Writing a Column? Nothing to It

Jerry Seinfeld shook up NBC last week when he announced that “Seinfeld” wouldn’t be back for another season. One of television’s top-rated shows for several years, “Seinfeld” has prided itself on being about “nothing.”

For a show about nothing, Jerry Seinfeld’s salary is really something. He reportedly makes in excess of $1 million an episode.

That’s more than I make, and I went in to see my boss.

“I’m thinking of making some changes in the column next year,” I said.

“I’m all ears,” the boss said.

“I’m thinking of writing ‘bout nothing.”

“I thought you said you were making some changes?”

“Very funny,” I said. “An obvious gag, but maybe I can use it someday. Seriously, I’m thinking of making the column exclusively about nothing. Every column, every week. All nothing, all the time.”

My boss squirmed in his chair. “But they’ll be funny, right?”

“Not necessarily. Humor is subjective. A lot of people think they’re funny, but they aren’t. Look at all the TV sitcoms that no one watches and movie comedies that no one goes to. Instead, I’ll give them consistency.”

“Consistency about nothing?”

“Exactly.”

“It will always be about nothing?”

“Every single column.”

“Like, for instance?”

“You’re at the movies and there’s a huge concessions line. The movie’s about to start and everyone is impatient, but rather than having a whole bunch of Cokes already poured to speed things along, the Coke guy is topping off every single drink three or four times. That’s a column right there.”

“That’s not really much to write about,” my boss said.

“Exactly. Or how about the same long movie line, where precision in ordering is crucial, and someone gets to the front of the line after waiting 10 minutes and they just then begin deciding what they want.”

“That drives me nuts,” my boss said. “What have they been thinking about the last 10 minutes?”

“Correct! That’s another column.”

“You’d write two separate columns about people in movie lines?”

“You bet. Or, here’s one guys would relate to: You’re washing your hands after going to the bathroom. The sink water splashes up, and where does it always hit you? That’s right, right below the belt line. A hundred places it could go, and it always goes right where you don’t want it. Makes it look like you didn’t do an effective job in the restroom. Then, you have to skulk around for the next 10 minutes, hoping nobody sees the watermark on your pants.”

“That happens to me all the time,” my boss said. “A column, huh?”

“Sure is. Or, why is it that when you’re switching stations on your car radio and you come upon a song you really like, it’s always at the end of the song instead of the beginning?”

“That’s a column?”

“Yep. And we could do one about those automated card machines in grocery store checkout lines. Have you ever been behind anyone who knew how to operate it correctly?”

“Nope.”

“Bingo. Column.

“Why do restaurants serve hot food but have the air-conditioning on so high that the food chills instantly?”

“Beats me.”

“That’s a column.”

“What about local politics?” the boss said. “We’ve got a sheriff’s election coming up in ’98. That’s not a column, right?”

“Right. That’s about something. We’re writing about nothing. Although, why do so many cops have mustaches? That’s a column.”

“How about one explaining why it always sounds like the phone’s ringing when you’re in the shower?”

“Boss, I think you’re getting the picture.”

“Or, why can’t the cashiers in fast-food restaurants work the cash register? Don’t they train them before actual customers show up?”

“You got it.”

“And you’re convinced people would read them?”

“Sure, it’s the social glue. There’s so much division among groups of people, but if they see that we react the same way to life’s everyday situations and share common experiences, it would show we’re not all that different.”

“I hate to say it,” the boss said, “but you may be on to something. I mean, nothing.”

“Just one other thing. If I’m going to be writing about nothing, I need to get paid for it. How does a million a year sound?”

“Can I get back to you on that?”

“Sure. But why do people always say that when what they really mean is ‘No’?”

“I don’t know,” my boss said. “But that’d be a column, right?”

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821, by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail at dana.parsons@latimes.com.