Rattle and Whistle

It may be true that you will learn to despise any person after you’ve spent enough time with them. Reason is thrown to the wayside in that moment of hate when you have finally reached a breaking point with your unavoidable companion. You even contemplate murder, or at least imagine an unfortunate workplace accident, alien abduction, or spontaneous combustion. We’ve all had this happen, no matter how nice you are.
My morning routine is beginning try me. I’m working on the road, spending most of my waking moments with one man, my boss, essentially. He is charismatic at the outset, funny, jolly, even fascinating at times. Now, however, after weeks with him and only him, my toleration is begging for rest. He’ll show up at my hotel door, 7.30am, bright and bubbly. I on the other hand, am grim, groggy; bracing myself for his cheery morning comment and shit eating grin. His words annoy me for no good reason.
We eat breakfast.
I ignore as many conversation starting comments as I can muster without distinct insolence.
We drive to the AFB.
I ignore as many conversation starting comments as I can muster without distinct insolence.
I begin to wake up. I begin to be more cordial.
We arrive at the AFB hospital
The song that was last playing on the radio of our rental car as we park at the hospital becomes the absolute bane of my workday.

He whistles it.

It’s not even a whistle, it’s that feeble, airy, seemingly unobtrusive, half whistle. It’s weak and in my ear for the duration of the morning. I’ll try to defer him by singing a catchy tune of my own, or by whistling like any decent person whistles.
No dice.
“WHISTLE LIKE A MAN, YOU TURD!” I utter in my head.
The worst part?
The worst part is that it’s never the entire song. In fact, it’s not even close to the entire chorus! It’s one part of it, over and over again. Nonsensical parts of the chorus spliced together, made into a death march chant. “whooh whowhooooooo, whooah, whoooooooooooo”
A small list is building inside of my mind now of songs that are ruined forever as a direct result of this phenomenon.

Today, at lunch in the cafeteria, we watched coverage of the Olympic Games.
….
Do you have any idea at what speed the Olympic theme music can become annoying?
Imagine hearing it continuously on a loop for nearly an hour and a half after your lunch break.
Now, instead of hearing noble trumpets blasting it in perfect tune, replace it with a dry, pathetic, reaching for life ‘whrrrrroooooaaah’.

Add the tooth-gnashing intensity of 1,000 mosquitoes hovering around your head.

I wanted to jam #2 pencils into my ears.

“Whooo WHOO wh whoo wha wha wha, wh wh wh wh WH wh whwhWHWHwh wh whooooooaaaahh”
Again.

And again.

And Again.

I now harbor the same hate for the Olympic theme music that the Menards employees harbor for the cheery, banjo driven “SAVE BIG MONEY AT MENAAAAARDS!” theme music that plays every 45 seconds in their stores.