October 25, 2017 Article

The Old Coot missed what you said. HUH?

By Merlin Lessler

My wife Marcia and I were on a cruise in the Irish Sea, headed to Dublin a few weeks back, killing time until the announcement to go ashore was made. Sitting with us in the buffet area was a couple from Hawaii. Actually, only the wife was at the table, her husband was wandering around with a plate of food, looking for her. He finally shuffled over and sat down with a sigh. “I couldn’t find you,” he exclaimed. She glared at him, rolled her eyes and replied, “I told you I’d be at the table under the picture of the Titanic,” and then turned to us and said, “He never listens!” We knew she was right, my wife more aware of it than I, but even I’ve been around long enough to know it’s true. My wife responded to the woman from Hawaii, but I don’t know what she said. I wasn’t listening.

It’s not our fault. We try to listen. We’re positive we hear everything our wives tell us, but we don’t. I think it’s a right brain, left brain thing. When somebody talks, we are all ears, for about ten seconds. Then our brain switches to a sports mode. It drags up an image from our high school days, scoring the winning basket as the clock winds down to zero. Technically, it doesn’t drag up an image; it invents one. We never had a moment like that. The sports mode of the male brain can’t distinguish between fact and fiction.       

It’s not just our wives we don’t listen to; it’s everybody. It’s why we get in so much trouble. We’re in a conversation; the other person talks and talks and then stops and looks at us and says, “So, do you think it’s a good idea?” We have no idea what they are talking about, but we never admit it. “Sure,” we respond. “That’s a great idea.” Then we discover that we just loaned our car to our neighbor’s teenage son for the prom. “How could you do that?” our wife asks. “It sounded like a good idea at the time,” we lamely respond. “You had to be there.”

I’m so glad women are getting into leadership positions in business and politics. It was a tough road without them. If a woman had been in charge of Ford Motor Company in the 1950’s, when the sales team made the pitch to introduce the Edsel, she would have listened to them and then listened to the engineers that said it was too soon; the bugs hadn’t been worked out. As it was, Henry Ford the 2nd, who, may I point out, is a man, was daydreaming about the Detroit Tigers when the discussion took place. When asked if they should move ahead and introduce the car in the 1958 model year, he said, “Sounds like a good idea.” (It turned out to be the biggest lemon in automotive history.) No, we don’t listen. And everybody pays a price. It’s why the world is in such a mess these days.

Comments? Complaints? Send to – mlessler7@gmail.com

October 18, 2017 Article

The Old Coot can’t taste the difference.

By Merlin Lessler

It started with wine. Wine tastings to be specific, that complicated analysis of wine qualities: nose, legs, body, tartness, zest, oak tones, fruit hints and the like.  Descriptions that go on, ad nauseam. Rarely getting to the only thing that matters, “Does it taste good?”

Then, it moved to coffee. Starbucks lured us into a gourmet world of caffeinated beverages and made a long and steady pull on our pocketbooks, forcing Dunkin Donuts and other coffee vendors to follow suit. There aren’t many places left to order a cup of Joe and not get a puzzled look from the server.

Now, beer is in the game. What was used to be a simple selection process: beer or ale? Pick your brand. Some brands offered bock beer in the fall, but that was it, an uncomplicated selection process. Then came light beer, starting an avalanche of options. Dark beers, lemony beers, non-alcoholic beers, hoppy beers and now, hundreds more, as craft beers have gone mainstream. And, like wine, there are tastings, and a host of descriptive terms to describe the variations. It’s becoming harder and harder to buy a cheap glass of beer, a tragedy of crisis proportions for me and my fellow old coots, the world’s greatest cheapskates. It’s just beer to us, what once was the low priced adult beverage, but not anymore; the cost of that amber liquid with a frothy white head has increased, along with difficulty to know what to order as you gaze down a line of taps as long as a bowling alley. 

Wine snobbery, beer snobbery, what’s next? Not water. That commonplace, everyday beverage went snobbish decades ago when imported, bottled French water moved the price tag higher than a gallon of gasoline. It’s just a matter of time before the next commodity is repackaged and marketed to appeal to the snob in us. At a higher price of course. But, what will it be? Peanut butter? Kool-Aid? It’s too late for a lot of food items. The organic movement has been making inroads into the grocery industry for several years now. The simple egg has been reborn as a high priced “healthy” variation, Eggland’s Best. Tomatoes and other vegetables have a dual price option, the demonized regular variety, and the politically correct, organic choice, which are the same crops we grew in our back yards, practically for free. Now, we pay dearly for them. I’m going to get some of my old cronies together over a glass of cheap beer and see if we can figure out a way to afford to continue to eat and drink in the new gourmet world we live in.    

