Thanks to the Smart People Forums that FCJ introduced, I stumbled on a thread called I Remember When…. where the poster is supposed to add their earliest memory of some popular topic, preferably something that wasn’t from this century. I quickly realized that I was entering that age in my life where the things that I remember are completely unheard of to those that are younger than I. This is a phenomenon that I encounter frequently whilst working in the bar.
Let me preface this with a bit of information first. I am a proud intoxicoligist, and have been for a number of years, at a restaurant that employs idiotic cocktail servers the standard underage hostesses (hostessesses? hosti? hostess’? Twinkies?). This restaurant has the habit of playing the same country music over and over and over and over again. Eventually, I started to yell at the speakers each time a particularly annoying song came on and occasionally scaring the customers. In an effort to maintain my sanity, I started to bring my own music and played it on some portable speakers that only the bartender, servers and those that bellied up to the mahogany could hear. During slow periods, I would play “Name That Tune” with the customers in an attempt to engage and “entertain” or at least keep busy for a while.
The problem is that 86% of the artists showcased in my little game are completely unknown to the hostess. I would understand if they have never heard of Echo and the Bunnymen but they should at the very least know Eric Clapton, Queen or Paul McCartney. Yes that’s right, more than one person responded with “Who’s that?” when mentioning the name of a Beatle. I am about to turn 30, not old by any means and sufficiently close enough in age to the others so that we should be able to share some knowledge of the past. But these people are making me feel old, so much so that I have often had to get support from the bar patrons just to make sure that I didn’t say something incorrect which leads to some satisfying insults and hazing of the poor little girls.
I often get strange stares when mentioning some toys that hold a special place in my memory as well, this time it is Bibliowife who failed to recognize the product in question. Just last night we were discussing this very topic when I mentioned fond memories of taking a Koosh Ball by the single looped string and swinging over my head until the loop snapped sending the stringy projectile across the room knocking over picture frames or into the forbidden plants that my mother desperately tried to keep alive or (my favorite) directly into Captain Punctuation’s face. Bibliowife gave me a sad little smile as if to say “I’m sorry dear but you are insane, I love you anyway.” She had never heard of Koosh Balls. I didn’t see how this was possible when those little stretchy stringy balls of fun were daily projectiles in my home. Maybe I am going insane and these products never existed but I swear I remember throwing a wet Koosh, complete with stuck together strands, across the room only to dodge a balled up Popple that had been flung back at me.