Story 295: I Was in a Defensive Driving Training Video

He skimmed the “Help Wanted” section in his parents’ newspaper, ready to chuck it in for another day and head over to the library to use their online job search sites at half-hour intervals, when this caught his eye:

WANT TO MAKE SOME EASY CASH?

Yes! his brain answered.

HAVE YOU EVER DREAMED OF STARRING IN A FILM?

Ummm, sure, why not?

DO YOU HAVE A VALID DRIVER’S LICENSE?

What?            

THEN STOP BY OUR OFFICE TODAY FOR A CHANCE TO BE IN OUR DMV-APPROVED DEFENSIVE DRIVING COURSES, AIDING DRIVERS EVERYWHERE TO BE THE BEST – AND SAFEST! – THEY CAN BE!

“Ooh, ‘Defensive Driving,’” he said to himself as he tore out the page from the paper.  “Maybe they use swords.”

LATER THAT MORNING

At the office, he approached the receptionist at the front desk.

“How can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m here about this?”  He held out the ad.

She glanced at it for a second before popping her gum and asking: “You an actor?”

“No-o-o, should I be?”

“No, we actually prefer you’re not: it lends to the authenticity of the videos, plus we don’t have to pay union dues.”  She picked up a clipboard that held a six-inch pile of paper and handed it to him.  “Fill all these out please, front and back.  And don’t keep the pen: everyone else stole the others and it’s my last one.”

“Oh yeah, sure – thanks!”  He took the clipboard to a row of chairs lined along a wall, where about 10 other people sat also filling out forms.

Question 1: Have you ever had any traffic violations?

Uh-oh.

ONE HOUR LATER

With a shaking, cramped hand, he gave the clipboard and nearly dry pen back to the receptionist; without looking at it, she sent the clipboard through a pneumatic tube stationed behind her chair and said to him, “Right, thanks, they’ll call you if they need you to come in.”

“…Today?”

“Nah; probably about three weeks.”

“Oh.  I thought this was quick cash.”

“Nope: this is easy cash; nothing legal is quick cash.  And it’s actually a check, and the forms have to be scanned into the database to make sure you’re not wanted in 20 states for grand theft auto, and you’ll have to have a drug test if you’re selected, so yeah, about three weeks.”

“Oh.  OK.  Bye.”

“Have a nice day.”

ABOUT THREE WEEKS LATER

            He entered the office and saw the same receptionist at the front desk.

            “How can I help you?”

            “Yeah hi, I got called to come in for the shoot?”

            “The what?”

            “Heh-heh, sorry, I mean the defensive driving video.  Training film.  Thingamabob.  You know.”  Shut up, shut up, shut up!

            “Oh yeah, they’re down the hall, third door on the right, I’ll let them know you’re heading on over.”

            “Thank you much.”  Knock it off!

            Once he arrived at the right room, he and three other participants received a brief introduction by a facilitator before they were taken outside to a parking lot separate from the main one where they had left their cars.

            “Now, I have to ask,” the facilitator said as they headed towards a car covered in all sorts of text, “do any of you currently have any tickets or points on your license?”  One of the participants raised their hand.  “Last chance to sit this out, then.”

            “Wait, we’re actually going out on the road?” they asked.  “I thought this would just be in a parking lot with a bunch of cones.”

           “That’s for our teenage newbie drivers: you guys are the older crew.  We need real-life footage of what bad driving looks like so the course shows students what not to do.”

           He started at this: “Oh, I thought we were selected to participate `cause we were good drivers?  Like, we don’t have any felonies or warrants out for our arrest?”

            The facilitator stared at him: “And how would anyone learn from that?”

            “Oh.”

            He saw a dashboard camera conspicuously pointed at the driver’s seat as he got into the car; he buckled up and pushed back the seat while the facilitator entered through the passenger side and began activating equipment.

            “Now,” the latter said without looking at him, “just drive as you normally would and pretend this thing isn’t even here.”  A small but unavoidable red light flared on the camera.

            “OK....”  He sat up as straight as he possibly could and placed his hands at 9:00 and 3:00 on the steering wheel.  “How’s this?”

            “Is that how you normally drive?”

            “…No.”

            “How then?”  He sheepishly moved his hands to 7:00 and 5:00.  “Perfect – off you go!”

            He started the engine after the facilitator exited, then leaned over to ask through the open passenger-side window: “Wait, where do I drive to?  And how long?”

            “Wherever your little heart desires! And you have 30 minutes, which started a minute ago.”

