Reduce me to a muzak fate

I love Christmas.

As well as the day itself, with all its traditions and trimmings, I mostly enjoy the build-up over the weeks beforehand, including several opportunities to freeze various appendages off while playing carols with the Menai Bridge Brass Band outside supermarkets (especially fun as a tuba player because you get to hug a large amount of very cold metal, which also happens to be a very effective collecting device for rain and snow).

One thing I don’t enjoy so much is the festive muzak they insist on playing inside the supermarkets at least a month in advance.

Actually, today (which is only one month until Christmas Eve) was the first day I noticed and was irritated by the sonic backdrop to my shopping, which seems a bit later than usual.  Only one more month to put up with it…

Fortunately, I happened to pass the beer aisle and noticed a festive brew called “Bah Humbug” (an offering from the Wychwood Brewery, whose beers I generally enjoy greatly) on special offer, so I decided that a bottle of this would provide suitable compensation for having to endure the annoying tunes.  (NB in case you were wondering, I did actually buy the beer – it didn’t even cross my mind to do otherwise and I don’t think I’d have been able to convince the store detective that they owed me a bottle in return for subjecting me to such musical torture!)

I suppose, ironically, this means that the muzak was effective, if only minimally so, in encouraging me to purchase Christmas-related products (which, presumably, is the reason they choose to inflict it on us – I hope they are not just sadists).  I’d probably better not buy a bottle of beer every time I go shopping over the next month, as it wouldn’t be good for my wallet, my waistline or my liver.  As a one-off, though, I thought it was a pretty good excuse. 🙂

Thinking about all this reminded me of a line from a Queen song, which I remembered as “reduce me to a muzak fate” and thought came from the song Death on two legs (on the Night at the Opera album).  Checking up by listening to a handful of tracks from my collection of early Queen albums, backed up with a swift bit of googling for the lyrics, I discovered that it’s actually from Flick of the Wrist (on Sheer Heart Attack, so I was only out by one album) and the line is actually “reduce you to a muzak fake machine”.  Still, I decided to keep my slightly mangled version of the line as the title for this post.

 

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How to make a telephone queue particularly irritating

Phone queues are never very much fun [1] though, sadly, they seem to be a fairly inevitable fact of modern life.

This afternoon I had to spend a certain amount of time in a phone queue and, while it was actually fairly short compared to the average in-queue waiting time, I was feeling quite tired and slightly grumpy before I started the call and even more so by the end of it (though I think I did a fairly good job of being polite to the person I finally spoke to, as I realised the queue wasn’t his fault).

What made this queue especially annoying, apart from the inherent annoyance of having to wait in the first place [2], was the fact that while the hold-muzak was actually fairly good by hold-muzak standards (something by Tchaikovsky, I think), they kept on interrupting it with a message to say that I could also get information from their website.  That would have been fine – perhaps even useful – if I’d got the phone number from somewhere else and hadn’t realised they had a website.  However, I had already been on the website and it was from there that I found I could only achieve what I needed to do by phoning them up, so I wasn’t at all impressed to be invited every 30 seconds or to visit the website!

 

Footnotes:

[1] I suppose it’s conceivable that some people may enjoy waiting in a phone queue; I’m certainly not one of them.

[2] At least this time I was able to do some useful stuff on my computer while I was waiting.  I remember one time I made a phone call (I think it was to renew my car insurance) and ended up stuck in a queue for a very long time; fortunately one of my housemates (as I lived in a shared house at the time – this must be at least 10 years ago) had left a fairly interesting and not especially short book by the phone, and I managed to read a substantial chunk of it (my memory says about half, but it’s probably exaggerating slightly) by the time I reached the end of the queue.