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Mozartus Interruptus
Mar. 10th, 2005 04:00 pmIs anyone getting as irritated as I am by the increasing prevalence of a version of Mozart's "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik" which starts off right, just gets going, and then skips to the end and repeats?
When one is on hold, waiting for someone to deign to answer one's phone call, one needs to be given something to listen to which, as well as reassuring one that the line is still active, soothes the seething maelstrom of resentment and frustration that roils and incandesces in one's breast. This is so far from performing this function as to induce the exact opposite. Greensleeves on Stylophone was at least a complete tune. Someone either took a recording of EKN and threw away most of it, or (worse) actually made a bunch of musicians sit there and play this mutilated travesty, simply because they were too cheap to allow their callers to listen to a real piece of music.
After about the tenth or eleventh repetition, you start to think that maybe, just maybe, one of these times it will go on and play properly. After the fourteenth or fifteenth, you start looking for an axe.
Of course, the myth, that no-one ever questions in case they have to stop believing it, is that no-one is ever kept on hold that long.
I hate being on hold.
(This entry replaced an earlier entry which was deemed to be offensive. Well, more offensive. Sorry, everyone, I'm just out of sorts today.)
When one is on hold, waiting for someone to deign to answer one's phone call, one needs to be given something to listen to which, as well as reassuring one that the line is still active, soothes the seething maelstrom of resentment and frustration that roils and incandesces in one's breast. This is so far from performing this function as to induce the exact opposite. Greensleeves on Stylophone was at least a complete tune. Someone either took a recording of EKN and threw away most of it, or (worse) actually made a bunch of musicians sit there and play this mutilated travesty, simply because they were too cheap to allow their callers to listen to a real piece of music.
After about the tenth or eleventh repetition, you start to think that maybe, just maybe, one of these times it will go on and play properly. After the fourteenth or fifteenth, you start looking for an axe.
Of course, the myth, that no-one ever questions in case they have to stop believing it, is that no-one is ever kept on hold that long.
I hate being on hold.
(This entry replaced an earlier entry which was deemed to be offensive. Well, more offensive. Sorry, everyone, I'm just out of sorts today.)
