Well, here it is, the first week of November. I don’t know about the big cities where everyone else lives, but in The Big City near Pancake Flats, a few radio stations are already playing Christmas music.
All day, every day. Groan.
So that means it’s time to send my annual whining e-mail to the station where I normally tune in. My letter goes like this:
Dear Operations Manager,
Remember me? This is my annual “Christmas Music Complaint” letter. I won’t be listening to your station till after the first of next year. Like Christmas, that’s a long way off.
I enjoy Christmas music as much as your corporate directors, but I like it around Christmas and I’m only going to listen to it then. Perhaps you’ll reconsider. Please.
Yours is one of the few morning drive stations that isn’t salted with filth—and I really appreciate that. I’ll miss tuning in, but until you replace this early irritation, I’m turning you off.
Wishing you and yours a Merry Christmas. And a Happy New Year, too.
A day or two later the Operations Manager will send me a nice e-mail acknowledging mine. But he/she won’t change the format. “Thanks for your letter to Radio Station SAMO. (Same ol’…same ol’) Your comments are appreciated, but creativity doesn’t survive here.”
Well, a lot of businesses have completely divorced themselves from Christmas, so maybe I should be thankful that SAMO is trumpeting the Christmas season. But how can I be thankful? It’s not Thanksgiving yet.