An annoying habit

It hadn't always been like this. There was a time, when he was still hanging out with the old gang, when people didn't tell him about ten times every day to stop humming to himself. He couldn't control himself. It always began as a low hum only he could hear, he'd get carried away and in his head at least he'd be humming the perfect possible rendition of whatever third-rate cover song he happened to have stumbled across. The cover versions, always, never the original version. There had been attempts to identify the songs he hummed, but those brave souls had given up...something was off a bit always, and it wasn't always his annoying habit. Cover versions were harder really, they might as well have been different songs with similar lyrics that nobody listened to. No one except him, that is.

His close friends found it surprising that his humming hadn't yet gotten him in real trouble. Don't folks at your work complain, they asked. Nah, they aren't such tightasses like you all, he would reply with a smirk in his face. He had an office all by himself, he found it hard to concentrate during meetings...those soul-soul sucking conferences of dunces sapped away enough of his energy for him to be unable to engage in the creative side of his. At several points in the past he had considered quitting the job, if only so he could hum freely. He hadn't gone very far with that plan.

Once, he had almost dug himself too deep to come out. The memory made him smile every time. He was hosting a panel discussion of experts in his field in a professional conference, and zoned out of the conversation at a particularly long and winding speech by an old croaky professor. He got into his zone and began humming, unable to catch himself on as his volume grew gradually. The audience had started giggling, the panelists were giving each other confused quizzical looks and so was he, unable to figure out what was happening. The distraction had made him realize that he was humming a particularly slow rendition of a popular music track, and with the courage of a mad bull he didn't just stop outright but faded away into silence. The professor figured the loud round of clapping was intended for him. They never really did figure out which of the panelists was the secret hummer. He'd point a finger of doubt at a new character when someone asked him who he thought had been the outlaw hummer in the panel, he'd gone as far as accusing the old professor of double-timing with his boring speech and the humming at the same time in private.