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or read his comments below…
NOTE TO SELF: MAKE NOTE TO SELF
Note to self:
MACARINA MUTING is a possible title of a story about my propensity for obsessively muting every commercial message that intrudes upon my life.
Yep, among my many tics and habits and compulsions is the need to sound-filter all unwanted sales pitches. Out of ear, out of mind.
It’s its own form of entertainment, this quashing of audio. Once the MUTE button is pushed, I can pursue other endeavors until the original program content resumes. Or I can watch the muted performance and make up my own story lines.
I get my jollies by watching the commercials never intended for silence. You too can play this game. When the superbly pumped-up and unnaturally-friendly spokesperson begins her sales pitch, watch her silent hands. What in the world do those repetitive gestures and body movements mean? Does she learn them in Macarina Messaging School?
Watch a lawyer pound his silent sales presentation into the camera. Where did he get the idea that his dramatically splayed waving arms would induce me to buy any product or service he could possibly imagine? Did he attend Commercial Shadow Boxing classes? Bless his muted mouth.
Unsolicited sales calls are also muted by the minute. PLEASE DON’T HANG UP. THIS IS AN IMPOR…just instructs me that hanging up is my only defense. CLICK. Muted!
Another call, MAY I SPEAK TO THE OWNER…”No, you may not, but thanks for calling.” CLICK. I do try to be polite and dismissive simultaneously.
One more phone pick-up—someone is trying to sell me something that would never be appropriate for a bookshop. “Have you ever visited my shop to see what we sell here?” I ask. UH, NO. “Well, come and talk to me face to face, allow me to give you a brief tour of the store, then we can have a nice face-to-face chat.” OK, I’LL DO THAT. CLICK. Quoth the marketer, NEVERMORE.
Oh, and there is another wise-guy retort I employ now and then, according to mood. IS THIS THE OWNER, MISTER JEEM? “What are you selling?” I ask, hoping to get to the point quickly and resume my day. OH, I AM NOT SELLING ANYTHING, MISTER JEEM. I know this to be untrue, since this is the dozenth call from this particular company. Nobody ever admits to wanting to sell something to me until the Pitch is completed—then, Surprise, Surprise! My smart remark, “Oh, that’s too bad that you are not selling anything. I just came into some money and was prepared to buy whatever you are offering. Thanks for calling!” CLICK.
Actually, I don’t enjoy making these quips, but something comes over me.
I’m much happier watching the silent-movie screen presentations of actors pretending to be just like me, hoping they can charm me into rolling out some moolah. Or lawyers reminding me that, like congressmen, bad hair or enhanced hair or preternatural comb overs are common characteristics of this species. Pretty funny stuff.
The Macarina continues until the Time of Unmuting resumes.
I enjoy these cheap thrills. They are actually much more fun than the programs themselves
© 2019 A.D. by Jim Reed
http://www.jimreedbooks.com/podcast