BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

123-4567?

987-6543?

566-3714?

I’ll be honest… I actually had some trouble deciding what title to use for this blog entry. (By the way – it will become apparent in about 4.33632 seconds that this entry is NOT about Jenny by Tommy Tutone…)

Other possible titles were:

1. “Been There, Done That…”
2. “Neener, Neener, We Were Here First…”
3. “She’s Got Legs…”
4. “160? Is That All I Get?”
5. “Blackberry? Isn’t That A Kind Of Cobbler?”

Of course, #3 was my personal favorite, but I suspect that was pretty obvious. As to how any of these potential titles fit in with 867-5309, or even how 867-5309 fits in with this blog entry for that matter…well, read on and I’m betting it will make sense at some point…

Of course, you know me. The “when” it will make sense might be a long time coming – reading-wise, that is – so, you might want to hit the restroom, refill your coffee, then get comfortable. Don’t worry, I’ll wait…

(do do, do Doo, do da, DOOOOO… do do, do Doo, DOOOP, Do doodle doodle, do do, do da, Doo, do do, DOOOOO, DOOP, Do doodle doodle DOOP, Do doooooo….) [give me a break… have you ever tried to convert the Jeopardy theme music to text? It ain’t easy, let me tell ya’…]

Okay, so everyone back? Got your drinks? Settled in? Good…

So… Since we are on the subject of converting things to text, I had occasion to spend a bit of time text messaging the other day. Now, I realize that a whole raft of you are adopting your best sarcastic voice and saying, “Yeah, good on ya’, Sellars. So you texted… You want a medal or something?”

Well… not a medal per se… How about if I put it into perspective.  You see, E K and I have cell phones… (Okay, okay, bite your tongues for a second here, I realize that’s not a big deal or anything)… The truth is, I have had a “mobile phone” since they were bigger than a breadbox and stayed permanently attached to your car. It was one of those technician things… Then, years later I upgraded to a bag phone – anyone remember those? Same as the car phone, but they stuffed all the crap into a glorified purse so you could drag it around with you. As an aside, I never did have one of the “pocket bricks” that were the size of a loaf of bread and qualified as the original “Cell Phone”… I just waited until cells were the size of double Whopper™ so that I wouldn’t have to wear a back brace while carrying it. (I’d already done enough of that lugging around the bag phone)… Of course, these days cell phones are only about a half inch shy of being the same thing as the communicator on Star Trek: The Next Generation… Just slap your chest and talk away… But, we aren’t there just yet.

Still, what started out as a somewhat flawed communications device attached to my car with a curly-q antenna has now morphed into this little flip open gizmo thingy about the size of a pack of cigarettes – actually, a little bit smaller I guess – that has eleventy-buh-jillion ring tones, takes pictures, surfs the web, acts like a PDA, and generally makes my life miserable…  And, of course, that is only because I am not packing around the latest and greatest innovation in personal communication such as a “chocolate covered blackberry moto razor iSomething-or-another”. Neither is E K. If we were, then we could probably fly the space shuttle remotely while listening to 47 gigabytes of MP3’s on top of all that stuff…

Now, I realize that may seem a bit odd – us not having the latest and greatest I mean – what with us both being techie types, even though I’ve retired from that segment of my life – well… in a professional sense, anyway… I still keep my finger in just in case I have to fall back on something… But, there goes that chicken again.

The point is, E K uses her cell primarily for work and emergencies. I use mine primarily for being able to call my girls – E K and the munchkin, obviously – when I am on the road touring and for emergencies. So, what does that mean? Well, pretty much it just means that we have a fairly basic calling plan. Ex-tee-ump minutes per month and that’s pretty much the extent of it. Therefore, we don’t “text” like most folks out there. For one, it costs us money. For two, well, we figure you call, say what you have to say, and there you go.

Now, it’s true that sometimes being able to send the equivalent of an “email” or “instant message” is an attractive option. I am more than willing to admit that fact. Perhaps the person you are trying to contact is in the middle of something and all you need to do is deliver a quick, “gonna be late for dinner” or something like that. So, I can see the allure. But, it’s just not something E K and I have ever really done…

So, here we are back around to the fact that I did do some texting the other day… No, I’m still not asking for a medal, but I think maybe you can see where this is kinda like getting your grandmother to try chicken tikka masala for the first time. It was a big deal for me to do this… Old dog, new trick… yadda yadda…

Anyway, I suspect by now you are figuring that something obviously had to  exert some manner of influence upon me in order to force a situation where this whole texting thing would happen. Well, you’re correct. As it happens it was the FBI.

