Monday, January 23, 2006

Scenes from a Saturday Morning

10 a.m.
Hop on the internet because tickets for a show are going on sale and you want to be first.

10:00:01 a.m.
Two tickets, please. Enter some letters to prove you're not a robot. You're glad to have settled that.

10:00:05 a.m.
Tickets have been reserved. Caveat: You have 4 minutes and 45 seconds to fill out your address, phone number, credit card information and just a few simple questions about your hopes and dreams and a short essay on the meaning of life, in which you should be sure to include footnotes. If you fail to complete the survey in a timely manner, you will lose your tickets and start over.

10:01:03 a.m.
You're a fast and accurate typist, usually. But the pressure, it's getting to you. Your fingers can't seem to find the keys.

10:02:15 a.m.
All you can manage to crank out is garblegjaeras;lkjafn.

10:02:45 a.m.
You're cracking. Dude, what is your phone number? Your aversion to the phone is finally coming back to haunt you, and the clock is ticking fast.

10:03:34 a.m.
Why is it that you can remember your debit card number, your bank account number and your old bank account number that you haven't used in something like nine years, but you can never remember the three-digit security code on the back of your debit card? What the hell is your problem? No, you're really asking.

10:04:15 a.m.
Almost there.

10:04:37 a.m.
You made it! What's this? $3.25 for will call? Bullshit!

10:05:03 a.m.
No, seriously. Total bullshit. A $14 ticket has suddenly become $22 after service charges are factored in.

10:05:04 a.m.
And the Postal Service is no different. It costs $3.25 to mail what you're assuming is two little scraps of paper. If they turn out to be gold bricks, you won't complain. Plus, you knew the rates were going up and all, but this is highway robbery. You shake your fist at the monitor and prepare to grab your torch and round up all the other angry villagers.

10:05:33 a.m.
Steam starts coming out of your ears. Trade indignant e-mails with maliavale about ticket prices these days and, why, back in your day...

10:05:44 a.m.
Oh, who are you fooling? You're going to get the tickets anyway. You've played right into their hands, those bastards.

10:05:46 a.m.
But you are so writing a letter about this.