Graham arrived at the council office carrying a violin case.
The receptionist asked whether he needed a music licence.
He said he’d come to audition.
She explained that no musical job had been advertised.
Graham opened the case. She asked which job he thought was available….
Graham had been trying to ask the council about his parking permit.
On Monday, he called after breakfast.
A recorded voice said his call was important. Then a violin began playing.
It played four cheerful bars and started again.
Graham found his permit number, made a cup of tea and listened to the same four bars while the tea went cold.
When somebody finally answered, the call dropped.
On Tuesday, he tried again.
The same violin welcomed him back.
By the time lunch was ready, Graham could hum the tune perfectly.
His wife asked whether he’d made any progress.
I know where the violin comes in.
She suggested going to the office.
Graham had played violin in a small local group for years. Before leaving, he took his instrument from the cupboard and checked that it was in tune.
His wife asked whether the parking department wanted proof of that as well.
He said it was best to be ready.
At the council reception, he put the case on the counter.
The receptionist asked whether he wanted to apply for a street performance licence.
He said he was there for an audition.
She checked her list. There were appointments about parking, council tax and a broken streetlight. Nothing about musicians.
Graham said he already knew the piece.
Which piece?
He played the four bars from the phone.
She recognised them immediately.
But that’s our hold music. What job are you applying for?
Your violinist’s relief. The poor man’s been playing since Monday.
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