It’s A Free “Country”

, , , | Right | December 9, 2017

(I work at a farm store, so naturally the piped-in music is country. I’m not a country fan in the least, but I tolerate it. I am working at the information desk when a female customer, I would guess in her 60s, approaches me.)

Me: “Hi there! How are you doing today? Anything I can help you find?”

Customer: “Hi! You know, I hate to be that person, but I just wanted to let you know I don’t agree with your choice of music for this store.”

Me: “Oh. Well, I’m sorry about that. We actually don’t get to pick the radio station. To be 100% forthcoming, it isn’t a station per se, but a satellite channel. It’s locked-in so we can’t change it.”

Customer: “Mmm… That’s very unfortunate. I wouldn’t think a family-oriented store would want to condone messages of drinking, adultery, drugs, and an anti-Christian lifestyle.”

Me: *rolling eyes internally* “I’m sorry the music offends you, ma’am. I wish there was something I could do about it.”

Customer: “Maybe there is something you can do. I’d like to speak to your manager.”

Me: “Actually, that would be me! I’m not the store manager, but I’m the manager on duty.”

Customer: *look of disappointment* “Oh, I see. When will the store manager be in?”

Me: “Here’s the thing, ma’am: the store manager doesn’t get to choose the music type, either. We have 60-plus stores all over the midwest, and all are tuned-in to country. I guess they figure since we’re a farm store, we should always have country music.”

Customer: “Are you serious? You have little children in your stores, and you’re playing songs about getting high on drugs, being drunk, drunk driving, and other reckless behavior!”

Me: “Again, I’m sorry, ma’am; there just isn’t anything I can do about it. I understand where you’re coming from, however. This type of music isn’t my favorite, either.”

Customer: *suddenly perking up and smiling* “Oh, really? You seem like a nice, clean-cut young man. What kind of music do you like?”

Me: *coming to the full realization of the corner I’ve painted myself into* “Oh! Me? Um… You see… I… uh… Death metal.”

Customer: “…”

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