Time has passed. Jerry meets someone new at his regular coffee shop. They agree on one date. The kids' school year is winding up, and they make plans to spend a good part of the summer with Mom. Laura is seeing someone new.

The calendar on the wall taunted me with the days left until Easter. Winter had been stressful, but nothing compared to the upcoming spring season. The news had come last week that restrictions on public gatherings were beginning to lift. It was both a blessing and a time to panic.

Everything that had been up in the air was now greenlighted. This was great news for the musicians but not such great news for me. I had to scramble to find musicians for upcoming concerts quickly, not only for the symphony but for many of the churches and even the local junior college. Everyone wanted full ensembles, and I had been on the phone and email like a madman for a week.

Just when I thought I had everything under control, I got a call from the choral director, Dawn, who was in charge of the big performance at the cathedral. It was a full 200‐member chorus along with a full symphony doing Handel's Messiah. We had two performances, and logistically it had been a nightmare.

“Jerry, I hate to let you know this late, but we just got confirmation that the concerts are going to be televised by the local public television station,” said Dawn.

I almost dropped the phone. “You're kidding!?”

“No, but I think we should be fine,” replied Dawn. “They will be filming at the dress rehearsal, and then they'll be there on Saturday night and Sunday afternoon.”

“Okay,” I said hesitantly. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“They'll be televised live on Saturday night. So we'll have to pause between pieces for station breaks.”

That meant a longer performance. Some of the musicians weren't going to like that. Some of them were older and didn't want to have to drive late after a performance.

“Also, on Thursday and Sunday, they will film and piece all of the performances for a taped show that they'll televise the rest of the month,” Dawn continued. “This means we'll have to start an hour earlier for a soundcheck, and they need to be dressed for a performance.”

There was the shoe. Many of the musicians had day jobs, so getting there early would mean they wouldn't have time for dinner. Again, they wouldn't be happy.

“Also, since Thursday will be essentially a performance to an empty church, we've asked for people to come to hear it because that will change the hall's acoustics. This means the musicians can invite up to two people to come for free.”

That would make the musicians a little happier as the performances had sold out in a couple of hours.

“Now comes the bad news,” said Dawn. “We will need to have an extra rehearsal on Wednesday. We will, of course, pay them for the time, but we will need to have everyone there. Will that be a problem?”

Of course that was going to be a problem. The musicians had other rehearsals that week and other obligations.

“I'm afraid I can't guarantee that everyone will be there,” I said. “But what I will do is to fill in the missing chairs for that rehearsal. I'm sorry, that will be the best I can do this late.”

“I understand,” said Dawn. “I know all of this is last minute, and I appreciate your help.”

“One thing I will request for Thursday is that we should provide food for the musicians on Thursday night. Many of them won't be able to get home before they have to make it to rehearsal.”

“That will be no problem. Again, I appreciate all that you do.”

* * *

“We're ready to go,” said Linda.

I was double‐ and triple‐checking that I had everything. Music. Check. Bow. Check. Bass. Check‐check. Personnel book. I couldn't forget that. I had been building it for months. It had papers for people to sign, numbers of musicians, and more. While I had a lot of the information accessible on my tablet, I felt safer having paper copies of things.

I moved my arm around a few times. I had had a physical therapy session this week, and it seemed to be holding up. I would know better by the end of the weekend if it had the endurance it once did. I had stepped down from first chair to third for this concert. I had too many other things to keep up with. While I enjoyed playing first chair, it made more sense to hand that duty over until the end of the season.

I walked into the living room with my gear, ready to go.

“I really appreciate this,” I said. “This is your mom's weekend, after all.”

“We really enjoy seeing you play, Dad,” said Corey. “Maybe in a few years, I can play with you.”

“I'd really like that,” I said.

“Besides, Mom doesn't really like classical music, and we do. It makes the holidays feel more … like the holidays,” said Linda.

“Well, it's nice to have you in the audience,” I said. “It may be a bit chaotic tonight. I probably won't be able to talk to you all until the end.”

“No problem,” said Corey.

We loaded the car and arrived thirty minutes before the concert. There was a nice spread of food in the rectory. Dawn had come through.

“Go ahead and grab a bite,” I said. “I need to see how the setup is going.”

It wasn't going well. It was chaos. The floor was covered in cords that led to bright lights as well as large microphone stands. There was a rumbling sound coming from the back of the church.

I tracked Dawn down.

“What is that sound?” I asked.

“It's the trucks outside that will be feeding the satellite feed,” she said with a grimace.

“That's not going to work,” I said. “No one will be able to hear us. And those cords are a hazard, not to mention those lights in people's eyes.”

“You're welcome to talk to Shirley, the producer. She's over there in the blue shirt. If you can take care of that stuff, I'd appreciate it,” said Dawn.

“I'm on it,” I said. My first priority was the safety and comfort of the musicians.

I approached Shirley and introduced myself.

“How can I help you, Jerry?” she asked in an almost dismissive tone.

“The cords are going to be a problem for some of the musicians,” I said. “Is there anything we can do about them?”

She sighed. “I guess. What do you suggest? We need those for the mic booms and the lights.”

“Perhaps tape them down or put some carpets over them,” I suggested. “I don't want any of my musicians falling. Some are older, and the instruments we carry in some cases are priceless.”

