Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Notes from the Geriatric Ward 2

So we swim at the neighborhood pool every day, where the retirement community radio station is piped in.Do you remember the sound of that AM radio in your old 1950's chevy, when the car is out of the station reception area? Yeah, it's just like that, you know, a bad nostalgia trip.

So, anyhoo, husband, who makes it his business to know every local official, mentioned the problem to our district rep. The rep helpfully said he'd send it up (or down?) the chain to get it fixed.

Fast forward several days. We are back at the pool. Fellow swimmer complains about how LOUD the radio is playing.

What?? Oh my gosh, I couldn't stop laughing. Neither could husband.

It turns out they assumed that the problem was that the complainer must be hearing impaired (good assumption in a 'hood where most of the residents are over 75), and the solution was to turn up the volume!

So now we get to listen to bad radio reception at a higher volume.

It turns out nobody was complaining before we arrived because half the crowd couldn't hear it anyway.

This is all husband's fault. I'm holding him accountable for fixing it.

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