By Lisa Scottoline
We live in uncertain times.
My TV remote told me so.
Let me explain.
I love TV, and there’s so much to watch that I record shows while I’m watching other shows. I have Comcast, so I can navigate to Guide, press Record to record a show.
In theory.
But it’s not that simple.
After I press Record, a popup appears and asks, Confirm or Cancel?
And I think to myself, Why do I need to Confirm? I just asked to Record.
I don’t change my mind that fast.
Except in my second marriage.
I was changing my mind down the aisle.
Too late.
The same thing happens with restaurant reservations. I booked a few during my vacation with Francesca, and every restaurant sent me a text, Do you want to Confirm, Y/N? I pressed Y.
But I wanted to say, Y do you ask?
Mother Mary used to tell me, “I said what I said.”
Right again, Mom.
One of the restaurants even called me, a woman asking, “Are you still joining us tonight?”
I was like, “Who are you? I’m going to a restaurant.”
She explained she was “just confirming.”
I said yes. I’d already confirmed by text, so now I was double-confirming and since I’d made the reservation only two days ago, I was triple-confirming. I think that’s enough certainty for eggplant parm, don’t you?
Meanwhile it’s a miracle I took the call. I never answer calls from people I don’t know, but I started to for fear of losing my reservations.
Like, Confirm or Else.
Look, I know there are people who make reservations and don’t show up, but I would never do that. I couldn’t live with the guilt.
I never got over a $37 late fee I had to pay at Blockbuster.
I have guilt from paying it, plus guilt from incurring it.
My guilt is weapons-grade.
My hair salon needs confirmation, too, often more than once, and don’t get me started on doctor’s appointments. I got two text confirmations from one doctor, for a colonoscopy.
Okay, that one I get.
Are you still joining us for your colonoscopy?
The text should’ve asked, Are you going to chicken out?
Or, are you going to wait another decade?
Actually my favorite confirmation text came from Penn Medicine, which read verbatim, “Hi Lisa, this is Penn Medicine! Congrats on scheduling your colonoscopy!”
Thank you, alma mater!
It only took me ten years to make the call.
For eggplant parm, I’d call in ten minutes.
Anyway I don’t remember everybody needing confirmation all the time. I’m guessing that we live in an age of increasing uncertainty, and it’s giving everybody agita. Like, there are a lot of big questions we’re unsure about, namely:
Who will be our next president?
When will the icecaps melt?
Will JLo and Ben get back together?
Me, I’m rooting for those crazy kids.
Bottom line, we can’t answer any of those questions, so maybe we need to confirm the things we can and let the rest go. As in, we could be heading for nuclear war, but let’s button down recording My Brilliant Friend.
We’re all looking for solid emotional footing, like psychic terra firma.
Or terra confirma.
But if you ask me, I wouldn’t mind somebody sending me a confirmation text on questions like:
Do you really want another helping of spaghetti?
Do you really need a second glass of Lambrusco?
Do you really want to renew your membership for a gym you haven’t gone to in a year?
Yes, to all of the above.
But really, Y?
Copyright Lisa Scottoline 2024