Something that comes up a lot in work is the news that nobody, and it seems nobody anywhere, can sing.
You might think that’s an odd conversation for the workplace, but it usually happens at the start of meetings to alleviate awkward meetings. The boss is having trouble getting herself off mute and dips out of the chat.
“Want to give us a song while we wait?”
“Trust me. You do not want to hear me sing.”
“I was in a band years ago and although I could play, the other musicians literally banned me from having a microphone.”
“I won’t subject you to that. Even the local cats are embarrassed.”
… and so on. Software engineers, product managers, account managers, CTOs, all quite keen, overly keen to tell you that their singing is so bad it’ll shatter your double-glazing.
Where does this diffidence come from? These aren’t exactly bashful people - at least they’re pretty good at interrupting and blustering through difficult conversations. And many have children! Some, I reckon are even used to football stands and Glastonbury, and others church pews: the three places in British society where singing still seems just about acceptable, for some reason.
I’m not saying I mind this by the way. I can sing, but there’s no way I’m going to belt out a Nessun Dorma on a zoom call! The thought of that silent pause at the end is making my toes curl. What would you say if someone did that? It would be excruciatingly embarrassing - even if it was good - and everybody secretly knows this, and will back out of the prospect faster than a Turkey on the run from Bernard Matthews.
And so everyone deflects it by pretending they couldn’t hold a note, even if it were given to them by the angels themselves. That’s the cool thing to do, the humorous, expected way to deal with it: I can’t sing; I’m so bad I’d get a noise pollution warning; I have to leave the room during happy birthday or my family will pack their suitcases and leave the candles burning through the cake.
Well folks. I don’t believe you. Not really.
No comments:
Post a Comment