The day I’m dreading has finally arrived…

It’s Friday evening and my wife is relaxing on the couch; in my favourite spot. Obviously, I am concerned that this may be the start of a hostile takeover. I am forced to sit on the crap side of the sofa – her side. But I have a plan…

A phone pings. 

Is that you pinging?” she asks. “Who is it?”

I glance at the screen. “I’m surprised it got through,” I say. “The internet’s really patchy over here.”

Tell me about it,” she replies. Her phone pings. She looks at the screen and laughs.

I miss the good life. I want to ping and laugh again, so I try to sit next to her. She doesn’t move her legs – so I sit on them. “Legs! Legs!” she cries. My phone pings again.

“Two pings in two minutes. Are you having an affair?” she asks.

“Afraid not. Women don’t want a guy with this many wifi blackspots. It’s a party invite.” 

From who?” she asks impatiently. I mention the name of a couple who are daft enough to still send us party invites. “Ok, who else is going?” she asks. I reel off a list of names. My wife stops me when I mention a couple we have known for a long time, and says, “If they’re going – I’m not going.”

Why?” I ask.

“I don’t like them,” she reveals.

Really? Why?”

To be honest…I can’t remember.”

This is odd, my wife usually remembers the cause of all her vendettas. Her last one started in our cafe when a customer came in and made some pretty unreasonable demands…

You know what he did?” she boomed down the phone to me.

“What?” I said.

“He asked for jacket potato and beans. The bastard.”

“Isn’t that your…Dish of the Day?” I reply.

“Shut up. So I give him it and he says: ‘That looks hot. I don’t like hot food,’ and walks out. Who thinks jacket potato and beans is served cold?”

It’s during these dark times that I have to remind her about all the good times. “Think about the positives,” I said. “The vicar comes in every day, and when he runs out of tea you get to say that joke to him.”

Yes, I suppose.”

And does he like it when you ask him?”

No,” she replied and a little warmth returned to her voice.

Talking down angry chefs is something I’ve become really good at. I should open up an angry chef hotline, or a coldline depending on whether you think it should be hot or not.

I am still musing about this and all the unsung support I provide to my wife as she kicks me off the couch. I scurry back to the third world: the signal-free area of the couch.

The door opens slowly and our 13-year-old son skulks in. He is now large enough to wear my clothes, so he does. He sits next to his mum, in my favourite spot, in my favourite top. I hear two pings. Not one of them is me. They both get out their phones, swipe screens and start typing. I check myself just to see if I’m dead or worse…a customer in my cafe.

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8 thoughts on “The day I’m dreading has finally arrived…

    • ha, yes I think my son has drawn a treasure map of where all the wifi hotspots are. Yes hot potato dude was a twat. It’s a shame I’m related to him. haha.

    • I know, right?? Weve been open 7 years and so far, we’ve only had to ban one person, and that was a 60-year-old woman!

  1. As long as it wasn’t me who was responsible for one of your pings. Come to think of it, I am going to spam-ping you on Twitter this evening, just to see what reaction it provokes from the other side of the room. (Evil, moi?) …

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