Valentines Day was last weekend.
In observance of this so-called holiday, the person in charge of choosing the playlist at my place of work spent perhaps an hour scrolling through song suggestions available to them and chose the very worst of the worst love songs in music history to torture employees throughout the week.
Now, in addition to every awful song ever released by Air Supply and Debbie Gibson, we are also treated to such memorable ditties as Do That To Me One More Time by Captain & Tennille, The Greatest Love Of All by Whitney Houston, Lady In Red by Chris DeBurgh, Jimmy Harran whining Where Are You Now? and of course, no awful Love song Playlist could be complete without Lionel Ritchie singing "Hello". Argh! The list just goes on and on and on, and we get to hear these awful tunes three times each day.
It reminds me of the scene in High Fidelity where a father steps in to the record shop and asks if they have a copy of "I Just Called to Say I love You" and Jack Black goes ballistic on the man, tossing him out on to the street because that is NOT his idea of what real music is.
So maybe I'm a bit of a music snob. I spent many decades completely immersed in it, picking and choosing what ought to be repeated and what ought to be buried forever. It's a perverse form of torture to me being at the mercy of some cubicle creature upstairs subjecting me to what they think is good music.
I do agree that some songs are not appropriate for my work environment. The elderly patrons would certainly complain if we suddenly switched to playing the greatest hits KISS ever recorded. But how about The Eagles? What about the Beatles? How can they bypass Steely Dan or Supertramp or Styx and go straight to Andy Gibb? Come On! If they must play oldies, why not GOOD oldies?
So I'm thinking of starting a separate blog where I'll just post youtube videos of all of these very awful songs and maybe call the blog songsforpeoplewhowillneverhaveaboyfriendcuztheyaresolame.com or myhusbandbeggedmetoturnitoff.com or something like that. Because, I'm sayin, if I can't stand listening to all of this pap, could you imagine my husband in such an environment day in and day out with that music? Great Googey moogley, he'd bring his gun to work!
And you wonder why I am so warped! Huh!