(Waiting patiently for the surprised gasps to settle…)

Okay… not to worry. It wasn’t the FBI as in the whole Federal Bureau of Investigation or me being in some kind of trouble (at least, not that they’ve told me about). It was a friend who works for the FBI. He was in town on business, but had some free time and wanted to hook up for lunch and to catch up, etc… As it happens, he texts quite a bit, so that is how he contacted me. And, me not knowing if he was in the middle of a meeting or some such, found it necessary to “answer” him by texting back instead of just calling.

Well, as you might guess, this presented a bit of an obstacle for me… As we’ve already established, I don’t text. Never really have…  So I had no idea where to start. Still, I spent 25+ years as a computer tech, so it shouldn’t be all that hard to figure out.

Following the prompts I pressed the button to reply and it gave me a blank little screen that awaited my message. At this point in one of those flash back-flash forward moments I found myself wanting to pull a “Scotty” from Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, and just start talking to the damn thing. (Hmmmm… Nostalgia moment… I’m pretty sure I took E K to see that movie at the Northwest Plaza cinema back in ’86 shortly after we moved in together… I know, ignore the chicken, Sellars! Ignore the chicken!) Well, obviously I knew better than to babble at it, so I started poking around on the keys to make letters appear. After spending what was, I am absolutely certain, way too long to create a simple text message I succeeded in getting it sent. At this point, I was fairly proud of myself.

Seconds later, however, I was faced with receiving his reply, which in turn, deserved a reply… A bit longer reply.

Of course, I only had 160 characters. Well, that’s how it works on MY phone, at least… For all I know the rest of you texters out there can read this entire blog entry on your phone. (As an aside, are at least a couple of those potential titles starting to make sense yet?)

So, can you see where this is heading? Yeah, I know… The thing is, I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice. Yes. I had to instantly teach myself a second language… Text Speak. I proceeded to reply with all of the necessary information required, however, I taught myself how to misspell things on the fly. I left out vowels, I replaced entire syllables with numeric values, I abbreviated, truncated, masticated, ameliorated, integrated, intimated, and generally adulterated the written word, all for the purpose of getting my point across in as few a characters and as quickly as possible. (the quickly part has to do with a whole ‘nother issue better left unblogged.)

Well, I don’t mind telling you, it was painful.

Really. I kept wanting to go back and fix the spelling errors and the like because the message looked like a teenage girl was sending a giggle-gram to her BFF (yeah, it seriously scares me that I know what a BFF is… I blame those cell phone commercials)…

But, I couldn’t… Fix the errors, that is… For one, I only had 160 characters to work with. For two, I would have been typing all day, being the inexperienced texter that I am. And, for three, I have no idea how they charge for these text messages, but I was already racking up enough of a bill as it was. If it was by the character, I would have been in deep crap…

I know… Right now you are saying to yourself, “Okay, Sellars… This little diatribe pretty much explains the “160” title and even the “Blackberry” title… But, what the hell does it have to do with the other three? Especially the one about legs?”

Glad you asked.

It was after I had labored over sending this series of text messages back and forth with my friend that something dawned on me. Kids today have this whole texting thing pretty damn easy… And, I mean besides the obvious part. You see, it was in that moment I realized I had been here, done this, worn a hole in the T-Shirt, long before the bulk of the “text generation” was even a glimmer in parental eyes.

You see, way back in the day, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and all that jazz – yeah, way back in the 80’s, we technicians carried numeric pagers. (before that we carried “beepers” that simply alerted us to call an answering service, but there goes a chicken again…) Numeric pagers were a marvel to us – yeah, I know, they even have text pagers these days. E K still carries on of those too… But, back to the numerics… They were a marvel to us because we could dial a number and punch in a number to call, so that the person being paged knew who to call instead of that extra step of calling the service, then calling the number, etc, etc… Remember, back then we didn’t have cell phones, we had to stop and find a payphone.

Okay… So we sent numbers to pagers… B F D… What does that have to do with anything? Well, being the industrious little geeks we were, we started figuring out little shortcuts. Anyone here ever watch Millennium? (that Megan Gallagher… man, I tell you…) My example here is that the main character, Frank Black, would get a simple page – “2000”. That was all it took and he would know the number to call. Well, us geeky types way back when were doing that sort of secret code paging even before Millennium came along…

It started simply enough – numeric codes established by service departments that would mean something to the tech receiving the page. Stuff like:

911 – Call the shop immediately

XXX-XXXX99 – (phone number appended with 99) Call this number ASAP.

