The Old Coot is an eavesdropper. (Published in NY on 3/5/25)

 The Old Coot is an eavesdropper.

By Merlin Lessler.

 I was in a donut shop the other morning. It's a great place to observe human nature in action. I'm there every Sunday, to sip coffee and consume the one jelly donut I limit myself to each week. I sit there and read the book review section in the weekend edition of the Wall Street Journal. I'm often distracted by interplay between customers and employees. This particular one has well trained, friendly servers, in sharp contrast to the attitudes of some of the customers, who come in, in a sleepy, grouchy mood. By the time they leave, they are usually in good spirits.  From the intake of sugar, the stimulus of caffeine and also because of the cheery atmosphere created by the staff and especially the “hands-on” manager.

 She can fix any problem. For instance, I'd placed my order in my car, on my phone, for indoor pick-up. That way, it's sitting there waiting for me when I walk in. I grabbed the bag with my donuts inside, the container of coffee and sat down at my favorite table. I sipped; I read; I eavesdropped. I sipped; I read; I eavesdropped, with my eyes focused on a book review. I reached into the bag, pulled out my donut and took a bite. It wasn't the jelly donut I'd craved. It was a glazed donut. A good donut, but not jelly. I went to the counter and explained my misfortune. The manager didn't blink an eye. She reached into the donut rack and handed me a jelly. She said she was sorry. I said I was sorry that I'd taken a bite without looking. She laughed, and told me to enjoy them both.

 Here's where I step into it! Commenting on the difference between men and women. On scant, unscientific evidence I learned from observing people ordering a dozen donuts. I didn’t set out to do this, but I overheard a man order a dozen donuts in a rapid fire manner. “I’ll have two glazed, two jelly, four chocolate frosted, two Boston cream, and two old fashion.” Bing, bang, boom, done! A few minutes later, an adult woman stepped to the counter, also to order a dozen donuts. “Let me have a jelly one.” Then, after a pause. “No, forget the jelly. Let me see. How about Boston cream? I love them; what’s your favorite?” Then, another pause. “I’ll have a glazed. How many do I have left?” Then she ordered a jelly. Well, you see how it went, and that’s before she fumbled around in her purse for her wallet.

 It's not the first time I’ve witnessed this scene. It’s an example of the “Men are from Mars; Women are from Venus phenomenon. My data sample is not statistically valid, but it’s what I observe, again and again. Enough times to produce an opinion and brace myself to be called a male chauvinist pig. That’s what happens when you’re an old coot.

 Comments? Be nice! Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

The Old Coot won't take the pill. Published in local New York papers on February 26, 2025

 The Old Coot took the Camel Cigarette, 30 day test.

By Merlin Lessler

 Take this pill! Sue the dirty bums! This is what our society has come down to. If you judge it by the ads on TV. No matter what’s wrong with you, there is a pill to fix it. No matter what happens to you, there is someone to blame, and someone to sue. This is a gripe I’m compelled to air every few years (11 in this case).

 Let’s start with the pills. “Don’t pay any attention to this list of side effects; the FDA made us reveal them.” That’s what the pharmaceutical companies would say at the beginning of their spiel if they were truly honest and forthright. Instead, they create an image so appealing as to obscure any negative input. One “pill” ad shows an attractive, middle-aged woman, now freed of her arthritic pain, leisurely swimming in warm tropical waters. She’s accompanied by a collection of happy friends and beautiful golden retriever that gently paddles in and out of the group. The waves gently lap the shore while the announcer’s melodious voice, quietly suggests that taking the medicine may increase your chances of a heart attack or a stroke and lead to death, or stomach and other intestinal problems, such as bleeding ulcers, which may appear without warning and also lead to death.”

  What the FDA should do, is make them show images of people experiencing the side effects instead of swimming around in paradise. Maybe then, we’d pay attention to just how risky these miracle cures are. But we don’t pay attention to the side effects. They hardly register. And, that’s OK, because the law firms that feed on our missteps, the ones who dominate our TV screens, are there to make sure we get retribution. They’re on our side! 

 And to think I thought the Camel Cigarette ads I grew up with in the 1950’s were unscrupulous, the ones in which they invited smokers to take a “30 day Camel” test. “Smoke camels for 30 days and discover for yourself what throat specialists discovered; not one single case of throat irritation in a coast-to-coast test of hundreds of people.” I accepted their invitation; I bought a pack of Camels. And, even though I was only ten years old, I was smart enough to quit after one day. Besides, if I got caught my mother would have killed me. There’s no pill for that!

 Complaints? Comments? Leave at mlessler7@gmail.com