Yo, Biatch

We (Happy Wife & I) are latecomers to Breaking Bad. I’d been suspicious of all the hullabaloo the series generated when it was current, there being nothing like widespread popularity around something “trending” to raise my cynical radar. (I have, for example, never tweeted. Not once.) But I’ll be dammed if we weren’t like nearly everyone else, totally enthralled watching Walter et al. take the long descent into ruthless criminality. With the possible exception of Six Feet Under I don’t think I’ve seen a better made-for-TV series. Plus we watched the episodes on Netflix at our preferred pace, some nights two or even three in a row, other nights when the episodic intensity overwhelmed Happy Wife, just one. When it comes to TV shows she abjures watching human torture or even its pretension. That, and any scene in any TV show involving animal cruelty or its portent has her up off the couch with hands over ears loudly singing la la la while scampering to the kitchen to busy herself with something, anything to prevent the onscreen image from searing into her imagination. “Dear,” I’ll offer when this happens, “I can fast forward through this part if you want.”

This rarely works and I end up watching the remainder of the show myself.

We only recently subscribed to Netflix, another trendy thing I was hitherto suspicious was nothing but another monthly hand in my wallet. I caved and signed up for a month free, after which it’d cost me $7.99/mo. Along with Amazon prime movies which stream for free to our TV, we’re now awash in entertainment options, so I called Dish network and told them to cancel showtime and hbo, a $26.99 “feature” on our monthly bill, saving us, in the end, $19 a month. The lady voice at Dish customer service asked me for my 4-digit pin number to prove I was me.

“Mam, I’ve just given you my name, address, customer id, last amount paid, my grandmother’s maiden name and the color of my first dog’s eyes. And now you want a pin number?”

“It’s for security reasons, Mr. Nibbe.”

“I don’t remember ever setting a pin, so no, I can’t give you my pin number. Ask the NSA, maybe they may know.” Not even a chuckle did this produce.

“Mr. Nibbe, I’d be happy to set a 4-digit pin number for you, so that the next time you call you’ll be able to provide a pin number.”

“Sure, okay.”

“Are you ready to provide me the number, Mr. Nibbe. I’d be happy to take that information from you now.”

“Okay, ready? How about something super secure, say, one two three four.”

“Let me repeat that back to you Mr. Nibbe. One two three four.” Is this number correct, Mr. Nibbe.”

“Yes mam.”

Promptly followed by: Is there anything else I can help you with today Mr. Nibbe, and if not thank you very much for calling Dish network, and you have a very pleasant day Mr. Nibbe. Which, while dubiously saccharine, I suppose is preferable to the coldly impersonal confirmation of doing it online: “Transaction Complete.”