http://daphneanson.blogspot.com/
The other day I was in a genteel local clothing store with a decidedly genteel clientele – the type of people who dress on weekdays almost as if they’re going to church. The staff, in manner and appearance, reflect the ethos.
In the background, as usual, there was no obtrusive “musack” but there were the pleasant strains of classical music from CDs that the store sells as a sideline.
As I approached the changing rooms, garment in hand, I heard a well-dressed middle-aged man ask the genteel, middle-aged sales lady standing nearby what the music (Smetana’s Vltava) was that was being currently played.
“I think it’s Smetana,” she said. “But I’m not sure.”
“Yes, it is Smetana,” I heard myself saying, to smiles and nods. Evidently the store was about to notch up another CD sale.
And then, for good measure, since these were obvious music-lovers, I added: “It’s very similar to the Israeli national anthem.”
I suppose I expected to hear: “Really! How interesting!” or “That’s a coincidence. I wonder why.”
Not a bit of it. The genteel customer and the genteel sales lady look profoundly shocked. Then the lady threw her head back and roared an off-putting kind of laugh, while the man, not to be outdone, swiftly followed with curious hollow guffaws. He didn’t seem as keen to purchase a copy of the CD now.