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15 November 2014 @ 07:15 pm
This is why I'm so antisocial after work.  
A shitty DJ is hacking up the worst of pop music with preteen girls singing along off-key.  I have the worst headache of my life.  #makeitstop
-- me on twitter, earlier today



Who hires a DJ to entertain six girls, aged around 8-10?  What a waste of money.  But it was the kid's birthday, so maybe this was the one thing she wanted.  A DJ.  I don't know.

Being 8-10, this child has no taste of music.  So I spent an entire afternoon being treated to blasts of songs like "Tick Tock", "Sexy and I Know It", and "Blurred Lines".  Call me old-fashioned, but none of those songs are appropriate for that age group.  They're also terrible songs, with bad lyrics and weak beats that gained popularity solely through the power of a catchy hook.  It makes me cringe.  The DJ makes it worst by cranking his sound system up to 11, and hacking the songs up into little pieces that don't mix into each other well at all.  I mean, unless they were playing musical chairs I can't imagine any reason why cutting a song off abruptly and then starting a new tune halfway through the song would be a good idea.  They were not playing musical chairs.  Also, children can't sing and I wish they'd stop trying.

Of course, this party ran long so I didn't get away from work until half an hour after my shift ends.  Half an hour before the Clubhouse closed, I spoke to the homeowner and told him he had to be out on time.  He starts reeling some bullshit about how my boss told him he could stay an hour after to clean up.  Um, no.  You aren't paying to use this Clubhouse, so you get out at closing.  He dawdles and dilly-daillies and doesn't tell his DJ to turn off the music because he's certain it'll only take five minutes to clean up.  I should have gone straight to the DJ and shut him down right then and there, but curse my soft heart, I didn't want to ruin the kid's birthday.  So in the end, I had to stand around waiting for the DJ to get his gear packed up, listening to the parents of the birthday girl whine that they didn't know we close at five when it's on the contract that they signed.  It's not my fault they don't read what they put their signatures on.

I told my boss she ought ot charge the residents for my overtime, but she won't, and next time they have a party they will do this all over again.  
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