back, but you Gmail users out there might get a kick out of it.

—

Greetings, Google!

We are a band called Good Night, States, and we would be remiss if we failed to credit your products for their assistance in our current and future musical successes.

Steadily flowing waves of interwebstuff have carried Good Night, States demos, songs yet unsung, cradling them gently from a Sent Mail folder in New Jersey to three Inboxes in Pittsburgh and a fourth in Philadelphia, via countless Gmails, neatly strung together as pearls of conversation between friends. Golden stars hang in the heavens of my Inbox each time I remind myself to take action on one of the 7305.100824 emails I have received relating to Good Night, States. I label, I archive, I am at peace with my email.

My publicity spreadsheets are nestled snugly in Google’s Documents, available for perusal anywhere in the WORLD (!) that there is internet, cohabiting with a family of press releases for, not one, but EVERY city in which we perform. AND, Google, let me tell you, The Every Show Checklist is a joy to behold and to share with all five members of Good Night, States, as we attempt to check off the forty-seven tasks that must be performed before, during, and after Every Show.

What can I say about the Calendar, glorious Calendar! At a glance, it brings joy to my misty eyes, sometimes in the form of our lead guitarist’s forthcoming dentist appointment, sometimes the gentle reminder that I missed yet another newspaper’s print deadline and forgot to schedule someone to work for me during our next songwriting session.

I will not omit, however, that there have been dark days. I have, at times, waited not fifteen, nor thirty, but at least forty-five seconds for Gmail to load before finally wandering off in search of some chocolaty snack that would assuage my impatience and despair. However, the care with which you decorate your logo on various holidays and the joy brought to my soul when I recall our drummer falling for your Gprint April Fool’s Day joke mitigate the occasional utter failure to load my precious cargo onto my screen.

And your newest creation: the BARS, the UPLOADING BARS! The ecstasy of watching a file slowly creep its way into my email is second only to the bliss when our van, loaded to the gills with instruments and careening through some unknown crowded megalopolis, screeches to a halt outside the club within MINUTES of Google Maps’ estimated driving time.

Well, what say you, Google? Are you ready to listen? Are your ears saying, “I’m Feeling Lucky”? Get ready for the glorious sounds of Good Night, States, the melodies that have melted the hearts of SPIN online magazine, dozens of bloggers, and show attendees throughout the Northeast. Google us, Google. You’ll see. We’re attempting to take over the internet, thanks, in part, to your glittering portfolio of products.

Your Google Friends Forever (GFFE),
Good Night, States
www.goodnightstates.com

A few weeks ago, I decided that it was finally time to open up a Good Night, States business checking account. Opening business accounts is something that I have some experience with, so I thought it would be a piece of cake.

I stroll into my local National City branch in the late morning (to avoid the lines) and end up waiting for probably 10-15 minutes for the next available customer service representative. Then, I get my shot.

The customer service rep takes me back to her small office with no windows and offers me a seat. I sit down and explain that I need to open a small business checking account. “Simple,” I think. She had a little more trouble than I thought a customer service rep should have, but no big deal, I’m a pretty patient person when it comes to this kind of stuff.

Then she asks me, “What is your business name?” I reply, “Good Night comma States.” She proceeds to type into the computer: “Goodnight, States”. Then I tell her, “No, it’s three words: Good. Night. States.” She writes it out on a bit of paper on her desk a few times, just to make sure she has it correct. “Great,” I think, “this was a bit painful, but it’s worth having things right the first time.”

She then proceeds to shuffle papers around, prints some things off, gets a cell phone call from her son, and has me sign a bunch of forms to finalize the account creation. She then jots another note on a small piece of paper and says that she’s going to have one of the tellers order me checks, free of charge! (This must be to make people feel really important. I mean, FREE CHECKS! How much better can life get?!?)

I leave the branch humming happily to myself because of my free checks and head back to work (a little later than I had hoped).

The end of the next week came and so did my lovely box of FREE checks! I threw them on the table with a pile of other stuff to take upstairs; I had decided to unwrap the goodness later when I got around to doing the band finances. The next day, I get another envelope from my bank. I opened it up and saw that my bank was sweetening the deal; they’d sent me a business credit card with a limit high enough to finish off the rest of my school loans (or purchase another vintage synthesizer)! I drooled over the credit line and took a second look at the card. “Wait a second, the business name says GOOD NIGHT ESTATES!” I looked at the box of checks still on the kitchen table, “The checks say GOOD NIGHT ESTATES, too!”

So, somewhere along the line “Good Night, States” got translated into, “Good Night Estates.” I can understand the mix-up, but I also feel like I am stuck in the middle of a large game of “telephone.”

I finally got around to going back to the bank and asking them to correct their mistake. They had no problem fixing things, though the service associate that helped me with the change scoffed at how this mistake could even happen in the first place.

All in all, I think Good Night Estates would be a great business name for a nice bed and breakfast that is set on and old family estate somewhere in the mid-Atlantic region. Maybe in a few years, I can settle down and start that business!