Looking Out | Doesn't take much to go from optimist to grump
“Someone did a study,” says Lyle Pratt. “One at a time, they brought college freshmen into a room with an old-fashioned dial telephone and told them to call their best friends.”
“What happened?”
“Idiots. First of all, they didn’t know the phone numbers. Then they had no idea how to use a dial phone.”
“That’s understandable. We don’t need to memorize phone numbers anymore, and why would anyone expect a youngster to know how to use an antique?” I say.
“Schools aren’t teaching cursive writing anymore,” continues Lyle, in full ranting form.
“And we can’t send texts at 50 words per minute using just our thumbs,” I say.
“Most of today’s young people don’t know how to use a keyboard. They use the two-finger-peck method,” says Lyle.
“Our grandparents learned to write using a flat hunk of slate and a piece of chalk. They probably thought their kids were spoiled using paper and pencils.”
“Kids today can’t afford to pay off their student loans,” says Lyle. “But they can afford to get their noses pierced, dye their hair purple and have tattoos of dragons.”
“I remember when you bought a leisure suit, a pair of John Lennon glasses and a case of Boone’s Farm wine,” I say.
“You are ruining it with optimism,” says Lyle. “When you get to be our age, one of the privileges granted by society is the right to be a grumpy old man.”
“Sorry,” I say. “But you’re a lot older than I am.”
“Am not!” he says. “You’re two months older!”
“Chronologically, perhaps, but mentally I’m still a teenager,” I say.
“Only when it comes to still thinking flatulence is funny,” he says.
“Well, it is funny,” I say.
Lyle shakes his head and sighs.
We both take sips from our coffee cups.
“I suppose,” he says, “that you are going to defend today’s youth for using all those abbreviations like LOL and IMHO instead of real words,” says Lyle.
“No way! That’s a travesty!” I say, feeling my blood start to boil.
“What about the noises they listen to, thinking it’s music?” he sneers.
“HORRIBLE!” I holler. “Just freaking horrible!”
Lyle smiles. He has, in 10 seconds, raised my blood pressure by 30 points.
“Another thing,” I say, getting into the swing of the grumpy old man game, “they don’t know how to drive. They enter expressways without yielding. They expect people to make room. They won’t stop for pedestrians in crosswalks. They go way too fast.”
“Did you know,” says Lyle, calmly, “that 97% of shopping carts scattered in parking lots are left there by people under 25 years of age?”
“I’m not surprised!” I fume. “So inconsiderate!”
“I made that up,” says Lyle.
“It’s probably true though,” I say. I can feel my face flushing in anger at the injustice of shopping carts blocking parking spots.
“Actually, it’s just the opposite. 97% of those carts are left by people over 65,” says Lyle.
“Are not!” I say.
“Are too,” he counters. “But I may have made that up too. It is just so enjoyable lighting your fuse and watching you explode.”
I take a breath.
“I should be drinking Pepto-Bismol instead of coffee.”
Just then, a young woman walks by our table. I hear a clunk and see that she’s dropped her car keys.
“Excuse me,” I say. “You dropped your keys.”
“She can’t hear you,” says Lyle, getting up to retrieve the keys so he can chase her down. “She’s wearing ear buds. Makes me mad.”
“Me too,” I say.
“Grumpy. Old. Man,” says Lyle as he hurries after young Ms. Ear Buds.
Jim Whitehouse lives in Albion.
This article originally appeared on The Daily Telegram: Jim Whitehouse: Doesn't take much to go from optimist to grump
