Are you trying to drive me out of your store?
I spend money there.
I'm a good customer.
Tonight, you lured me in with Tony Bennett's, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams".
Who could hate that?
Wait! Click the stop button on my player.
Let me just say that I was having a great time tapping my hands across the folded metal baby seat.
It was like I was playing grocery cart castanets for Tony Bennett.
But no.
No, you cut off near the end and played Mick Jagger singing something like, "It's a drag getting old...",
only to cut off that song, and follow it up with,
Joan Baez singing, "Kumbaya".
Kumbaya?
Really?
Where are we?
At camp?
At a peace rally?
No. We are in Tuesday Morning.
Shopping.
Or are we?
Maybe we were actually in the movie, "Deliverance", because you followed that song with a rousing rendition of "Dueling Banjos".
Although, I didn't see any hillbillies.
Seriously?
I had to leave the store.
But not before I turned to the clerk and said, "Your music selections are so weird."
The lack of musical flow bothered me.
This wasn't the first time.
Oh no.
Last time, I left the store because the whiny guitar, I'm guessing Jimmi Hendrix, gave me an earache.
I cannot concentrate on shopping if you are fooling with the music.
Pick a station, genre, or what have you, but stay with it.
Do the employees fight over who's song gets played?
Are they in the back fighting over music instead of lowering prices?
Just who is the d.j.?
I have an idea.
Let me be the d.j.
I could set up a booth in the back.
By the rugs and art.
I've got two turntables and a microphone.
Call me.
We'll talk.
