Crotchety: Full of peculiar whims or stubborn notions; cantankerous; eccentric
Next fall, I reach the mathematical end of another decade. Let’s just say it is one of the later decades. It seems I am already leaning in to the Word of the Year if you talk to my wife, children … OK, anyone who knows me. I’m not fighting the adjective.
I especially like that Mr. Collins chose cantankerous as a descriptor of crotchety. You can look that one up on your own if you don’t know what it means. By the end of this column, you’ll probably have a good idea, so let me begin with some of my “peculiar whims and stubborn notions.” You may recognize some of them in yourself.
Allow me to start with the Postal Service. Do they have a staffing shortage? My mailbox is usually empty until 8 p.m. If my letter carrier is being forced to work 12-hour days, with the last three in the dark this time of year, my heart goes out to him. I know him by name and he is a great guy. It seems to me he is overworked. Has anyone considered turning the Postal Service over to Amazon? Seriously, how do they get a product made in Vietnam to me the day after I order it when a letter from family in Michigan takes four to seven days? Jeff Bezos, are you reading this?
How about the DMV? You can see where this column is going, right? The average wait time from my experience is around 45 minutes. They have three rows of chairs that must total at least 30 seats, so you know when you walk in there is a long wait most of the time or they wouldn’t have chairs. Could we hand the DMV to Elon Musk? He may give Tesla first priority, but the line would move much faster. Second option: Let Chick-fil-A take it over. You wouldn’t go inside, you would go through a drive-thru in 90 seconds or less. Even my personalized plate would be handed to me at the exit; LUVCHIK.
What’s with clothing sizes? I am short and weigh 130 pounds. Now that America has been supersized by fast food, I can no longer find clothes that fit unless I shop in the little boys’ department. What used to be a medium is now a small. A large is now a medium. I guess that makes shoppers feel better. Costco knows how big America is. Try to find a small in any of their piles. They start with waist sizes at 32” and shirt sizes go medium to XXX large. At least a nutritious hot dog and drink are still $1.50.
Artificial intelligence is next on my hit list. Artificial is the key word here, of course. I had to get a credit card replaced recently. I called the 800 number and never spoke to a real person. I must admit the AI voice was very polite and calm. After answering 10 questions and pushing most of the numbers on my keypad to answer “his” questions, he said a new card was on the way. To be honest, his service was better than some humans.
The idea of unsubscribing is laughable. Oh, boy. Have you noticed that when a company gets your email address you instantly get hounded with their marketing? Yes, that was a rhetorical question. You just hit “unsubscribe” and they go away. Ha, ha and ha. I tried this with a certain neighborhood communication app and unsubscribed several times to no avail. I enlisted my millennial daughter to dig into the issue. She ended up having to unsubscribe from at least 30 choices of “do you wish to keep getting blah, blah blah.” Sound familiar?
Service, or lack thereof, makes me like one of the Seven Dwarfs: Grumpy. Is my time worth nothing? Companies around the world have put the burden of service back on the consumer during my lifetime. We pump our own gas. We self-checkout at the grocery store. We talk to computers in the customer service (oxymoron) department of corporations. “Push one for … Push 18 for …” Geesh.
When I die and my family calls the funeral home, I’m afraid it will go something like this.
FH: Thank you for calling Morning Meadows Funeral Home. Push one if a loved one just died.
(Family pushes one)
FH: We are sorry for your loss. Has the body been picked up yet? If not, hang up and dial 911. If it has, push two.
(Family pushes two)
FH: Good. We don’t pick up dead bodies. Now how may we assist you? Push three for coffin choices. Push four for urn choices. Push five for a pine box. Push six for music choices during the service. Push seven if you don’t have enough pall bearers. Push eight if you wish the hole to be deeper than two feet as we charge by the foot.
Lord, take me now.
