The other day a certain customer was listening to some wailing emotional saxophone jazz with his headphones on. The kind of jazz you’d expect to hear in a bad romantic movie as a star-crossed lover walks, spurned and heartbroken, away from his desired’s bungalow set conveniently on a moonlit beach. How did I know what kind of jazz he was listening to? His headphones weren’t plugged in. Everybody knew. He was sheepish. It was funny.