            “Oh, sorry, bye!”  He zoomed out of the parking lot and merged onto the highway.  Wonder if I can squeeze in some take-out before heading back?

            His eyes kept being drawn to the camera, so much that he nearly hit a motorcycle changing lanes even though it had signaled.  “Whoopsie.”

            Now more on his guard, he maintained the speed limit and continued uneventfully down the highway.

          After about five minutes, a voice blared out of the car radio’s speakers: “WHAT THE BLAZES ARE YOU DOING?!”

            He yelped and nearly swerved off the road into a family of deer that was standing next to the shoulder, minding their own business.  “Wait, what are you talking about?!  I’m trying to drive!”

            “Were you even listening earlier?!”  The facilitator’s voice had lowered in volume but not in screech.  “We need examples!  We need scenarios!  We need near-misses and ‘Look-out!’s and ‘OMG!’s and ‘WTF!’s”

            Having slowed down to a crawl, he was trying to sort all this out without pulling over: “Wait, so, you want me to get into an accident?!  On purpose?!”

            “It’s called ‘collision’ now, and that is clearly not what I am saying – we want you to almost get into an accident.”

            “How am I supposed to do that?!”

            “By just being yourself and doing what you normally do: driving recklessly!”

           “I do not drive recklessly!” he countered as he picked up speed and swerved in and out of traffic.

            “Uh-huh.”

            “You were just distracting me earlier, which is very dangerous and irresponsible!  Ooh, I’m coming up to a roundabout now, zip it.”

            “Uh-huh."

          He deliberately took his time merging into the roundabout, then was cut off from exiting where he wanted because he had switched to the inner lane to get ahead of the other cars, which now were passing by and blocking him.  After two rotations, he zoomed ahead to make a diagonal escape from the black hole, almost wiping out five cars that voiced their objections by various means of sounds and gestures.

            “Beautiful,” the facilitator’s voice said.

            He was shaking as he headed back to the parking lot.  “I had the right-of-way there, you know!  They were all just being jerks!”

            “Uh-huh.  Incidentally, this course teaches drivers that the right-of-way actually is given by the other drivers on the road, did you know that?”

            “I could gladly have spent the rest of my life not knowing that.  Besides, what good is all this if the camera’s only getting my messed-up face the whole time?!”

         “Oh don’t worry about that – there’s another camera facing out that’s catching everything else, so we’re covered.  I think we’ve got enough material out of you, and your time’s up so get back here now, please.”

            “I’m already back here!”

            “Oh yeah, I see you now – cheers.”

          He parked the car by the group and shakily exited; the facilitator held the door open and beckoned the next participant over. 

He hesitated before leaving: “So that’s it, you really don’t need anything else from me, like texting or falling asleep or road raging or all that?”

            “You kidding?  That would be illegal.”

Story 294: Thank You for Interrupting

(In an office cubicle, Co-Worker 1 and Co-Worker 2 are seated at a desk and staring at the phone)

Co-Worker 1: I think you should call them.

Co-Worker 2: Me?  Why would you even think that’s a good idea?

Co-Worker 1: `Cause you have better telephone etiquette than I do.

Co-Worker 2: Ha!  You just don’t want to do it.

Co-Worker 1: That’s part of it.

Co-Worker 2: You’re the head of the project here; you should do it.

Co-Worker 1: Yeah, but I hate calling angry people who’re just going to get angrier with what I tell them.

Co-Worker 2: I guess, but you’re only reminding them to do their job so you’re, you know, in the right and all.

Co-Worker 1: Being right doesn’t matter if the person who’s wrong steamrolls all over you, several times.  Every single conversation I’ve had with them, they immediately start getting all “You’re not making any sense!” and “How dare you?!” and “Who do you think you are?!”, and most of the time I’m just asking for a status update.

Co-Worker 2: That behavior is all the typical signs of a slacker who just got caught.

Co-Worker 1: Oh definitely, but try telling that to my brain and nervous system during one of these bouts: about halfway through the call I suddenly start getting the shakes and I keep swallowing mid-sentence for no reason.  And it shows up in my voice so they can hear my agita over the phone and ramp up the attack another 10 notches!  I barely get to hang up with any of my dignity left.  (Stares at Co-Worker 2) I think you should call them.

Co-Worker 2: Not this again; and how’s that going to look if I call for you?

Co-Worker 1: Just say I’m out sick and all abuse will have to be deferred to another day or sent by e-mail – ooh, yes, tell them to send all abuse by e-mail and then we can really nail `em!

