Commercials

Thank God for kid’s TV thought Karen, hurriedly dumping lettuce into a colander. That tedious late meeting had run long and she’d barely made it to the sitter by five thirty. Another few seconds and she would’ve been paying an extra five dollars per minute! What the Hell? Karen wished she made five bucks a minute. Instead she’d been making diddly, sitting at the ridiculously long light at Misty Lane and Crabtree, worrying about the time.
‘Can I watch TV?’ Jamie had asked before he even had his coat all the way off. Karen didn’t know why he even asked since he never waited for an answer, and she never said ‘no’ anyway. It did keep him occupied while she prepped dinner but she hated to be one of ‘those’ moms.
Viciously scrubbing three good sized potatoes to within an inch of their lives, she threw them in the microwave and glanced over the granite breakfast bar at Jamie. He sat cross legged on the rug in front of the television, but was fidgety, glancing around absently, and rapidly tapping his toes with his fingertips. Ah, she recognized the show he was watching. A real-life, acted show. He preferred cartoons, but what kid didn’t? There were still a couple of minutes before the chicken on the griddle needed attention so Karen turned back to finish prepping the salad.
She should probably get on the treadmill after dinner, but she knew she wouldn’t, even though it might help with her stress. That idiot Tricia, in the cube over the wall from hers, had been crunching popcorn all day long. Clearly nobody taught her any table manners. Eat with your Goddamned mouth shut for heaven’s sake! Karen tossed the salad as if she were digging a makeshift grave for a recently murdered colleague. Then there was Marie, in the cube behind. Every few minutes she forgot where she was and began singing along with her iPod, and since she couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket … well, Karen wanted to scream every time Marie opened her stupid mouth. The worst part was knowing she would start again but not know exactly when. Karen had begun grinding her teeth in dread anticipation. More money at the dentist.
They say that exercise helps with everything, but by the time she had gotten in her Facebook time, checked what her friends were up to, liking and commenting, she would feel better without digging the dusty treadmill out from under all the clothes she had hung over the hand rails. Email would be next. There might be dozens of offers and coupons from Kohl’s, Bath and Body Works, Old Navy, World Market and a surprising number of others. Karen prided herself on never shopping without a coupon or discount of some kind. Just hold up your phone and have them scan the bar code right off the screen. KaChing! Ten percent discount baby.
Stepping over to the stove to flip the chicken, Karen was startled when the low hum of voices from the TV changed to ear-splitting, cheerful music and loud happy chatter. Why did they have to jack-up the volume for commercials? She looked up from the griddle to see her son, rapt and unmoving, staring at the screen. Fingertips no longer tapping his toes, Jamie looked as if he had forgotten that either set of extremities ever existed. Cartoon characters danced across the screen in bright primary colors while real life children laughed and played with the toy, and the fun that came with it, being peddled to thousands of others.
‘Mom, can I get that for my birthday?’ The captivated boy shouted to his mother. His eighth birthday was coming up and he hadn’t been able to decide what to ask for.
‘We’ll see’ Karen responded automatically, without looking up from the stove. It didn’t matter what it was. By the time the next commercial was ten seconds in, they both would’ve forgotten what it was Jamie wanted. The toy, snack, or whatever idea, had now been planted, Karen knew. She hated these companies and their high dollar advertising agencies. How much must they pay for research to tell them just how to break into a kid’s mind? How much to make the thing and how much per second to put it out there in front of young sponges like her son? She thought back to the sitter’s five dollars per minute overtime charge and sighed. I guess it’s all relative.
‘Jamie, your dad will be home in a minute. Please come and set the table’ said Karen, juggling the hot potatoes.
‘In a minute mom, when this is finished’ he replied standing without moving his eyes away from the screen. Karen looked up, shocked to see that commercials were still on the TV, and that they were what Jamie didn’t want to miss. The show had become the interruption.
‘ok, but don’t be too long’ she allowed. What could she do against the TV companies? It was just the way it was now.
‘Oh, and Jamie’ she added, ‘Don’t forget your Ritalin