Millions of People Are Forced to Listen to "(My) Rainy Day Girl" Over and Over Again

Think adult contemporary music is merely wuss rock? Think again. Each ad-co song that burns up Bose Wave® AM/FM radios in kitchens across the country is packed with hidden messages about what it means to be a contemporary adult. Steal your kids' weed and lock the den door—things are about to get heavy.

Song: "(My) Rainy Day Girl" by The Villains, ranked 26th on Billboard's adult contemporary chart after taking the largest jump of any song this week.

What it teaches us about being a contemporary adult: You don't get the things you want anymore. Deal with it.

Isn't this the most timeless retail rock song you have ever heard? After first listening to "(My) Rainy Day Girl," I had to check the release date to make sure I didn't hear it in a Limited Too ten years ago. It's catchy and kind of fun and—holy crap—I just bought seven pairs of slacks and I had no idea I was even in a Marshall's.

I checked the music video's YouTube comments and, unsurprisingly, "(My) Rainy Day Girl" is very popular in restaurants and clothing stores:

This is the kind of song that companies love to play for customers. Playlists are created that are jam-packed with these tunes and they are pumped into stores' P.A. systems from corporate headquarters hundreds of miles away. Retail experience enjoyment experts are hired to calculate the average length of a patron's visit and music blocks are crafted around these time frames so the companies don't pay for more licensing fees then they have to. It's essentially radio, except you are spared the commercials because you are already shopping inside the ads.

"(My) Rainy Day Girl" will be put on rotation in even more stores and restaurants now that it has climbed the charts, and it helps that it's inoffensive enough to be played anywhere. You get a little nervous because it seems to start off with innuendo, "Raining hard on the day we met, I didn't care, we got soaking wet," but then the song proceeds and you realize that he's literally singing about inclement weather.

This song from the Villains is totally harmless and sweet until you realize that the majority of people who have heard it haven't done so through their own free will. No matter how amazing or terrible the song is, it will forever be "That Song from Work" for all those folks who sought it out on YouTube.

When I worked the phones and pick-up counter at a pizza place, we had a seven-song playlist that repeated itself over and over again. I was never trusted to open or lock up, so in my mind these songs began as the earth's crust hardened and will continue to play until the sun explodes. One of the songs on the playlist was "Lonely No More" by Rob Thomas.

On hot summer days I sat in the empty restaurant (there isn't a big rush for deep dish pizza when it's 95 degrees out) and wrapped plastic knives and forks in paper napkins while Rob Thomas wailed that he didn't "want to be lonely no mo'." The somber appropriateness of the song didn't dawn at me at the time, thank God, but neither did anything else about it.

To this day I can't tell you whether or not I like "Lonely No More." It exists on the same spiritual plane for me as those forks and knives.

The American retail or restaurant employee has less control than any other person on earth over what music they listen to. An in utero fetus can kick its mother's organs if it's sick of the Beethoven she's blasting through her stomach, but if you work in a store or dining establishment, you have to deal with the same songs over and over again.

People often refer to listening to their iPods as "the soundtrack to their lives." This is total bullshit. You can't choose your soundtrack. Henry Hill didn't choose to put on "And Then He Kissed Me" as he made his long walk through the bowels of the Copa Cabana. This is why "That Song from Work" is the closest thing we have to a soundtrack in our lives—it just happens to play only during the most boring part.

As we get older, our lives becomes dictated more and more by other people: bosses or spouses or kids. I barely consider myself a full-fledged adult, but I'd still say that 70% of my day consists of shit I don't want to do. It's depressing to think of it like this but, astonishingly, most folks handle this fact pretty damn well. For all we know, there could be a Gap employee who has gone absolutely mad because of "(My) Rainy Day Girl" and is currently driving to San Francisco to confront the Gap, Inc. executive responsible. He could have a roll of duct tape and a CD with the song on repeat in his trunk and a thirst for revenge in his heart.

But think of all the people who have been forced to listen to "(My) Rainy Day Girl" every single day over and over again and went on YouTube to find it. They didn't do so out of anger or annoyance; they did it because they happen to appreciate this part of the soundtrack that has been selected for them.

Late in his life, my Grandfather was eating at a restaurant and he asked the waiter if he could turn the music down. "I'm sorry," the waiter responded, "But the music comes from downtown."

Stunned, my grandfather looked at him and asked, "Do the hamburgers come from downtown too?"

The poor guy had to deal with my pissed-off grandfather, but at least he had a soundtrack to listen to.

Nick Greene loves Adult Contemporary music and David Lee Roth. He's on Twitter — @nickgreene