In the world around me today there is a complete inundation of light and sound everywhere I go, made not by nature but by man.
Sound
I work in a grocery store deli and at a hotel front desk. In both environments there is music playing at all times, audible in all parts of the building, constantly there even when you aren't paying attention to it.
I shall refrain from commenting on the content of the music, except to say that I find it generally lacking of substance, and will focus strictly on its mere existence.
At the deli the music comes in from over the counter, from the main area where the customers are. The prep area (our side of the counter) generates only the sounds of air handlers, ovens, and other kitchen hardware, but unless I'm standing next to the ovens or in the recessed area where the freezer is I can still hear the music coming in. It's not loud enough to cause communication problems, but it's present enough to be difficult to ignore.
Yesterday I was strolling about the store on my break, looking for a broom and dustpan that had disappeared from our department having likely been borrowed but not returned by some other employee. I looked everywhere, including briefly in other departments which had already closed down for the day. I walked into the produce department which is essentially a kitchen built inside an enormous walk-in cooler. It was brisk and refreshing there, and aside from the roar of the air handlers it was quiet. No music in the produce department. I quite liked that.
I also spent a moment in the meat department, which had been dismantled and powered down for the night. I noticed immediately that there was a speaker inside this very small (about the size of two normal hotel rooms) kitchen, impossible to ignore because in this room made of tiled floors and ceramic walls the sound was very loud. The music that plays all day in the customer area was amplified to partygoing levels in this room.
Today I relayed this experience to one of the meat department crewmen who immediately nodded vigorously and expressed that it was indeed very unpleasant being trapped in there all day with the music. Given the nature of the work and environment, using earbuds to block out the sound would be impractical and unsafe, so these workers are stuck with the music every day.
Likewise at my hotel, where I spend eight hours each night sitting behind the front desk doing paperwork and Redditing, there is constant 24-hour radio playing in the lobby and in the employee area behind the desk. The same audio is fed into the adjacent pool room which, when entered, is an amplification chamber much like the meat department.
Sometimes when music comes on that is especially objectionable (maybe an awful song, perhaps an earworm, or possibly something that sounds just so that I keep thinking an alarm is going off on the hotel's master panel) I will put in my own earbuds (feasible at 2:00 AM on a slow night) or connect to the Alexa we have at the desk to drown out the overhead music with my own. Occasionally I will turn the overhead music down, because the hardware to do so is physically accessible to me, but I must remember to turn it up again before my shift ends or I will be reprimanded by my boss.
When I supervised a Dunkin' Donuts evening shift the very first thing I did every day after becoming M.O.D. was to shut off the lobby's overhead music, much to the relief and pleasure of myself and my coworkers. I got zero complaints about this ever, except for a few mild chastisements from my bosses.
It seems unreasonable and, frankly, inhumane to demand that an employee be subjected to music for eight hours straight, especially when the intended beneficiaries of the music are not even present to hear it for the majority of the working shift as is the case at my hotel. Likewise it seems disrespectful and inconsiderate to expose one's employees to auditory pollution even when the customers are present, such as at the deli or the Dunkin' Donuts, because the employees have to endure it all day while the customers only "benefit" from it for a few minutes during their visit.
I enquote "benefit" because I have trouble believing that the music has any real positive effect on the shopping or check-in experience. Customers are there to shop; half of them are talking on their phones anyway and many others are chatting with their companions. The ones not engaging with others are the ones who are just there to get their things and get out. Nobody cares about the music, especially because it's the same garbage one hears everywhere else.
The music is indeed everywhere - the convenience store, the doctor's waiting room, the hotel lobby, the dealership, the bank, the Dunkin' Donuts, even outside in a downtown plaza being played by loudspeaker. Why? Why can people not just enjoy the silence or the ambient sounds around them?
It seems to me that people are afraid to exist in a state of silence, and perhaps are conditioned to think that they are incapable of going without sound.
I have occasionally experienced times in my life when I've felt dismay at the idea of being alone with my thoughts. There have been times when I've wanted something - anything - to distract me from thinking about whatever was going on at the time. Usually I escape into Netflix or a video game, but music could do the trick too, depending on the listener.
This is not normal for me. Generally I value serenity; the sound of nothing as snow falls, or the sound of the wind in the leaves, or the sound of footsteps passing uninterrupted at the airport, or the steady sound of my tires on the road with nothing else to intrude on my thoughts. I enjoy listening to the train make its industrial sounds as I watch other people exist boredly on the Metro, their heads bobbing in unison with the jerks and tossings of the traincar, most with earbuds in their ears. The sound of silence as I lay staring at my ceiling on a sleepy afternoon is especially soothing.
I suggest that either (A) people are debilitatingly uncomfortable with checking in to a hotel or shopping or eating in a room that has no non-ambient sound in it, (B) business owners are afraid to allow their patrons to experience such a room, or (C) both of these things are happening concurrently and possibly causally. The empty aural space must be intimidating for people as a whole, as it occasionally is for me on my worst nights.
A probable explanation for the continuous voluntary use of sound (such as ear buds, car radios, and Bluetooth speakers) is our widespread inability to maintain a healthy sleep schedule. As a whole we are overworked, oversocialized, and overstimulated with light, sound, sugar, and caffeine. We spend all day sucking down coffee and sweets and stressing about our day-to-day goings-on, and then wonder why we have trouble shutting down when we've decided it's convenient to go to bed. Many of us don't keep regular sleep patterns due to fluctuating work routines or changing social schedules. When we're sleepy we reach for a coffee - after cranking up the music.
