No Control of Remote

“Forgot another soda in the freezer, huh? asks my husband. It’s a rhetorical question. There are only two of us living here and I’m the one that likes to “chill” soda cans before dinner. Problem is, between setting the table, cooking and chatting, a can of coke is easily and often forgotten. The intended ice-cold soda becomes the sticky brown goo that makes our freezer door difficult to pull open for three days; then I clean it.

Another rhetorical question goes like this, “Couldn’t get the remote to work again, huh?” The only response to that question is “The remote does not work”. It should be obvious; here I am sitting in front of a sixty-one inch television screen of blue-gray static with the volume turned to maximum, for effect. I am missing whatever it is that I came downstairs to watch on TV.

“We really need to teach you how to use this remote” says hubby. By ‘we’, he means ‘I’ but he says 'we' because it somehow sounds kinder. I know this because we’ve been through it least a half dozen times. He holds one of his three remotes, each used for separate mystical purposes, in front of me and points to a specific button on this 8”x2” piece of robot which boasts no less than 42 total buttons. His finger is the size of 6 of the largest ones. I don’t know to which pin-sized button he is pointing and I’ve already missed 15 minutes of whatever I came down here to watch. I am testy and impatient. I’ve been punching random buttons for ten minutes now, to no avail.

“There are two tuners,” he speaks slowly, “One controls the TV and the other controls the DVD player. If you want to watch the TV, you have to turn off the DVD tuner.” In my defense I respond that I pushed the button which says “Watch TV”. After all, what else should a person have to do on a remote control that has photos? Let me note here that, in order to make this a simple process, my husband purchased as a Christmas gift for me this fine remote control. On it are several color photos, one of a TV next to a tiny buttoned labeled ‘Watch TV’ in print size smaller than anyone over 35 can possibly read. Another photo shows a giant tub of appetizing buttered popcorn next to the words, ‘Watch a Movie’. It sounds simple. Until you consider that there are forty additional buttons, the size of fingernail clippings and all crammed onto a box half the size of my billfold and if the correct buttons are not pressed in the correct sequence before pressing “Watch TV”, the result is white noise. Breathe. They forgot to install the button labeled “No White Noise”.
“It’s not very user friendly,” I complain.
“I know, but you just have to understand certain basics and you won’t have any trouble.” He detects my pessimism and tries another approach. This means he moves on to new and different buttons. After all, there are 42. “Here, maybe you will like this better. Hit THIS button.” Again, he points to one of them but seems to be grasping how ineffective that is. “It’s the Activities button,” he persists, “ Press it instead of the ‘Media Device’ button.” But now the TV is on and so is my show. A simple show, requiring very little thought. Hubby continues to talk but I’ve drifted. He knows I'm not listening but patiently finishes his explanation hoping, I suspect, that if he repeats it all enough, I will eventually piece together the bits and parts to form a complete understanding of wireless technology. I tune back in about the time he is saying how we should make all of our lights work in sync with the remote.