Her eyebrows went up. That got her attention.

“Yes, we can fix that,” she said. “Anything else?”

“Well, the lights are going to be a problem, and so is that camera there,” I pointed. “The musicians have to see the director. Is there any way we could put them at a different angle so that it isn't straight in their eyes when they're looking up?”

“I suppose, but I don't think we can have all that done before you play tonight,” she said.

“Tonight isn't live, though, right?” I asked.

“No, but we need as much footage as possible,” she replied. “We can have the lights fixed by tomorrow night. I suppose we won't need them all on tonight.”

She began to turn away, and I said, “One last thing. That noise. Those generators. We can't have them going on during the performance.”

“Well, we need them on to power the trucks, so I'm afraid I can't help you there.”

She wasn't very helpful or pleasant. But I wasn't going to give up.

“Do they need to be right near the back door?” I asked. “If you park off to the side, I don't think the noise will penetrate the hall.”

“We asked about that,” said Shirley. “We were told by the church we couldn't park where you are suggesting because of the grass.”

She didn't give me a chance to continue. She walked off.

I looked around the hall until I found the person who could help me.

“Father Russo,” I said.

“Oh hi, Jeremy,” the priest said with his hand outstretched. “It is so nice to see you.”

“You as well, Father,” I said. “Listen, we're in a little bit of a bind. We need the television trucks moved from the back of the hall. The producer said they weren't allowed to park on the grass. Can you help me?”

Father Russo frowned. “It has been raining, and those trucks are big. We don't want them tearing up the ground.”

I was trying to think fast.

“We could put some cardboard down; then they could park the trucks on that. I can understand your concern. It's that just this program is very important. We haven't done a large ensemble program since this pandemic broke out. Not only will the hall be full, but this is being televised all over the state. It will showcase your beautiful church. Can't you make an exception?”

Father Russo sighed. “I see what you're doing.”

I gave him as innocent a look as I could.

“I will allow it,” he continued. “But please make sure they take every precaution not to tear up the sod.”

“I will personally see to it,” I said.

I looked around for Shirley, and I called to her while waving my hand. She didn't seem glad to see me.

* * *

Three days after the concerts, I waited in the coffee shop for Dr. Richardson. He indicated this might be our last session. The spring semester was ending, and he and his wife were going on a long cruise.

“Hey, Jerry,” Dr. Richardson said as he sat down with his coffee. “Wow, it's been some time since we've been able to meet face to face. How have you been?”

“My arm is a little sore from the weekend, but I can't complain,” I said.

“We saw it on Saturday night. Wow, what a performance.”

“I'm so glad you liked it. There was a lot of behind‐the‐scenes work that made it happen,” I said.

“Tell me about it.”

I brought him up to speed on what had happened on Thursday night. By Saturday night, the lights were in the right place, and thankfully no one tripped. There were a couple of tire marks in the grass, but Father Russo wasn't too concerned.

“Once all the preliminary stuff was done, it went smoothly,” I said.

“Sounds like you did an outstanding job. Bravo,” he said, and clapped my back.

“Thanks.”

“Like I said on the phone, this will be our last session. You can, of course, contact me when you run into problems, but I have been impressed with your progress. You just need to continue to trust your instincts because they're good.”

“I appreciate that,” I replied.

“There isn't much in the form of new material, but I want to review what we've gone over these past few months.”

“I want you to remember that we've covered the portfolio, strategic management process, portfolio governance, performance management, communication management, and risk management.

“We have three different types of process groups. We have a defining process group, aligning process groups, and authoring process groups. And we have a total of sixteen processes across those three process groups in the five knowledge areas. And each process has a set of inputs, tools, techniques, and outputs.”

“That has helped me out tremendously,” I said.

“I've been thinking about how you handled the musicians the past few months up until a couple of days ago. You have made them the center, the why of what you do. Keep this in mind as you continue your journey next year. You have the summer coming up again, and it will be time to start over again.”

“I am so much more prepared this time,” I said. “I have projects prioritized and some suggestions for new positions in the symphony to help take over some of these projects. What I realized about this concert is that while I love playing, I have too many responsibilities and things to do. I don't think I need to do that, and I have some job descriptions ready to present to the board.”

“Wow, that's outstanding,” Dr. Richardson replied.

“I can't thank you enough for being a friend as well as a mentor. My divorce is being finalized, and you were there when I needed someone to talk to, and I will never forget that.”

Dr. Richardson looked flustered. “Oh … it was nothing. It was my pleasure.”

“It's interesting,” I commented. “Even though we've been talking about project management in the context of my position, I have been using some of the same concepts to organize my life.”

“Oh really?”

“I need to consider selling the house, for example. There are a number of things that need to happen before I can do that, and I have created a project of it, with smaller parts such as painting the garage as part of that portfolio. It's amazing how something so overwhelming can be organized. I even have buy‐in from my kids. They're helping me paint and clean and are a part of the process of finding a new house based on mutually agreed‐upon criteria.”

“It sounds like I need to come back from my cruise early,” said Dr. Richardson.

“How come?”

“It sounds like you're ready to take over my position as a professor!”

We both laughed and sipped our coffee.