Generally speaking I find background music to be a detriment. Not only is it a symptom of inability to go without, but it pollutes the experience at hand with unnecessary stimulus. I do not need to hear Pop Artist X while buying shampoo, and I do not need to be bombarded by Other Pop Artist Y while trying to enjoy a dinner out with my family. There have been times when my mood at work has been quickly soured by exposure to Pop Artist Z's especially objectionable music or by incessant assault from Genre W.
Somewhere around hour six or so, prolonged exposure to nonstop music probably becomes unhealthy.
Light
There is light everywhere. During the day the sun bathes the whole world in ceaseless, indiscriminate white light. At night humans supply the light, often in great quantity.
At the deli there is a lot of light. This makes sense because we are working with heating elements, slicing equipment, food-bearing surfaces, and wet floors. Light is a safety feature there and we need it at all times. Likewise in the customer areas it is important to be able to see wet floors (a common and dangerous occurrence in grocery stores) and be able to read the labels on the merchandise.
In other places it doesn't make as much sense. At the hotel even at 2:00 AM there is a flood of white light filling the whole lobby. Four bright chandeliers fill the customer area in addition to a desk lamp, while my desk is lit by eight recessed incandescent bulbs glowing at all times. I lack the physical power to turn any of these off.
The lobby would be a much better middle-of-the-night experience for guests if there was less light. Not no light - just less. The chandeliers, for example, are not necessary. Two or three desk lamps casting enough light to illuminate the floor would be enough, and the area wouldn't be awash with a garish shine while the rest of the world sleeps. The desk could be sufficiently illuminated by one quarter of the lights currently burning, except during the half-hour each night when I'm doing printed paperwork, and would then be a much more relaxed environment for the person who has to be here for eight hours.
Many other office environments have over-lighting issues as well, thanks in large part to the automatic sensor switch. In some places it is impossible to turn the overhead lights off, or to keep them off, because sensors turn them on every time they detect movement. Often this is done in the name of conservation of energy (theoretically the lights turn off when the room is empty) but in reality I would expect that this burns more energy due to the lights being on whenever the room is occupied even if they aren't wanted. Many employees prefer soft desk lamps as an alternative to harsh, fluorescent lights.
For example I have encountered issues with sensors turning lights off prematurely in the bathroom at Dunkin' Donuts. There was a sensor switch that could not be permanently disabled; I could press the button to toggle it briefly but after a few moments it would return to its autonomous state. On at least one occasion when I deliberately turned the lights off while sitting on the toilet, attempting to find some momentary reprieve from a long day at the shop, the lights came on again only seconds later when the sensor detected motion. Conversely on several occasions when I was using the bathroom and taking a long time to do so the lights would cut off before I was ready to leave. Turning the lights on again was as simple as waving my hand, but this exposes the sensor's inability to accurately address our true lighting needs.
One type of establishment that comes to mind for consistently lighting their environment appropriately is a restaurant. "Mood lighting" is the term whereby the house lights are dimmed and local, usually hanging, lights are used to illuminate the important aspects of the dining experience - namely, the table. Walkways and other areas are lit just enough to remain safely navigable.
"Mood lighting" is probably the wrong term. "Reasonable lighting" is likely more appropriate, as this scheme touches on something I feel is known but not sufficiently exercised at large: lighting, especially artificial light, should be applied only to those things that need it.
Consider driving at night. It's impractical to light everything outside; only the sun can do that and it consumes enormous amounts of energy doing so. Therefore when you're on the road at night the only things visible to you, other than whatever is caught in your headlights, are the things which have been deemed important enough to illuminate artificially. Streetlamps can cast a general pool of light in a modest area, but any signs or buildings which want to be seen must have lights mounted on them or be specially designed to reflect a high percentage of your headlights' output back to you.
Inside, however, the time of day has little meaning. We light our buildings in totality because it's easy to do so. It's actually more difficult to carefully put lamps in the right positions, install floor lights and recessed lights in specially selected spots, and deliberately manage the distribution of light in a room than it is to indiscriminately flood it with bright, white light. Since most buildings use a light wallpaper or paint scheme, a whole room can be turned into a bright eyethrob with a few moderately-powered fixtures casting white light in all directions.
It's possible that part of the reason for our willingness to do this the easy way could be similar in nature to my suggestion for the sound problem: we are afraid of the dark - or, more to the point, we are afraid of what we do not understand. In the dark or even the dim light, there could lurk a concealed danger or a person lying in wait with nefarious intent. In reality the dark carries more perceived danger than actual danger; one has only to consult a five-year-old to know this.
My being bathed in light for fourteen hours daily - first at the deli, then at the hotel - has an effect on me over time. My eyes grow tired, and I can become somewhat agitated. There is a need for relief, as with any other stimulus, and in the workplace environment there really isn't any to be had.
Like sound, light is used as a sleep deterrent. One who is sleepy at home turns on the lights rather than sitting in a softly-lit room where it is easy to slip into sleep. This too is a symptom of an underlying mismanagement of sleep, not a sign of light's benefits as a medication against drifting off prematurely.
In many places light is important - such as hospitals, banks, and delis - but in others the usage of light is simply too prolonged and too prolific for the general good.
Conclustion
It would be very nice if I could turn down the lights and turn off the music at work.