Saving face

My company’s parking lot is gated, meaning that I have to stop and roll down my window to get in. Meaning that I have to turn my music down to save face.

It’s not a conscious decision. When you listen to the kind of music I do, it becomes an unconscious habit to preserve dignity. Sometimes I even catch myself switching to NPR just for effect.

This morning was different. A Destiny’s Child song was playing that I am only moderately embarrassed to admit that I love (“Lose My Breath”).

I reached for the volume button as usual, but then stopped myself. What’s the point, Dawg? (Yes, I call myself Dawg.) Are you going to be “discovered” and then ridiculed by work acquaintances? Is this going to affect your performance review? Are the VPs going to quietly discuss your musical preferences behind closed doors and decide that your employment should not only be terminated but also made fun of?

So I turned it up. I might’ve even sung along. I can’t be sure.

My first observation is that I survived with no recognizable ill-consequences. My second observation is that I’m never going to do that again, because that was intensely uncomfortable.

I’m not saying the discomfort is rational. It clearly isn’t. I’m just noticing that my body feels it has some sort of status or appearance that it has to uphold, and it’s a weird combination of feelings to witness how powerless I am against it (amusing, annoying, existentially frustrating).