Co-Worker 2: (Pushes the phone over to Co-Worker 1) Just do it and be done with it; we can go to the breakroom afterwards and grab some candy, would that make you feel better, hm?

Co-Worker 1: No.  Having that after this will only make the candy taste worse.  (Picks up the receiver and slowly starts to dial, whining and squirming all the while)

Co-Worker 2: There, there; it’ll all be over soon.

(Co-Worker 3 sticks head into the cubicle)

Co-Worker 3: Excuse me, but – oh sorry, you’re on the phone.

Co-Worker 1: (Slams down the receiver and leaps out of the chair, knocking it over) Not at all!  What can we do for you?

Co-Worker 3: Uh, I just wanted to see if you could help me generate a report on the database, but I can come back later.

Co-Worker 1: (Grabs Co-Worker 3’s elbow and rushes both of them out of the cubicle) Nope-nope-nope-nope, we are doing this now, I will brook no arguments!

Co-Worker 2: (Still seated in the chair) Don’t worry about me; I’ll be right here.

(One hour later)

Co-Worker 1: (Chuckling to self while re-entering the cubicle, holding a cup of coffee, and sitting back on the now-upright chair.  Turns to Co-Worker 2) So, what’d I miss?

Co-Worker 2: I finished our semi-annual report.

Co-Worker 1: Oh, splendid, splendid.  And… any word on our… you know… other… issue?

Co-Worker 2: I didn’t call them, if that’s what you mean.

Co-Worker 1: Gaaah!  (Splashes coffee as the cup is slammed onto the desk)  Sorry.  Why not?

Co-Worker 2: Getting verbally slapped repeatedly is neither in my pay grade nor job description.

Co-Worker 1: It’s not in anyone’s job description, and yet here we all are.  (Stares at the phone, then begins to whine and squirm again)

Co-Worker 2: (Picks up the receiver) Would you like me to dial for you?

Co-Worker 1: I’ve got it!  Thanks.  (Slowly starts to dial, whining and squirming all the while)

(Co-Worker 3 sticks head into the cubicle)

Co-Worker 3: Hi, sorry to bother you again – oh sorry, you’re on the phone again –

Co-Worker 1: (Rips the phone out of the wall and throws it into the garbage can) Absolutely not!  What can we do for you?

Co-Worker 2: (In a low voice) Coward.

Co-Worker 1: (In a low voice) Dodger.

Co-Worker 3: Well, I wasn’t sure if you’d heard yet, but that jerk you’ve been dealing with on the software project?

Co-Worker 1: (Guilelessly) I don’t know who you mean.

Co-Worker 3: The one who reams everybody out for no reason and does zero work?

Co-Worker 1: Oh, I suppose.

Co-Worker 3: Well, they totally got fired just now.

Co-Workers 1 and 2: (Simultaneously stand) WHAT???

Co-Worker 3: Yeah, they started pulling their garbage thinking they were calling an administrative assistant, when actually it was a VP who picked up.

Co-Worker 2: No way!

Co-Worker 3: Oh yeah.  VP let them rant a bit, then dropped the bombshell, dropped the mic, and dropped the call to e-mail the jerk’s boss.  I wish I had been there, it sounded beautiful.

Co-Worker 1: Wow.

Co-Worker 3: I know, right?  Whelp, figured you guys would especially appreciate that – I’m going to continue spreading the cheer around the office.  (Leaves)

(Co-Workers 1 and 2 slowly sink into their chairs)

Co-Worker 1: Wow, wow, wow.

Co-Worker 2: D’accord.

Co-Worker 1: And I almost called them earlier.  And would’ve had to go through all that again, and it would’ve turned out to be for nothing.

Co-Worker 2: Thank goodness for interruptions, right?

Co-Worker 1: I’ll say.  Although – what do we do with the project now?  They were our only contact at that company, and it’ll probably take months until there’s a replacement.

Co-Worker 2: I think we can finally get some work done.

Story 293: You Start Growing Old When You Start Growing Cold

(In Friend 1’s apartment, Friend 2 is sitting on the living room couch and reading a book when Friend 1 enters, pulling on a sweatshirt)

Friend 2: What… are you doing?

Friend 1: (Stops in mid-pull) Eh?

Friend 2: (Points accusingly at the sweatshirt) Why are you putting on that?  It’s over 70° outside!

Friend 1: (Finishes adjusting attire) Yeah, well, it’s cooler inside than it is out.

Friend 2: Not really: it’s over 70° in here, too.  You really should turn your thermostat down, by the way – I saw earlier that it’s set for 85°.

