You’ve been under a rock if you haven’t heard of the great screw-up concerning the Gay Men’s Chorus’ singing of the national anthem at the stadium. A female voice boomed out over the speakers and drowned out the guys. This made the news from coast to coast. Charges and denials of deliberate sabotage flew fast and furious. Twits, Faces and letters to the editor both condemned and called for prudent deliberation. And, of course, the homophobic jokesters had a field day. What a kerfuffle.
But the days passed, tempers cooled and, lo and behold, there is peace in the valley once more. The apologies and explanations were judged sufficient and the Chorus amazed all by asking that the button-pusher be forgiven and re-hired.
Such an amicable resolution should not go unnoticed and it wasn’t here in San Diego, but in the rest of the country I feel the outcome of what was recently a big story was given little positive publicity. If any, I fear it was probably treated as a retraction and buried at the bottom of page 10. What about the comments you made and messages you sent? Did you reverse the process and let your non-local friends know of the end result and how it occurred through calm cooperation, goodwill and maturity?
The Chorus candidly expressed grievances, listened to sincerely offered regrets and graciously accepted apologies. This brought about an amicable closure to what could have been an on-going embarrassment and resentment. A lesson to be learned.
My congratulations to all and I await the re-scheduled appearance. Dare I suggest they be allowed onto the field without having to buy their own tickets this time?
Robot calls advice
Those of us of a certain age remember the party lines, the one long, two short and how phones actually rang. Now they give out anything from “Eine kleine Nachtmusik” to a fart.
In our prime and living in a big sin-filled city, the calls came at all hours of the day or night bringing anticipation and excitement. Some of you can recall with me that sexy voice demanding, pleading or coyly suggesting they drop by; then followed a strong indication I was to be forced to engage in acts of unspeakable perversion. How awful. Then the bastard wouldn’t show up. The years passed and the deluge of rings fell to a trickle (tinkle?).
Of late there has been a renewal of phone calls which one might assume to be welcome, but no. They come in the early morning, mid-afternoon or even close to bed time. The greeting is now an annoyingly cheery voice, “Hi, you’ve won a free carpet cleaning” or “I’m your fellow American calling for …” With that we slam down the receiver.
An unknown caller ID number makes us suspicious, but we take a chance it might be a friend. Not critically important, but the increasing frequency is annoying. Lately, to minimize this intrusion I do not answer with “Hello” or similar greeting, because the robot has been programed to respond to that and the pitch will begin. My advice is to answer with a quick, sharp “Yes” and not a syllable more. The response is silence and then a disconnect. If it is a friend, surely they will say something to find out if it is a wrong number.
I offer no guarantee, but it works three out of four times for me, so I am passing it along. The robot might finally wise up, but hopefully not before Nov. 8.
