Monday, December 27, 2004

Time And Temperment

I had every intention today of writing about my phone conversations with occasional callers to the newsroom. It's hit or miss when you pick up the phone, sometimes it's someone wanting information, and sometimes it's a crazy person.

What I really wanted to do was post a brief recording of one of the more humorous requests for information left on my voice mail, but Amy objected saying, "Our nieces read that!"

That's true, but our nieces listen to the radio too and that's where this guy heard it.

Anyway the caller asked for information about a product we apparently advertised at one time which...well let's simply say claimed to produce an "enhanced love experience." He left his full name and phone number twice before requesting I call him back to tell him how to obtain more information about that one hour "love experience."

I never returned his call, but over Amy's objections, I'm probably going to post the audio tomorrow...I have to edit it anyway. It's not pornographic or anything, I simply don't want to give out the guy's name and phone number.

What makes it slightly humorous in my mind is that the caller is a bit elderly. Actually I looked him up through a public database and discovered he's 83 years old.

Personally I think an 83 year old seeking information about a "one hour love experience" deserves some credit...if not applause.

What brought that character to mind today was that I had a lengthy discussion with an 84 year old man this morning who was upset that we didn't update the temperature "every minute." I understood his point actually, at this time of year the temperature can rise rapidly between 8 a.m. and 9 a.m., but the National Weather Service only gives out hourly temperatures so during the 8 o'clock hour we give the 8 o'clock temperature. At 8:45 that temperature is in truth often off by a few degrees. This was important today to an 84 year old man.

What always strikes me as funny with these conversations, usually they're more hostile than this nice gentleman was, is that most of the callers already have the information; they're simply upset we're not broadcasting it. Often this is the case when it comes to traffic...people will call up and scream at me because, "You're not telling people about the delay on I-35!" Obviously these folks, almost always men by the way, already know there is a delay on I-35, but because they're not hearing on the radio what they already know it upsets them to the point that they call to scream at anyone who answers the phone - I have virtually nothing to do with our traffic coverage by the way- but I do have a direct line.

I think it is a social phenomenon worthy of further day.

Today the elderly gentleman I spoke with told me it was 46 degrees and we were saying it was 32. When I mentioned that the National Weather Service gauges showed it was "officially 32" at the airport, 36 degrees in another part of town, and 40 in yet another, he insisted it was 46. His window thermometer said so. Who am I to argue? We didn't make much progress, but we parted friends.

Anyway that's what I was going to write about but Amy objected to the one hour "love experience" audio so my mind wandered to Ebay. I was going to put up for bid an old cast iron bank I bought for a quarter at a garage sale more than 35 years ago, but I wanted to do some research first.

There are a bunch of similar banks on Ebay that aren't selling for much but they're not exactly like mine and what little research I have done turned up differing results. Apparently two similar banks were made, by two different companies. One appears to be worth a lot of isn't. I can't really tell which one I have, so I'm putting the sale on hold until I can go to the library or find someone who knows more than me about cast iron banks (which is pretty much anyone).

In any case, now I'm out of time to write and I haven't accomplished much of anything.

Well except oddly enough that I may have a bit more empathy for the frustration of one 83 year old man.

(my nieces shouldn't click here)