Because You Never Asked

(11/06)

     “Planned obsolescence” is a concept inherent in the type of economic system currently tyrannizing the world, and any person with an intellectual curiosity beyond Ohio State-Michigan has some consciousness of this. In the essay “The Cell Phone”, I got off a good rant on the subject, but a recent happening in my life has intensified my feelings. Honestly folks, the extent to which this idea is now practiced goes beyond stupidity and into the realm of immorality. (For you religious people, the proper word is “sinful”).

     For the last two and a half years or so, the anti-reality that enters my home through a TV screen has been provided by a nice little 14” color TV by Toshiba. It was given to me, amongst other things, by the Nielsen Ratings people, who had randomly picked me to be one of their subjects. They offered a much bigger one that I refused, such smaller size being more in harmony with the dimensions of the room. I mention this because it means I haven’t bought a TV for almost 10 years, a fact that becomes relevant later on. In any event, the little Toshiba works perfectly --- except for one thing.

     About two weeks ago, I couldn’t get the remote to work. I replaced the batteries, bought a new “universal” remote, went back to the electronics store to see if I was setting it up properly, replaced it with a better one --- all to no avail.

     When the smoke had cleared, it seemed the TV itself was at fault --- probably. I say “probably” because there has never been a definitive prognosis on the matter. While  navigating my way through the vast galaxy known as the electronics industry, I began to realize it was a problem too minute for anyone to deal with. After explaining my travails and woes, the salesperson would say something like, “yeah, it could be the TV, sometimes the sensors stop working”, and then turn to someone who was looking to buy a razor thin, wrap around Plasma-HD-VCR-DVD-DSL-Mega-Comcast-Digital-Super Galactic-Internet-Ipod-Home-Entertainment extravaganza.

     I felt like a guy wearing a leather helmet in a football game.

     The best I could get was a half hearted suggestion to check with an electronics repair shop on so-and-so street. Surprisingly, it was only two blocks from my house and I had never noticed it. Rumor had it they repaired TV’s there.

     Being that I could walk to it, I decided to check it out. Sure enough, there it was, on my neighborhood’s main commercial street, wedged in between a perfectly groomed real estate office oozing prosperity and a trendy art gallery. The inside of the place was hiding behind the defenses of those tinted windows where one can see out but not in. Etched on the glass was the name “ELECTRONIC CONNECTION” with the word “REPAIRS” under it, and then the words “TV’s”, VCR’s” and a few others that have faded from memory. A wooden door peeling white paint flanked the tinted glass panel. It seemed to be the entrance.

     Could this be the last TV repair shop in the world?

     I felt like a character in an Alfred Hitchcock movie when I finally decided to try the door. The anxiety increased as it surprisingly gave way to the light pressure of my hand. Miracle! The store was open. There was no tinkle of bells as I stepped through the threshold into a cave-like environment who’s only light filtered eerily in through the tinted glass. The place was unexpectedly clean and uncluttered, but had an other-worldly quality, as if one had just entered another dimension (cue the Twilight Zone music). A doorway without a door suggested the presence of another room, filled with electronic paraphernalia in various states of repair and disrepair. Behind a steel grey desk to my right sat a non-descript middle aged man. Chances are, this was the “repairman”. He seemed vaguely aware of my presence as he stared at a technical magazine (this was encouraging). The whole scene was reminiscent of those old Maytag commercials where the washing machine repairman had nothing to do.

     “Can I help you”? He was alive.

     “Yeah --- I, uh ---”, and I proceeded to tell my tale. He put down the magazine and answered in a surprisingly articulate form of speech.

     “Yes, it could very well be. It might need a new sensor”.

     “Can you just check that real quick”?

     “No, I’d have to open it up and try a new one”.

     “Is it a big job”?

     “Well, the sensor is about $25, labor --- you’re looking at about $75-80 --- and you’d have to leave the set for 4 or 5 days”. He went back to his magazine. My problem didn’t seem too high on his priority list, in fact, I wondered if repairing anything appeared on his priority list. While pondering my next move, he caught me off guard with an unsolicited comment.

