For Your Listening Pleasure

I was driving to work obsessed with a song on my stereo. I completely forgot to eat my breakfast on the way. People are staring on corners as I’m performing an unrehearsed duo with “Maroon 5”.

It’s hard for me to remain placid when I hear music I really like. I’m not like the iPod listener walking calmly down the street. I would be at the very least rocking to the downbeats, but more likely singing with the music. This is one of the reasons I’m hesitant to purchase an MP3 player. Of course it might provide a number of good Saturday posts.

I worked at a music store for a year and it was easily the best job I ever had. Zero stress, music all day long, and pretty light workload. My job was to make people happy. I cannot recall too many people coming into the music store unhappy, save the rap buyers. Why anyone who would pay fifteen ninety nine for music you know will put you in a bad mood is beyond me. Anyway, for the most part people came in to get something they wanted. My favorite customers would be looking for a song they heard on the raido, and only knew a word or two. We would call the stations or flip through the charts. The desperate ones would sing parts of the songs to us, and we would do our best to decode. This one customer just threw her head back and belted out “son of a preacher man” one day. “Dusty Springfield,” I said “rock and pop isle.” Her friend apologized for her.

In Blockbuster Music you could listen to any CD in the store. We would unwrap it play it, and seal it back up. I now have this nearly useless ability to open a CD without breaking the seal. So people would sit at the bar and listen. Invariably someone would start singing. Some were okay, most were horrific. This was the year the Bee Gee's made a comeback. You never heard so much screeching and squealing in your life. After a few laughs we would have to intervene and tap them out of it. They always seemed surprised, like "why would you want to stop this star worthy performance?" With customers and employees laughing and snickering at them they would finally get it, and either buy or bolt. This is how I always picture myself whenever I start to sing with headphones on…it helps me to stop.

So here I am in my office, the introverted network guy, trying not to sing to the music streaming into my head. I’m drumming on my metal desk, tapping my feet and occasionally humming or whistling. Its like this is the witch doctors office and I’m performing some odd voodoo ritual.

Oh well, maybe they will be more apprehensive to approach my office when there’s a problem.