Friend 1: I will turn it down when it is absolutely necessary to do so and not a second earlier, Earth-killer.  (Glances at the thermostat) Besides, I doubt it’s even 70° in here – this thing isn’t a smart thermostat, it’s just a stupid thermostat like the rest of the retro analogue tech scattered throughout the place.

Friend 2: Don’t let them hear you say that: you’ll be the first they turn on during the robot uprising.

Friend 1: I’m quite sure I will be.  (Sits in an armchair and pulls on slipper socks over regular socks on feet)

Friend 2: Oh come on – need me to make a bowl of chicken noodle soup for you too, while you’re at it?!

Friend 1: Ooh, that sounds lovely; would you?

Friend 2: Face it, pal: you’re getting old.

Friend 1: I fail to see the train of logic you boarded to reach that conclusion.

Friend 2: For starters, it’s almost July and you’re dressed like “Winter Is Coming”!

Friend 1: Well technically, we are still in Spring.

Friend 2: We haven’t had Spring in years!  We go straight from Winter to the Rainy Season to Summer!  (Walks to the window and opens it wide) Look at the grass out there, it’s already burning!

Friend 1: (Peers out, unconcernedly) Well, there are some very thoughtless dog walkers in this area.  (Wraps a fleece blanket around self and curls up in the chair)

Friend 2: What – what – what are you doing now?!

Friend 1: Getting comfortable.  Ooh, while you’re up, could you bring me my knit cap from the hall closet, please?

Friend 2: No I will not – you’re going to overheat and die!

Friend 1: Don’t be dramatic; I’m not a car.

Friend 2: (Flops back down on the couch) No, you’re just old.

Friend 1: Again with the “o” word.  And where is the evidence for your newfound hypothesis, hm?

Friend 2: It’s not new; I’ve been noticing it for years.  Every single person of advanced years I know is always freezing the hotter outside it gets.  I guess it’s some kind of core temperature body change we’re all doomed to get; our cells struggling to stay alive as everything breaks down or something.

Friend 1: (Chuckles while briskly rubbing hands together) Hate to burst your bubble, but your premise is flawed: I only just turned 35.  (Friend 2 stares at Friend 1) That’s not old!

Friend 2: In this society and time period, no; biologically, it’s the beginning of the end.

Friend 1: What?!

Friend 2: Think about it: our bodies stop growing by age 21 the latest; we reach our ultimate peak by early 30s the latest; it can only be downhill after that.

Friend 1: What?!

Friend 2: Haven’t you noticed your appetite lessening, your hair graying, your skin drying out, your muscles sagging?

Friend 1: Wha – wel – whe – that last one’s just because I’m a lazy oaf!

Friend 2: Yeah, and wrinkles are starting to show up around your eyes, and your hearing is getting worse, and you’re falling asleep earlier and earlier at night, even in the middle of a movie –

Friend 1: Hey!  I fall asleep because I have had a busy and exhausting day at work!

Friend 2: You work less now than you did in your 20s when you had two jobs and went to school full-time!

Friend 1: I had more motivation back then: it was before my epic failure at life.

Friend 2: Whatever; your memory’s gotten real bad, too.

Friend 1: Has not!  I remember everything about everything with perfect clarity!

Friend 2: OK: what temperature did I say your thermostat was set to earlier?

Friend 1: (Mouth opens and closes several times) Your memory’s bad!

Friend 2: Fine.

Friend 1: (Flings off blanket and walks across the room) And just because I feel a slight chill on a brisk Spring day does not translate into one of the myriad symptoms you’ve obviously been tracking on me to diagnose my supposed early-onset agedom!  (Starts lighting the fireplace)

Friend 2: (Walks over to Friend 1 and snatches away the lighter) You want to be incinerated in your own hot flash go right ahead, but you’re not taking me with you!  (Tosses the lighter onto the couch and picks up the book to leave)

Friend 1: (Snatches the lighter from the couch) Go, leave, revel in the Dog Days of Summer that you claim are going on out there!  I’ll be nice and cozy in here, I thank you.

Friend 2: (Opens the front door) I’ll call you from the beach!  (Leaves)

Friend 1: (Shakes head in disgust, lights fire, and goes back to curling up with the blanket in the chair.  Barely moves when the front door opens again)

Friend 2: (Not meeting Friend 1’s eyes) You got any gloves I could borrow?

Friend 1: (Opens a lamp table drawer and pulls out a pair) I thought you’d never ask.