Making Lemonade
This is likely to be the most optimistic post I'll ever write. But it's a sunny-side-of-things simply because looking at it any other way is detrimental. I pick lemons. Not the fruit, but the shoddy, one in thousands of a product that either doesn't work or already broken. Everybody (hopefully) has come across this issue at least once in their lives.
For example, my very first cell phone came with a charger that didn't work unless it was positioned in a certain and very unnatural way. Being that I was a freshman in college with no money or resources to find another, I waited the few months until I went home for Thanksgiving. I've been through seven iPods in eight years. When the iPod touch came out, I went and got it--only to find that the songs would skip to the next within a few seconds of starting, then the entire touchscreen would stop working until it was rebooted. When I took it back to the store no one could believe it and all claimed they had never seen anything like it. I'm not joking: they started calling coworkers over to look at it while I'm standing there, waiting for my shiny new working iPod.
When I bought a car, the CD player didn't work. It worked, but when I hit the "skip" button it would keep going, waaaay past the number of songs---up to the 50s, I believe, then on to the next disc.
I went to buy a new DVD player and "The Notebook," and when I got home the whole thing just froze--the screen, the buttons, nothing worked. So I went right back and exchanged it. Got home, the DVD still just froze, but this time the buttons worked. I had literally picked a lemon DVD player and DVD at the same time. So I got up and went back to Target. Again.
There are really countless other stories, a broken glass top for a desk from Ikea, headphones that just didn't work…I'm a magnet for the subpar choices in material objects.
So of course I look at these with a sense of humor and just chalk it up to being a hot mess. What other option is there? It's funny, even though it's also the biggest pain in the ass. So imagine how unsurprised I was two weeks ago when my debit/credit card stopped working, only to find that someone had tried to purchase things with it. It's the 4th time in three years. In fact, this past November someone hacked into my account and bought over $1,000 of stuff at some electronics store in Florida. I immediately called the bank and, true to form, got the lemon representative. She told me to call the stores where items had been purchased and ask them to void or cancel the transaction. I asked her if that would really work and she said yes. So when I called the 1-800 number displayed in my bank account, and the guy on the other end might have thought I was new in town or on drugs. What could he do?? I realized how stupid I sounded and immediately called the bank back. The nice, new person I spoke with couldn't believe the advice I had been given, and though he didn't say so, I imagine he was surprised I even tried it.
So, I am now on my 4th card. And what do you know--they sent me two new cards. I don't know if they did this to be safe or if there was yet another mistake, but I activated one and decided to save the other for the next time these shenanigans happen.
This perpetual dark cloud over me has only taught me to laugh at these things. You can't possibly imagine how long it takes me to select a product on the shelf. I reach for the deodorant, but then decide to go with the one further back in the row, but then back to the first and so on, like a tennis match or something.
It's happened with people, too. When I went to the University of Houston for a year, I was overwhelmed with the number of students and the size of the campus. I missed more than half the first week of classes trying to find the damn buildings. So by that first Thursday I parked at a meter because I was doubtful of finding my political science class, plus it was the only class I had Tuesdays and Thursdays.
The rest of this is 100% true: as I was walking back to my car, overly pleased with myself for finding the class and catching the last 30 minutes, a car pulled up beside me. Parking at UH is a nightmare. Sometimes it took longer to trek from the car to class than the classes themselves, and people were always everywhere. Two girls pull up next to me and ask if they can give me a ride to my car (I knew it was to get my space, but I didn't care). I cheerfully said yes and got into the back seat with thoughts racing through my head, "friends! I'm making friends! Maybe this whole thing isn't such a nightmare and everything will be great. These girls will be my friends and I won't have to walk around lost and alone anymore. Who knew that I would meet people so quickly, if they kidnap and scalp me, who cares?" etc. I might have even foreseen us all sharing an apartment…I was excited.
They turned around and asked me where I was parked. When I told them the general direction, overly eager I'm sure, they got kind of quiet and talked amongst themselves. The driver turned back around and asked, "Wait, are you at a meter?" I told her yes. Her response? "We're going to be here longer than two hours today, so…." she trailed off. I responded with some sort of apology for the confusion while waiting for her to drive me to my car. She just looked at me, so I said, "Oh, you want me to get out?" and she nodded. I mean, for that embarrassment she could have at least driven me to my car!!! They drove about 10 feet before stopping someone else and letting them in. Needless to say, I quickly learned parking etiquette and never got into another car again.
The even more unfortunate side to this story is that while I was at U of H I parked at lots of meters. My class schedule worked out nicely with the timing and they were the best spots. Though there were a few times that I stayed past the meter's time, or a couple times I didn't have change, I thought nothing of it. Just some campus parking tickets. I figured the tickets would go onto my tuition bill and my folks could pay the fines. Nope. Two and a half years later I was in Spain studying abroad when I got a few emails from my family. The first was from my dad to my mom and brother and me in his terse, all uncapitalized letters without any punctuation describing the scene when he left the courthouse that morning with a colleague. He had been driving my car and when they approached it he noticed a gigantic yellow boot on it. The proceeding emails were from my brother and mom, both telling me I was lucky as Hell to be in another country, even another American city was too close for his wrath. I didn't know that campus parking tickets were also City of Houston parking tickets. If the story is brought up today, even eight years later, he gets thin lips and kinda grunts.
