Never The Twain

I don't whether I'm going for incredulity or curmudgeonly with this one. We'll all see as I hammer onto my keyboard.

Yesterday I sold some cables to a perfectly nice young man. I'd say he was 25 or so. He's been to the Shop before, and always calls me sir or Mr. Cosgriff. He never argues price, simply buying what he needs. The guy never gives me grief about cost or service.

Yet he plays his music loud from his work van and leaves it on all the time he's in the old barn. The lyrics are always vile and disgusting and blasting right in front of my place of business. Interestingly too his dog is aways with him, a tiny lap dog of some kind, smaller than a chihuahua. He lets it run all around the Shop barking and yapping. It's never really in the way; indeed it's nice enough to me. Yet it's highly incongruent to the music. That, and the fact that the customer is himself huge, hulking over the toy dog.

That's admittedly unimportant.  To the other stuff, I doubt I ever will but part of me wants to say to this young man, "You're so nice and considerate. Why do you listen to that terrible music and blast out so for the whole neighborhood to hear? You're better than that." 

I genuinely like him. He was buying cables because he'd lost all of his in a broken sewer. I honestly felt bad for him when he told me that. I mean, yes, I make money selling drain snake cables. Yet that doesn't mean I revel in someone's ill fortune. 

Still, the loud, terrible music. I simply have trouble understanding how the two things fit together: nice and considerate all around except for that. It's just beyond me.