Not much really annoys me. This shit annoys me:
I grab a bunch of mic cables and they're all coiled wrong, so they tangle into a wad when I try to unwrap them.
Someone tried to use the wrong mic clip for a mic, and instead of getting the right clip when he realized his mistake, he wrapped a yard of gaffer tape around the mic. At the end of his session, he put the mic back in the drawer with the tape still stuck to it, and now it's a gummy mess I have to contend with.
Instead of lowering the thermostat, they've propped-open the door so I'm heating the great outdoors all day.
The band spends the first three hours of the day lolling around on the phone, creating a manifesto of a lunch order, socializing with their friends and fucking around on Myspace, and then wants to work until 4am "because we have so much to do..."
The phone rings and nobody answers it, so I have to interrupt what I'm doing and answer it. Then the staff's collective response to this complaint isn't "you're right, we should be answering the goddamn telephone," but instead, "See? We need voicemail."
The mobile phone makes the guitar amp go "dit-dit-dit" during the quiet part. For the eighth time today.
When the dude you did a favor for acts like the favor was standard and expects an extra-super-double favor this time, and gets weird when you decline.
Graffiti. Buy your own damn building, build your own damn gangway and spraypaint your name on it. Leave me out of it.
The land speculator assholes buy the building next door and knock it down, in the process fucking up the water main, the electric service, the sewer, cracking the wall, flooding the basement and making life hell for a few months. They then leave it as a vacant lot for two years, with a swampy marsh in the center that breeds mosquitoes and smells like Gary, Indiana. Then the bums who collect scrap metal and cans from the alleys start using the swamp as a place to burn the insulation off cabling to get the metal out. Then one of the bums notices that there is a copper coolant pipe on the side of our building running up to the HVAC unit on the roof. The bum then tears this pipe off, so he can get a couple of bucks for it from the scrapper. Then I have to spend $5000 fixing the blown compressor, replacing (and bum-proofing) the whole shebang. And the land speculator assholes adamantly refuse to help us out at all.
To recap:
Mic cables, tape on the mic, the door open, the band wasting my time, the phone/voicemail thing, mobile phone noise for the eighth time, the dude you did a favor for, graffiti, the land speculator assholes and the copper pipe thing.