temporary license to listen
This reminds me of the time when I still had an office in London's trendy Hoxton and the performing rights people rang up aggressively demanding money. They seemed convinced that since it was an office and my employees were working in it, we would by default have a radio blaring out somewhere. I can only imagine that they think magazine publishing companies are run like motor garages, with our editors and salesteam walking around in oil-stained overalls and spanner in hand, while singing along to the latest hits on the radio.
When I told the woman on the phone that we didn't have a radio, she didn't even bother to threaten a surprise inspection visit: she told me outright that I would be fined. I said "go ahead" and put the phone down. Never heard a thing from them again.
Biting the hand that feeds IT
