Harper Ave.

I read the next name from the list.  “Liz?”
“Ughh.” She exerts herself from the floor and crosses to where I am standing.
“I can’t believe you don’t have any chairs in here.”
“I know,” I smile, “but don’t worry.  My shift is only for another 6 hours.”

Startled by either my brazenness or the realization that she would be dealing with another human being today, Liz labors to spit out what it is that brought her all the way through our doors to the cold hard sales floor and eventually to me.  If I were a betting man, and I am, I would wager that poor Liz is here to discuss the lack of service in her home.  Usually these claims by Liz and her neighbors sound similar to one of the following:

I get, literally, no service at home.

I can’t make a phone call to save my life. (perhaps also literally)

My friends get reception on their phones when they come over and I’m 

embarrassed to say that I don’t. (you shouldn’t be, it’s not your fault)

Why am I paying for service that I can’t even use?

Los Angeles is not the most socially gracious of towns.  People don’t always greet one another upon passing and, I am loathe to admit, in place of this greeting, we are probably trying to figure out a) if we know you b) if we should know you c) if you should be categorized as friend/foe, talker/walker or hipster/homeless.  

Harper Ave has become the exception.  

On Harper Ave, as the sun begins to set and folks get home, the local citizens walk outside and chat in front of their houses.  They pace the lawn, sit on the porch, wave at one another as they pass.  The wind blows softly through the trees as the scene for Our Town takes shape and people appear to be friendly, neighborly, almost Southern.  In the evenings on Harper Ave, the people come together in a way they never have before.  They gather on the streets and meet in their yards because none of them can get any cell phone service in their houses.  So they wave at one another as they carry on with the conversation they are having through the device in their other hand.  If it weren't for our lack of coverage, they may never see one another.  Hey, when the Phone Company promised to connect you to your world, they never said how they would do it.  

My first years of convincing people they could afford a cell phone often hinged on the argument that they could save that money by getting rid of their landlines.  "Why would you want a stationary phone when you can take yours wherever you go?"  It made sense and we believed it.  I swear, cell phone reception used to happen inside buildings.  Over time, quantity has surpassed quality and The Company has begun boasting about the number of people they cover instead of how well they cover each one. 

"We cover 97% of all Americans..." boasts a poster hanging in the windows of our retail store location.  There is a confusing explanation in the fine print that could be much clearer to the average person if it simply continued, "...so long as they’re standing in the middle of the street."