Like many Americans, I hate the time change. I honestly don’t see the point. The one in the spring is the worst, especially if you’re a night person like me. The argument that “you only lose an hour for one day” is not a valid one, since it can take weeks for many people to adjust.
It’s especially hard on teachers and students. My wife, a retired teacher, often told me that the first period after the springtime change was filled with bleary-eyed students who had trouble staying awake. Kids waiting for school buses in the dark isn’t smart either.
But you’ve heard these arguments before. Here’s one you haven’t heard.
And I am not making this up.
When I worked in my father’s delicatessen during high school and college, Sundays were a bit different. A bakery delivered a big box of donuts, and we tried to open a little early for that crowd.
The other big seller Sunday mornings? Coffee.
Since this was a big drinking town I got used to the “hangover look” from customers on Sunday mornings. The liquor store next door did a booming business on Saturday, so several of our regulars would stagger in like zombies on Sunday morning after a hard Saturday night.
This particular spring Sunday was the day of the time change. In case you didn’t know, the “official” change occurs at two in the morning, the theory being it won’t screw up things like train schedules and other stuff.
So one of our regulars staggered in. He wasn’t a member of the usual hangover gang, but on this day he looked the part. Eyes half-open, yawning.
Dad was waiting on someone else so I took this customer. “Morning. Can I help you?”
“Coffee.”
“How do you take it?”
He muttered something that sounded like, “Ugg.”
“I’m sorry… black? Cream and sugar? Waddaya want?”
“Oh. Light and sweet. Lotta sugar. Leave the lid off, I’ll drink it here.”
He looked like he needed it. I fixed a cup and handed it to him. He then pointed at the box of donuts. “Gimme a jelly.”
I wrapped a donut in a napkin and handed it to him. He immediately took a bite, spilling powdered sugar all over his shirt. He pulled out his wallet.
I rang him up on the cash register. “Rough night, huh?”
He paid me as he talked through the donut. “Uh-huh.”
“One too many?”
He shook his head. “Damn time change.”
“Yeah, I hate losing an hour.”
“It kills me staying up till two in the morning to change the clocks.”
I bit my lip trying not to laugh. My dad doubled over, headed to the back room and into the walk-in cooler where he could shut the door and laugh without anyone hearing him. “Yeah, that’s, uh … tough.”
At this point, I was busting a gut and hoping the guy would leave, but noooo, he continued. “Twice a year changing clocks in the middle of the night! Every spring and fall!”
Thankfully another customer came in so I could move on. The clock changer finished his donut and left.
Here’s my argument: if there’s one person in this country who stays up till the middle of the night to change clocks, there have to be more like him.
So Congress, please pick one time and stick with it so idiots can get a good night’s sleep.
Randy Tatano lives in Brewton and is the author of more than 20 novels, writing political thrillers under the pen name Nick Harlow, and romantic comedies as Nic Tatano. He spent 30 years working in television news as a local affiliate reporter and network field producer. The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to Commentary@1819News.com.
