“Right. For the next two months.” His wife looked at the clerk, rolled her eyes and sighed. She’d been checking out jigsaw puzzles at the stationery store next door, now she berated herself for not being here in time to officially protest this purchase.
The clerk who’d rung up the sale sensed an approaching atmospheric disturbance and strolled toward the accessories aisle. She’d be within shouting distance if the customer asked for a refund in a minute or so.
“Dearest,” said the wife in a longsuffering tone. “Remember the last time you changed computer programmes and it took me three weeks to figure it out enough to do our women’s club monthly newsletter? Two months ago you got me this new cell phone with all the bells and whistles, and I still haven’t figured out how to reply to incoming messages.”
“It’s not so hard to figure out. Besides, your old phone was a dinosaur.”
“So is my brain. I’m technologically challenged, remember? You can’t keep throwing new devices and new programmes at me.”
“You have to keep up with the times, dear. You’d still be working with WordPerfect 3.0 if I wouldn’t have upgraded.”
“And Word Perfect 3.0 worked just fine.”
He sighed. She sighed. The marriage counselor standing behind them at the cash register grinned — and pulled his business card out of his shirt pocket.