Home > Penny Profundo
October 10, 2005
Posted on 10/10/2005 by Penny Profundo
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Rear Window Kleenex Boxes and the Scan Feature - The Commuter's Hell
A large number of the unfortunate have an hour or more work commute one way, several drive 20 to 40 minutes, and a few of the resented enjoy a measly 5 -10 minute commute. Regardless of the time we spend in our vehicles each day, most of us have one thing in common; we listen to the radio. I am aware that some of you shut the world out with your favorite CD, however it is inevitable that eventually you'll forget to replace the CD you are sick of and you’ll turn the radio on in search of some "feel good" tunes.
For the first 15 minutes of my 40 minute commute, I'm happily obliged to listen to the Sesame Street CD, admiring my son as we drive to daycare. Once my son is dropped off, aside from the feeling of guilt of leaving him, I feel a sense of freeness to turn my music up loud and enjoy some favorites. Sadly, today I didn't get to listen to any music at all. During the second half of my commute, alone in the car without the sounds of Elmo at last, I repeatedly tried each of my favorite stations on the memory buttons without luck of finding anything worth listening to.
Agitated, I continued to push each memory button waiting for the DJ's to stop flapping their jaws, wishing the commercials would end, and not caring about the traffic report (considering it doesn't help my car move along in traffic any faster). I switched over to try my husband's programmed stations, but advertisements, sports news on a cheap AM radio frequency, and Chicago's opinionated Mancow radio host were my only choices. Disturbing thoughts of how I ended up marrying a man who listens to AM radio enter my head, "wasn't that a geeky thing for our dads to do?" while continuing to push buttons. I even resorted to using the annoying scan feature, starting at 98.1 FM searching through to 108 FM, again with no luck except for an occasional one-hit-wonder, and some Spanish music, which I could neither understand nor enjoy.
I then had time to ponder the scan feature, something that has always intrigued me. I wondered how many people have pushed the scan button, only to find themselves singing along to 5 second clips, it not dawning on them that they have forgotten they were in scan mode? I love when I am traveling in the middle of nowhere, and the scan feature gets stuck in an endless loop of finding no frequencies at all or landing on the occasional polka station that sounds as if it was broadcasting from Mars. The scan feature is like the human appendix; at one time it had a purpose but no longer does. It just keeps being created in the evolution of cars with little purpose except the possibility of a damaging side effect.
I looked around in traffic with curiosity as to what everyone else is listening to. I saw the man to the right, in a delivery van, pick his nose thinking nobody is looking, the women to the left wave her arms in a fury as she talked with a cell phone in one hand and a cigarette and the steering wheel in the other. And in the next car, a girl applying lipstick looked so young I wondered if she was sitting on a phone book to see over the dashboard. At that moment it dawned on me why insurance premiums have risen.
I continued to push memory buttons, and then I saw a sedan ahead of me with a Kleenex box in the rear window. This purely annoys me. Why do people put the Kleenex boxes in the rear window? Frankly, nobody is going to pull over, exit the front seat, and open the back door to reach in the back window to get a single Kleenex! I mean, has anyone ever told a police officer that they are parked in a "no parking zone" on the freeway because they simply needed a Kleenex from their back window? This could be why the man was picking his nose with his finger a mile ago—the Kleenex was probably in the back of the van.
Some of the privileged commuters have satellite radio and never endure the emptiness of boring airspace, or the torture of being forced to listen to Seal's Kiss from a Rose. But even a satellite radio addict will become spoiled and bored with thousands of options and will eventually succumb to the torture of advertisment-infested commercial radio that, after a while, ends up sounding like Charlie Brown's teacher.
It can be devastating as one feverishly clicks from one station to the next, hoping that at least one good song will play before they face the fury of work, but to no avail. Even catching the end of a good song becomes an acceptable prospect while continuing to swiftly push buttons. Some could compare it to not having their morning cup of coffee, their first cigarette, or even breakfast. To simply hear one good tune during the commute could make the day rather than break the day.
I’m a non-smoker, I haven't had any coffee, I didn't get to listen to a single song and to make matters worse, it's Monday. I feel sorry for myself. As I pulled into the parking lot I lost all hope but still pushed buttons for possibilities and faced only disappointment. The only thing I have going for me now, as I start this workday, is that my husband is out of town and rather then waking up on the wrong side of the bed I woke up in the center…
That's my 2¢ Worth,
Penny Profundo
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