“The Dirty Half-Dozen”

“Where have all the flowers gone?”

Lots of pop songs from the past can become earworms.

Who can forget “One, two, three o’clock, four o’clock rock… Gonna rock around the clock tonight.” Or drift off to “Wake up, little Susie, wake up.” Meanwhile, we were “Wasting away in Margaritaville. Looking for my lost shaker of salt.” Notice that the pop songs that become earworms are seldom ballads. We aren’t meant to fall asleep while we’re being tormented.

More likely than not, your vintage earworms vary with the seasons. In the summer, songs by the Beach Boys blanket your brain; “Under the boardwalk” and “Surfin’ U.S.A.” Around the holidays, songs about Christmas, Santa Claus, and “Rudolph, the red nosed reindeer” have your ears ringing. Even in Spring, you’ll have “…Peter Cottontail, hopping down the bunny trail.”

By now you are probably being tormented by earworms of your own. I’d apologize for doing this to you, but misery loves company. The only advice I can offer you is to pass them on to someone else. Everyone must have a jingle lurking in their past, waiting to be set free. If not, give them one of your own. Or just remind them that a little dab will do them.

Copyright 2023 Business Theatre Unlimited

Elaine M. Decker’s books include Retirement Downsizing—A Humorous Guide, Retirement Sparks, Retirement Sparks Again, Retirement Sparks Redux and CANCER: A Coping Guide. Her essays appear in the anthologies: 80 Things To Do When You Turn 80 and 70 Things To Do When You Turn 70. All are available on Amazon. com. Contact her at: emdecker@ix.netcom.com

NOTE: For my new readers, “You Can’t It Make Up, Chapters I and II columns can be found in my book, “50 Shades of Life, Love, and Laughter.” Order details appear at the end of this column. Sometimes we find ourselves in baffling situations, causing us to shake our heads and mumble, “You Can’t Make It Up!” I’ve documented some of these encounters in the aforementioned columns. I’ve now gathered enough material for Chapter III. In the spirit of the Lee Marvin flick, “The Dirty Dozen,” let’s enjoy the latest version of The Theater of the Absurd featuring the “The Dirty HalfDozen.”

IS THE RIGHT RAMP THE WRONG WAY? Have you ever eased your car onto the “on-ramp” next to the “off-ramp” of the highway only to be confronted by the ominous WRONG WAY alert on the median strip? I don’t know about you, but that notice always prompts instant panic before I realize that I’m neither the victim of a traffic engineer’s cruel joke, nor in violation of motor vehicle law.

WHO IS LISTENING? Recently, I pulled up to the drive-in window of Windy’s (the name has been changed to protect the guilty). I ordered a hamburger, chicken nuggets with barbecue sauce, and a diet root beer. When I got home, I found a chicken sandwich, nuggets with honey mustard sauce, and a regular root beer in the bag. Perhaps I had placed my order in Urdu, the native language of India and Pakistan, and they didn’t understand me. So, I just chicken-winged (pun intended) it and ate my lunch.

CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW? Have you ever tried to get a real HUMAN BEING to answer an “800” customer service telephone?

If you are a stubborn consumer, and don’t mind expending unlimited time, energy, and exhibiting sheer determination to repeat the word “representative” at least 15 times, you stand a decent chance. Even then, a prerecorded robot will direct you to the company web site. I don’t know about you, but I scream at the robot (I know that nobody is listening), “If I wanted to use the web site, I wouldn’t have run the communications gauntlet and risked high blood pressure.” Then I scream ‘representative” another 15 times to finally reach the consumer communications Promised Land of one-to-one conversation!

WHO ELSE HAS PASSWORD

PARANOIA? Every 25 days, my laptop reminds me that I have five days to change my password. This warning causes instant consternation in my world of limited tech ability. I’ve yet to change the password on the first try without waking the computer gods who stridently notify me that I have failed in my quest. (The admonishment always appears in large red “ERROR” letters). After multiple attempts, I succeed anf and have to erase the old password from my User ID, password, secret security question list so I don’t forget the new key to the cloud universe. Since I don’t have national security clearance and I’m certainly not, nor ever have been, a spy or intelligence officer, I find this monthly exercise to be particularly annoying.

DO YOU HAVE SELF-INSTALLATION SAGAS? In keeping with my technical inadequacies, I can’t grasp the concept of self-install programs. This winter, I contracted for cable service (I know “streamers” are snickering) at the Ft. Lauderdale condo where we spend January through April to escape the rigors of nature’s coldest season. The customer service representative at AD INFINITIM (name again changed to protect the guilty) assured me that I possessed the intelligence and knowledge to self-install. He was wrong. After several attempts and the utterance of many “blue” words, I arranged for a technician to hook up the equipment. The $100 installation fee was worth the preservation of my cardiovascular system.

DO YOU KNOW THE WAY -NOT TO SAN JOSE-BUT CHELSEA? Preparing for a recent appointment at the Chelsea, Massachusetts branch of the Massachusetts General Hospital, I put the 800 Everett Rd. destination into the WAVE (named changed, one more time, to protect the guilty) app on my phone. When we arrived in Chelsea (I thought), the fun really began. After circling the rotary as instructed, we found ourselves listening to the computer directing us onto to Route 93, and after several trips down Columbia Avenue as instructed, we discovered that we had been “wild goose chased” onto Everett Rd. in South Boston! After verifying that I had indeed put in Everett Rd. in Chelsea on my GPS, we started on Columbia Road toward Chelsea, yet again. We spotted an MGH building (number 151, not 800), pulled into the parking lot and asked a security guard for directions to 800 Everett Rd. He informed us that we were actually looking for 80 Everett Rd., not 800 as written on my appointment card. You can’t make this up!

No doubt I will amass another collection of bloopers, blunders, and blunderbuss for Chapter IV in the near future. In the meantime, develop your own list.

Larry Grimaldi is a freelance writer from North Providence. Many of his previous PrimeTime columns have been re-issued in the anthology, “50 Shades of Life, Love, and Laughter: Reflections on Gratitude, Joy, Life’s Oddities, and a Few Complaints!” available at Amazon.com or Stillwater Books in Pawtucket.” Materials published in this book are used with the permission of Beacon Communications. For more information, e-mail lvgrimaldi49@gmail. com