Radio Shack is not one of my usual haunts. Oh sure, I’ve spent my share of time there over the years; a spool of coaxial cable here, a set of RCA jacks there, but that’s about it. Once, during the summer after my junior year in college, I went there and bought some wire and a low voltage switch and, though I was old enough to know better, rigged the license plate, tail and brake lights in my Toyota Celica so I could turn them off without shutting off my headlights. I wasn’t much for adhering to speed limits and thought if I ever had to evade the clutches of Johnny Law during a late night run on a back road someplace, not being easily followed would be a good thing. It’s only felony evasion if they catch you. I never got caught.

I also never went to the ‘Shack for batteries. Everyone’s heard that now-hacky line, “If all I’m buying are batteries, why do they need my phone number?” But in the days before Best Buy and the internet, with me it was more like, “If all I’m buying is this cheesy, knock-off walkman, why do they need my phone number?” Times have changed of course and now they ask you for your email address, which I am just as reluctant to disclose.

So my battery purchases were not made there because I never trusted ‘em (why I did trust them enough to buy a cheesy, knock-off walkman is an inconsistency in my narrative that you’ll just have to accept). I want my batteries to say “Duracell” or “Energizer” on them, not “Radio Shack” which I viewed as being even further down the battery totem than “Ray-O-Vac.” Ray-O-Vac?? That genius moniker from the Mad Men must have come out of the post-modern era when everyone thought we’d be driving flying cars by now. Does that company still exist? If so their market share has been severely eroded. I guess Robert Conrad, schilling for Duracell, left an indelible impression on me as a child with that tough guy line, “Go on, knock it off my shoulder. I dare you.” I don’t know what that was supposed to mean, but if Pappy Boyington said they were good batteries, that was enough for me. Plus the name: “DURA – cell.” Get it? If not, just ask the good folks over there at Durex condoms. Wouldn’t you love to work for an advertising company and think up crap like that all day?

It had been a while since I had darkened Radio Shack’s door but recently I decided to run down there because my cordless phone’s rechargeable battery pack had finally given up. It would charge for hours and still only have enough juice for “Hello, let me grab the other phone” before cutting off the annoyed party on the other end of the line. Also, the battery in my car’s garage door opener gizmo had died, forcing me to actually get out of the car and manually open said door. The battery in that thing is some weird size I’d never seen before, as if a watch battery and a triple “A” battery had mated. I’d looked for one in several places but to no avail. But you can count on the ‘Shack for having those oddly shaped batteries you never see anywhere else. There’s a tag-line for you, Madison Avenue: “Radio Shack – For all you need in fucked up battery sizes.”

So I walk into the store Friday afternoon and there are no other customers, just a gaggle of sales people standing around talking; waiting for someone to come in that they can assist. But I like to case a joint first; size things up and decide for myself if I want to ask for help before some over-eager clerk follows me around until I give in and let them show me where something is. Sometimes I’ll say I’m looking for something I just happen to be standing near. Maybe I’m there for boxer shorts but I ask “Can you show me where the sport coats are? Oh, right! Here they are; I’m standing amidst 20 racks of them. Hey, thanks!”

Call me unassuming but the under-the-radar approach is just how I like to roll. Unfortunately I see that’s not going to happen on this day as a too perky twenty-something breaks off from the pack of gadget junkies and approaches me, brightly asking if she can be of any assistance. "Why yes, I assume you can" I say, despite my previously mentioned unassuming nature. "I need one of these and one of these" as I hold up a non-typical battery in each hand.

"Oh, I can help you with those!" She nearly shouts and takes them from me and goes over to a wall with enough batteries hanging on it to light up Chuck Woolery's smile for an entire episode of the Dating Game. Back in less than two and two, she had the replacement batteries in hand.

"Ok!!” Yikes.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, thank you. That's it." I can be a cynical bastard, but at least I'm polite.

Way too damn enthusiastically she then asked "And what kind of free cell phone would you like today?"

“Um…”

I stared at her blankly as my brain scrolled through possible responses to this non sequitur. Coming up with nothing satisfactory, survival mode kicked in. I cleverly responded with:

“I’m sorry…?” 

“What kind of free cell phone would you like?” The chick hacked at me again with this odd question she was oddly super happy about asking. Her grin reminded me of that on an evil clown.

I filtered her query sufficiently to determine this was her pitch to try and sell me a wireless phone service plan. My riposte:

“So you’re going to give me a free cell phone because I’m buying batteries? Great, I’ll take an iPhone, please. eBay, here I come.” 

It was her turn to stammer. “Uh, no sir, we’re offering a free cell phone when you sign up with one of our offered wireless service providers.” She then recovered nicely. “What kind of phone do you have now? We offer plans with Sprint, T-Mobile, Nextel…”

I zoned out. My mind drifted to a spring day in another place where there were no cell phones but birds sang and the sun glowed warmly just over the horizon to the east. Breezes ruffled the tree leaves quietly and I could feel the cold dew of the grass on my bare feet. Somewhere from the back of my mind, the Moody Blues started up with side one of Days of Future Past…But then in the distance, faintly at first but getting louder, a cell phone was ringing. Damn it. Soon it was all I could hear and my serene setting dissolved into a wall covered in electronic device chargers. The cell phone ring morphed into a woman’s voice. “Sir? Sir? Do you have a preference for your new wireless phone service provider? I can sign you up for a new contract or I can get you a great deal on renewing your old one!”

I was no longer in the mood for a snappy reply. “No thanks. I really just came in for batteries. Can I pay for these now?”

Crestfallen, she ran my credit card through, handed me my card, receipt and new batteries and I quickly walked back out to my car.

As I drove out of the parking lot I mourned the loss of this time I would never get back. Why is everything so fucking complicated? I just wanted some goddamn batteries and I find myself sparing over cell phone plans.

I turned off my cell phone for the ride home and searched my iPod for some Moody Blues.

I haven’t been back to the Shack since.

*****