I was looking at some old pictures and was reminded to call my mother. Immediately I went to my phone and screamed drat, the battery was fully charged. I knew I would be on the phone for a while so I asked my wife if there was anything, I needed to do that might stop me from making that call. I understand this sounds like a comedian’s routine, and I honestly do love my mother, but the issue is the woman likes my wife better than me. I call, say, “Hi Mom,” and the conversation goes straight to my wife. How’s her business doing? Is she feeling better from her cold? What’s she doing over the weekend? Stuff like that. I truly love both women but I swear, If I were diagnosed with deadly Cunkus of The Bunkus, my mother would rush over to bolster my wife’s mental health during our family crisis.
It must go back to when I was growing up. I never was very good and making positive choices. My mother bailed me out of so many tight spots that when I turned fifteen, she just gave up and told me, if I got in trouble I was on my own. Then when I chose my wife the woman threw her hands in the air, screamed “Halleluiah!”, disowned me, and adopted my wife.
Well I did call her and we had a nice chat. She even showed concerned for me asking if I was still a bum, or had made something of myself. How do you answer that? Yes, I have a job and my family has never missed a meal, but also yes, I still enjoy being a bum. I answered the question with style and poise. “Why yes Mother Ohh!, I have made something of myself. I am currently rated as the number one bum in the state. Nationally I am ranked thirty-seven. However, those numbers are skewed as seven of those nationally ranked are from California.” She was not amused. After a long pause, she asked to speak to her grandchildren.
Actually, while we do have our differences, mom and I really do get along very well. This is because, after so many years, we understand each other. For instance, if I am down, she will make me laugh. Or, if she needs something, she knows she will only have to tell me once and it will be taken care of as soon as possible. I admit, I can be a bit absent minded, but where mom is concerned, I always remember. This is probably because if we forgot anything as kids, we were just as likely as not to get a shoe thrown at us. Hey, I grew up in a violent household. But don’t call child services. My siblings and I are all too scared to testify. This might be a good time to change the subject.
As I said, I can usually remember things. Sometimes I can use a reminder, but that’s enough. I do not need fived reminders as the credit card people like to send. If I have not responded to your alert that my payment will be due in three days, that means I know about it. Or the phone people. If I don’t press “One” to speak to a representative for more information about condos in Algeria, it means I don’t want one. Please don’t take it personally. I’m sure Algeria is a fine place to live, but I’m still not interested. You don’t have to call me thirty-six times to remind me. And about that extended car warranty I don’t have. It is not necessary to call me three times a day, every day, for the last six months, to remind me it has expired. It could not have expired. It never existed. Boy, am I glad I got that off my chest!
This may sound screwy to you, and you may even be able to relate to some of it. Those warranty folks do get around. The thing is these examples are not the worst reminder blitz which I have to deal with. The scary thing is, it isn’t a scam or con-artist that’s trying to get to me. It’s something very near and no so dear to my heart that nags me worse than sixteen mothers-in-law, twelve unfed cats, and a used-car salesman who’s ready to deal, deal, deal. The greatest nagger of them all is my electronic device.
I don’t know if this happens to you but I can’t sit for ten seconds without being notified of something or other by that stupid phone. The thing is it’s a self-inducing repetitive mess. Let me explain. I want you all to like my blog, so please press the Like button. When you do I get notified with a ding on my phone. Next the website notifies my email about the Like and the email sends me a ding a few seconds later. Facebook monitors the email and dings me to remind me to look at my phone a few seconds after that. One comment three notifications. If that were it, I might be able to live with it but it gets worse.
There’s a game I like to play. This game likes to alert me to the fact that I’m not playing it. This is stupid. I know whether I’m playing the game or not. Do they really think if I’m in the middle of an important meeting, I will hear that ding and say to my boss, “Sorry Sir, but my phone just reminded me that I’m not playing my games? Could we continue this tomorrow?” Plus, that game somehow hooked itself up to my fitness program. It likes to congratulate me every time I take a hundred steps. Now the health program and the game are in some sort of perverted competition to see who can send me more notifications.
The worst is when I get a text at work. I get an alert when the text comes in. Ten minutes later I get a friendly beep reminding me not to forget the text. If I am foolish enough to continue doing my job instead of answering the meaningless text, I get a not-so friendly rather menacing bong saying, “Hey Idiot! You got a text!” After another few moments I get another text asking if I want to send the original text to email, and the process starts all over again. Barely twenty minutes have gone by, I’ve been interrupted four times and I haven’t done anything. Also, all these notifications sound different. If it correlates, as it often does, to getting a Like on my blog, and the game/ fitness competition, my phone sounds like I’m creating techno music. I swear, once a young girl heard it and started dancing, thinking it was a new K-Pop single. My boss was not amused.
I finally learned how to turn off the notifications. The phone was strangely quiet for a week. Until I missed an important text from a publisher that could have made me a thousand bucks. The beeps are back now.
You can never win.
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