Okay, I’m writing another story about my friends Savanna and Jordan, the family with six kids. When I offered to go with her to Austin, I spent the night at her house so we could wake up bright and early to get on the road. For this story, I need to mention Savanna’s mother and stepfather also live with them. Four adults, six kids, four dogs, and a partridge in a pear tree. Nah, I’m just kidding about the partridge.
When I arrived, everyone was at church, and I had the entire house to myself. Well, me and the four dogs, but that’s another story. I curled up on the couch, tumbler of water and a good book to read. That’s when I noticed the camera.
I’m not a fan of certain technology. Alexa doesn’t live at my house, and Siri’s not welcome on my phone. Call me a Luddite, a dinosaur, a Boomer, I don’t care. I don’t like voices talking to me unless they’re coming from humans. I’m not a fan of cameras either. Sure, I get it—they provide security of all kinds. I’ve got friends with cameras all over their house in case of break-ins. Savanna and Jordan, who I’ve discovered are included in that list of friends, use theirs to resolve sibling disputes. I know a family who also adopted kids and they use the cameras for evidence they’re not abusing their children. It’s a crazy world we live in.
Back to my story, me curled up on the couch with my tumbler and my book and four dogs. I spotted the camera then pretended I didn’t see it. What is the protocol regarding cameras? Obviously, I don’t acknowledge stoplight or store cameras with a wave and a smile. But what’s in home camera etiquette? I wasn’t sure, didn’t know who to call, so I pretended not to notice.
Have you ever had a situation that you knew something was there and you made believe that it wasn’t? And the more you tried to act natural, the more awkward you felt? Yep, that was me. I studied the words in my book, unable to concentrate. No, I had to put all my effort into pretending I didn’t know about the camera. As I locked my neck into place, keeping my eyes on the book, I started to wonder. Were they really at church? Maybe they were watching me? I’d refilled my tumbler from the refrigerator—had they seen that? Was that okay?
I thought back to my previous actions. When I took the water, did I open the fridge? I remembered being curious about the contents—what did a family of ten eat? What did they drink? No, I was pretty sure I hadn’t peeked. But what if I had? Would they wonder why I was scouting their food? Did I compromise our friendship with my possible snooping? No, I definitely hadn’t looked, I was pretty sure about that. Whew!
By the time everyone came home, I’d worked myself into a frenzy. I was afraid to move from the couch, terrified any move I made could be interpreted in a negative way. When I questioned Savanna and Jordan about the cameras and learned their reasoning, I confessed. I don’t think I’ve seen adults laugh so hard. They assured me they hadn’t spied on me, they really had been at church. That made me feel better, although pretty silly for being so paranoid.
I’ll never be a fan of these kinds of technology, but next time I go to someone’s house I won’t stress about opening the refrigerator or going to bathroom. And next time I see a camera at a stoplight or in a store, I might just smile and wave.
Jann Goar Franklin graduated Russellville High School in 1985 and lives in Grand Cane, Louisiana. She also writes books, which are for sale at www.jannfranklin.com. You can reach her at jann@jannfranklin.com