Soft piano

Another private member's club, but this time, in the morning, and not a social event, but a business meeting, arguably. Still, the attire remains the same: my trusty coat jacket from Muji, my similarly trusty long-sleeved green shirt, bought on the same day as the coat jacket, from the same place; my also similarly trusty green pants, because nothing beats blending into the scenery.

When I realized I'd be attending a lot more of these things I finally decided to get myself a better complement of outfits you'd call "business casual". Or, wait, is that the right term? Anyway, I don't bother with neckties anymore. I just see what's available and I throw things together - a really minor privilege of being male, I guess.

For me, it also frees up time to somewhat, well, blend into the scenery. More or less. I'm a loud guy and I can get really animated. But at least if I dress the right clothes, I'll look a little more acceptable.

Other things help, too. These private spaces tend to have rules, and because they can't help but flex their exclusivity, it's all online. (Okay, it's not because of that. It's not just because of that.) You're reminded almost constantly that nobody else is supposed to see this place, so please don't take photos of the place. Also, don't be an asshole to the staff. They shall never carry your stuff unless they offer to.

The atmosphere, though, well, it's nothing you haven't seen before, unless they've also made a big deal out of how ornately decorated they are. Well, there's likely to be a lot of whiskey on display. Or a leg of ham, European, treated like a trophy. The seats are comfier, but at the same time more uncomfortable. You think of your posture. You do not slouch. You hear the piped-in music in the background. It's something vaguely jazzy. Piano jazz. Soft piano jazz.

Wait, I know that song.

But the views are nice. The views here are nicer! Thirty-three floors up, a much more organic cityscape... this must be better at night. But I can't get up. This sofa's armchairs are too high.

But I really know that song. I can't quite place it, but I really... it's a soft piano version of "Bboom Bboom".

It's a soft piano version of "Bboom Bboom"!

What's that doing here?

But more importantly, what's that doing here? The last place I expect to hear a Korean tune is here, in a business meeting, in a private member's club, up in the skyline, with this leg of ham and these bottles of whiskey. But, okay, maybe it's a one-off. It's a soft piano version. It isn't that bad. Nobody else has to know...

It's a soft piano version of "What Is Love?"

Okay, what the heck is going on?

And so the meeting begins, where I order a flat white and try to squirm into that surprisingly uncomfortable sofa, writing down notes while making sense of what's going on. And I do make sense of it. The music is just a backdrop, upping the atmosphere, making you feel a bit refined while not getting in the way of you being productive. But then, during a lull, I start playing "name that tune" with myself, in my head. It's a soft piano version of "Peek-A-Boo"! It's a soft piano version of "Sunny Summer"! If they ever played a Mamamoo tune, I would have slightly, visibly, freaked out.

And your responses...

Post a Comment