I don’t think I need to say anything clever here to establish that lots of little things tick me off, do I? Good. Here’s one that really frosts my oatmeal, or whatever. People don’t pay attention. Several months ago, after my car had been hit-and-ran from, I was spending a lot of time on the phone with various insurance company functionaries, and I was forced to learn a new style of communication: make some premonitory noise to let them know you’re about to impart information, then impart the information, then repeat it. For instance, I called my agent’s office once and said to the person who answered the phone, “Hi, I have my car insurance with you guys and I’m in the middle of a claim. The adjuster asked me to fax her some documents and I don’t have a fax machine at home. She suggested I come to your office to do that and I wanted to know if now would be a good time” From the response I got, you would have thought I had asked her to please make me a weasel sandwich with fries and deliver it to the White House.
I’m thinking about this now because I awoke this morning to a strange chemical smell in my house. I came downstairs to find my kitchen sink emitting a cloud of steam. I stood there thinking “Huh and “Whuh? and “Damn for a while, then I remembered that there was utility work going on in my neighborhood. I went outside and sure enough, a crew from the Orange Water and Sewer Authority were crouched in my parking lot, ministering to what was clearly an Acme Strange-Smelling Steam Generator. Still, I figured I’d make sure. As I crossed the parking lot toward the Head Walkie-Talkie In Charge, I was expecting this to be a fairly simple conversation. Surely by this point HWTIC had figured out why an unshaven homeowner in slippers was walking purposefully toward him. He awaited me with what I fancied to be a look of understanding, and I was confident that we would soon have one of those “Ha ha, yes indeed, nothing to worry about exchanges: one that might even end in a hearty holiday sentiment. I’m quite certain my matey face was already affixed when I said, “Are you guys doing anything that might cause funny-smelling steam to come out of my sink? His response?
“What?
What, what? What do you mean, what? You’re pumping steam into the ground that’s coming out in people’s houses, and you weren’t anticipating that question? What the hell did you think I was going to ask? “Those sure are some spiffy hard hats. Where did you get them? I think my mom would like one for Christmas”
I repeated the question verbatim, and the second time it sunk in. Yes, he responded, we’re checking the sewer lines for leaks. Run your faucet and it will keep the steam down. Okay, fine, and thank you, and we’ll leave aside for the time being any question of why you didn’t see fit to warn people that you were about to do something that could easily be misinterpreted as, oh, I don’t know, deadly.
On pondering the lack of attention phenomenon, it occurs to me that the first thing you say is not important. It’s just a throat-clearing, an “ahem” a way to attract attention. Maybe we could have some fun with it.
“Excuse me, would any of you like a back rub?
“What?”
“Are you making steam come out of my sink?
“I’m afraid. Will you hold me?
“What?
“I’d like to deposit this check”
“The voices have started again, and they’re very angry”
“What?
“Roll of stamps, please”