Writing Wrongs

July 20, 2007

Edited to add: Because I don’t have enough to do, like writing assignments for two classes, a house to clean, a play to see, and so on, I decided it was time to establish a blog over at Word Press.

I will be transiting over there slowly. I know I’m not the only one a little worried about what’s going to happen to D-land. I downloaded all my entries last night.

Let me know what you think of the new place. Find me at: Writing Wrongs.

So yesterday was Andrew’s actual birthday. Family tradition dictates that the birthday boy/girl gets to choose where to eat. Andrew chose Burger King. Not just any Burger King, mind you, but the one with the indoor play area, the one I refer to as “Stinky Feet” Burger King.

Because that play area? It smells like stinky kid feet. So, there I sat. The kids played. I flipped through a ketchup-covered portion of the newspaper while an anemic Muzak version of Andrew Lloyd Webber's All I Ask of You was pumped through the speakers.

Ah, ambiance. You just can’t buy that. Fortunately, all my children ask of me is that I take them to Stinky Feet Burger King once in a while.

In other consumer related experiences, it was time to get Andrew new glasses this week. We typically go to this place in the mall, since the cost is reasonable. You know you’re in trouble at the eye doctor when the salesperson tries pushing $350-pairs of glasses at you for you eleven-year-old boy, who is only going to break them.

First, we tried another eyeglass store in the mall. It’s in an out of the way corner, so I thought, great, less traffic = good deals.

I thought wrong. Their “deal” was all the high end stuff. Like Andrew needs Prada glasses. Like I need Prada glasses. We backed out slowly, trying not to touch anything.

We returned, shamefacedly, to the other glasses place, where the exact same sale force that was working last year was working this year. Let me tell you, they are not excited about this fact.

We tried to get the same frames for Andrew that we found last year through trial and error. By “trial and error” I mean, the glasses that while completely whipped, didn’t actually break. They didn’t have them in the same color. They have gunmetal and bright blue. Brown? Sorry. No luck.

Our enthused eyeglass specialist: “I suppose I could see if we could special order them in brown.”

Not that he made a move to the computer that was three steps away to check for us. Instead, he kept handing Andrew pink eyeglass frames to try on.

Our enthused eyeglass specialist: “Sorry. I’m colorblind.”

Clearly, we were on our own.

Which wasn’t such a bad thing. We not only found an almost-but-not-quite duplicate of his old frames, but some rockin’ sports goggles for football season. We also discovered that lousy customer service = pretty darn good mother/son bonding time. We were laughing so hard by the time we left the store, I’m surprised they didn’t throw us out.

I guess they were too busy handing people pink frames and not checking the computer.



Rock on.

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 9:50 a.m.

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