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Classified Information
HUMOR By Charley Daniels
Many people do not prefer the newspaper over other sources of information,
but, depending on the circumstances, the newspaper can be useful. In fact, if
you find yourself in a similar situation as I’m about to describe, you might
become grateful that the newspaper and its various departments exist. But
don’t jump to conclusions. Sometimes things turn out weirdly—scarce like the
alignment of the planets, or me filing my taxes—at which point the newspaper
might seem to be your only friend. Things are not always what they seem.
In the classifieds section of the newspaper it is possible to find an
apartment, a car, a job, and a girlfriend simply by being able to read and
turning the page. It may seem pretty unlikely that someone would need all of
these things at once, but that’s because you don’t know me very well. My
girlfriend (whom I lived with and whose father I worked for) just left me for
the repo man who came to take my car (my girlfriend’s dad was not paying
well). Think about it. Without the classifieds, I would have to search four
different sources to find a place to live, a job, a car, and a girlfriend.
With newspaper classifieds, however, I was able to start my search for all
four immediately. Success in the matter was a different prospect entirely.
The copy editors have put descriptive headings on each of the sections so that
I at least have the potential to know what I’m in the market for while I’m
phoning about the advertisement. It all seems so simple. Those who have never
been in the same situation as me may not realize, but advertisements for
apartments, cars, jobs, and girlfriends all sound remarkably similar if you
don’t pay attention. You also ask nearly the same questions for all four
things. You ask about availability, size, money, if there are other interested
candidates, if you can go for a test drive. So even with the helpful headlines
I got confused—owing in part to the similarities of the ads, and in part to my
lack of memory and basic inability to pay attention, compounded by my wavering
on which of the four items was most important. It turned out not to matter
much.
A place to live is vital, no doubt about it. Problem is, I need a job to rent
a place and now I don’t have that. So I decided that a job is the most
important. Nearly every employer wants my address, however, so it is
impossible to even apply. The employers who don’t ask for an address always
have those advertisements that don’t say what the job actually is—they only
specify things that should be taken for granted, like “clean environment” or
“regular pay.” They’re also located in weird places off of mass transit and to
get there I might need a car, which I cannot buy because I don’t have a job
and I can’t get credit because I don’t have an address. So I decide that I
should get a girlfriend. Maybe I can work for her father? Except girlfriends
want stable boyfriends who have jobs and places to live, not homeless
humorists with nothing to show but a set of now-useless car keys and a few
ironic T-shirts.
So I am juggling these things when I try to start over and there are times
when I call up some place thinking I’m after one thing, but it turns out that
I am after another. For example, I’ll be reading an ad and see the descriptors
“charming,” “turn of the century,” “clean,” and “quiet” and then I’ll think,
“She sounds nice, though a little old for my tastes.” About then I realize
that I’m looking at an ad for a studio apartment, not a girlfriend. Then I
call about a job (“no longer dangerous”) and ask if it has low mileage. What
type of employer is going to hire someone who begins his initial phone query
by saying crazy things? It is not beyond the realm of possibility that I may
call up a lovely young lady and ask her if she includes utilities. That’s no
way to start a relationship, unless she actually does.
It turns out that, far from being simpler, searching for everything at once is
like trying to win a gold medal in the pole vault, triple jump, 100 meter
dash, and skeet shoot in one simultaneous motion. It’s no wonder I have failed
to find myself a dwelling, job, car, and girlfriend. What the classifieds need
is to offer combo deals. Like fast food. If I call the classifieds and order a
number three I’ll get all the things I need in one simple deal.
Salesperson: Would you like to mega-size that?
Me: Ummm. . . it depends.
They have no safeguards in place for people in the weird predicament that I
currently find myself in. So now I’m through with the newspaper until they
make the classifieds simpler for me. I’m won’t read it, at least. I’m not in
the position to fully divorce myself from the newspaper quite yet. My ironic
T-shirts alone can’t keep me warm on the park bench tonight. |