XXX-XXXX – (just a phone number) Call this number, moderate priority.

XXX-XXXX00 – (phone number appended with 00) Call this number, low priority.

Of course, anything that starts out simply will eventually end up with layers of complexity that overwhelm the innate simpleness. Especially when electronics geeks are involved. Before long, more numbers were being added on to mean other things – almost like police call codes.

Then, it got really scary.

Anyone here remember that old joke you do with a calculator? The one where you tell a story while punching in a calculation for each element of the tale, and at the end you hit the = sign and have the punchline, which  is 71011345? or 55378008? (for those of you too young to remember this geekdom moment, if you turned the calculator upside down and looked at the display, the digital LED would be spelling out SHELL OIL or BOOB LESS… (it’s far more obvious with 7 segment LED’s than this particular font…)

So, did we spend the day saying SHELL OIL to one another, or calling each other BOOB LESS? Well, not really. There are actually a very limited number of things you can spell with inverted seven segment lettering, but we did manage to come up with a few initials that meant something.

And, what does this have to do with legs?

I knew you were going to ask that… Back when E K and I were dating, as well as during our cohabitation and early years of our marriage, there were times when I just wanted to let her know I was thinking about her. However, since there were no cell phones, and with her being in the field taking service calls that made it a bit hard. I didn’t want to cause her to pull over at a pay phone just for that.

Yeah, and?

I’m getting there… I’m getting there… As I’ve said many times before, I’m a leg guy, and E K has a fantastic pair said appendages. So, one of my fond nicknames for her, back then and even today, was/is LEGS.

Yeah, so you have a cutesy nickname for E K… Big deal… Just get to the point, Sellars…

Patience is a virtue, ya’know…

Well, to be honest I figured y’all would have been all over it by now…  But, just to cover all the bases, it’s as simple as this: Whenever I wanted to tell my dear and lovely I was thinking about her, I would simply page her with the following number: 5663714

On an upside down numeric pager that’s ancient, “First Generation Text Speak” for hi leggs:

Yeah, I know, the second “g” seems unnecessary, but remember, as mentioned in the Mahwage blog entries, she always wore Leggs brand stockings. Plus, without the extra digit in there, the “phone number” looked incomplete. And, well, since the pager belonged to the company it was our way of being “covert”…

I mean, what with E K actually being a sexy, dangerous, femme fatale secret agent* and all…

More to come…

Murv

* Regarding E K’s secret agent status. See blog entry: “Kay…Eeee Kay…” March 12, 2009

Part 2 of 12

Continued from: Mahwage: What’s A Nice Girl Like You…

As I said previously, our story actually begins, for lack of a better starting point, on January 28, 1986, the fateful day of the Challenger disaster…

By January of 1986 I had been out of a job for nearly 6 months. My position with American Home Video Corporation, (aka AHVC and VideoConcepts™),  had come into jeopardy the moment the then Tandy Corporation, (aka Radio Shack®, and now Radio Shack Corporation), had concluded a buyout deal and taken over the company. I was in middle management and, as many of you well know those are usually the first jobs to be purged and refilled. It’s more economical for a corporation to hire in cheaper help and train them from scratch rather than to keep paying salaries that have increased throughout years of service and try to re-train people who are already set in their ways under the old regime. It makes sense from a business standpoint. It doesn’t make it any easier to swallow though…

And so, there I was. Jobless and pretty much penniless. You see, I had been caught up in the “credit craze” of the early 80’s. Sign here and get a $1000 credit line… No money down, no payments for 6 months, $2500 instant credit… Just show us a valid driver’s license and a current credit card, and you too can have a credit line with us…

Now, this wasn’t a HUGE problem when I had a job. I am truly a responsible person for the most part, (But, I do have my moments, just like anyone else). I pay my bills and have no desire to be beholding to anyone for any longer than I absolutely must… However, since I had been caught up in the craze, I was single, had a great place to live where the rent was cheap, (see previous blog “There I was, Sitting By The Pool…” January 23, 2009), I had overextended myself. A new car, (because I desperately needed one), was the biggie, but then there were a lot of toys… Video camera, TV’s, Stereo, Computer Gadgets… I could go on and on… With income, I could pay my bills and have some pocket money. Without income, my savings dried up very fast, and unemployment simply didn’t meet the basic needs. I started falling behind in my bills, collectors were calling, and I wasn’t having much luck in the “finding a job” department.

