RFM: One of My Many Humiliating Experiences with Technology

I just got a new high-tech gadget and dutifully read the full manual. Go ahead and mock me for being so studious, but had I adopted my RFM (Read the Freakin Manual) policy years earlier, I’d have a lot more lodging options today.

          About 15 years ago, I was on a Philly layover after two long days that started at 3:00 am. After a quick dinner and a few drinks, I was exhausted and back in my room ready for a good night’s sleep. I began my nighttime routine: AC fan on for white noise, temperature 68 degrees, curtains pulled tight, etc.  In the middle of what some might call my fastidious ritual, a steady “beeeeeeeep” noise started and wouldn’t stop.

          “What the heck, I’ll never be able to sleep with that stupid noise!” was my irate rant.

          In a fit, I tore apart the room looking for the beep’s source. I began by checking the most common hotel noise offenders, but none of them were the cause. The noise seemed to be everywhere, yet I couldn’t find where it was coming from. The odd thing was that it didn’t change in volume as I moved around the room, although the pitch did occasionally change. I spent ten minutes looking through everything to no avail.

          In my irrational, exhausted state I found the noise even more infuriating than a gnat stuck in my ear or any Psy Gangnam song.

          “That’s it! I’m getting a new room,” I yelled.

I’ve always believed that during good economic times hotels give air crew members the “chump rooms” because they aren’t worried about keeping us happy. The chump rooms are the ones with known issues, like: being next to the ice machine, having an air conditioner that sounds like you’ve dropped a spoon in a garbage disposal or having a tub that won’t drain.

I continued my rant, “I’m not going to put up with this chump room nonsense anymore!”

          I didn’t want to go to the front desk because the representatives are usually well trained in calming irrational, sleep-deprived patrons by using slow, welcoming hand gestures and offering free bottled water. I wanted action and didn’t want to subject myself to those Jedi mind tricks, so I called from my room. A very calming agent suggested they send an engineer to help. That sounded reasonable, so I agreed.

          “Rat farts! I just fell for one of their Jedi tricks again!” I thought as I hung up.

          Within a few minutes, a nice engineer arrived. He was about 50 and had large, friendly eyes and a calming manner. He had also been trained in the Jedi art of calming adults in a snit. He could hear the steady, annoying beep, but couldn’t localize the sound either. He calmly checked all the things I had earlier but also had no luck. Soon both of us were on all fours searching under the bed, in the drawers, in the shower etc.

          “I still hear it, but it seems to be changing a little,” he said.

          “I don’t know, it sounds pretty steady to me.” I replied.

          “Okay, let me go out in the hallway and check,” he offered at one time.

          After five minutes of searching, my pleasant engineer was stumped, so he called up his youthful ward, assistant engineer man. The assistant examined everything but was also stumped.

The assistant then suggested we check the hallway once more. Being closest to the door, I said I’d do it. I went out into the hallway and came back to report that the stupid noise was out there as well.

          After a pause, the senior engineer commented that it sounded like the noise was moving around, and his assistant offered that the volume went down when I left the room.

          “OH MY GOD!” I said and snapped my head down to look at the watch on my wrist.

          My super-geek Casio Databank watch display was blinking, so I hit every button on the thing and the noise stopped. It was beeping to warn me of a low battery state.

          Both men started laughing hysterically.

          “Ah, sorry about that,” was all I could say.

          They couldn’t stop laughing and wanted to revel in the moment.

          “Hey, thanks a lot. I guess that’s all I’ll be needing. You guys have a great night.” I continued, uncomfortably trying to move them to the door.

          “It was on his wrist the whole time,” they chuckled as they stumbled out into the hallway.

          Well, after that, Mr. Fastidious added one more item to his nighttime routine, “check watch.” I also shy away from Hilton hotels. I wouldn’t want to run into my snickering helpers again.