Mine is a pretty tame example: I never minded the smell of garlic was fine around it… but I took a job for DHL and they had these large tubs of garlic for horses that had to go out to people. There were about 10 of them coming down the belt.
Now I can’t stand it. I’m just reminded of how strong that smell was I was actually gagging. The tubs were heavy, the handles were feedble. Some of the tubs were damaged so I got a bit on me.
I stunk of it for the rest of the shift. It wasn’t even a normal garlic smell it was just so powerful and nauseating.
“It’s only Monday, Mr. Mom”? Yeah, that was probably back when I was in middle school. It was a super popular song on our preferred station in the morning. Have not heard it since. Still remember half the chorus.
I would like to point out that forcing prisoners to listen to a single song over and over for hours is a form of torture used by the CIA. And also commiserate, because that same boss forbade anyone touching the radio whether she was there or not on pain of termination. She really, really liked country.
For a breather (this was before I worked there), she brought in her very own CD to play over the holidays instead of relying on the stations, I guess because they possibly didn’t have an xmas lineup? This was acceptable on paper, but then she left for the day, the tape got stuck on The Little Drummer Boy, and nobody was allowed to touch it.
The coworker telling me this attested to having listened to The Little Drummer Boy 27 times in a row, on the edge of derangement. This is ok to do to a person, because they are a US retail worker and not a terrorist.