Plot devices that no longer work

So, in the middle of the night last night, while I was *not* sleeping, I got to thinking about, well, phone booths.

And how there aren’t any around anymore.

Phone booths were such a key element to the plot lines of a LOT of books and movies.

For example, where would Superman be if not for the phone booth!

Where does mild mannered Clark Kent put on his blue tights these days?

Probably the bathroom at a Starbucks, but that’s not the point.

The point is, there are no phone booths on every city street corner anymore. Where are you supposed to take that random and creepy phone call? Where are you supposed to wait for the kidnappers to give you your next clue? How do you have an angry confrontation with a guido over how long you are on the phone? You don’t. Not anymore.

The movie “Crazy Heart” had a scene with a phone booth. It was by the side of a desolate road in New Mexico (playing the part of Arizona). It felt odd even in the context of the movie. It was in a weird location and had no wires leading to or from it.

It just didn’t work. The era of the phone booth is dead.

How many of our great stories told over the years involved a phone booth?

Or for that matter, payphones in general?

It’s just not the same.

The lonely cowboy with a stack of dimes trying to get his lady on the line, rain pouring outside the glass phone booth, operator intoning “fifty cents please” in a nasaly voice. That’s literature!

Cowboy flips open his mobile device and curses the low signal strength just doesn’t have the same je ne sais quoi, ya know?

And so then I thought about another lost plot device. The lockers in bus stations, train stations and airports. (ok, I already lamented their loss here, but I’m going there again.)

You know, the bad guy stashes the loot to cool it off, inserts a quarter, takes the key and no one is the wiser? Until the bad guy is bumped off and ANOTHER bad guy takes the key and tries to figure out where it goes so he can get the stash?

Oh yeah. That’s good suspense!

The movie “Desperately Seeking Susan” centered around the Rosanna Arquette character getting Madonna’s locker key that held her valise and that really cool jacket. Remember?

Yeah, we really don’t have those anymore, the quarter to rent a locker places. A few gyms have ’em and a local nature preserve has a few near the walking trails, but mostly people leave their stuff in their car or carry a backpack anymore.

Another good plot device, dead.

Oh, and how about meeting people at the gate at the airport!?!

How many great, dramatic scenes involve someone stepping off a plane and a loved one, bad guy, limo guy, complete stranger, detective, etc. is there waiting?

It’s just not quite as dramatic to have the waiting happen down at baggage claim where you hope you find the right person.

Or heck, really going back, how about waiting out on the tarmac while the starlet decends the metal stairs. Nope.

I won’t EVEN start down the road of the loss of manual transmission cars (I covered it here), but do you think Steve McQueen’s hot little green fast back Mustang in “Bullitt” was an automatic? Oh no, I don’t think so.

I know, I know. I’m being a fuddy duddy and time must always march on. But as a writer, I lament the loss of ANY good device to keep a story moving along….

Damnit! I’m a purist!

Hey! What in the seven kinds of sam hell is wrong with my goldfish crackers?!?!?!

What are those cracker lumps? Did my goldfish swim near a nuclear reactor? WTF?

Basketball shapes? BASKETBALL SHAPES!?!?!?!?

WTdoubleF?

Aw fer crissakes, Dwayne, keep your gear out of my snack food!

I don’t like nobody messing with my goldfish. I like ’em just like they is.

And also…

HEY YOU KIDS! GET OFF MY LAWN!!

Isn’t that just good manners?

Some days I think the world is a very strange place.

Ok, ok. Most days, I think the world is a very strange place.

And the world thinks I’m a very strange girl.

Oddly, I’m ok with that.

But I digress.

Yesterday, I went to my local Safeway to pick up a few items. As you know, I’m a total Trader Joe’s girl. Unfortunately, ol’ Joe doesn’t always have everything I need, so I have to supplement with Safeway (and I feel like I’m cheating).

Anyhow, I took my few purchases to the register, and as I stepped up to take my turn, the checkout guy said, “Hi! How are you doing?”

To which I replied, “I’m fine, thank you. How are you doing today?”

