How to Summon an Orchestra Board by Saying 'Accountability' Three Times in the Mirror in the Dark

A Satirical Overture and a witty prelude to our very serious guide on surviving retaliation after filing a grievance. Coincidentally, this was written a few weeks before the news about the Vancouver Symphony broke. We hope the satire highlights just how disturbingly realistic the absurdity has become when orchestras attempt to handle reports of harassment and assault. By the way, if you haven't signed the petition in honor of violinist Esther Hwang, please do-so!

---

When one musician named Maria dared to report misconduct, she didn’t expect justice....just maybe fewer unsolicited back rubs. Instead, she triggered the full Orchestral Hunger Games of HR.

It all began innocently enough: a musician filed a grievance, then the orchestra responded with the swiftness and compassion of a sloth on Ambien. HR appeared clutching a 2003 version of the Employee Handbook and a coffee mug that said, "Virtual Signaling Seminar: Class of 2024."

They smiled warmly and said, “We’re so proud of your courage to speak up.” Then they gently slid a nondisclosure agreement across the table and whispered, “Please never do that again.”

The HR meeting was held in a windowless conference room affectionately known as The Crying Suite. A framed quote on the wall read: “There’s no ‘I’ in Team, but there is one in Liability.” When asked about next steps, HR replied, “We take these matters very seriously,” which in HR-ese translates to, “We have already begun shredding your paperwork.”

“Our organization has a zero-tolerance policy,” said the Executive Director, “which means we tolerate everything until there’s media coverage.”

The board immediately convened a Joint Ethics Task Force, which included: Two donors who once vacationed with the conductor, a principal violist with Stockholm Syndrome, the orchestra’s marketing director (for narrative cohesion), and one intern from the youth orchestra to represent the future of accountability.

To ensure impartiality, they hired an independent investigator; a consultant whose previous clients included the conductor’s PR firm, the board chair’s Labradoodle foundation, and a local Pilates studio called Integrity Core.

A week later, the orchestra sent an all-staff email titled “Commitment to a Safe and Transparent Process.” It read:

“If you have ever personally experienced, observed, overheard, intuited, sensed, or simply felt in your soul that misconduct may have occurred at any time in the orchestra’s 75-year history, please contact us immediately. Your confidentiality is extremely important to us, unless your story conflicts with ticket sales.”

That email launched the most ambitious interview process in orchestral history. The investigator conducted over eighty interviews, each more confusing than the last. Witnesses were asked questions like:

…“Would you describe Maestro’s behavior as ‘inappropriate,’ or merely ‘European’?”

…“When you say he touched your shoulder, was it a shoulder, or his truth connecting with your artistry?”

…“Do you feel the orchestra’s culture is toxic, or just beautifully misunderstood?”

In one interview, the timpanist was grilled for an hour about “vibe-based corroboration.” In another, a second violinist was asked to reenact a 2019 gala conversation using sock puppets for emotional clarity.

To be thorough, the investigator also interviewed every musician in the orchestra, three ushers who “heard something during intermission,” the conductor’s former T.A. from Juilliard, a bassoonist from another city who “once had a dream about boundaries,” and an orchestra cellist who admitted she “didn’t see anything, but felt like anyone speaking out about harassment was drawing negative attention to the orchestra, and all the other musicians didn't deserve to be dragged into it," followed by "Boohoo...why me?...Wahhh. (and more incoherent muttering)."

After six weeks, the investigator presented her findings in a PowerPoint titled “Opportunities for Learning and Ambiguity.”

“While there were concerning behaviors,” the report concluded,“none rose to the level of illegal, unethical, or inconvenient for our gala program.”

The board issued a statement celebrating their “transparent and rigorous process,” which consisted entirely of using the words transparent and rigorous in the same paragraph.

The Orchestra’s Most Revered Tradition (Retaliation)

Maria soon noticed subtle changes. Her name vanished from the roster, her locker was relocated to the parking lot, and she was reassigned to “community outreach,” which turned out to be playing bassoon in a Whole Foods parking lot. Her next performance review featured new metrics, including “Attitude Toward Abuse (Could Improve)” and “Ability to Play While Gaslit.”

Colleagues who once shared practice snacks now avoided her like exposure to honesty required a hazmat suit. One whispered, “I support you,” then immediately tripped over their own silence. Meanwhile, the accused conductor was promoted to Associate Vice President for Reflective Growth and Branding. He released a statement saying he was “taking time to heal from the trauma of being gently held accountable.”

When asked how HR planned to address the power imbalance, the Executive Director said, “We’re introducing yoga.”

“There’s been no retaliation,” said HR, while pushing Maria into an emotional dumpster fire.

The Final Circle of Bureaucratic Hell Known as Arbitration

After months of paperwork that felt like filing taxes while playing Mahler 5 from memory, Maria was invited to arbitration; a process specifically designed to ensure that no one ever wins except the legal department’s billing team.

Her lawyer advised her to “stay calm and concise.” HR’s lawyer advised her to “consider therapy instead.”

The arbitration began with an opening statement from management:

“We’re all here because we believe in harmony,”which is a poetic way to say, “You’re about to lose.”

Halfway through, the arbitrator paused and asked, “Have you considered forgiveness?”

Maria replied, “Have you considered not?”

When presented with evidence, the arbitrator nodded gravely and said, “While this is deeply disturbing, it is also inconvenient.”

“The parties have reached an agreement,” the final document read,“in that one party has agreed to shut up and the other to keep the donors.”

Months later, Maria left the orchestra and started therapy.

The orchestra held a press conference to announce “a new era of accountability,” which consisted of renaming the HR department Human Resonance.

They unveiled a glossy PowerPoint titled “Healing Through Branding” and introduced a new mascot named Justice the Oboe, who appears at school concerts reminding kids to “Always play in tune and never, ever, EVER, speak up.”

They also introduced a new initiative called Harmony Circles, where employees can share their trauma until it becomes a PR talking point. To symbolize growth, the orchestra installed a “Wall of Courage” which features inspirational quotes from the people who did NOT report misconduct, and instead kept their mouth shut and encouraged others to do the same.

When asked if they had learned anything, management said, “Absolutely. Next time, we’ll handle the optics faster.”

“We’re proud of the brave conversations we’re having,” said the CEO, “mostly with our lawyers.”

When asked about Maria’s departure, HR responded, “We’re proud of her journey of self-discovery and relocation.”

Maria has since joined a coalition for safer orchestras and now carries a binder labeled Receipts. She no longer plays under conductors who “believe in mentorship through touching.” Her final words in the interview were simple:

“I filed a grievance, survived HR, and lived to tell the tale. Honestly, that deserves a Grammy.”

The orchestra's official PR response was, “We deeply regret that Ms. Maria misinterpreted our months of negligence as neglect. We will continue to prioritize learning, growing, and doing absolutely nothing.” (c) 2025, Katie A. Berglof