December 30, 2015 Article

The Old Coot keeps zapping along

By Merlin Lessler

This article first ran in December 2003. Cell phone usage was just starting to take off. Public space was coming under attack from LOUD TALKERS. The annoyance has abated somewhat over the years, due to people switching to text messages, but there are plenty of loud talkers out there invading our right to quiet. This article is being run as a public service, aimed at the people with poor cell phone manners. You know who you are. If you don’t quiet down, be prepared to be zapped!  

December, 2003

I peeked under our Christmas tree the other day and spotted a dozen gifts with my name in various form on the tags: To Dad, To Hubby, To Old Coot, etc.  I decided to check out one that was the size of a pack of cigarettes; I quit smoking thirty years ago, so it intrigued me. When I picked it up to see how heavy it was, and if it rattled, a strange thing happened; the wrapping started to come undone. I tried to fix it, but it came all the way off. My wife should know better than to leave me home alone with presents under the tree.

A small cardboard box emerged from the wrappings. It had a fluorescent label on it that said, “Cell Phone Zapper - (batteries included).” A black object the size of a pack of cigarettes was inside. The instructions claimed it could block cell phone signals within 40 feet, “Push the red button to engage the blocking mechanism.” I was excited! I couldn’t wait to try it out. I wrapped up the empty box and put it back under the tree; the Zapper stayed with me. I put on my coat and headed into the village.

My first stop was at Dunkin Donuts. Someone is always rushing in to get a complicated order while yakking on a cell phone. It doesn’t bother me, except when the person is yelling. Especially, if I’m sitting there in an old coot stupor and a voice out of the blue yells, “Hi!” I mistakenly turn toward the sound and say, “Hi,” in reply, only to discover the person isn’t talking to me, but yelling into a cell phone. The place was crowded with shoppers. I ordered my usual, medium coffee with cream, took a seat by the window and pushed the red button on the Zapper. Three people: a woman across the room, one at the table next to me and a guy standing at the counter, all had the same reaction. They pulled their cell phones from their ears and looked around the room with puzzled expressions on their faces. One of the women shouted, “Darn,” turned to her friends and told them her phone just went dead. I was impressed! I sat back and soaked in the quiet. Peace at last. 

My next stop was at the super market. I was in the “20 items or less” line, right behind a rude, burly guy with a full cart of groceries. As he was unloading his purchases I accidentally hit the button on the zapper. The conveyor belt pulling his stuff toward the check out clerk sputtered and reversed direction, shoving his groceries off the counter and knocking over a rack of magazines. When he stooped to pick up the mess I cut ahead and checked out. Wow, I was even more impressed the Zapper.

My last stop was at the pharmacy. I picked up a box of Tic Tacs and walked to the counter to pay.  The store has four checkout stations, but as is usually the case, the only clerk in sight was behind the photo counter pretending to be busy. He eventually came over to the register and said,  “What’s up Pop?” I noticed his tongue was pierced with a silver stud, as were both eyebrows and his left nostril. His cell phone rang and he turned to the side to answer it. I reached into my pocket and hit the red button. A strange look came over his face and he started to shake.

“What’s the matter,” I asked?

“I don’t know. All my piercings are vibrating and tingling. They’re driving me crazy!” Then he fled to the back of the store while unfastening and casting aside an assortment of silver ornaments. I left two dollars on the counter, put the Tic Tacs in my pocket and headed for the door. I walked home a happy old coot, full of Christmas spirit. I rewrapped the Zapper, put it back under the tree and plopped down in my recliner. I was off in dreamland in seconds. The next thing I knew I was being shaken by the shoulder.

“Wake up! Wake up, my son Zachary shouted. You’re having a bad dream! You keep yelling ZAP and then laughing.”

I came out of my stupor and rushed over to the Christmas tree. The little present was still there. Was it a dream? Was it real? (Find out for yourself; Google cell phone jammers. Then, maybe you’ll believe in Santa Claus again.)