Val and Bobby stepped onto the elevator and looked around. Every other person on it, without exception, was blankly staring down at his or her phone.
Bobby hiked up his pants and pulled his glasses down to the tip of his nose; Val’s eyes got wide as she shook her head violently side-to-side while mouthing “no” to Bobby. She knew what was coming.
“KIDS today, with their Tweetbooks, and Facepads, and Apple Pods! I remember when phones were used for CALLING people, and by God, the only ones you had were on the end table in the living room at home, or, if you were lucky, maybe you’d find a pay phone at the gas station if it was an emergency! We could go for FIVE MINUTES without having to tell the world we were shouting out loud, or whatever it is you people type with your thumbs. CRIMINY!”, Bobby exclaimed in a high-pitched whine while gesticulating wildly. He looked and sounded like an older, whiter Urkel.
The elevator door opened, and every single person–except Val and Bobby–exited.
Bobby pushed the waist of his pants back down to his actual waist and smiled at Val.
“You cleared ’em out. Proud of yourself?”
“Aw, come on! It’s ‘grouchy old man who looks askance at modern technology’! You know you love him!”
She didn’t really love the character, or that Bobby had a tendency to sometimes treat life like a lame SNL sketch.
But she knew that he knew that she got claustrophobic in crowded elevators and it kind of freaked her out sometimes, and that his dorkiness was his way of looking out for her, and for that, she loved him, no matter what annoying personality he might assume at any given time.