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They do it with one goal in mind: to alert you, the dummy, that something is amiss, or done, or desiring your instant attention, or just plain old messed up. Alas, much of the time they beep just because they can, with that mysterious machine intelligence that knows exactly how best to irritate the stupid humans.
I don't know about anybody else, but I'm sick and tired of playing the stooge for a host of smart aleck devices that don't seem to know who is boss. I'll tell you who is boss.
"I AM THE STINKING BOSS, AND IF THEY DON'T QUIT BEEPING I WILL MASH THEM ALL INTO LITTLE, ITSY, BITSY BITS!"
Ahhhhh, that felt good. Knowing that with one ten dollar hammer I could mash the bleep out of every beep in the whole world is quite a feeling of empowerment.
Sadly, the world would probably end if all the beepers were suddenly bleeped out of existence. And if I was the one responsible, I’m sure mobs would fight for the chance to snatch away my ten-dollar hammer and put knots all over my noggin.
My late wife, Joy, knew how to decipher every one of the many beeps that dominate our house, even though they all sound the same to the average human ear. The washing machine, dryer, dishwasher, oven, microwave, answering machine, three cell phones, computer and smoke detectors (which, by the way, are so sensitive a small dose of flatulence can set them off) are all liable to go off at any time of the night or day.
I'm pretty sure there are other bleeping beepers in the house besides the standards, but maybe it just seems that way.
Just because of my wife's beep deciphering talents, I started to assume it was a gender thing. Then I was at the counter of a local quickie mart, only the lady checker and me in the whole place, and something started beeping.
"Is that your phone?" she asked, hopefully I thought.
"No, I thought it was yours," I replied, dashing her hopes.
We both looked around the store in search of a vertically challenged cellphone wielder. No such luck, and the beeps continued to sing out every five seconds or so.
"Bleep!" she muttered, obviously distressed by the nagging reoccurrence of a beep from beyond.
Despite feeling a sympathetic urge to help her find her beepish tormentor, I had places to go and beeps of my own to suffer through. I wished her luck and beat feet out to my old truck, which, by the way, was totally and completely beep free.
I once owned a digital watch that beeped every day at 9:47 AM. Nothing I did could stop it, but luckily the watch committed suicide by leaping off of my wrist into a lake. I guess the beeps finally got to it.
My present watch has hands, and as far as I can tell it does not make obscene gestures at me.
I suppose it might be though. I don't know how to read sign language, but I have a pretty good idea what the sign would be for "beep."
12 o'clock and all is well, it beeps silently.