In 1969, while attending Miami-Dade Junior College, I had a free period between classes. There were 2 jazz labs going in the music department but only 1 bassist. I volunteered to play with the 2nd band to 'help out'. I didn't expect to have my @$$ kissed but I also didn't expect constant criticism of my tone and 'sound'(I was using a cobbled up amp). Constructive criticism woulda been OK-I had never read bass parts b4, being a converted saxist-but this wasn't an attempt to educate, improve, or otherwise help me, so I just stopped going. BTW, I wasn't majoring music so it didn't 'hurt' me.