Bop Blocker

Do you hear what I hear? God, I hope not.

Yes, it's the time of year when Christmas music crawls into the ear canals of customer service workers like a worm in a sandpaper onesie. But it's not all “Let There Be Peace on Earth” and “The Chipmunk Christmas Song (Christmas Don't Be Late)”. Everyone once in a while they'll sneak in an actual banger, but that's when you need to look out for a different type of ear worm….

Jeff Sedaris, a stocker and merchandiser at Planet Pets, was fronting the grooming aisle when one of the only Christmas songs he actually likes came on over the store’s speakers.

“Oh yeah,” says coworker Michelle Davis, “he loves that one, always singing along.”

The song in question is “I Got Your Christmas Right Here” by Aloe Blacc.

“It’s kinda like a fuck-off like,” says Pete Simon, a store cashier, before taking on a northeastern Italian-American affect, “‘Ay! Oh! I got your Christmas right here, pal!’.”

Yes, I suppose the song’s hook could conceivably be interpreted that way, but the gesture probably isn’t entirely workplace appropriate.

“Anyway,” continues Simon, “the music this time of year is awful, just pure garbage, and it helps to enjoy the one or two songs that don’t make you feel like rage puking. For me it’s any of the Sinatra stuff.”

The inaneness of Sinatra’s crappy Christmas songs notwithstanding, Simon makes a good point in that finding a small soundwave of comfort in a song you enjoy could help mitigate the aural brutality that composes 99% of the caustic ear-douche retail workers have to deal with at Christmastime.

“I definitely fuck with that ‘Christmas Wrapping’ song by The Waitresses,” says Michelle Davis and I guess we're talking about this now. “You know like ‘merry Christmas, merry Christmas, but I think I'll skip this one this year’.”

Yeah, I’ve heard it, but thanks. That one's alright I guess.

“Call me crazy,” says manager Jennifer Duncan, who just came out of the office because she thinks we're discussing our favorite Christmas songs, “but I actually like the Mariah song.”

Okay, she needs to be investigated by some kind of retail oversight authority.

Getting back on track, it's the comfort we find in those few-and-far between Christmas bops that made what happened next to Jeff Sedaris all the more tragic.

“His jam had just come on,” says Davis, “when this woman approached him asking about dog shampoo or something.”

Eye witness accounts tell us that Sedaris had already started humming along with the first verse, a routine that would eventually lead to him belting out the fuck-off-like chorus, when customer Demi Perkins approached him from behind.

“Do you work here?” asked Perkins despite the fact that she was facing a massive Planet Pets logo on the back of Sedaris's shirt.

Jeff Sedaris turned around, answering “Why yes, I do. What can I help you with?”

While Sedaris smiled and seemed perfectly happy to help Perkins, we can only speculate that he died a little inside now that his daily respite had been interrupted.

“I just wanted to know,” said Perkins as the song reached its first chorus, “if this shampoo just kills fleas or does it also prevent future flea attacks?”

Sedaris, knowing that if he answered the question quickly enough he’d be able to enjoy the remainder of the song, informed Perkins that the shampoo would prevent flea and tick infestations for a week after use and suggested a more robust flea prevention regimen. At that the conversation should have been done and Sedaris free to return to his fronting as well as his banger, but not every Christmas story has a happy ending.

“It was hard to watch,” says Michelle Davis, who was working nearby. “The second chorus was about to start and you could practically see Seddy take a deep breath before belting that shit out.”

But the deep breath would go to waste, doing nothing for Sedaris but deliver oxygen to his blood cells.

“Well, we love the dog park,” said Perkins, “me and my Mimi I mean, she’s our poodle mix, but you never know about those other dogs there, you know? Like if they’re properly groomed….”

Eyewitness accounts say that Perkins talked about her precious little Fufu or whatever right over the second chorus of the song. You could practically see whatever small piece of Christmas spirit Sedaris had left evaporate.

“Some people are so inconsiderate,” says customer Judd Donahue who was shopping at the time. “Show some decorum and let the boy jam out. Can't believe he kept his cool. I don't know if I'd be able to just stand there if you tried to talk over something like ‘Christmas Shoes’ while I was just about to get into it.”

Okay, get the hell out of this store right this instant.

During this ordeal, Sedaris made several, obvious attempts to turn away, walk off, or interrupt Perkins’s nonstop verbal dog diarrhea, but to no avail, even as the song's final verse came to an end.

“If only she'd leave him alone for like four friggin’ seconds,” says cashier Peter Simon, “he might make it. The song repeats its chorus twice at the end, and I think if just got in one good, loud ‘I got your Christmas RIGHT FUCKIN' HERE!’ he'd be fine.”

Again, the gesture is not at all necessary or appropriate. Also, can't he just listen to the song after he clocks out, like on the way home?

“Yeah, I guess,” says Simon, “but it's not the same. It just hits different in the store, like a life preserver when you're drowning in a sea of some really, like, sucky-ass turds.”

Okay, fair enough.

As if timed out perfectly by design, Perkins finished talking about her literal flea-bitten mutt just as the song, and Sedaris’s will to endure the holiday season, ended.

“....and I really should bring her in next time, once the fleas clear up I mean. Listen to me, going on and on. You probably have plenty to do, and I really do appreciate your help. You know, I think I will try that topical flea stuff.”

“No problem,” said Sedaris, barely keeping his customer service smile intact as his Christmas spirit crawled into its deathbed. “It’s in the case up front. If you'd just follow me over to–”

“Wait, shhh!” says Perkins, suddenly holding up a hand to Sedaris as Dolly Parton’s “Hard Candy Christmas” began to play over the store’s speakers. “Oh my god, I love this song! Don't talk, just let me listen….”