Five things I learned selling fireworks

1. Christmas music sucks

The shopping centre my little explosives booth is set up has the same playlist for each day. Same hour, same song. The whole day constitutes of a variety of a few alternative songs, a few popsongs, and some christmas music. 10:45 Adele, „Hello from the other siiiiiiiide“ and around 3pm it’s time to hear the good old Michael Bublé and his christmas songs. At 2pm comes Ben Howard’s Old pine. I like that. It’s five minutes of resting time for me – at least so I like to believe. In reality, things are different.

Across the hallway there is a little santa climbing up and down a string, singing jingle bells in a constant loop. People buy this thing. And its music drives me mad. If it would only shut the fuck up. It’s so mind numbing that I woke up in the middle of the night, thinking that someone turned youtube on (hey, who’s got a radio these days anymore?), only to realize, the song is in my head, hardwired.

Hearing voices redefined. I should already line up to mental asylum. Next December I’ll spend in Arab countries that Jingle Bells hasn’t invaded yet.

2. Everyone hides a little pyromaniac within

We’re all little pyromaniacs. It’s not just the cross-eyed strange guys who come and ask for the ones that make the biggest blast who enjoy it. It’s not just the youth wanting to play with fire and immerse themselves in danger. It’s also mothers, as if kids in a candy shop. „Oh wat iz dis? Oh gimme three of those! Ya, what does that do? Oh yea.. hmmm.. yes, two more.“ As if they’d buy for their kids – oh noes, they flare up hearing how fun they are and end up blowing them up by themselves. „Two for the kid, one for me, hehheeheee“

3. Eradicate this little temp job of mine and not much would change

Pyromaniacs would have to google gunpowder formulae on Tor browser and go chemistry shopping to their high schools if their teachers still live, to get their high. That would be the biggest difference to some individuals who otherwise lack access to explosives due to decent legislations.

Eradicate the entire fireworks industry and we’d see some more changes, starting from the poor Chinese factory workers who give their lives so others could accidentally have theirs ruined or taken – by faulty fireworks. It’s a loop of evil for a few pretty sights. Go fuck in a museum if you want explosions with surrounding aesthetics! Eventually it’s the same.

In a bigger scale, whether we, herd animals look at the sky burning every new year’s eve or not, doesn’t change the quality of our lives significantly. It might as well not exist – and dogs would be happier.

4. I sell trash.

You buy that thing, you blow it up the sky, the small remnants of it fall back down. Who’s gonna pick their own trash up? Most people won’t, hence, I contributed to the trashing of the world. And global warming. FML.

5. I’m a hypocrite.

I’ve just bitten the hand that feeds me.

Happy end of the good ol’ ’16

Jingle ALL the way!