Nothing
Up My Sleeve
Jon
Gallagher
Carol’s
Hemorrhoids
Carol’s
hemorrhoids are acting up again.
Yep. Those bad boys are back and she’s even
been to the doctor about them, but nothing seems to help. Seems that now there’s puss coming out
of them and it hurts to do anything.
I
have no idea who Carol is.
But
thanks to the lady sitting in the next booth at Sirloin Stockade last week, I
know all about Carol’s medical problems.
I
usually don’t listen in to other people’s conversations. It’s not polite. I might find out something that I don’t
really need to know. Like about
those pesky little red things on Carol’s ass.
For
some reason, the lady in the next booth thought that it was important for me to
know. She must have thought it was
important for everyone sitting at a table within twenty feet of her to know as
well.
Maybe
she thought one of us was a doctor (imagine that… a doctor eating at Sirloin
Stockade!). Maybe she thought one
of us would have some sort of home remedy that would provide Carol with some
relief. Maybe she thought her
family wouldn’t be embarrassed by her conversation.
She
was wrong on all counts.
As
soon as she mentioned the word “puss,” I excused myself from the table where my
wife and daughter were seated. I
stood up, took a step to her table and found the woman who was talking so
loudly was on her cell phone.
She
was ignoring those at her table while she carried on a very private topic of
conversation with persons unknown.
I’ve
never been shy about sharing my opinions with people. I didn’t see a reason to start being shy right then either.
I
got her attention and she asked her caller to hold on for a moment. I took the opportunity to inform her
that not a whole lot of people within earshot were interested in Carol’s
problems and that she might be spoiling a few appetites with her graphic
descriptions.
I
was told, in no uncertain terms, that I should mind my own business.
A
gentleman across the aisle from her then informed her that she had made it
everyone’s business by broadcasting the news at a decibel level just short of a
jackhammer.
The
woman started to say something to him, but her husband stopped her and told her
to shut up. He then apologized to
the rest of us as the other two in their party pretended that they were
somewhere else.
I’m
not sure why this lady decided that it was okay to take a call during their
meal. At our house, we always had
a rule that if the phone rang while we were at the table, then the phone would
just ring till the caller hung up (or left a message once answering machines
were available). Meals were family
time and that was that.
I’m
not sure why Carol’s hemorrhoids were so important that she felt the need to
share their story with her caller at this particular time.
It
used to be that we had phones at home, and that was it. If someone couldn’t reach you at home,
then they waited until you got home.
When
cell phones first came out, they were only used by the very very rich. Airtime was sold by the minute and it
was expensive, as much as fifty cents or more per minute. Later, cellular phone companies would
have plans where you could talk for a couple hours a month for one “low” charge
(that was still outrageous). Cell
phones during this time period were basically for emergency use only.
Now,
we feel the need to be connected all the time. We can’t go anywhere without the ubiquitous cell phone. Everyone’s got one, even little kids
who are still in grade school. Airtime
is cheap and for those who don’t like to talk, you can now write notes to other
users in the form of text messages (thus making a verb out of the word “text”).
Given
a choice, my cell phone would be on the bottom of the Spoon River or taking up
space in an electronic landfill. I
don’t like talking on it, and I don’t like being interrupted by it. I refuse to answer it at work (unless
it’s a family member), and will usually call whoever it is back when I get a
break.
It
bothers me to see people walking through a store talking on their phone. Is it really that important that it
can’t wait? People who are rude
enough to talk on their cell phones while in a store are usually rude to the
clerks in the store as well.
It
bothers me to see people driving and talking on their cell. Out on the Interstate, it’s not so bad
because there’s not a lot to hit out there. In town, where there are stoplights to be run, other cars to
dent and pedestrians to run over, it’s a different story.
But
what irks me the most are the people who think they’re ultra cool by having
their cell phone clipped to their ear.
This way they can walk along talking without holding the stupid thing to
the side of their face. Instead,
they look like a dork with this thing sticking out of their ear.
And
they also look like they’re talking to themselves. There are rooms with padded walls for people like this. Now it’s hard to tell the difference.
On
my recent trip to Madison Wisconsin, I stopped by a rest stop. Some idiot was in one of the men’s room
stalls talking to someone in a voice just as loud as Carol’s friend from the
restaurant. One of the other guys
in the restroom yelled, “HEY! He’s
talkin’ to you while he’s takin’ a crap!”
Well,
he didn’t use the word “crap,” but this is a family newspaper.
Cell
phones have their place and time.
I use mine more than I want, and if the truth be known, I’ll probably
never get rid of it. It does save
time and it does come in handy when I can’t find my wife in a large store.
But
for the people who feel the need to be connected 24/7, they need to get a real
life.
Meanwhile,
I the lady in the restaurant ever comes down with hemorrhoids, I do have a
possible cure.
But
it involves her cell phone.