A couple evenings ago I visited my local grocery store to grab a few things for dinner. It's December so naturally Christmas/Holiday music is pervasive.
I don't dislike Christmas music, but of course it's everywhere and impossible to not encounter. My idea of an ideal Holiday playlist at this point would be Jazz instrumentals of old world holiday standards like "Good King Wenceslas" or "The Holly and the Ivy." It's the ear-wormy nature of the novelty Christmas songs from the 1950's and 1960's that really wear me down.
So after only a few bars into Burl Ives' "Holly Jolly Christmas" I already had enough. I thought back to Pittsburgh's Patron Saint, Mr. Rogers, who used to say it was better to talk about your feelings than to keep them inside.
The first people in my immediate vicinity were two employees: a young woman and an older gentleman clearing out the self-serve soup station for the day.
"Sorry to interrupt," I said as I approached, "but I just have to tell you that I admire your stamina. I don't work in retail so I don't have to listen to Christmas music all day. I don't know how you do it."
They both relaxed their shoulders and let out something between a laugh and heavy sigh. The gentleman smiled warmly and the woman rolled her eyes comically. "You don't know the half of it" she said.
"I practically cried in the IHOP the other night. All day long I was here listening to this, and when I finally got off work and went to go eat, more Christmas music at the freakin' restaurant. I almost had a breakdown."
"I'm going to go to the office and have them turn it up" joked the man. "But really, this is nothing compared to my old job, where every day, they used to play that song about the boat that sank. What's that boat that sank?"
"The Edmund Fitzgerald?" I guessed. A little Gordon Lightfoot goes a long way.
"No, no, not that..."
I was trying to think if there were songs about the Lusitania or the Andrea Dorea, but the pair finally settled on the offensive track being an instrumental version of "My Heart Will Go On" from Titanic. I didn't think he meant THE boat that sank. Seemed too obvious.
"Aw, I like that song" objected the woman.
"Not if you heard it EVERY DAY" argued the man.
I chuckled as I started to make my departure, with a stuttered salad of well-wishing somewhere between "bless you" and "thank you for your service." They knew what I meant.

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