Whenever I visit the home of a particular friend — let’s call him Joe — I find it extremely difficult to focus on conversation. I might be in the middle of saying something, when something attracts my attention in the corner of my eye. I catch sight of a flashing light over by the television, and my focus is drawn to that corner like a moth to a light bulb. But I already know the source, even before I look: his damn VCR is flashing “12:00” as it has been for the last five years since he bought the thing.
How is it that he can let an appliance to continue to demand attention? It sits in the corner, plaintively flashing its display, as if saying Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!
And yet, for years, no one has spent the minute or two it takes to set the clock and pacify the poor machine. Whenever I catch sight of the flashing clock in Joe’s living room, I’m reminded of the people across the street who let their dog bark throughout the night. Dogs, on the other hand, eventually tire and stop (usually by the wee hours of the morning). A VCR never gives up.
We draw conclusions about people who let their dog bark all night. The owner might be lazy, might be irresponsible. The owner might be asleep or deaf… or at least dead. But none of these attributes apply to Joe.
I think the answer might be in the what the VCR represents to Joe. A VCR is an intrusion of modern technology into the living room, which is the inner sanctum of his home. As a sacred place in his home life, the living room should not be ruled by a machine. A human being must never take second place to the needs of a VCR. Letting it continue its plaintive appeal for attention is Joe’s statement to all his guests that he has little respect for the needs of a mere machine.
All the same, next time I visit, I’ll wait until he’s in the other room… and I’ll set the clock.