It is a quarter to five here on the East Coast. I have 45 minute to kill before we begin boarding the plane so I thought that I’d try to be productive.
Today I was reminded twice of what it means to be a captive audience.
I recently attended an event where one of the other attendees “regaled” us with tales of her children and grandchildren. Endless stories about how smart and how cute they are were heaped one upon the other with little regard for those of us who were forced to listen.
I like kids. I write about my own all the time. But the distinction between what happened today and the blog is that you have a choice.
You can read, skim and or skip these tales without concern. No one will be hurt. It won’t look like you are lacking social graces.
It is possible that I was the only one who was irritated by these tales today. It is possible that everyone else enjoyed the 362 stories we heard. I can only speak for myself and say that it got old.
Not to mention their need to one up anyone else who managed to share a tale of their own. Midway through I was aggravated so I pulled a “Natural Jack” and started making up things about my kids, incredibly ridiculous things. I just had to know if this other person would respond and how.
On the other side of the captive audience bit is my visit to the airport. The prices that are being charged for simple things like water are crazy. $3.50 for 12 ounces is robbery.
And don’t get me started about the fees for checking luggage. We gave them billions of dollars to recover from 911 and they gave us fewer flights and new fees. Something is very, very, wrong here.