Work and Music, Like Oil and Water
posted by: admin
I’ve never considered myself to be a music aficionado. I grew up in a house where the Barry Manilow’s Greatest Hits eight-track was heard almost as much as Tony Orlando and Dawn. And I was happy about it! Now, if only I could say that without blushing and hanging my head in shame….
My co-workers and I have been putting in ten-hour days for two weeks now because of a national audit that kind of caught us unawares. As such, we have been buzzing around one another like a frenzied swarm of killer bees. Tension is palpable. Stress levels are high. And, while Flight of the Bumble Bee might be most appropriate, I tend to want to blast some Jane’s Addiction while I’m looking for POAs and MFRs and hoobity-whaties. The problem is that I work in an office with seven other people and… well… some of our musical tastes kind of clash. And, because it’s impractical for all seven of us to wear iPods when phones are ringing and customers are coming in and out, we tend to hover around our desks so that we don’t wander into someone else’s bad musical environment. It’s cubicle hell without the cubicle walls.
I personally can’t really DO country music unless you were popular back in the seventies. And Celine Dion makes me itch a little bit. I even resent hearing Barry Manilow unless I’m in a particularly NOSTALGIC mood. I try to keep my Garden State soundtrack turned up JUUUUST loud enough so that our country music fans don’t have to be subjected to The Shins lamenting about how caring is creepy and yet I don’t have to hear about the honky tonk badonkadonk. It’s a win-win.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not trying to say that my music is better than anyone else’s. Actually my taste is quit varied… and highly dependent on how many hours we spend teleconferencing on Wednesdays. A co-worker recently asked me to turn up my music since we were the only two left in the building and it was relatively quiet. But I really wanted to decline. Because I was listening to someone called Jimmy Eat World singing Wham’s big 1980’s hit “Last Christmas.” As someone who wears an impressive belt buckle that looks like a prize for something that involves cattle (I just can’t bring myself to stare long enough to read it), I didn’t think this was what he had in mind at the end of a long hard day. But he asked! And so I turned up this song about rebound Christmas love. And, while my co-worker didn’t sing along to the lyrics with me, he didn’t lambaste me for my corny choice in music, either. He was probably too busy trying not to stare at my orange scrunchie…
But we all like one another, and that really helps when you have nothing in common, musically speaking.