And he responded, “I’m good. Wow, thank you SO much for asking!”

Which brought me up short.

An exuberant “thank you for asking”?

Would imply that most people don’t even bother to ask?

Which really seems rather rude to me.

I mean, I’m no Miss Manners, but my parents did actually teach me my “please and thank you’s”.

I’m not saying we have to go back to old school overly mannered and behaved, but some simple courtesy is a nice thing. A good thing. A missing thing…what’s that old saying? Gone the way of the Dodo bird?

Sure, I may burp in unfortunate locations and situations, sometimes. And I might, though rarely, yell inappropriate things out the car window.

But damn it! I know how to say please and thank you, and I’m polite enough to inquire as to how a nice hardworking grocery store clerk’s day might be going.

I’m just like that.

Cuz I was raised that way.

Why again aren’t people raised that way anymore?

Tracking My Every Move

Recently, my local Long’s Drug store was converted to a CVS store. Mergers and acquisitions are a way of life.

With the new CVS store came a new request…”Do you have your CVS card?”

As soon as CVS took over, they implemented one of those frequent shopper cards that it seems every store has these days.

You shop the store and when you swipe the card, you get discounts on some items.

Seems harmless, right? Swipe a card to get a discount.

Actually, I think these things are pretty insidious. This, despite the fact that I actually use the cards in many stores.

So in exchange for discounts on items, which, by the way, I believe are marked up so they can discount them…the store gets to track my shopping data and use that information however they choose.

Ostensibly, it is used to both market to me personally, and to help figure out what to stock and in what quantities.

But here’s what bugs me: In order to get a card, I have to give them personal data. Name (first and last), address, phone number, and date of birth (so they can send me a birthday card??).

Just what, exactly, do the stores do with all of this data they’ve mined?

By the by, to purchase marketing data like this costs a lot of money. They are getting it for the price of marking up an item so they can take a discount off the top. Cheap deal!

Plus, I suspect they are also selling the data too. Tidy sideline business, I’d say.

I got to thinking about all of this today when I read an article about a recent salmonella outbreak. The CDC asked permission from the patients, and used their shopper cards to trace back to which food item caused their illness.

Ok, so that’s a pretty good use of the data. Permission was granted, in advance, to use shopping information.

If only all the uses of my data were for such noble causes.

I personally have an issue with all of the data that is collected and tracked in our ever-evolving data driven society. Google tracks all the websites I’ve visited, has satellite and street level images of my home, and oh, and if I use their email service, they track information from that too.

Airlines and Homeland Security track everywhere I travel.

Security cameras everywhere track my movements.

A retail company I worked for installed cameras that track a shopper as they come into the store, note what items a shopper looks at, picks up, and ultimately buys (to evaluate effectiveness of the store layout, the manufacturer of the device says).

AT&T knows WAY more about me than pretty much anyone in my life. Phone calls, text messages, email, what sites I surf, etc is all available on their mobile network.

And honestly, every single time I use my credit card, someone tracks where I am, how much I’ve spent and what I spent it on.

I’m not much of a conspiracy theorist. Usually I take things in stride, but even I have my limits.

Lately, I’ve been using cash more and trying to frequent stores that don’t collect my data, like Trader Joe’s and Walgreens.

I’m not yet to the point where I want to live “off the grid” on my compound in Montana, with razor wire around the perimeter and an avid suspicion of authority.

But some days, I gotta be honest, it doesn’t sound too bad…..

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh

The Good Man giggled when he brought the mail in the house.

*hee hee hee* I heard him, sneaking up on me.

Why? Why would such a nice man be so cruel?

Wanna know why he was snickering?

Because I received THIS in the mail:

Oh fine. California has instituted the “one day or one trial” rule of jury service. Much better than the days when you were “on call” for a whole week.

The Good Man was giggling especially hard because just a couple weeks ago HE was on the hook for jury service. He called in and wasn’t needed, so he’s feeling pretty darn good about himself for the next 12 months.

Oh well. Just another of the joys of being a grown up.