Comments? Complaints? Send to – mlessler7@gmail.com

  

October 11, 2017 Article

The Old Coot can say, “You’re welcome.”

Bb Merlin Lessler

We’ve forgotten how (and when) to say, “You’re welcome.” No, this isn’t another rant about the “younger folk” replacing, “You’re welcome,” with, “No problem.” I beat that horse to death a few years back and have come to terms with it, despite cringing a little when I’m on the receiving end: I wonder if I would have gotten the service I’m thanking them for if it was the least bit of a problem. Enough said; on to today’s “You’re welcome” issue.

I hear, or actually don’t hear it, from a lot of people. It’s especially prevalent when a reporter on TV or radio has managed to get someone to come on the air and discuss some current issue. At the end of the session, the reporter thanks the person for answering their questions (though, if it’s a politician they rarely get any real answers, just a wind bag exhibition that goes on and on so long the reporter forgot what the question was.)  At any rate, most interviewees get a well-deserved, “Thank you,” and most of the time reply with, “Thank you.” Not, “You’re welcome.” I get it, when it comes from a politician; he or she should be saying, “Thank you,” since the reporter let them get away with murder. But, most everyone else responds to a thank you from the reporter at the end of an interview by also saying “Thank you.” I’d fall out of my chair if I ever heard them simply say, “You’re welcome.”

Now where do I go with this? It’s a small complaint and I’ve made my point; watch TV or listen to a radio interview and you’ll see what I mean, but there is no sense in continuing to crab about such a minor issue. I’ll switch to another issue, the opposite of the “You’re welcome” equation, the people who can’t, “Thank you.” Not because they aren’t appreciative, but rather, because they are overwhelmed with appreciation. You know the type. We all know the type, and probably have done our fair share of it ourselves: responding to someone’s generosity or gift giving, with – Oh, you shouldn’t have! – I can’t accept this; it’s way too much – Oh my gosh! This is insane! - I’m so sorry; I didn’t get you anything. It’s hard, apparently, to just say, “Thank you!” If you’ve read all the way to this point and haven’t torn the paper to shreds, all I can say is, “Thank you.” 

October 4, 2017 Article

The Old Coot is under attack!

By Merlin Lessler

I’m ready to go to the police. To file a harassment complaint. I’ve had it! This constant assault on my mental stability, my anxiety level, my well-being. BY MY CELL PHONE! I’m going through the day having a wonderful time doing old coot stuff, like checking around to see who has the best early bird special and my phone attacks me, “Your battery is getting dangerously low, only 35% remaining; plug it in immediately!” Or, some such paranoid outburst. “Plug me in or I’m going to shift to an energy saving state and you’ll be sorry,” it continues. The process reminds me of the Jimmy Carter era, when he bugged us to turn down the thermostats to save energy, wearing a cardigan to show that he was doing it.  

 My phone is more insistent than Carter was. Besides, I view a 35% battery level as quite sufficient; I’m getting around with a lower percentage of energy than that and I’m doing just fine, now that I’ve added an 11am nap to my recharging schedule. I’m up at five or six in the morning, take my first nap at nine, another at four, and now my new nap, an hour before lunchtime. These naps only last for five minutes or so, but they allow me to function with a glass half full, so to speak.

My phone doesn’t agree. It has a “glass half empty” personality. I try to ignore its panicky pleading, but at every new low, it yells at me. It is harassment, pure and simple! It used to be worse. Every App on my phone was after me: You have a new e-mail – I-Heart Radio has added new features - Facebook has notices for you. – The Weather Channel has an alert. I figured out how to turn off all those notices. But, I can’t figure out how to turn off the battery level hysteria program.

It wouldn’t be this bad if the programmers that create software would ask old coots to provide input. Maybe, a focus group or two. We’d tell them to change the battery warnings, from harassing to nurturing. Have the screen say, “Wow! – You have 35% battery left; that’s a lot! Enjoy!” Or, “Wow- Your battery is running down. Soon you will be out of touch; won’t that be nice!” We’re out here, but nobody asks.

Comments? Complaints? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com