From 2002-2008, I worked two full-time retail jobs. Overtime was common at both around the holidays. 2006 was insane for me. Like, the number of weekly hours I worked that year sound like I’m lying, and Thanksgiving to New Year’s was crazy in comparison to the rest of that crazy year.
Anyway: Christmas. Retail. I’d work 10+ hours at job 1, then go to job 2 and put on another 8-10 hours, then I’d crash for however long until the next shift. All the while it would be the same 20 or so Christmas songs over and over and over.
Between shifts, there’d still be Christmas music. Gas station? Christmas music. Restaurants? Christmas music. Bank? Christmas music.
Sometimes I’d sleep at my mom’s house between shifts because it was closer to one of my jobs. She’d be up, getting into the spirit by… listening to Christmas music. Even in my sleep, it haunted me.
I can still vividly remember Christmas shopping for my niece and nephew in 2006, standing in line at a Toys R Us holding this big stuffed animal. “Wonderful Chrismastime” by Paul McCartney was on. That fucking refrain penetrated my psyche like it never had before, and I literally began to shake.
“Simply. Having. A wonderful Christmastime.”
I thought I was going to cry. Or just start screaming. Or maybe grab someone and punch them until the police arrived. But I didn’t do any of those things.
I set the stuffed animal on the floor, I walked outside, and I sat in my car, staring blankly at nothing, and I chain smoked a full pack of cigarettes, lighting them off one another. And then I went back to work.
That was 17 years ago, and sometimes I still drop what I’m doing and leave a store if that, or one of a handful of other songs, come on.
This isn’t a joke. And it’s not just MC.
From 2002-2008, I worked two full-time retail jobs. Overtime was common at both around the holidays. 2006 was insane for me. Like, the number of weekly hours I worked that year sound like I’m lying, and Thanksgiving to New Year’s was crazy in comparison to the rest of that crazy year.
Anyway: Christmas. Retail. I’d work 10+ hours at job 1, then go to job 2 and put on another 8-10 hours, then I’d crash for however long until the next shift. All the while it would be the same 20 or so Christmas songs over and over and over.
Between shifts, there’d still be Christmas music. Gas station? Christmas music. Restaurants? Christmas music. Bank? Christmas music.
Sometimes I’d sleep at my mom’s house between shifts because it was closer to one of my jobs. She’d be up, getting into the spirit by… listening to Christmas music. Even in my sleep, it haunted me.
I can still vividly remember Christmas shopping for my niece and nephew in 2006, standing in line at a Toys R Us holding this big stuffed animal. “Wonderful Chrismastime” by Paul McCartney was on. That fucking refrain penetrated my psyche like it never had before, and I literally began to shake.
“Simply. Having. A wonderful Christmastime.”
I thought I was going to cry. Or just start screaming. Or maybe grab someone and punch them until the police arrived. But I didn’t do any of those things.
I set the stuffed animal on the floor, I walked outside, and I sat in my car, staring blankly at nothing, and I chain smoked a full pack of cigarettes, lighting them off one another. And then I went back to work.
That was 17 years ago, and sometimes I still drop what I’m doing and leave a store if that, or one of a handful of other songs, come on.
You definitely aren’t alone. I know people who have PTSD from Christmas music.