It happened again – I walked into a convenience store today only to find myself thrown backwards (almost) by the loud rock music blaring out of the speakers. Maybe it’s because it was Sunday morning (I was popping by between church services looking for the New York Times and a little treat to get me through second service) that it bothered me as much as it did- but I suppressed my displeasure enough to say with a wistful smile, as I paid for my granola bar, “I guess you like loud music in here.” The clerk looked at me blankly and asked “What?” (as though he couldn’t hear me above the din, although I think it was more that he was just caught unaware by the comment.) I just said it again, as pleasantly as I could- “I guess you like loud music in here.” And without missing a beat, he said “This is nothin’. You should hear it when it’s really loud.” And I managed to keep smiling as I said, “Well, I probably won’t be coming in here again, so I’ll have to take your word for it.” And I left with my granola bar and my resolve intact.
It’s not that I expect convenience stores to play Haydn string quartets. . . but I think a place of business which attracts a wide range of people needs to avoid playing ear-splitting heavy metal music that sounds as musical as a locomotive running over a grand piano. I get even madder when a place like Walgreen’s makes its mostly 50+ customers listen to Nine Inch Nails as they’re picking up another bottle of Milk of Magnesia. Who is that music for, anyway? I would have thought it was for the customers, but I’m starting to wonder. But even in a convenience store which is unlike to attract too many opera fans, I would think it wise for music to be chosen that is a little less repugnant for a whole lot of us who prefer our music without having the sensation that our teeth are being sanded.
Anyway, it’s weird to feel so curmudgeonly at a moment in my life when I feel ten years younger (because I’m 50 pounds lighter) – – – and it’s especially weird that I am becoming so forceful in such situations. Not that I’m grabbing the cash register and throwing it on the floor in a fit of rage, but I find myself voicing displeasure a whole lot more freely than I ever did before. . . and what I’m learning is that what makes me even madder is when my displeasure is shrugged off with complete disinterest. I remember Ann Landers once writing that she could forgive anything – including a waiter spilling hot soup in her lap – if a heartfelt, sincere apology followed soon thereafter. I didn’t expect my friendly neighborhood convenience store clerk to turn down his satanic* music just because I was bothered- nor did I expect an apology – but I did expect him to be interested in my complaint. Silly Me.
Apparently, he thought I was kidding. Silly Him.
*I am overstating my displeasure with this music just a tad. I should probably describe it as “Demonic” instead.