     “What kind of TV is it”?

     “Well, it’s a 14” --- “, as soon as I mentioned this numerical concept, that was it, game, set and match. He talked to me as if he were explaining something to a child.

     “Hold it --- we only fix big plasma TV’s, sophisticated equipment, expensive stuff.   You can go get a 14” color TV for $65-70, maybe even less, at Albertson’s”. He returned to his magazine. It seemed to be more his way of saying “get lost” than of enlightening himself.

     I was stunned, not only for the price, but for the fact that they were selling TV’s at Albertson’s. I was speaking half to myself when I said, “Albertson’s? The fresh food supermarket”? Without looking up, he nodded. Somehow, the whole cosmic balance seemed to be in doubt. They sell TV’s in Albertson’s. Where? Next to the romaine?

     I pulled myself together and got serious. “Excuse me, sir”! My tone drew him away from the magazine. “I have a perfectly functioning, fairly new TV. Other than this sensor thing, there is nothing wrong with it. What am I supposed to do with it?”

     He leaned forward and spoke sarcastically slow, “you --- just --- get --- rid --- of --- it.”

     As I walked home, my confusion turned to anger. I remembered seeing a gross tee shirt on display in a store window that read, “Fuck you, you fucking fuck”! For me, the sale of such an item seemed no more gross than “you just get rid of it”. In fact, they seemed to be close relatives in the emotional mindset of our culture. A genial idea dawned on me: maybe we should change the motto on our money from “In God We Trust” to “You Just Get Rid Of It”. I finally had to break down and laugh under the weight of so much human stupidity.

     Some of you out there in Essayland might be thinking that Post Consumer Man is being a bit hypocritical here, like, hey, why don’t you just get up and change the channels?

     It’s a fair question.

     Allow me to start my defense in a philosophical vein. It must be remembered that I am not in favor of blowing it all up, of returning to a pure state of nature, of starting all over again in a Gauguin-like flight from the lunacy of it all. I still believe, perhaps naively, in the use of technology. The Big Error is being perpetrated by our socio-economic model, a model that perverts the use of our technology, thus causing the eco-emotional madness which manifests itself in environmental degradation and a whole gamut of psychic lunacy, not the least of which being the latest spate of Bush Oil Wars (for more, see essays “The Unabomber”, “The Economy”, “Technology“, “The Automobile”, and others). It must be emphasized here that Post Consumer Man is not trying to lower your comfort level or drastically change your lifestyle. He is trying to propagate the idea that such comfort level could be accomplished with a microscopic amount of the industrial production we are currently drowning in. A person seated in front of a TV with a remote is not excluded from this concept.

     But let’s also get real here! The cable package I receive is far from the glitziest one, but it still starts at channel 2 and goes up into triple figures. A coast to coast trip across this vast viewing continent using the manual controls on the TV would be like crossing America in a covered wagon without roads. Anyone with the most minimal TV habit must have a remote. If this makes me an imperfect human being, so are you. So shut up!

     Now I have to confront those think-tank, free market wonks who are going to tell us how great it is that you can buy something as sophisticated as a TV for only $70. “Look how great the system works”. What they are not telling you is that the money you pay for that TV is not the only price being exacted. Take a look at the materials being used, the plastics, glass, metals, fusions and variations thereof. None of this grows on trees or can be picked up off the ground. A tremendous amount of both natural and human resources are being used to get that thing in front of your face.

     And I’m supposed to “just get rid of it”.

     Look, I’m not a martyr. I’m not Mother Teresa. I’ve got a life to live and it is short enough. But there are hordes of people in the world living in squalor and misery.

     And I’m supposed to “just get rid of it”.

     At least we can have some empathy for this situation. At least we can examine our own lives and try to understand it’s longer range ramifications and how it fits into the global reality around us. You don’t just throw away a car because the battery dies. The same principle should apply even for something that costs as little as a 14” color TV, which should be designed to repair minor glitches like a sensor malfunction cheaply and easily .

     This is not a “bleeding heart” attitude. If we don’t come to terms with these things, we are all going to pay a lot more later on.