Cultural Revelations in the Wegmans Check-Out Line

The other morning, I found myself in the crowded supermarket that is Rochester, New York’s flagship Wegmans. I had only limited time to procure my grocery supply for the week, and after filling my cart with lots of organic goodies, I headed to the check-out lines. Choosing a line at Wegmans is not a task to be taken lightly, however; past experiences have taught me that many people do not adhere to the “Fifteen Items or Fewer” signs, and even if everyone is following the rules, certain cashiers will put the bite on you to get a Shopper’s Club card or plead passionately for you to contribute to a local charity (I’ve discovered that responses of “I’m a poor graduate student–I need the charity!” are apparently ineffective, especially when I’m purchasing a piece of freshly baked potato-encrusted salmon from the pre-made foods counter).
Indeed, on this particular morning, I had just turned into what appeared to be a short line only to discover that its cashier was indeed the same woman who had talked to me at length about getting a Shopper’s Club card last time. Not wanting to endure the same lecture again (or have to quickly think up an excuse other than the fact that I already have far too many Shopper’s cards, gift cards and discount coupons in my wallet), I hurriedly backed away, but nearly collided with an exceptionally cheery Wegmans worker in the process.
“Oh, excuse me sir–” I stuttered, barely preventing my bag of freshly baked Vienna rolls from capitulating onto the dirty supermarket floor.
Cheery didn’t seem to be remotely perturbed.
“Sir, if you’re all set, line 17 is open,” he informed me, gesturing to a nearby counter.
“But–but that’s a fifteen-items-or-fewer line,” I exclaimed.
“Oh, that’s okay, we only enforce that during the afternoon rush,” he assured me (Aha, I knew it! I thought to myself). “Go right ahead.”
“Oh, okay,” I relented, glad to have at least escaped the attentions of Shopper’s Club lady in my original choice of check-out line. Hopefully, I would now have a friendly but quiet cashier, and I could merely watch in a guilty silence as my costs ticked up and my checking account ticked down. Upon my arrival in line 17, however, I realized that this would not be the case.
“Oh, hello! Ooh, you have reusable bags! How nice–so environmentally conscious! How’s your morning going, sir?”
“Fine,” I sighed, resigned to the small talk that was sure to follow.
“Oh, you’re a healthy eater,” said the cashier as I schlepped my organic fruits onto the rubber counter.
“Well, I’m a graduate student,” I told her. “And I didn’t eat very healthy in undergrad, so I’m trying to make up for it.”
“Oh yes, very good,” she smiled, swiping my case of Stonyfield yogurts. “Where are you studying?”
“I’m a student at the Eastman School,” I told her.
“Oh! You do music! So what do you–sing? Perform? Er–what’s the word?”
“Play?” I offered tentatively.
“Yes, that’s right! What do you play?”
“I’m a cellist,” I told her.
“Oh, wonderful!” she cooed to my bananas. “You know, my daughter plays the clarinet. She’s a physics major, of course, but she’s kept it up.…”
“That’s great,” I nodded.
“So, are you going to try for the symphony here?”
“What–the RPO?” I said, taken aback. “Oh–well, I’m interested in doing more with teaching, actually…I’m not really thinking of auditioning for a bunch of orchestras. I mean, it’s very difficult to get a stable position, especially these days….”
“Oh, really? But what else is there?” she asked, genuinely interested.
I looked down the counter; we still hadn’t gotten to my salmon. I sighed.
“Well, actually, there’s a lot of different options….but a lot of people don’t realize that….”
As I explained to her about chamber groups, teaching, arts administration, and alternative ensembles, I was struck by an intriguing realization: the majority of non-musicians probably believe that classical musicians just play in orchestras (presumably, the local orchestra). In fact, I don’t ever recall a non-musician asking me whether I’m planning to audition for a string quartet. And why would that be asked? When you talk to the average guy on the street about classical music, he’s going to be thinking of orchestras, powdered wigs, Mozart and Yo-Yo Ma. Maybe Juilliard if you’re lucky. He’s not going to launch into an animated discussion about the Emerson Quartet’s latest release, or the latest Jennifer Higdon premiere. People who are not classical musicians, or classical music aficionados, only believe what popular cultural presents to them about the genre–and that presentation is extremely general when compared with the sheer enormity of classical music, shrouded within its impenetrable cultural bubble.
Of course, this situation is not unique to classical music; we can’t possibly be all-knowing about every field. If I were to have a conversation with an ophthalmologist, for example, I’m sure I would appear just as unintentionally ignorant as my over-enthused cashier. I would probably just make some comment about having been blessed with good vision myself and then proceed to ask why “E” is the largest letter on those eye tests they give. A general lack of understanding does not pose any problems for ophthalmologists, however, because people don’t need to know much about eyes unless they have an eye issue–at which point they would consult an ophthalmologist. For us classical musicians, on the other hand, it is an issue, because we do not service a basic, physical need. Classical music is an optional service, and so it is prudent that we project it to the world in an accurate, all-encompassing manner. Collectively, we must ask ourselves why it is that the orchestra seems to be the most common cultural conception of musicians at work, and the answer is not that complex: it’s because it’s our most common conception of musicians at work! This makes plenty of sense, because for a long time, it was quite reasonable to assume that you could get a well-paying orchestra job. But obviously, times have changed. It’s no secret that the orchestra audition scene is much more competitive than it used to be–and that it’s now much more possible to make a living as a musician without playing in an orchestra. The problem is, many in the field still labor under the clearly obsolete “orchestra-job-or-nothing” mentality–so how can we expect classical music novices to shed that viewpoint when collectively, we have not? It only further underlines the need for a common recognition of the change transpiring in the modern field, and the extraordinary potential that that change represents.
Well, that’s my intriguing cultural insight of the day. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to enjoy my salmon dinner.