Are you eyes red and fingers blistered from surfing for that perfect
deal online?
For the next few weeks there will be links and offers no one can resist.
How about some plaid golf knickers? No? How about golf club covers in the shape
of animal heads? Your wife needs a mop. Throw in a broom and you will be a hero
for Christmas day. You can hide it in the closet because no one looks in there.
The little ones want whatever is popular that day, but you’ll fill their
stockings with socks, a new toothbrush, and some deodorant. It is OK because
the fascination in the gifting is tearing open the paper to find a treasure.
Don’t worry for they are too busy downloading games on your credit card.
Now not a big shopper (anymore) for I think I have more than enough, I
want to get into the spirit. To wander to some giant hall of merchandise with
frantic folks grabbing gigantic TV screens and Bluetooth speakers to go with
the 100-roll pack of t-paper and some ugly dishtowels for Aunt Beth is not my
dream of how to spend time. I get my adventure at the Tummy Temple and leave
quickly.
Since I hadn’t expensed anything recently, I decided to buy a birthday
present for myself. No guitars this year but I get online to search for some
CDs. The local ‘record’ store has bins full of music to fascinate hours of
detective activity trying to find that perfect gift, but usually they don’t
have my unique taste.
Amazon welcomed me as a Prime Member and I went directly to what I was
looking for. The prices seemed pretty high but I bought the vinyl in the last
century. They even remembered my credit card number and with a few clicks, I
was getting emails of estimated delivery time. Wasn’t that easy?
Having succeeded in this attempt to please myself with consumption, I
remembered I never found that lawnmower. Open the second bottle of wine and
dive into the adventure.
I log on with my secret
password and search “Lawn Mower”. My options are riding or gas or battery or
corded and problem some I missed. Click the box and up comes the selections
with descriptions and prices. Being a wish shopper I compared the features and
reviews and settled on one at the right price.
Where was my ‘Add To Cart’?
Then the little window appeared in the bottom corner (like the Microsoft
paperclip) and asked if I need help.
I typed the item number and asked, “How do I add this to my cart?”
(Remember there is no real wire cart, just a metaphor). The person on the other
end of the line was trying to be most helpful, but had to pass me on to a
supervisor.
I again explained my problem and after a few minutes it seems this
particular product was unavailable in my area.
I understand buying a lawnmower in the winter is like buying a snow
blower in the summer.
I thanked whatever was on the other end of the line and shut down
wondering why they would post something on their website that was not available
(but that is another story).
The next morning I went back (if nothing else I’m persistent) and
searched some of the other lawnmowers. They ALL had ‘Add To Cart’ buttons except the one I had originally chosen.
Perhaps this was a communist plot? Was this a conspiracy to keep me from once a
year trimming some weeds that the string trimmer didn’t get? Perhaps there was
a sanction that particular model?
After this, I’ll go back, log in, and select a model of comparable price
and features and ‘Add To Cart’.
Ha! There you go cyber-shopping.
Now it will just be waiting for emails and phone calls announcing
approximate time-of-arrival with delays for weather and road conditions and
possible wreckage with all the other delivery trucks. Free delivery is like
waiting for Santa Clause. Should I put out cookies and milk?
When everything arrives and is unpacked and the mounds of cardboard
stuffed into the recycle bin and the assembly instructions studied for the big
exam hoping that little plastic bag of parts doesn’t have a hole in it.
By then snow will be on the ground and I’ll just pack it up in the
corner waiting spring and forget where it is.
This has nothing to do with cyber-shopping but I noticed and have spoken
of Christmas stocking stuffers. One of those presents is a male beard trimmer.
There have been a multitude of brands filling my medicine cabinet through the
years. All were well-intentioned gifts, but rarely used. The last torture
machine that keep running out of juice in the middle of a shave was tossed.
There will still one hand held grinder that seemed to work well, but I couldn’t
find all those weird attachments to make people think you hadn’t shaved when you
had just shaved to look like you hadn’t shaved.
Since this is the time of year that if I let the facial hair grow I get
mistaken for St. Nick with girls wanting to sit on my lap. Little kids become
enamored before the 25th day of the month. Hoo Hoo Hoo!
Not finding all the shaving attachments for the ‘last’ razor, I picked
up one that looked exactly like the one I have at home and dropped it in my
cart.
Trying to be organized, I try to keep things in their proper place. All
the spoons together, all the pencils lined up in the same direction and all the
shaving utensils in a special drawer. Now was the time to clean out the
‘shaving drawer’.
All sorts of weird attachments to some unknown prehistoric device were
found and since they didn’t fit, were put to rest.
Through the ages I’ve had every sort of devised instruments of pain to
clip or pull hair from my face. Straight razors, single blade razors, multiple
blade razors, rotary razors were all part of my bathroom routine. If the
gouging wasn’t enough, there were tonics to splash on your injured skin to
raise the ire of the banshee. Photos don’t give a good representation of the
results.
Always felt for the ladies shaving their armpits and their legs and that
upper lip thing and whatever the caterpillar that grows between the eyebrows.
Using the hedge trimmer, jackhammer, and circular saw, the thick plastic
container to my NEW electric beard trimmer was opened. All the attachments were
separated and the power cord and instruction put into a little black bag that
came with it. So organized.
Then I thought about a similar black bag in another room.
Yes, it was the same items in the same black bag but not in the organized
shaving items drawer.
So now I have two-duplicate razors. I guess I could use one in
each hand, but will be content that I have a backup.
Hope next year I don’t buy another one.
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