Pokemon Go - It's Not Just a Game

The thing is, I work in social media.

I work in social media, monitoring children's websites, therefore it is vitally important for me to keep my finger on the pulse of online trends.

This is why I am forced to send my friends inappropriate emojis, 💩, text versions of breasts (•) (•) and inundate them with the latest internet slang (smh at your salt!)

Not because I want to, but because that's my job.

This is also why I was forced, completely against my will, to download Pokemon Go.

"I need to know what it's about," I told Opie. "Kids are talking about it online and I can't figure out if they're talking about the game, trying to plan a real life meet up or what."

"Really?" He asked skeptically. "And that's why you wander around the neighborhood muttering to yourself about Pokestops and Pokeballs and pidgeys? Because it's your job? It has nothing to do with the fact that you're obsessed with a game for nine-year olds?"

"It's my job!" I insisted.

Swayed by the brilliance of my argument and in the spirit of worker solidarity, he downloaded the game too.

And I am sad to report that Opie is currently obsessed with a game for nine year olds.

But we are not like the players who are out there giving everyone else a bad rep. We aren't so engrossed in our phones that we wander into traffic, we haven't Pokemoned our way through a mine field, and if it's raining, we don't wrap our phones in plastic bags and brave the elements just to catch a few more.

Wait, we did do that last one...but only bc we were on the trail of a particularly elusive Pokemon.

So now the question is, which of us is the biggest nerd?  Opie insists that his study of strategy  is not nerd like but merely a sign of how much he's willing to sacrifice his time and energy to help me.

I maintain that my ability to surreptitiously check the app beneath the table or while it's in my purse --reminiscent of texting teenagers everywhere-- shows both creative thinking and manual dexterity.

Hmmmm, on second thought, maybe it's a tie.

Faith in our Future

Opie and I bought our nephew a refrigerator for his college dorm room.

As I'm not generally in the habit of starting a blog (especially after such a long hiatus!) with such a mundane matter, you have probably inferred that this did not occur without incident.

On the bright side, however, I've had my faith in the younger generation somewhat restored.

Here's what happened:

I went to Target and walked up to the customer service counter. There was a young girl behind the counter and I said "Hi, I'm here to pick up the refrigerator I ordered online."

She took my ID pressed a few buttons, bada bing bada boom, she said the guy would be up with the refrigerator momentarily.

And sure enough a few minutes later this guy in his 50s or so pushed up one of those flatbed dolly things with the refrigerator on it.

He took it off the dolly, set it on the floor and said "Here you go," and turned to walk away.

"Excuse me," I said politely. "But I assumed you'd help me get it out to the car."

"I can't go push a dolly all the way through the parking lot," he said like I was some sort of crazy person.

At this point I gave him my best "look." You know the one, the one that says "The only reason I haven't already killed you is because I'm so afraid of prison."

"I could put it in a cart for you," he offered then.

Like I was going to schlep the refrigerator all the way across the parking lot and throw it in the car in the manner of some freakishly strong mutant.

So I turned back to the young girl behind the customer service counter, smiled, and said "Hi, I'm here to return a refrigerator I bought online."

She glared at the older guy, smiled at me, and said "You can just pull your car around, and we can load it up."

I pulled the car around, turned on the hazards, got out and my feet had barely hit the curb when the older guy said "it's not gonna fit."

Since prison was already on my mind, I stood there a few minutes silently contemplating whether or not I would get actual time for punching him in the throat or if I'd get off with a fine and probation.

Just as I was about to throw caution to the wind and descend upon this idiot in a whirlwind of fists and fury, these two teenage boys walked up. Apparently they work at Target but weren't working that day, they were actually just coming to pick something up for themselves.

"Need help getting that in the car?" They asked.

And in seconds had it off the dolly, in the car, and I was good to go.

If I ever carried cash, I would have given them a tip on the spot. As it was I didn't want to insult them by offering the 32 cents I could scrounge from the bottom of my purse and a stick of gum.

So I thanked them profusely, gave the older guy one final glare and drove home happy to have my faith in the young once again restored.