For Housewives, Help Could Be Just 900 Number Away

You’ve probably seen the late-night TV ads for the various 900 numbers. Most are aimed at that most troubled and pitiable segment of our society, single men, and are set up to let the poor slugs know that someone out there--all of them, interestingly, named Ginger--really cares about them.

Paying upward of 20 bucks for a sympathetic conversation with a faceless stranger may seem odd, but it clearly fills a void in these men’s drab existences. Where else are they supposed to go when nobody understands the depth of their cares and woes?

All of which makes me think there’s a tremendous untapped market in the 900 industry for another misunderstood group whose plight rivals that of single men and yet are also universally ignored.

Housewives.

We once thought they were the happiest people around, because it looked like all they did was make peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches, do some laundry and watch afternoon TV shows. Modern sociology, however, has shown us that they’re quite possibly harboring deep dissatisfactions that, frankly, have proven to be too much for therapists. Indeed, it seems that only a 900 phone line could help them.

The ad campaign would be simple: “Are you married to a thoughtless, selfish goof? Does your husband treat the pizza delivery boy with more respect than he does you? If so, call us. Call us now.”

The phone lines would be hopping.

Caller: Hi, this is Sandra, and I think I’m going crazy.

900 Line: Hi, Sandra. This is Jeff. Talk to me. Why do you think you’re going crazy?

Sandra: My husband and I were out working in the garden last weekend, and I really wanted to sneak up behind him and hit him with a shovel.

Jeff: It sounds like he doesn’t understand you.

Sandra: I know he doesn’t understand me. The worst part is, he doesn’t even want to. He thinks I’m totally uninteresting.

Jeff: What else, Sandra? Do you mind if I call you Sandy?

Sandra: Sure, go ahead. He never listens to me. We were sitting in the living room the other night and I must have spent 15 minutes talking to him about wanting to go back to school and take some classes. Do you know what he said when I was finished?

Jeff: I could just about guess.

Sandra: He said, “Do what you want to do.” Not, “Why does that subject interest you?” or “Are you getting bored at home?” or, God forbid, “That sounds like a great idea!”

Jeff: So, he doesn’t support you? That’s so shortsighted of him.

Sandra: Thanks, Jeff, but it’s not just a matter of support. It’s a matter of looking at me when I’m talking to him and listening. If for just five minutes I could get the same attention that he gives the fourth quarter of the NBA playoffs, I’d be the happiest woman alive.

Jeff: He probably says he’s tired at the end of the day.

Sandra: He’s tired? He sits at work all day doing who knows what. I don’t see him making a hundred trips a day taking the kids to school, picking them up, running them to soccer games that always start at three different times, picking up the laundry, going to the grocery store, talking to the school principal. And that doesn’t even include dealing with the kids and a house full of friends after school. And having dinner ready for him!

Jeff: That’s an incredible number of chores for any one person. I can tell you’re dedicated to making the kids happy and giving them a good childhood experience.

Sandra: I am. You’re right, Jeff. Why doesn’t my husband see that? Why does he take me for granted and reduce me in stature just because I’m not working? I’m sure he finds the women in his office much more interesting.

Jeff: That’s just because he’s a typical male pig, Sandra. He equates bringing home the money with ruling the household. I hate it when men do that.

Sandra: Oh, Jeff, you’re so right. He is a pig. How come you know these things and my husband doesn’t?

Jeff: Because I’m taking the time to listen, Sandy.

Sandra: Jeff, you’ve been great. I’m going to have all my friends call you.

Jeff: That’s what we’re here for, Sandy.

Sandra: Jeff, this has been so uplifting. You must be a terrific husband. Are you married?

Jeff: Not right now. I was, though. Four times.

Sandra: You poor thing. Your wives probably didn’t understand you, did they?

Jeff: Not a one of them.