May 20, 2015 Article

The Old Coot is out of time.

By Merlin Lessler

I watched a lot of TV new coverage this month: the earthquake in Nepal, the riots in Baltimore, the train wreck in Philadelphia. Too much, as a matter of fact. It’s something we do when there’s a protracted crisis and the media sinks its teeth into it. They stir up a lot of emotions: horror, fear, anger, sadness, hope, despair and pride. It runs the gamut; it’s almost too much to comprehend. The human machine can only handle so many emotional swings in so short a period of time. Most people who follow the coverage of these events reduce their emotional build up by discussing the situation with friends and family. It’s the healthy thing to do. Old coots join in on the discussion to a limited degree; after all, we are nearly human. But, our attention wanders from the event at hand, to the media process. We critique the performance of the reporters and announcers. We can’t help it; it’s a trait in our DNA that kicks in when we get our first Social Security check.

I notice that a lot of reporters use the “We’re out of time” technique. It’s something they do when they interview someone who doesn’t give them the answers they expect. They ask a local goober who has wormed his way to the front of the crowd a question. I guess, “Ask” is an incorrect use of the verb. In actuality, they make a long speech designed to get a response that matches their preconceived opinion, put a question mark at the end of it and shove a mike in front of Joe Goober’s face. The second his response wanders from where the reporter wanted it to go, you hear, “We’re out of time.” They all do it; the “Big Three” networks, who back off after a few days, and the cable networks, who stay with the story for weeks.   

I’m critical of the technique, but more jealous than critical. Jealous that I didn’t stumble on it earlier in life and use it to get out of sticky situations. I sure would have come in handy when I was called on in class in third grade. The school was overcrowded so they moved 5 of us ahead from 2nd grade to 3^rd grade to even up the class sizes. I found myself standing next to my desk, trying to spell the ten words assigned for the week. The teacher wanted to see what kind of speller I was. The first word was “city.” I was elated. This was a word I could surely spell; at least I’d get one right. “City,” I said, and then continued, "S-I-T with an E on the end,” This was met with a roar from the class. At that very second I should have said, “Well, that’s all the time we have,” and sat down. Instead, I was forced to stand there and provide comic relief to the class as I misspelled my way through the rest of the list.

I would have loved to use the technique when the principal confined me to her office for a week, having been guilty of daring Billy Wilson to light a match in the school library. It wasn’t my fault he took the dare and then stupidly tossed the lit match into the wastebasket catching the school paper inside on fire and forcing the evacuation of the school. I can think of a thousand places where I could have minimized my misery if I’d been smart enough to use the “We’re out of time” technique. But, I am thankful that I’m aware of its value now. As an old coot, I need it more than ever: when I get yelled at for unloading a full cart at the “7 items or less” counter at the supermarket, when the cop says he clocked me at 76 MPH, when the bill comes at the restaurant and dozens of other awkward situations I find myself in, I meekly say, “I’m sorry; we’re out of time.”