THE SMASHED TELEVISION

by Hayden Dent

 

The remote sat on the flimsy brown card table laughing at me, taunting me.  “Mary, when is someone going to come fix the remote on this TV,” I asked.  “Mary… Mary,” I called.  She had left the room, as she is apt to do when I start talking to her.  I think she gets annoyed with me sometimes.  Mary is a rather short, plump woman in her early 40s with large glasses and a hairdo that went out of style ten years ago.  “Mary … Mary,” I called as I got a glimpse of her walking past the doorway.  “I heard you, Mr. Flint.  I heard you the first time.  I called maintenance and they said they would get by this afternoon,” she answered from across the room. The remote and its slave the television exchanged knowing glances and smirked.

“But, it’s morning now!  What am I supposed to do about the TV until then?”   I don’t usually watch much television it depresses me.  But, up here, watching television is about the only form of entertainment.  

“You are either going to have to try to fix it yourself or you are going to have to wait until this afternoon, is all I know to tell you,” Mary shot back.

She’s lying.  No one is coming to fix the remote on the TV, she is just hoping I will give up and go back to my room.  “Mary, come fix it for me.  You know they are all in conspiracy against me since I smashed the one at home.”  I said.  Nurse Mary raised her eyebrow and gave me a sidelong glance.  She then hurried over to the nurses’ station across the hall and began writing vigorously on a piece of paper secured to a yellow file folder.

As I surmise it, it is televisions that got me in this place.    Televisions and their co-conspirators, satellites, VCR’s, computers and cell phones.  They are working together to drive us all insane.  I am on to them and they know it.  Computers are taking over the world.  They are talking to each other, gathering information, sharing information and they are using television to subliminally hypnotize people into believing nothing is happening.    At least…. that’s what I tell Dr. Pleasant.  He likes to hear things like that.  Dr. Pleasant is a nice young man with brown wavy hair going bald at the temples and is the hospital’s resident psychologist.  When I tell him these things he sits up straight in his chair and gets this serious far away look on his face as if he were putting together pieces of a puzzle.  He then scribbles a note on his yellow pad and asks me to go on.

My wife, Doris, made an appointment for me with Dr. Pleasant after I threw a hammer through our television.   I threw it like one of those Indians throws a tomahawk at a fleeing cowboy in one of those Western movies they used to play on Sunday afternoon.  The throw was a beaut, smashed the set with one shot.  Doris said that she had had enough and made the appointment.  She said I needed to talk to somebody.

               *                                   *                                  *

I retired ten years ago after working for thirty-five years in acquisitions at the public library.  I was not head librarian when I retired.  They began to introduce computers into the library and I refused to get involved with them.  When Louis Sessoms retired as Director of the library, his job went to a younger man that had gone to college and knew all about computers.  My position on computers was that anyone who wanted a book at the library could look in the card catalog.

When I was growing up there were no computers and there was no television.  There was no electricity for that matter.     I was born in the 20’s and grew up during the depression.  I have lived in this same small rural community in Claiborne County all of my life.  My family didn’t get electrical service until I was fourteen years old.  That was back in the day when you knew everyone in town, their mothers and their fathers, their aunts and uncles, and everybody else in their family, and they knew you.  You knew where you fit in.  Life was simple. 

Anyway, the events leading up to my being here are not earth shattering, television shattering maybe, but not earth shattering.  A shelf in the spare bedroom closet was broken and I got up that morning determined to repair it.  I got in my truck and headed for our local Super Big-Mart to get some screws and brackets to fix the shelf and some paint to finish up the job.  A couple of years ago a home repair project would have been an excuse to visit my friend Fred Hollingsworth at Claiborne Hardware, but they went out of business a year or so after Builders Depot located a store a few miles away in Fayette.

People joke about having their employer mail their paychecks directly to Big-Mart, the home of low prices and endless selection.  It is the dream of an Arkansas discounter which is at this very moment muscling manufacturers and gobbling up towns and cities all over America.  Their business is to push every other business in town to the margins in the name of efficiency and low prices to the joy and relief of the appreciative townspeople and to the consternation of the town’s business community.   The truth is…..I hate Big-Mart.  But, you can’t beat-em though.  No sir, you can’t beat-em.  They really do have the best selection and lowest prices in town.  Of course, now they have the only selection and the only prices in town on most things.  But, be that as it may, only a fool argues with good selection, low prices, and efficiency.  No, I learned long ago to keep my strange thoughts to myself and my mouth shut about such matters. 

As I pulled up to the parking lot, which is the size of three or four football fields, I saw that all of the spaces in the first half of the lot were packed with cars.  After walking what seemed like a half mile I finally made it to the front door of the giant gray and blue box.   

I walked what seemed like another half-mile drifting through the vastness of shelves and corridors until I finally reached the hardware section of the store.  After locating the screws and brackets on aisle 112 and paint on aisle 71, I headed for the exit.

Upon reaching the front of the store I picked a line and there I stood with my two or three little items, waiting.  After what seemed an eternity, I finally reached the cashier.  She was an elderly woman whom I vaguely recognized from my years at the library.  It was the first time I had seen her there.  I never seem to get the same cashier twice no matter how many times I visit that store.  She scanned my three items and the total came to $7.78.  I pulled out my checkbook and began writing a check. 

After I had finished writing the check, I handed it to the cashier.  “Sir, I am going to need to see some identification” she said in a routine, matter of fact, but kindly manner.  That was when I realized that I had left my wallet with my driver’s license on the dresser at home

 “I left my wallet at home” I finally admitted after double-checking all my pockets and the pockets of my maroon jacket.  I felt like a child having to admit to the teacher that I didn’t have my homework. 