While I had been in Sales/Sales Management with my most recent job, I had also kept my finger in the electronics repair end of things. That was really my first love… well, second actually, because writing is my first… and it was something I was very good at doing. However, the job market for techs was a bit depressed at the time, so I had taken the sales position with AHVC. Well, here I was a couple of years and a handful of months later, and the job market for techs hadn’t seemed to become any better. So, I was looking for either one – tech or sales, anything would do, although I preferred tech.

Well, I finally received a callback on my resume… The company was known as Crazy Dave’s ComputerTrend. (I just looked for some info about them on the net so I could provide a link, but didn’t find much of anything, probably because they went under a long, long time ago.) In a nutshell, ComputerTrend was a Midwestern chain of discount computer resellers. What we called them back in the day was a “computer whore”… What that meant was they undercut everyone. They even sold systems below cost in order to increase volume and make up the profit on the back end with  high margin accessories. They had radio commercials that sounded like an advertisement for a monster truck rally… Literally… An artificially excited voice screaming about the great deals you could get on MacIntosh computers, IBM computers, Epson printers, and so on… Their catch phrase, believe it or not, was – voice one: “But how much is it?” excited voice 2: “It’s cheaper than a toaster!”

Yeah, a toaster. I have no idea, so don’t ask me. The only thing we ever called a toaster in the computer biz were some of the old external drives, and back then they weren’t exactly cheap.

So, obviously, ComputerTrend wasn’t my first choice in jobs, but by this time I was desperate. The bill collectors were starting to get nasty, and I was willing to take just about anything involving a paycheck, even though said paycheck was likely to be, and definitely was, far, far less than I had been making before…

Moving on, the day came for my scheduled interview, January 28, 1986.  I was set up to be at the Olive Road location around noon that day. I rolled out of bed early, went through my normal routine, showered,  futzed about with a B B S I was running at the time, got dressed for the interview, then kicked back in front of the TV with a cup of coffee to watch the space shuttle launch.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with my love of the space program, I was born on 2/20/62 – the day John Glenn became the first American to orbit the earth. His Mercury space capsule was christened Friendship 7, and legend has it I came very close to being named John Glenn Sellars. At any rate, the space program has always held a special interest for me.

Well, quite obviously the rest of that shuttle launch is sad history… Roughly 73 seconds into the flight an “O” ring failed and Challenger disintegrated, killing the seven crew members and plummeted bit by bit into the Atlantic ocean. I watched, like countless others, in abject horror as the scene played out before me on the screen of a 27 inch JVC TV / Monitor, (I remember that particular detail because it had been purchased from my previous place of employment)…

Then came the words, “Flight controllers here looking very carefully at the situation. Obviously a major malfunction. We have no downlink… We have a report from the Flight Dynamics Officer that the vehicle has exploded.”

I was devastated. At that point I literally considered calling the ComputerTrend Store and seeing if I could reschedule my job interview. I know, that sounds a bit melodramatic, even to me. But, at the time I was in a state of shock, as were many others. And being such an avid follower of the space program, the disaster hit me very hard.

However, I also had a sense of responsibility. I knew I needed to restart my income, and soon. The job market had been softer than a marshmallow in July and I realized I couldn’t risk losing this opportunity. Little did I know it was about to become a life changing opportunity in more ways than simply a paycheck.

I gathered myself, spoke to a few folks on the phone who were just as shocked as I at what had happened with the Shuttle, then donned a tweed sport coat and headed out for my interview. I did, however, make an obvious geek statement: I wore a black armband. Fortunately, the interviewer watched the news and was enough of a geek himself  to appreciate it.

As stated earlier, what I really wanted was a tech position, but they didn’t have one. So, I interviewed for a floor sales position. While I had the necessary qualifications for the job, I was later told that what clinched it for me was my tech background. Some of the veteran sales folk at the store had already heard about my resume, and were all about having a “personal tech” on staff with them. You see, the St. Louis tech center for ComputerTrend serviced three separate stores, and while it was actually located just across the parking lot from the Olive Road location, the techs there had their hands full already.

So now, I was gainfully employed. Well, as gainfully as I could be under the circumstances…

Two weeks into my new job, life took yet another turn. I was finally able to shake loose from the other salespeople who had me doing tech support for their clients as well as configuring the hardware they had sold. I needed to sell something myself if I was going to make anything besides base draw salary. So, I worked the floor and almost immediately  sold a system.  I wrote it up and arranged for the customer to take delivery the next day since he wanted a custom configuration. Then I set my schedule so that I could visit the tech center the next morning. You see, the tech center wasn’t just where the repairs took place… It was also the warehouse, and I needed to obtain the components I had just sold in order to put them together.

