Blast from the past

Greetings from sixty-five-million-years ago. This is Mr. Ohh!-saurus, telling all you good people, I’m a dinosaur. No, I didn’t drink a potion which turned me into a terrible lizard, as this Latin name suggests. Then again, I don’t know if all of you are ‘good’ people. I hope you don’t mind that I called you ‘good’. I certainly didn’t mean to insult those of you who take pride in your non-goodness. Therefore, before all my post ‘Likes’ become extinct please read on.

I meant the dinosaur reference in a more figurative sense. I’m not an actual reptile from millions of years ago. I’m more like something out dated. Not out dated like a 1980’s computer. More like the world changed, and I missed it because I slept in that morning, and decided to read the comics, and sports page, before the headlines.

It was probably a morning when I hadn’t had my coffee yet, had to take the dog out, clean the garage, and run to the store for pomegranates, and leeks. My efficient wife likely recycled the said newspaper, without considering if I had done the crossword or not. This could be considered rude to most people. However, for the absent-minded slob I am, if she didn’t do such things, my house would be filled from basement to attic with old newspapers. So, I’m actually kind of glad she cleans up after me. Sadly though, I do miss things.

Yes I do! And I love them

After this little story, many of you are probably thinking I’m a dinosaur for still reading a physical newspaper. Ha! I say to that. Mostly because I’m a bit tired and can’t come up with anything snappy, funny, or clever at the moment. Honestly, I don’t even want to put in that much effort. Us dinosaurs, are basically a lazy bunch.

Either way, no, this is not why I’m a dinosaur. As long as they print newspapers, I’ll read them. The reasons are clear. You can’t fold the internet into a paper hat. Also, you can’t place the world-wide-web over your face and pretend to be asleep, when it’s time to change your kid’s soiled diaper. Remember to, if you find out you’ve been right about something, it’s extremely difficult to pick up your computer, and throw it in your son’s face. Then again, I’ve never been right about anything, so I really can’t verify the last one. But this seems like it would be true.

Can I just say…

Getting back to the point, the reason I am a dinosaur is the fact that I still talk to people. I know this sounds crazy. My children get so embarrassed when I do it in public. Imagine their shock and embarrassment when I openly say, “Hello” to the lady checking us out at the market. I’ve even been caught, purposely going out in public, to a store rather than shop online.

As for their part, they’ve tried to get me to a meeting of People Talkers Anonymous, for several years. However, I’m slow to realize I have a problem, and won’t go. Of course, there is the fact I’m not sure, People Talkers Anonymous exists. If it doesn’t, this would seriously hinder my ability to get to meetings even if I did want to go. Which I don’t!

There autta be a law

I don’t know when the laws were changed to make it uncomfortable, if not illegal, to speak to random strangers. It must have been several years ago. Back then I was part of a focus group about scratch-off lottery tickets. Of the twelve people there, seven said they would rather buy their tickets from a machine than to risk being stuck talking to a clerk. Three, preferred to going to a clerk, but admitted hoping any resulting conversation would be short. I insisted I liked the personal interaction. And the last guy kept asking why he couldn’t get candy out of the lottery ticket machine. His opinion was noted by the moderator and rejected.

I’m not saying a ‘No Talking to Others’ law is all bad. There are several sales folks who call me all the time which I wouldn’t mind a bit, if I never spoke too again. The thing is, marketers get around this law by giving all the callers a script which they can’t deviate from. That way they’re not actually talking to anyone. They’re just reading out loud.

The other day, I tried to get one to depart from the script and he freaked. The call was from the folks who provide my internet service, so I answered the phone. The conversation went something like this;

Hello.

Hello, is this Mr. Ohh!?

Yes. What can I do for you?

My name is Fractus. How are you today?

I’m fine. What can I do for you?

I’m from I O Unlimited.

Great! What can I do for you?

First, I must tell you, this call is being recorded for quality and training purposes.

I Don’t Give a Crap!! WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU??

Sir, I don’t have to deal with that language. If you can’t be civil, this conversation’s over!

With that he hung up on me. Now, I’m normally very happy when telemarketers hang up on me. But this was a bit upsetting. I mean, I asked what he wanted several times. If he would have talked to me, I wouldn’t have been angry. As it was, it was no great loss.

Was this my fault?

I checked with my children, wanting to know what I could have done better. I was informed, I was very wrong. (No big surprise.) A polite person would’ve followed the script or indicated he didn’t want to speak to the man very early in the conversation. As it was, I was being confusing, rude, and basically obnoxious. I blushed saying, “Thank you. I try my best.”

The thing is, I can’t stand all this texting garbage. Everyone tells me it’s better, because you avoid bothering the other party. They can text back whenever they want. I want to talk. If I’m bothering you, I expect you to say so, and I’ll happily hang up. Problem Solved!

Stop bothering me

My son also said, it is still okay to talk a little. But polite etiquette requires you to text first to see if they can chat. So, I have to text them, and ask them to text back. They invariably ask what I want, to see if chatting is truly necessary. Remember, speaking to another person is rather unpleasant. I send a third text clarifying my issue. They can now make an informed decision as to whether to talk, or not.

This exchange frequently takes a half-hour or so, and by that time I’ve usually gotten busy. The call is now bothering me. If we simply spoke at the beginning, everything would’ve been settled in five-minutes and we could’ve gotten on with our lives. But No! We’re not allowed to talk. Talking is impolite.

What I’m thinking of doing, is create an app called; Talking is Retro. If it catches on, speaking to one another, might come back in style every few years, like vinal records, high-top-sneakers, and maybe even newspapers. Stranger things have happened.

But I’m Not Holding My Breath!!