Yesterday my line partner and I were standing around in the back, and I was making soup (making soup is my actual job. Soups and alfredos) and the music is thumping loud enough to wake the dead. Not that I have anything against Metallica, but at eight in the morning--yeah, it's a little much.
So my line partner says, "Do you think they'll change the station, Yodi?" And I said, knowing the asst boss loves Emma for being a model employee--fast and complacent--"Emma, he'll do anything if you ask."
So she smiles at him as he comes around the corner, being all feminine and helpless, doing the eyelash-thing and asks him to change the station. And he blinks. Probably because the music is so loud it's hard to hear. So I yell, "She wants you to change the station to easy-listening, because the music is giving her a headache."
Of course, he gives me that suspicious look like he thinks I'm instigating, which I'm not because it's eight am in the morning and after two hours of sleep I'm not really in the mood. And he says, "Of course, Emma. I know just the station." And turns on the Christmas station. Emma is thrilled. Even though he thought he was being an ass, I love Christmas music. Even "Seattle" Christmas music, which involves a lot of Frank Sinatra and coffee-parodies.
An hour later, he rushes back around the corner. "Something happened to the station!"
Ave Maria is playing and this guy can't deal with it. "What is this weird mumbo-jumbo b-sht?" he yells. (From a guy who once asked if I was a Christian.)
It's my favorite song so I try to explain, but he's having none of it.
He wants his Rudolf and all this creepy latin stuff freaks him out.