Whoopsie.
Lemons are a beautiful and delicious fruit. People say, "this is delicious, what's in it?!" and the response is likely to be "lemon." Ironic.
For example, my very first cell phone came with a charger that didn't work unless it was positioned in a certain and very unnatural way. Being that I was a freshman in college with no money or resources to find another, I waited the few months until I went home for Thanksgiving. I've been through seven iPods in eight years. When the iPod touch came out, I went and got it--only to find that the songs would skip to the next within a few seconds of starting, then the entire touchscreen would stop working until it was rebooted. When I took it back to the store no one could believe it and all claimed they had never seen anything like it. I'm not joking: they started calling coworkers over to look at it while I'm standing there, waiting for my shiny new working iPod.
When I bought a car, the CD player didn't work. It worked, but when I hit the "skip" button it would keep going, waaaay past the number of songs---up to the 50s, I believe, then on to the next disc.
I went to buy a new DVD player and "The Notebook," and when I got home the whole thing just froze--the screen, the buttons, nothing worked. So I went right back and exchanged it. Got home, the DVD still just froze, but this time the buttons worked. I had literally picked a lemon DVD player and DVD at the same time. So I got up and went back to Target. Again.
There are really countless other stories, a broken glass top for a desk from Ikea, headphones that just didn't work…I'm a magnet for the subpar choices in material objects.
So of course I look at these with a sense of humor and just chalk it up to being a hot mess. What other option is there? It's funny, even though it's also the biggest pain in the ass. So imagine how unsurprised I was two weeks ago when my debit/credit card stopped working, only to find that someone had tried to purchase things with it. It's the 4th time in three years. In fact, this past November someone hacked into my account and bought over $1,000 of stuff at some electronics store in Florida. I immediately called the bank and, true to form, got the lemon representative. She told me to call the stores where items had been purchased and ask them to void or cancel the transaction. I asked her if that would really work and she said yes. So when I called the 1-800 number displayed in my bank account, and the guy on the other end might have thought I was new in town or on drugs. What could he do?? I realized how stupid I sounded and immediately called the bank back. The nice, new person I spoke with couldn't believe the advice I had been given, and though he didn't say so, I imagine he was surprised I even tried it.
So, I am now on my 4th card. And what do you know--they sent me two new cards. I don't know if they did this to be safe or if there was yet another mistake, but I activated one and decided to save the other for the next time these shenanigans happen.
This perpetual dark cloud over me has only taught me to laugh at these things. You can't possibly imagine how long it takes me to select a product on the shelf. I reach for the deodorant, but then decide to go with the one further back in the row, but then back to the first and so on, like a tennis match or something.
It's happened with people, too. When I went to the University of Houston for a year, I was overwhelmed with the number of students and the size of the campus. I missed more than half the first week of classes trying to find the damn buildings. So by that first Thursday I parked at a meter because I was doubtful of finding my political science class, plus it was the only class I had Tuesdays and Thursdays.
The rest of this is 100% true: as I was walking back to my car, overly pleased with myself for finding the class and catching the last 30 minutes, a car pulled up beside me. Parking at UH is a nightmare. Sometimes it took longer to trek from the car to class than the classes themselves, and people were always everywhere. Two girls pull up next to me and ask if they can give me a ride to my car (I knew it was to get my space, but I didn't care). I cheerfully said yes and got into the back seat with thoughts racing through my head, "friends! I'm making friends! Maybe this whole thing isn't such a nightmare and everything will be great. These girls will be my friends and I won't have to walk around lost and alone anymore. Who knew that I would meet people so quickly, if they kidnap and scalp me, who cares?" etc. I might have even foreseen us all sharing an apartment…I was excited.
They turned around and asked me where I was parked. When I told them the general direction, overly eager I'm sure, they got kind of quiet and talked amongst themselves. The driver turned back around and asked, "Wait, are you at a meter?" I told her yes. Her response? "We're going to be here longer than two hours today, so…." she trailed off. I responded with some sort of apology for the confusion while waiting for her to drive me to my car. She just looked at me, so I said, "Oh, you want me to get out?" and she nodded. I mean, for that embarrassment she could have at least driven me to my car!!! They drove about 10 feet before stopping someone else and letting them in. Needless to say, I quickly learned parking etiquette and never got into another car again.
I mean, a rocket scientist or engineer would have trouble with this!
The even more unfortunate side to this story is that while I was at U of H I parked at lots of meters. My class schedule worked out nicely with the timing and they were the best spots. Though there were a few times that I stayed past the meter's time, or a couple times I didn't have change, I thought nothing of it. Just some campus parking tickets. I figured the tickets would go onto my tuition bill and my folks could pay the fines. Nope. Two and a half years later I was in Spain studying abroad when I got a few emails from my family. The first was from my dad to my mom and brother and me in his terse, all uncapitalized letters without any punctuation describing the scene when he left the courthouse that morning with a colleague. He had been driving my car and when they approached it he noticed a gigantic yellow boot on it. The proceeding emails were from my brother and mom, both telling me I was lucky as Hell to be in another country, even another American city was too close for his wrath. I didn't know that campus parking tickets were also City of Houston parking tickets. If the story is brought up today, even eight years later, he gets thin lips and kinda grunts.
Whoopsie.
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