Following up on my insightful writings about inventors with time on their hands, I thought that more brilliant ideas are well overdue for discussion. So, here goes. We all have items that were developed to protect us, make us safer, or perhaps even to simplify our lives. They’re supposed to free us from anxiety or fits of rage. They’re supposed to free us from mundane tasks, or simplify our routines. Here are some of the things that I’ve found should make our lives easier and more relaxing, and yet, I’m thinking . . . . . .
Panic buttons on car remotes. In theory, a great idea that will protect us from unwanted attention or possible muggers, burglars, car thieves, or other assorted bad people. Great. Wonderful. We’re all so much safer for it. Now, I ask – has anyone ever, at any time, ever used this clever device for its intended purpose? And if so, was anyone other than the button pusher paying attention? Not that I’m aware. I’ve read no headlines stating “Motorist Saved from Disaster by Panic Button.” Nothing on the evening news like “Breaking News – A shopper was alerted to a possible car theft by a car alarm, and managed to rescue an entire trunk full of Christmas presents for needy children.” No, no. What we do hear are the multiple car alarms that go off with random abandon in the parking lots at the mall, at a wedding reception, at the grocery or hardware store, or at church in a highly solemn moment. The cars in question were not under attack, someone just hit the button by mistake. I’ve had this happen often, because the button has been thoughtfully installed in a highly vulnerable place. Another key hits it, I brush across it. As a matter of fact, just moments ago, as I was returning from dropping off trash, something hit the button as I was exiting the car, so I got out in a hail of lights flashing and horn honking. I’m sure the neighbors were delighted to hear not only the alarm, but also my short intermezzo of profanity. I’ve often thought that, had OJ Simpson wanted to just get away, he should have hit the panic button on his escape car. Nobody would have paid any attention.
I have alluded to the joys of using cling wrap before, but never truly explored the subject. Again, in theory, brilliant! Cling wrap as an abstract concept is truly remarkable. It covers bowls and dishes, forming a firm bond that seals out air and preserves whatever is inside. In the reality, however, . . . . . . . We pull it out of the package in nice, neat sheets. Then we cut it off at the jagged edge, at which point the wrap condenses, contracts, and snarls itself into a useless blob of cellophane. In the rare event that we’re able to pull it apart and spread it out into some semblance, it reacts angrily by utterly refusing to stick to the surfaces to which it has been assigned. It then begins to float like a tissue in a monsoon until it can attach itself to some other, more cling-friendly object. That’s where we tear it away, blood pressure up significantly, and throw it into the trash. There – we won! Except the bowl of fruit which we sought to protect is now turning brown, because fruit, as you all know, has on a nano-second of shelf life.
Fitted sheets. Once again, I’ve briefly mentioned the topic here before, but haven’t really done a thorough discussion of the full annoyance factor. Some thoughtful manufacturers will put little helpful tags – “top/bottom” or “side”. Many don’t, though, so I struggle to get a corner on only to find that it’s going the wrong way. I reverse direction, only to find out I was right the first time. Next comes the fun part. I stretch it out, get one corner on neatly, and then go the other side. That corner goes on well to, except the first one pops up and springs back at me. I know, right? Elastic with attitude. I get the bottom on finally, take a deep, cleansing breath, and move on to the top. This is beside the wall, so it goes halfway down and then doubles back. It somehow feels uncomfortable going down to the bottom of the mattress. Here, we follow the time-honored process of the bottom. Tuck under, spring back. Last year, we purchased a king-sized bed, but it’s one of those where the head elevates, and it’s actually two twin-sized mattresses, so changing the fitted sheets is double the fun. There’s an added advantage too. During washing / drying, socks, underwear, facecloths, and other small items hide in the corner pouches. Ever wonder where those missing socks go? Check the fitted sheets. Again, I want just five minutes alone with the person that thought up . . . . .
Shrink-wrapped items always have the capacity to annoy. I guess the issue with shrink wrapping is that it’s so much harder to get things out than in. The manufacturers are of course on the “in” side of the process, while we consumers have to get things out. I was trying to remove a nightlight just the other day. The extrication process didn’t go quite as planned. One light of the pair burst forth from its plastic casing and fell to the floor, breaking the bulb. So, back to the store to get replacement bulbs which are packaged in . . . . . . yes, my clairvoyant readers are seeing too where this is going. Even getting a head of lettuce out of its packaging can be daunting, and as we see, it didn’t keep the lettuce any fresher for the effort. It’s still turning a shade somewhere between burnt orange and rusty brown.
Finally, I submit beeping things as a final, ultimate point of annoyance. I’ve mentioned above the nuisance factor in car alarms, but in fairness, beeping has taken over the universe in which we live. It started with heavy machinery backing up. Fine, I get that. I hate it when a dump truck backs over me. But everything now beeps at us. Ovens when we set the heat, when it comes up to heat, when we set the timer, when the time is finished. Even my refrigerator beeps at me if the doors aren’t quite closed. The microwave is a medley of beeping. My car beeps at me if I don’t put on the seatbelt. Apparently, the flashing light on the dash isn’t quite enough. My phone beeps if I get a text. How did we ever survive without all these warnings about everything? The card scanners at the supermarket make a truly unacceptable sound when it’s been approved. It sounds like a heart monitor gone flat. It’s been approved, for heaven’s sake. Couldn’t we have something at least a bit light and sparkly? Maybe a soothing voice that says to me, “Congratulations, Tom. You have enough in your account to cover your purchase.” Hospitals are really orchestras of electronic sounds. One morning last summer, when Her Ladyship was in, the lady in the next bed had an earsplitting alarm going off. After about 15 minutes of this, and nobody rushing in, I went out to the desk to find not one, not, two, but THREE staff sitting calmly typing into computers. When I asked if anyone was going to check on our roommate, I was informed that somebody would be by shortly – it wasn’t anything important. What does that mean, a bedpan alert? If it’s not important, don’t hook it up to an air raid siren. Let’s prioritize, people. The volumes of warning bells, alert beepers, and other attention-getting devices should be directly tied to the importance of the event or condition to which we’re being alerted. If there’s a bomb-laden plane flying over or a front-end loader backing our way, then by all means let us know. Otherwise . . . .
I said some time ago that I didn’t think I’d become that cranky old man of the neighborhood. It’s possible, though, that I have. If I may be permitted one further, minor annoyance, here it is. Is it really necessary, when someone is going into a store and remotely locks their car, for the horn to sound? It may give that person peace of mind that their car is locked, but it gives four or five of us in close proximity a heart attack. Maybe just a quiet beep would . . . OK, I’m thinking, nope. Just flash the lights and we’re good.
I'm Thinking...No! 