Hard work is rewarding, especially when it results in a national award and a free business trip.

During my term as president of the Tucson chapter of the American Marketing Association, I was fortunate to have an extraordinary board of directors. The board led an ambitious reorganization plan that earned a "Top 10 Chapter of the Year" award.

The national American Marketing Association (AMA) invites the winning presidents to its national conference. AMA pays all expenses in exchange for each officer presenting a workshop.

My plans called for a 5 p.m. arrival at the Chicago Hilton and Towers to attend the 6 p.m. presidents reception. Unfortunately, my connecting flight from Phoenix was delayed.

On the same flight by coincidence, were chapter presidents from Portland, Ore., Sacramento, San Diego and Phoenix. We all met on the shuttle to the Hilton and became instant friends.

By the time we got to the hotel, the reception was over. Although it was after 8 p.m., we decided to go out for dinner. We cornered a concierge and asked for somewhere cheap and close.

Instantly, his eyes lit up: "Buddy Guy’s."

We had no idea the Grammy Award-winning blues guitarist had a club, let alone one nearby. Eagerly, we stepped out into the night and took our first left onto Wabash Avenue. Within minutes we saw the sign: Buddy Guy’s Legends Nightclub.

The mid-sized, intimate club had two bars and pool tables. Memorabilia of Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton, who idolized Guy, hung on the walls. There was a stage, dance floor and about 20 small tables.

Busy, but not packed, we five had nowhere to sit. The manager came over and when we told him "the Hilton sent us," he said he’d take care of us. He scooted across the stage to some box seats on the right. It was a little VIP section for 12 people.

A heavy woman was sitting there alone. She seemed about 40, was African-American and was wearing a beautiful black dress. She also wore a black, big-brimmed Panama sun hat that stuck out 10 inches around her head.

The manager talked to her briefly and she nodded. To our surprise, he then ushered us to the VIP section. They were the best seats in the house!

I sat closest to the lady in the big hat. Not one to be shy, I said hello and thanked her for sharing the seats. She smiled back, "I hear y’all are from the West Coast. Where?"

We introduced ourselves and made friends with Deitra. As we ordered dinner, Pierre, a harmonic player, led his band called Mississippi Heat, onto the stage. Pierre also was wearing a Panama hat but it was his baggy pants that caught everyone’s attention. The front crotch hung low to his knees.

From the very first note, the band shook the house with high-energy blues. The joint was jumping after just one song.

I nodded to Deitra. "Wow! Good, aren’t they?"

"Oh Lord they are!"

After the second song, I leaned over again to my box-seat buddy.

"If you don’t mind, I’ve got a question. You’re here by yourself. Are you like, the manager, or girlfriend of someone in the band?"

She slid closer and lightly grabbed both my hands. Leaning forward, smiling, she playfully poked the edge of her huge hat into my forehead. For a few awkward, silent moments, we sat there eye-to-eye.

With a wink, she bumped my head again with her hat, then laughed: "Honey, I am the band!"

She left her seat, took the mic and stole the show with her passionate singing. Deitra Farr was so terrific, we settled in for a long night of hot blues and cold beer.

At the break, the band joined us in the VIP section. It was a special moment, people from different business worlds enjoying each other’s company. We bought drinks and some of their CDs. Mississippi Heat’s second set opened with a dedication to their new West Coast friends.

This is a true story, drawn from Yohem’s 25-year communications career with the Southern Arizona Home Builders Association, Tucson Electric Power, and Southwest Gas. His column looking at the lighter side of "challenges" in the business world, appears the first and third weeks of each month in Inside Tucson Business.