Now, I have to add in a side note here: I had been told all about the tech center when I started on my first day. As it happened, there was a young lady working there named Erin. All of the men at the store were constantly panting over her, and rightly so. She was a good looking blonde with an ample chest. She was also an absolute sweetheart… Therefore, since I was male the other guys included me in their tellings of lustful fantasies over this young woman. I can still remember hearing repeatedly, “Just wait until you see Erin…” Well, I did. She came by the store a few times, and I had occasion to go by the tech center a few times, myself… However, I didn’t have the same reaction to her as the rest of the men, not because she wasn’t perfectly lovely, because she was, but, she simply didn’t affect me the way she did the rest of them.

Well, as it happened, I also knew there were more folks over at the tech center besides Erin. There was a man by the name of Phil, and I had the opportunity to meet him as well. Very nice guy. But, there was also another woman by the name of Kathy – she was the manager. We had not yet crossed paths because she was either out sick or on vacation whenever I happened to be over at the tech center. So, since I was hoping to eventually snag a position as a tech,  I asked the salespeople at the store about her. Their response was, “Dude, watch out for Kathy…  She’s a real bitch…” Thing is, they were serious…

Okay, they had worked with her, I hadn’t, so I took them at their word. Obviously this Kathy person was someone I needed to give a wide berth if I valued job, life, and limb…

Back to the story…

I arrived at the store early that day so I could run across the lot and pick up the components I needed for the sale I had made the evening before. Now understand, we are talking in terms of a large shopping center so it wasn’t right next door or anything,  therefore I drove my car over in order to be able to load up the boxes and take them back to the store proper. I entered the foyer of the tech center which had a wall blocking the windows so that you couldn’t see into the back area where the techs were working and stock was stored, a bit of a security measure I suppose. Proceeding inward I rounded the corner in hopes of seeing Phil or maybe even Erin, since I already knew them… Besides, I really didn’t want to come face to face with this psychotic, misanthropic bitch named Kathy. I had enough to worry about with bill collectors and the like breathing down my neck, so I didn’t need a manager type to decide she hated me and get me fired.

But, when I made the turn and looked up from picking my way through stacks of boxes, there was no Phil or Erin in sight. What met my eyes, however, was an absolute vision…Yeah, be warned, this is where it gets Hallmark Channel™ sappy, because I remember it as vividly as if it was a color picture hanging on the wall in front of my face right this very minute…

There, perched on a stool in front of a tech bench, and working on an I T T Xtra P C Compatible C P U, was this petite woman. She had shoulder length, brown hair that held just a minor hint of auburn when the light caught it just so.  Her complexion was a pale ivory, with a few freckles here and there. She was wearing a white blouse, a black and red horizontally striped button down sweater, a black skirt with a hemline that came to just above her knees, and black leather, mid-heeled pumps. Her legs were crossed casually and ladylike. She had a tech manual open on one side of the C P U while wielding a screwdriver in her hand. She turned slowly and regarded me with a flat, “Yeah, what the f*ck do you want?” kind of expression tweaking her delicate features.

She was, no doubt in my mind, the Kathy Monster I had been warned to avoid.

But, much like my reaction to Erin, I had a completely different take than the other folks about this petite dynamo. I did not wet my pants and flee from the tech center as had been predicted by the veterans… No… I stood there and began to sweat as my heart started pounding in my ears. My knees felt like Jello and my feet felt like bags of wet cement. I know I began talking, but I couldn’t possibly tell you what I said… I suspect it was something on the order of incoherent babbling because the Kathy Monster simply sat there staring at me like I had lost my mind… Eventually, I managed to get myself together and pick up the items I had come to retrieve, all the while having a hell of a time taking my eyes off this woman. I think I even tripped and stumbled once or twice, effectively making myself look like an even bigger idiot than I already had with my nonsensical blithering.

By the time I returned to my car with the components, and was preparing to shuttle them back over to the store, my heart still had not settled. It was bouncing around inside my head, and blood was rushing in my ears like whitewater rapids… I felt lightheaded, and even giddy with excitement. I think I sat in the driver’s seat and glazed over for several minutes… After a healthy measure spent trying to make myself stop hyperventilating, I asked aloud this simple question:

“What the f*ck is wrong with you, Sellars?”

I didn’t have to wait for an answer because it was already sitting on my shoulder, bludgeoning me in an attempt to get my attention. In that moment it became crystal clear…

I had just fallen in love.

More to come…

Murv

… NEXT:  Mahwage: Money I Don’t Have…