Dwight Vs. Hangry

Dwight stood before a display of “personal drone devices” and grumbled to himself.

“There are just fancy radio controlled helicopters.  Why are nerds going crazy over these things?” He said without looking away from the display.

The store clerk was perplexed.  “Well, they have plenty of capabilities that standard RC vehicles do not offer,” the clerk tried to explain.

“I could strap a camera to a helicopter myself for half the price,” Dwight said, “and why do I need to fly above my house to see if the gutters are full?”

The clerk had no retort.

“Perhaps you would be interested in some of our other offerings?”

“Nah, I’ll take it,” Dwight said, scratching his belly, “I’d never take the time to actually put a camera on one of those things.  And I never check my gutters.  Pack it up, I’ll grab it at the counter.”

Dwight wandered the store.  He eyebrows tilted down, his frown was immense and he hunched over as he walked.  He hated going to the mall.  Hated being among ‘the people’ and spending his hard earned money on trinkets and junk.  He hated not watching the game on a perfectly good Saturday afternoon.

But he loved his wife and his daughters, so he put on embarrassing clothes, slipped sandals over his socks and drove the family to the mall as requested.  He hoped that by embarrassing himself, he would embarrass his family and be excused from future outings.  He had been trying this plan for fourteen years to no avail.

He wandered the small electronics store, flipping through wires and connectors, mumbling about how RJ45 jacks have always been stupid.  He is hoping a tube amp renaissance is on the horizon, because he cannot fix his own amp anymore.  The air conditioning is too cold and the overhead music can hardly be called such.  Dwight was grumpy.

A hand caressed his shoulder, a touch most familiar and welcome.

“Dwight, sweetie, we’ve finished up,” the voice of his wonderful bride told him, “let’s get some lunch.”

“Good,” Dwight said, instantly regretting his tone, “sorry.  I meant…well, I meant ‘good’, but not so gruff.  Let me buy this drone and then we’re food court bound.”

His wife tapped his shoulder once more and gave him a smile he knew meant “really, you’re buying that?”  He did not care this time though.  He was going to food court pizza and then head home, put a shovel on the end of the drone and clean the gutters.  If he could not watch the game, he was at least going to employ advanced technologies to do menial tasks.


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