“Can’t you take the check?  I shop here all the time, I am a good customer”

“Sorry sir, store policy.  We can’t accept a check without proper ID.”

“Don’t you remember me?  I worked at the public library for thirty-five years, I retired a few years ago”.

“You look a little familiar, but I can’t accept the check if you don’t have ID, I’m sorry”

“Can you call a manager?  I’m telling you, I shop here all the time.  It’s a seven dollar check.”

“CSM to register seventeen” she called.  The man behind me waited a few seconds and mumbled “Forget it” and pushed past me and toward the exit leaving his basket.  If eyes were pistols I would have been dead by then.  The three customers behind him were staring holes in the side of my face.  I tried not to look at them.  Finally,  a pimply faced kid with a full head of shaggy brown hair no more than twenty-one years old slid up to the cashier from the other side of the register.

“What?”

“This customer wants to pay with a check, but he left his wallet with his ID at home” the cashier told him.

“No ID, no takey checky” said the Customer Service Manager looking at me.  This was obviously an easy decision for him.  Right by the book.

“That’s it?” I said.

“That’s it.”  “I’m sorry, sir.”

Thoroughly humiliated I turned and walked out of the store.  What did they think I had done, taken up a career as a check forger as a second career?  At my age?

When I drove up in the driveway, I saw Doris’ car was there and I knew she was home.  I knew I would get the “What? You didn’t get the brackets to fix the shelf?” in that high disbelieving, that is the most absurd thing she has ever heard voice of hers.  And when I told her I had left my wallet at home she would shake her head in disbelief.  Hoping to avoid that, I went to the tool shed and rooted through shelves and toolboxes until I found some screws that I thought might fit and an old rusty bracket, grabbed the hammer and went inside to fix the shelf.

As I walked through the door, the phone began to ring.  I went over to the recliner, put the hammer, screws and bracket on the side table, sat down and picked up the receiver.  There was silence.  Then a voice came on the line.  “Mr. Bent, this is Jim Mixon from Interstate Bank I was just calling to verify some information so that we can send you a Visa card with a low introductory interest rate of 7.9 percent and a $5,000 credit limit.”  The name is Flint, F-L-I-N-T, I yelled and slammed down the phone.  Telemarketers!  You can’t even get any peace at home anymore.

I felt my heart racing.  If I don’t calm down, I am going to have a heart attack I thought.  I decided to relax by watching TV before starting my project.  The remotes, as in two, one for the satellite and the other for the TV were, of course, nowhere to be found.  They were probably under the recliner, having slipped between the cushion and the armrest.  After getting down on my hands and knees I found them just where I thought they would be.  I settled back down into my chair and hit the “on” button on the TV remote.  The television gave a clinking noise and came to life.  The picture was all static.  I then pressed a button on the satellite remote.  Nothing happened.  I pressed another, and another, and another.  Nothing happened. 

Not wanting to get the “look” from Doris, who was somewhere in the back of the house, I decided I would solve the problem myself this time.  An 800 number was on the back of the satellite remote.  I decided to call the satellite company.  I pressed the numbers on the telephone and the phone began to ring then stopped.  A pleasant voice said “You have reached Satellite One, if you know your party’s extension please dial it now.”  She then paused.  Great, another machine, I thought.  “Please listen to our menu as it has changed.”  Press one for billing, press two for sales, press three for technical support.”  I pressed three.  “Please enter your account number.”   I didn’t know what my account number was, so I didn’t do anything.  After about five minutes of listening to music and advertisements, a woman’s voice came on the phone.

Good afternoon, this is Erica, may I have your account number please.”

“My television won’t work and I think it has something to do with the satellite remote, I think I’m not hitting the right button, can you help me?”

“Sir, do you have your account number?”

“No mam, I don’t keep those numbers handy.  All I want is some help with my remote control, my TV won’t work,” I said.

“I am sorry sir, I will have to have your account number before I can help you with that question.”

“That is what I am trying to tell you, I don’t have my account number, I throw all the papers having to do with my bills away after paying them each month.  I don’t have the number.”

“I am sorry sir, if you don’t have your account number  I can’t help you. Maybe you can call back when you locate the number.”

“Yeah, and maybe you can kiss my ass.” I shot back and banged the phone down.

I had had enough!  My hand instantly went to the hammer and I threw it at the television as hard as I could, smashing a large hole in the picture tube.  It made an exploding sound and glass flew all over the carpet.  I had finally struck back.  My heart wasn’t racing anymore.

Doris ran into the room and screamed when she saw the gaping hole in the television.  “What happened?” she yelled.   “I threw the hammer through the TV set,” I said calmly.  “You what” she screamed incredulously as she gave me the “look”.  Then she proceeded to tell me that we didn’t have the money for a new television set and that I must be insane.  She said I haven’t been acting right for a long time and she was tired of it.  And if I wouldn’t talk to her about it then I would have to go see a doctor.

I couldn’t talk to Doris about this or anything else anymore.  She wouldn’t understand.  We have been married so long it is like she knows everything I know, even before I think it.  It is like she is already inside my head thinking what I should be thinking and if I come to any conclusion other than hers based on the raw materials that she knows I have she gets agitated and tells me to just “deal with it”.  

What made me throw the hammer through the television, you ask?  I don’t know why I threw that hammer.   I guess I am just tired of being a number in somebody’s computer.  I want to be a human being again.

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