Exciting times have arrived at the job, and considering my line of work (ice cream man) and tenure (four years) excitement has been all too difficult to come by. Alas! I’ve worked my little butt off to reach this point, the top o’ the mountain some might say. I’ve scooped ice cream for hundreds of screaming kids and seething elderly folk. No, I don’t want to play dollies with you! NO, I don’t want to hear about what it was like growing up in the aughts! Here, take your cone and getta outta my face-a! Man. You don’t know what it’s like in here. These people are serious about their dessert. TEH ICE CREEM IZ SEREEUS BIZNISS, you know? No?
Anyway, because of my seniority and I would assume a day away from the horrors described in the previous paragraph, my boss takes Wednesdays off and gives me run of the house. I get to bring my computer into work and do my other job, which is what you’re currently reading (and hopefully enjoying immensely). But that’s not all, kids! I wouldn’t stop there! No, sir/ma’am! I’ve taken the initiative of fighting the radio with my own music. That is, I made a play list on my iPod, simply and appropriately titled ‘work’, and compiled a comprehensive collection of somewhat quiet, non-offensive music for my and my customers’ listening pleasure to play when I’m in control.
The radio station we play here six days out of the week is a fairly conventional adult-contemporary hit station. The best mix of the 80’s, 90’s and today! Yeah! Basically, what that amounts to is at least six Nickelback songs a day, about twenty songs that somehow feature Rob Thomas, and every crappy one-hit wonder from the past twenty-five years, with a few enjoyable songs (‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, ‘I Want You To Want Me’, ‘My Sharona‘) sprinkled in. Not nearly enough. I work hard, I shouldn’t have to be subjected to this pile of mediocrity! I demand good music! I deserve it, the customers deserve it! I can’t stop using exclamation points!!!!!!
Back to the play list I made. I didn’t realize what a vast undertaking it was until I got around to starting this behemoth. The music that made the cut had to be light. No three-chord punk rock, no Motorhead (sorry Lemmy), no hip-hop. The following words were never to be heard over these lobby speakers: ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, ‘asshole’, ‘pussy’, ‘cunt’, ‘motherfucker’, and ‘bastard’, and all variations of said words contained therein. Based on what the radio station normally plays, I surmised that these words would be okay, so long as they’re weren’t utilized ad nauseum: ‘sex‘, ‘hell’, ‘ass’, ‘bitch’, ‘piss’, and ‘damn’ but not ‘god damn’. Allusions or euphenisms to these words were okay, since most people wouldn’t understand them anyway. Innuendo is allowed but not encouraged. No songs about boners or turds (sorry blink-182). Nothing that blatantly hails Satan, Beezelbub, or any other awesome Dark Lord would be allowed. Nothing that endorsed any kind of jihad or terrorist activities would be cool, either. Guitar solos are to be kept brief and are never to be innovative or face-melting. No screaming. No screamo. No blast beats. No odd time signatures. No guitar tapping. No double bass. No br00tal breakdowns. So much restriction!
There were some albums I could instantly add to the play list without really thinking about it (Pet Sounds, 1, The Beastie Boys’ The Mix-Up because it’s instrumental) but when it came time to add single songs I realized how out of touch I am with my music. Having to go and read lyrics to every potential work song got to be pretty draining, but I had the resolve and the free time to do it and do it and do it well. And I did. Checking lyrics did open my eyes to a lot of things I may never have found out otherwise. Like, The Format sure do like to reference myspace in their lyrics. And I knew Chris Conley from Saves The Day was depressed, but sheesh. Dude needs a hug. I mean, life can’t be that horrible, can it? You’re in a popular, respected band, probably not making a TON of money but still doing fairly well, yet he writes some of the saddest songs I’ve ever heard. And speaking of sad, why do I become so melancholy whenever Ben Folds starts crooning? What is wrong with me?? Oh, and I re-realized how hard Billy Joel rules, even though a lot of his stuff gets me all verklempt just like Ben Folds does.
I used to take solace in the fact that I could pretty much out-trivia anyone when it came to music, and I probably still can. But doing this made me realize that there is still SO much I don’t know. I want to know all of it. I want to fill my brain with as much information as possible, no matter how useless it might seem. If I’m out front scooping and a customer asks me who’s singing that awesome song they’re hearing, I should be able to tell them, and then explain the song’s meaning to them, give a brief history of the band and recommend albums for them to check out. I’m a nerd, but one day all this work will come in handy, I just know it. I’ll marry a girl just as nerdy as I, and we’ll make mixtapes for each other and go shopping for used vinyl and grow into being the old people who stand in the back at shows. She’ll probably wear glasses, have a nervous laugh, and wear a lot of vintage t-shirts. We’ll pop out some kids and raise them to embrace who they are, to remind them that there is no one else like them on god’s green earth, even if they’re a super duper geek. We’ll stay young at heart, and embrace the simple things in life that make it worth living.
Hopefully she strolls into my work on a Wednesday and asks me what my favorite Elvis Costello album is or tell me how Pinkerton changed her life or why John K. Samson can do no wrong. I’ll be ready.
