January 3, 2023

The Table Lamp

My friend Steve is in town. He has come over to play a round of golf with me and our buddy Phil. As usual, he has not shown up empty handed. A case of yellow Calloways which are engraved with “last hit by the Z.”

Very nice.

I like that.

Phil, as is also his custom, wants to warm up and hit practice shots on the range for about twenty minutes.

Neither Steve nor I are happy about that because the first tee is wide open and we are both keen to get started. As we wait, four loud men make their way to the first tee where, based on their chatter, they are about to start a big money match game.

Which tend to take a long time.

Steve looks at me and makes the same face he makes when he chunks a nine iron into the water. Or when I tell him how much a paid for my car.

Thing is, we both like Philly too much to make too much of a fuss.

Also, I have increased my meds.

I ask Arnie, the starter, if we can go off the back. He says yes.

Crisis averted.

Steve now announces that he is going to speak for the next thirty minutes. It seems that in his short time in Florida he has already accumulated a story, or a series of stories with which to regale us with. 

Now as Steve and I are riding in the same cart and Phil is in a different cart, and we are still intending on playing golf, the stories unfold in piecemeal fashion. They begin while we are all standing on the tee box- some of us standing impatiently- then continue as we drive, side by side, down the fairway, in tandem, and are interrupted by our respective shots, and then resume.

It is not easy to tell a story in this fashion but, to his credit, Steve has done some preparation and has organized the page breaks in a way that don’t hamper the continuity.

I make a par on the very hard #10.

The first story has to do with booking airline seats.

So I immediately tune out.

Now it is a perfectly good story about corporate bungling and last minute changes and enough twists and reversals to keep Phil more than entertained but I have heard a version of this story a few times and I also know a salient point, one which Phil is about to discover, which really, at least to me, disqualifies it as a story.

Steve had booked economy class tickets.

Phil says “you didn’t fly business?”

And Steve says “no.”

To be fair, Phil laughs all the way through.

The second story is about Hertz. It too is a perfectly good story, complete with the Soferian interrogation of the hapless Hertz employees of various levels, importance, and security levels. Steve has thrown in some amusing side characters, an employee dressed in Switzerland World Cup regalia, one who appears to have locked himself in the bathroom for two hours, and includes quite a funny closer when the car he finally gets, after many hours of waiting, turns out to have a flashing Please Repair Immediately warning upon being turned on.

So yeah. Fine story. But pretty much a Seinfeld episode and I had to listen to it motionless on the 12th fairway for fifteen minutes after having made another par on the tricky number 11.

Then I hit it into the water.

I’m not blaming Steve. It’s not like I was going to par every hole.

I’m just saying.

I then hit into the water.

So when he launches into his next two stories, I think interconnected sagas about a tennis pro and a golf pro and trials and tribulations about booking lessons, I have zoned out.

Like I said. I hit it into the water.

I feel a little bad because Steve has clearly been saving these stories and, truth be told, I have enjoyed his golf lesson exploits.

But Steve does not seem to notice and Phil is both laughing  and peppering him with questions.

I just drive the cart and hit the occasional ball feeling very zen as it is a beautiful day and I am out golfing with two of my best friends.

If you message me, I’ll give you the name of my meds.

So I’m pretty zoned out until Steve says, and I might be paraphrasing , “now all I want to do is swim some laps but Fern wants to buy a table lamp.”

Now I know my patience is going to be rewarded. Because the story now has three elements which are sure to make it a sure fired winner: a determined Fern. An annoyed Steve. And a table lamp.

Since I have not been following along, and think it might be rude to ask, I am not quite sure where we are in the time line. Now Steve is generally, well always, very precise, so it would be safe to assume chronological. But that would be selling him short. He is a raconteur and values the big ending so I would not put it past him arranging the stories, not chronologically but rather, by level of annoyance.

I gently probe (insert prostate exam joke here) and determine that I was right to give him credit- we are back to day one.

Steve and Fern are at the condo they have rented for the month - which apparently is spectacular by all accounts.

Except the master bedroom does not have a reading lamp on the bedside table.

Fern needs a reading lamp.

Otherwise, I love this part, Steve is going to have to get up and turn off the bedroom light every night.

Fern makes it clear that getting a reading lamp is the first order of business.

Steve, who based on story number one and story number two which now begin to make more sense in context, just wants to swim some laps.

First the lamp, says Fern.

Ok, says Steve, turning to his phone, let’s see what the top 25 rated lamps are and then we can do a pretty straight forward cost benefit analysis in order to narrow it down to the top ten.

We are going to Walmart says Fern.

I just want to swim laps thinks Steve. But he does not say it out loud.

The table lamp is $7.99.

It does not come with a bulb.

I’m sure there is a bulb in the condo argues Steve.

Go get a bulb, says Fern.

Do any of these lamps include a bulb? Steve asks the Walmart employee who was five minutes from going on break.

I don’t think so says the employee.

Can you check?

Then Fern says Steven.

You don’t have to be married to understand what using a full name means.

Armed with a $7.99 table lamp and and $1.29 40 amp two pack (but I only need one Steve says fruitlessly) they make their way to the check out.

At the counter, Fern discovers a scuff mark on the $7.99 table lamp.

There’s a scuff mark she says pointing to the scuff mark. The check out lady, who has just come back from her break where she spent the majority of the time contemplating quitting her job and going back to cosmetology school, peers over. There is indeed a scuff mark.

She is 22 and has never encountered anyone like the Sofers before.

How ‘bout a 10% discount? Fern posits.

The check out clerk nods her head quickly, wondering when the admission deadline for cosmetology school is.

Steve checks his phone to see what time it is. He wonders what time the pool closes.

Pay the lady says Fern.

Steve reaches into his wallet to retrieve his credit card.

Then Fern says Hold on.

And Steve says hold on?

And the check out lady says hold on?

And Fern says, if the lamp has a scuff on it maybe it was already used and maybe it was returned because it wasn't working.

I mean, not a terrible point.

Then she says “can we test it?”

And Steve says “seriously?” Now I don’t really have permission to give out Steve’s number but if you happen to come across it do yourself a favor and call him and ask him to say seriously for you. I can’t really do it justice.

The checkout lady does not say seriously. What she does say is ‘let me get the manager.’

Anyway, the reading lamp works and, incidentally, I make par on both 14 and 15.

The Sofers go back to the condo and Fern asks Steve to test the lamp on the sockets of both sides of the bed although they always sleep on the same side.

So Steve does.

Then he puts on his bathing suit and goes down to the pool.

Now you already know that the pool is not closed.

What you don't know is that the pool. The pool of the condo they have rented for $X/month (you fill in the blank. It is more than what you put down).

Yeah, that pool.

What you don't know is that the pool has no water.

No water at all.

I make double bogey on 18.

But I don't care.

I got a good story.

The end.