Eddie's Dilemma

Eddie had wanted a gap year but dad knew better. “Join the family business son.”

He arrived at our new house as his dad’s apprentice. A trustworthy friend had recommended the pair so we left them in the kitchen, to fit taps above the sink and make the right connections to the piping below. While they toiled with spanners and wrenches and bits and bobs of plumbing apparatus, we went food shopping.

When we arrived home the plumber’s white van had departed from our driveway and, much to our relief, they’d locked the front door. A quick inspection of the kitchen proved they had completed the job, properly.

A short time later, while I was at the kitchen bench, elbow deep in meatball mixture, spaghetti sauce simmering, the phone rang. It was Eddie, his voice sounded as wonky as an S bend. “Sorry but I need to ask you something,” he said.

“Sure Eddie, go ahead.”

“On your kitchen bench this morning there was a strange black object with buttons on it. Do you know what I mean?”

“Mm, let me see.” I pushed the bowl of meatball mixture aside. “Ok. Yes, I’ve got it.”

“Well, the thing is,” he continued. “When I touched the buttons on that thing it made a squeaky sound. But when my dad touched them it didn’t. Do you know why?”

“No. I didn’t realize it squeaked.”

“It does. We tried it a few times. And it definitely only squeaked when I touched it. I’ve been worried ever since. Dad’s a bit a bit concerned too now.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you worried?”

He realised a sigh. “What is that thing? Some kind of medical device? What made it squeak? ”

I chuckled. He asked what was so funny.

“You are. Very funny.” 

“Sorry?”

At this point you need to know that the year is 1979 when the type of technology we know about today was unheard of. What we witnessed in fantasy and sci fi movies was entertainment not reality. Star Wars premiered that year blowing everyone’s minds with sound effects, robots and exciting visuals. And around that time we happened to have bought a new TV; it was a German brand, large and full colour. It left our old black and white model in the dark.

“Eddie. That object is a remote control for our new TV.”

“Huh? Never heard of that. Are you having me on?”

“No. It’s a German TV, new in Australia. We’re one of the first to get one. It’s great. You can change channels with the remote control which means you don't have to keep hopping up and down all the time.”

It’s a wonder the plumbers hadn’t activated the telly while pressing buttons, I realized. That would have been interesting.

He said, “Wait a minute. I don’t think we’re talking about the same gadget. This is important. It’s an oblong shaped thing, about four inches by six, with a few rows of silver buttons. I reckon it could be some kind of heart monitor.”

“No Eddie. It’s not. Honestly. It’s for the TV.”

“So why did it squeak when I touched it?”

“No idea, but hold on, I’ll just try something.” I washed my hands and while they were still damp I touched the remote control. It squeaked. “Eddie; I think I may have solved the mystery. Just trying again with dry fingers and-- “

“What happened?”

“Wet fingers. That's what made it squeak. Yours must have been damp; and your dad’s fingers dry. Tell you what, if you have time, pop in tomorrow, I’ll show you how it operates and that will put your mind at rest.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “I’m so relieved. All afternoon I’ve been thinking there was something wrong with me …or Dad. Thinking we’d have to give up working together just when… ….well........I’ve actually started to like plumbing.”

“That’s fantastic, Eddie. I’m glad it’s going well.”

“Thanks. Sorry to bother you.”

 He sounded embarrassed.

 He hung up.