I GO ON AN OUTING AND MEET MILLENNIALS
ARTICLE BY JEFFREY A FRIEDBERG
My new Slim Line Combo keyboard from Logitech broke down and quit typing after about 3 months. I checked the Internet and there is a common, frequent problem with that model. It’s all over the Net.
So I took it back where, for $121, I had bought it. There, in Returns, a super-diverse, Millennial Child in black Spandex wore some sort of extremely long black wig, with a black knit cap to hold it on. She was so diverse I couldn’t figure her out. I wondered if I’m still allowed to do that—wonder about “diversity.”
This service Millennial seemed to have a hard time doing anything service-oriented, like helping me—the noble, senior-citizen customer.
I averted my eyes, lest she maybe take offense at being looked at and summon lawyers. I assumed an air of being helpless and befuddled before the seven-headed dragon of computerism.
Helpfully, I told her how failure Of the Slim Combo was “all over the Net,” but she neither looked at me nor responded.
Eventually she got a Millennial Child “manager” to come over and review my “problem”—with me still trying to make a case for the Slim Combo being prominent in online discussions of its failure. This managerial sort of Millennial neither looked at me nor said anything, but he approved an exchange.
I wondered if he maybe thought by now he should be making $300K a year with a company car? He looked like he was thinking that. He looked pissed off. I dunno….
I was released, and, alone, was allowed to wander over to the keyboard section. After awhile, I was able to snag a Millennial Child floor-worker who ultimately, and irritatedly, handed me a brand new Logitech keyboard for my iPad Air 2, and walked away.
I had a really hard time figuring out how to open the box. It was complicated and hard. I finally ripped the thing open—and then it hit me.
This was the very same keyboard I had bought last year for $99, which had failed, and been replaced by the now-failed Logitech Slim Combo I had bought here for $121.
I would have bought a new iPad, but the Millennial floor-worker was busy.
Doing something. Or other. I dunno….
Of course, they gave me a “store-credit,” for the $22.00 difference. But, like—what the hell am I going to buy there for $22.00?
Anyways, as I began processing for being allowed to depart the store, I noted all the Millennials working there seemed bored, distracted, isolated, and zoned out.
The only one who looked alert was the young, Albuquerque Cop who had his own little desk by the checkout station. He seemed on fire, just waiting for a law to be broken—any law at all.
I gave the armed cop a wide circle, and eased my way through, after having being duly screened as “cleared to exit” by this Indian woman (Native American woman) on the door.
I thought about striking up a friendly chat—maybe jocularly telling her how I was also a Native American, born in Philadelphia.
By now the cop had wolf-eyes leveled steady and slitted on me. Maybe it was the safety pin on my AOL jacket, I dunno.
Anyways, I eased on out and down the street to a Chinese takeout place I’d spotted earlier. There were two Millennials working behind the counter as I placed my order. They babbled together in Chinese, which I recognized from Netflix. I no longer have Netflix, or cable TV because there was nothing on. But I recognize babbled Chinese.
(Can I say that? “Babbled Chinese?”)
When my order arrived wrapped up tight in knotted plastic bags wet with gravy, I said thank you in Mandarin, which drew silence and stares from the two babblers. A very wide Chinese man came out of the kitchen. The only thing I can say in Chinese, is “Thank you,” so I said that again and departed.
The food was awful but I might wash it off. Or dump it.
I felt fortunate just to get home.
I went for a long walk. This brings me to the topic of Senior Internet Dating, “long walks, holding hands, snuggling, and no games,” as women write in their Profile: “CouldItBeMe324?”
But that’s a separate true-life adventure tale, to be told another time.