Staring Out The Window

It's been a long morning. I was trying to shake off the effects of late night baseball. Despite my allegiance to another team, I watched the NLDS game between the Cubs and the Diamondbacks last night. No, I have not grabbed on to the rear axle of the bandwagon, it's just that the whole city is awash in "Cubbie blue" and since I work on the flagship radio station, I should probably know what's going on. I was tempted to grab a little extra shut eye after sending "Daughter" off to school, but I had to wait for a repair man.

I won't bore you with all the details, but something went wrong with the new (9 months old) TV. Unlike most home repairs, I didn't procrastinate on this one. I can give up a lot of things, (interpersonal communications, non-dairy frozen treats, yoga), but not the one thing that keeps me connected to the outside world. I need my TV to be in tip top condition. The rest of the house can collapse around me, but if I have to miss Don't Forget the Lyrics, I'll lose my mind. A part was ordered and an appointment was made to have said part installed today. I was told that I would get a call this morning and would be given a "window" of time when the technician would grace me with his presence.

We've all been on the receiving end of this type of call. We're expected to block out a huge portion of our day because the phone, cable, edible fruit bouquet company, can't nail down their schedule. The companies tell us that they have to do this because you never know if an appointment will run long, short, or be ignored all together. So we sit and wait, like hostages, looking longingly out the real window hoping to see the repairman's van pull into the driveway. I don't care how many of these "windows" I've been given, I'm always visited in the last possible moment. I try to trick the cosmic time waiting window by doing things that I hope will lure the technician to my address. I'll go to the bathroom or cook something because I know that once I get settled, inevitably the doorbell will ring. I'm only fooling myself. The cosmos is onto my little ruse. I'll read a book, make a call, strip down and put in a Sweating To The Oldies tape, but nothing works. Then like a puppy awaitng his owner's return I press my nose to the window and start to whine.

I wish we all could have the luxury of using the "window" and expecting everyone else to honor it. Just tell your boss that tomorrow you'll be in "sometime between eight and twelve" and see what happens. If he balks, tell him you're not sure how long breakfast will take, and if he doesn't like it you can reschedule, but your next opening is in three weeks. That's how they get you. The threat of the long reschedule. You think it's bad waiting four hours, try four weeks. We're at their mercy.

I could have used the time to do some research for a more constructive post, but I always enjoy a little complaining first thing in the morning (even though it's noon). I could have made fun of Britney for losing custody of her kids to "K-Spend", but that seemed to easy, and kind of sad. Yes, the TV is fixed. Thanks for asking. I'm off, there are more indignities for me to suffer for your amusement. Later...Brian