Somebody Up There Doesn’t Like Me

By Larry Teren

This just isn’t my century. It started out fine but then at some point- not saying when- I hit the fifty spot and it seems to be going downhill ever since. More like a steam roll. Take my overseas vacation this past July, for example.
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A Customer or a Guest?

By Larry Teren

Waiting in a line of one person at the Red Bullseye Pharmacy to pick up some medicine for Ma. The pharmacy assistant calls out, “will the next guest step forward?”.

Now you all know that when you pick up medicine at a pharmacy (when did they stop calling it a drug store anyway?), they ask a series of questions to see if you are who you say you are. The lady clerk asks me Ma’s street address, phone number, maiden name, color of eyes and the nickname of her high school basketball team. There is no margin for error. The clerk looks at me and tsk tsk’s when I say that Ma’s eyes are blue. She whips out a photo taken of Ma at my niece’s wedding a year earlier and says that her eyes look more hazel. I’m told to step to the back of the line and start over. Since no one has joined behind me during this interrogation, my number gets called again. This time the clerk is willing to forgive my one slip up and places the package containing the prescription bottle on the counter. I pick it up, turn and start to walk away.

She yells, “hey, come back.”

I turn to her and ask why. Looking at me in an odd fashion, she says, “you didn’t pay. You gotta pay., buster.”

I reply, “but you said I’m a guest. Guests don’t pay.”

She now says, “don’t be a wise guy or I’m gonna call “Security”.

I smile, take out my wallet and suggest she start thinking of visitors such as yours truly as customers rather than guests. She says something in Spanish and we left it at that because my response would have sounded more like Portuguese.
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If I Were a Rich Man

By Larry Teren

Tell me- do I look rich to you? Is it my debonair countenance? Or as an older friend said to me a week ago, “Cmon! You got deep pockets.” If my hands go the distance into my pants pockets, it’s only because there are holes in ’em and I’m too cheap to buy replacements. (Ed. Note- pants, not hands) Besides, you know what it’s like going to Walmart and waiting to use the one dressing room set aside for the male of the species. You wait impatiently while listening to the dressing room “receptionist” speak to another lady in Croatian. (If it was in Spanish, at least you can fake understanding their chat and smile when they laugh while also throwing in a couple words you remember from high school. Words like “muchachas, por favor- esperando diez minutos.” You’re holding onto the two limit pair of slacks that you know read the right size on the label but somehow are too tight when you attempt to squeeze into them. Finally, you get the nod, go into the little room with the misaligned door and try to figure out how to take your pants off without removing your shoes and then putting on the replacements. Continue reading “If I Were a Rich Man”

Living in an Ex Machina World

Deus ex machina. Originally conceived as a writer’s plot device when he cannot think of a logical way to proceed with a narrative. He then pulls a figurative “rabbit out of a hat”. Either the Guy up in the sky (if you are a believer) or a machine (if you are secular) unexpectedly swoops in and solves the dilemma. So what, you say? I guess I’m just tired of looking at the stock market bouncing up and down from day to day. The world spends money like a teenage girl in an emotional crisis. Maybe we are living in an ex machina world waiting for that phone to ring and bring good fortune. Of course, when you answer the annoying tone, hang up if it is a machine-recorded sales pitch. Continue reading “Living in an Ex Machina World”

The Write Stuff

By Larry Teren

Some people just don’t have a sense of humor of any kind nor a talent for recognizing genius. Why, just the other day I contacted one of them fancy New York intellectual periodicals and suggested they check out my written material. I mentioned that I have written over 340 brief articles, usually of great wit, on various topics. Considering that these periodicals publish only once a month I have enough material to offer for years to come.

One of these alleged editors- at least that’s what she calls herself- writes back and wants to know if she can see some samples of my work. I respond in an email with my website address and suggest a few of the better quality postings. Let’s see now, this is about a week ago. I’ll give her a few more days- maybe even another week. I’m sure she’s a busy woman. Continue reading “The Write Stuff”

The Suicide Club

By Larry Teren

hershel_bernardiBaby boomers recall the popular television commercial from the 1960’s of Charlie the Tuna in cartoon form trying to convince fishermen that amphibians with good taste also taste good. If you aren’t aware, Charlie’s voice is dubbed by Hershel Bernardi. Bernardi’s other claim to trivia fame is a short-lived television series (48 episodes) called Arnie, in which he plays a typically put-upon husband at home who gets promoted from his blue collar to white collar job at work.

Hershel came from a theatrical family- in the Yiddish theater, that is. In 1971, his brother Jack authored a book about the life of their father Berel, a famous comic actor in the Yiddish circuit from the turn of the century until his death in 1932. Jack recounts a macabre incident when Berel took on a job for a short run in Toronto, Canada. Continue reading “The Suicide Club”

Remotely Working Remotely

By Larry Teren

There has been plenty discussed lately about the work rules established by Marissa Meyer, the CEO of Yahoo. She laid down the law that employees can no longer work from home via remote connection to the office. They have to show up in person at the office 40 hours a week or go find another place to work.

This brings to mind an incident that occurred in 1981 when I was working at a computer consulting company in Chicago’s north suburban area. Yes, Clive- they did have computer consultants back then. It was not something conjured up in this century.
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