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!

i’m writing this, my first post, not to contribute anything novel or edifying to the conversation that is already well underway, but rather in the hope that it will be a catalyst for more and better submissions from the rest of the band. i’m also writing this to share with you, my loyal fans (or our loyal fans…whatever) the deepest, most profound, most personal components of my being. my deep, cavernous being.

it’s a little bit embarrassing for me to share this with you, but i think it’s important that our relationship be founded on the solid rock of honesty. preferably a truth-bearing slab of limestone (for any potential patron[esse]s out there granite or marble would be really nice, it’s just not in the budget right now). in fact, i’m going to edit the tour rider to call for a truth-bearing slab of marble on every stage we play henceforth.

last weekend, in the midst of a 12 hour rehearsal (no, we did not break for meals, and yes, i was wearing a catheter) i did something i’ve never done before an audience. right there in trevor and megan’s living room, in front of god, the band, and the elderly neighbors on the east side of bruce street, i busted my nut.

of course, this made quite a scene. at the time i was tweaking the nord lead 2 (for our regular readers, i’m also playing the synth label game) and i stumbled across a particularly stimulating bass tone that sent my guitar from its precariously pro junior-supported upright position into the opposing wall. and though i thought nothing of it at the time, when i next picked up the guitar to play it, i found that my nut was indeed busted.

i’ll have you know that superglue is a legitimately utilized substance in the repair of many guitar parts, nuts included. steve was good enough to find the disembodied nut piece, megan was good enough to find some superglue and a bamboo twig to apply it, and i was good enough to flawlessly return the formerly disembodied nut piece to its rightful place on the neck of my guitar.

see, this story had a happy ending after all.

as a final word, i’d like to bring to everyone’s attention the blatant war-on-joe’s-integrity that trevor has imprudently waged via this blog. every good deed deserves another. just wait…