I used to moonlight as a karaoke host, and one evening I happened upon Peacock Guy. He strolled up to my booth, and I was blinded by his outfit. There are people who want attention, and there are people who want attention from space: aka, peacocking.
He wanted my mic so that he could announce a contest he was running. I tried to politely convey that I was running a show and that he could use his time as a singer to use the microphone, but that I’m not interrupting the show for a contest announcement.
“I know the manager,” he scoffs. “I spend a lot of money here.”
Yep, the manager card. The same manager who wants a good karaoke show with singing and drinking customers. I told him he could announce the contest during his turn.
His song and announcement came and went, and the last song was announced. I had all but forgotten about Peacock Guy when I started shutting everything down.
He approached me and exclaimed that he didn’t get to announce the contest winner.
“I’ve already shut down. The jukebox is back on.” I replied.
“Turn it off then!” he demanded.
“It’s not up to me,” I responded as I looked around the bar for the manager, who was busy prepping for last call.
The manager came over and agreed to turn the jukebox off. I spent about ten minutes or so setting the mics and sound back up. Peacock Guy announced the contest “winner,” and I began shutting everything down again. Forgive me if I don’t recall the prize.
Fast forward about three or four weeks later. Same location. Peacock Guy was back, but this time I was standing my ground. There were already twenty singers in, and I received no tip for my troubles the last time, so I added him in just as I would any other paying customer… last in the queue.
Twenty or so singers later, Peacock Guy is sloshed. He wanted to sing Baby Got Back, which is a difficult song to rap.
He stumbled to the stage, taking the mic as I gave it to him. I pressed the button to start the song, and it got bad real fast. His timing was off, he couldn’t keep up with the words, and he was stumbling around the stage.
Being a karaoke host, however, the show must go on. So I just tuned it out and was thankful it would be over in four or so minutes.
Then the stammering stopped, he placed the mic on the table next to me, and walked back to his table.
The crowd eyed me for half a second as I contemplated what to do.
Not wanting to ruin a perfectly good karaoke song, I picked up my mic, turned it on, and asked, “Who wants to finish?”
As if on cue, a lady from one of the front tables ran up, picked up the mic, and masterfully finished the rest of the song.
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