I just never thought they’d go out like this. After spending the past week gimped up and back in the fold with “The Captain” and my dad, Mr. Wonderful, I know with unwavering certainty that technology will be the demise of my parents. Like a slow train-a-comin’, the writing is on the wall.
In my May 17th post, The Golden Child Returns, I gave you just the tiniest window into the daily antics of my family, the McClelland’s. Collectively and individually, we are not well.
My mom and dad are, at current, in the throes of battle with most of the electronic devices in their household. For the sake of time we’ll just lump them all under the broad umbrella of “technology,” as their villains are far too many to name. Let it be said, this will not end pretty; they are outmanned and outgunned. I will give them due credit. They are not going down without fight, and I just can’t look away.
Apparently The Golden Child has failed the very parents who brought him into this world. The four boys ages six and under who call my brother “Dad” are hardly a viable excuse for not answering the call to serve. As “The Captain” is quick to remind each of us, she carried him for nine loooooooooong months.
Essentially we are indentured servants. There are no excuses, “for all she does for us.” I mean really, Matty Boy, she asks so little.
With his lag in appropriate response time (i.e. immediately), Matthew is no longer their favorite. I’d like to say that his number one slot on the totem pole will be filled by either my sister or yours truly, but it’s just not in the cards for us. My parents have adopted a new child. His name is Mittal.
When the Golden Child was forced to cancel his trip to Pittsburgh (the one “The Captain” was willing to pay out of the nose for), our folks made the executive decision to look outside their gene pool for salvation; their growing shame was far too great to go back to that well. They wanted to call The Geek squad, but they didn’t know where they lived.
“The Captain” made my dad shut off the T.V. to discuss strategy. It was time for battle. (Mr. Wonderful had use three remotes to complete this once simple task; the universal remote has for months been their arch nemesis.)
“David, I need you to look into my eyes,” “The Captain” pleaded. “I am so (expletive, expletive) frustrated that I’m going to jump out of that window. Please fix this.”
Like a proud soldier, Mr. Wonderful jumped into action. Out of love for “The Captain” and his universal remote (a.k.a. his mistress), he pulled a big time rabbit out of his hat. With no fear of perpetuating stereotypes, my dad asked the young man from India, who sells him his scratch off lottery tickets at the mini mart, to help them.
Oh yes he did.
According to Mr. Wonderful, his good buddy and future son, Mittal, had been unfairly passed up on numerous occasions for a management position at the big box electronics store. Those bastards wouldn’t promote him due to his ethnicity. They messed with “his boy.”
Dad swelled with pride when he spoke of Mittal’s recent move into management at Hhgregg Appliances and Electronics. Clearly, in my dad’s expert opinion, Mittal knew his stuff.
He could save the world. He could fix the remote. He could be their new son.
Mittal astutely diagnosed their remote problem as a broken screen, and he sold Mr. Wonderful a winning Red Hot Tripler scratch off lottery ticket. He is so golden. Mittal is the Golden Child.
As for Mr. Wonderful and “The Captain,” they are back to square one, waiting for my brother to mail a pre-programmed universal remote and a used laptop. Just what they need–more technology.
I’m beginning to think my brother might have taken out a large insurance policy on our parents. It is the only explanation for throwing more gas on this raging inferno.
My new brother, Mittal, will be over for Thanksgiving dinner, sitting right between Mummy and Daddy…in my brother’s seat.