TURN ON - PUSH/TALK - LET GO/LISTEN. HOW DIFFICULT IS THAT?

I was in a new shop called HOME BARGAINS today (it's new in our shopping centre anyway) and saw a portable door chime kit at a very reasonable price.  Back home, in preparation for fitting it, I first had to remove the old one which no longer worked (and hadn't for some time). That's when the memories resurfaced of an earlier house and an earlier time from around 30 years ago.

You see, dear reader, I'd first purchased that doorbell when I lived in that other house, which was the one it was intended for.  I probably bought it at least a year before we moved back to my present abode (regular readers know the story), but I simply never got around to it.  However,  I had first envisioned it on that other front door, and even though I've passed it on my way in and out of my present address for around 25 years (I was back here for about two years before I had it fitted), I still mainly associate it with my previous home.  With one exception that is, which I am now about to relate.

I say 'doorbell', but it was actually an ARCHER intercom set I'd purchased in TANDY.  My reason for acquiring it was so that my elderly parents could check who was at the front door before opening it, but it proved to be an utterly futile ambition.  When I eventually got around to having it fitted (in my present house, remember), I carefully explained the rather easy procedure for operating it, which was this.  "When someone rings the bell, turn on the intercom, then press the button clearly marked 'push/talk' and ask who it is.  When you've done that, let go of the button in order to hear the response.  Got that?  Turn on - push/talk - let go/listen."  I demonstrated it several times, but they simply couldn't get the hang of it.

I'd go to the front door, ring the bell, and, my father would  forget to press the 'on' button to activate the thing.  He would simply press the 'push/talk' button, but because the intercom wasn't switched on, I couldn't hear him.  Again I would demonstrate the simple three part procedure: "Turn on intercom when you hear the bell, press the 'push/ talk' button to ask who's at the door, let go of the button to listen to the response."  In my impatience, I felt that teaching retarded chimps how to clap their hands would've been far easier, so uncoordinated and uncomprehending were they in following my simple instructions.

I was driven to frustration and tempted to bang my head off the wall - ironically akin to what it felt I was already doing in trying (and failing) to impart enlightenment to my parents.  I could've house-trained an incontinent puppy sooner than it seemed I'd ever be able to teach them those three simple basic steps.  "NO!  Turn the bloody thing on first.  Look - (Click!)  Now press the 'push/talk' button and speak - (Press!)  'Hello, who's there?'  Now let go of the 'push/talk' button and listen - 'It's the Milk Man come for his money!'  Now how bloody difficult is that, for feck's feckin' sake?  Aaaarggghhhh!"

They still couldn't do it.  Even when they remembered to turn it on first, they'd forget to let go of the 'push/talk' button after speaking, so they couldn't hear me at the door shouting "Let go of the feckin' push/ talk button for feck's sake - how many feckin' times do I have to tell you?"  Sometimes my father would push the button, speak, forget to let go, then suddenly remember, by which time I (or whoever was at the door) had finished replying.  As there was no answer (already having been given) he would ask again, "Who's there?", but he would forget to press the 'push/talk' button first so he was talking to himself.

"It doesn't work!" was their blunt assessment of the device designed to protect them from dodgy characters at the front door.  "No, IT works, it's your BRAINS that don't!" were the tender, loving words from their dutiful, affectionate and caring son.  It was pointless to persist.  They never used it and I soon gave up trying to show them how simple it was.  What is it about getting older that turns the brain to mush?  I hope I'm not that bereft of comprehension when I'm the age they were then.  Of course, it may simply have been that my parents thought there was nothing any mere youth could teach them, and therefore paid no more than superficial heed to my 'technical' instructions.

Anyway, a new bell is now fitted, but - worn and non-working as the old intercom set now is - I don't think I'll ever throw it out.  Too many memories, and, the above tale apart, mainly associated with the previous home for which it was originally intended.  Funny that, eh?