Earlier today I went to the home of a retired collegiate administrator. I had arranged an interview with him, and now—at 2 p.m.—the time was at hand.
He’s an older man … 85, maybe even 90. But seemingly sharp and in good shape. He opened the door, but didn’t stick out his hand. So I did. “Hi,” I said, “I’m Jeff.”
“Come on in,” he said. We proceeded to enter his den. He sat down on a couch, but didn’t suggest that I do the same. “Odd,” I thought. “Very odd.” Then he grabbed his remote and started checking out stations.
“I’m having trouble,” he said. “Some of the stations work, some don’t.” He was right—the Golf Channel was fine. MSNBC and Fox didn’t come in. “You see that?” he said. “Nothing.”
I nodded. Was he senile? Insane? What the heck? “Maybe,” I said, “you should call your local cable company.”
Awkward pause.
“You’re not the cable guy?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “I’m the guy writing the book. I’m here to interview you.”
Another awkward pause.
“Oh, goodness,” he said. “Oh, goodness.”
