men & appliances: a fable

It’s a fable, but I’m not sure what the moral is.

You may remember that when (in September) I wrote up my ex-husband’s internet dating profile, as I thought it should have read (not that I ever saw it, but I’m positive it never sounded like this), I included the following:

under the ABOUT ME heading:
I’ve had a series of professions, but basically, I don’t like to work, so now I’m retired and I just like to putter around and fix things. My ideal woman would have a lot of broken small appliances that need fixing.

and

under the MY JOB heading:
MY JOB
I’ve been unhappy in three different professions over the past 40 years. What I really wanted was to own a hardware store, but I didn’t find out that Lee’s was for sale till it was already in new hands. Too bad. Now at last I’m retired and can putter around the house getting in your way and fixing your broken small appliances. Or trying to. At least I can twist wire around the broken parts and they’ll probably work as good as new. Or if they don’t, isn’t a broom as good as a vacuum-cleaner, a whisk better than a mixer, the broiler better than a toaster, and pigeons better than telephones? And if you go to bed at 9:30 the way I do and get up at 5:30, who needs electric lights? But fixing things is fun.

* * *

Well, now that I know Performer better, I can inform you that not fixing but buying is his area of expertise. Consumer Reports is his bible, and he gets a special high from electronics — CD players, DVD players, televisions, et al. (whatever that ‘al.’ may be; I wouldn’t know). He guided me in buying a new television, which I needed because I didn’t have a DVD player, and my old tv was so old it had no place to connect a modern DVD player. (I need to play DVDs for professional purposes, and I couldn’t hear the sound when I played them on my laptop.) So I also had to buy a DVD player.

At any rate, this project — just so I could hear the sound on the DVDs I had to play; my ancient tube TV was working fine — took some of Performer’s time in online research, and much more of his time, and mine, in Friday-night expeditions to two local discount electronics / appliances stores.

* * *

The second store, where I actually bought the stuff, closed at 9:30 pm, but at 10:15 pm Performer and I were still there. I was standing exhausted and impatient by a cash register, but P was engaged in intense conversation with two salesmen. Assuring them that he was going to buy a 40- (42-? 50-?) inch flat screen (and he is going to), he was discussing with them the advantages and disadvantages of every possible brand, size, type, and I don’t know what else, because I only overheard them when I wandered over to let them all catch sight of me and remember that I was still among the living.

* * *

It was Donald Trump who wrote The Art of the Deal, and he was thinking large-scale, but Performer could have written the small-scale chapter.

Suppose I buy it with a stand? suppose I buy the Sony 42-inch? suppose I buy the Toshiba 50-inch? suppose I buy the (whatever) 32-inch? and is the warranty a store warranty or a manufacturer’s warranty? how many years is it good for? would I have to bring it in or would you come to my apartment? does that cover parts and labor or just parts? if I connect my (whatever brand) DVD player to (whatever brand) would I need a new cable?

And is delivery included?

And on and on and on and on and onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn……….

* * *

Guys!!

It is a guy-thing, isn’t it?

If I had doubted Performer’s gender, and of course I haven’t for a moment doubted it, I’d be sure of it after a night spent in P.C. Richard’s.

* * *

Well, it felt like a night spent there, at any rate.

My mind was only on the DVD I had to view next weekend: I would have been happy viewing it on a 6-inch Victorian (or even medieval) screen, so long as I could also hear the sound.

* * *

Of course, the 27-inch flat screen I ended up buying will lure Performer to my apartment more often than he would otherwise come (his apartment is out of my range, sort of, but mine is not out of his range).

And he will end up having to buy an air-conditioner for the bedroom of his farm if he wants me to spend time there next summer: his rule is no screens smaller than 27 inches and my rule is no sex when it’s over 82 degrees.

Modern love is not cheap.

* * *

So at any rate, when my older child, C1, asked for a vacuum cleaner for her birthday, and sent me the specs for a $400 one, I forwarded the info to Performer.

C1 had suggested it also be her Christmas present, and that her grandmother and I share the cost, so the expense would be distributed over time and checkbooks.

Nevertheless, I thought Performer could consult his bible and advise us.

* * *

Because I find the purchase of appliances inherently and absolutely uninteresting, I’m going to summarize the drama that ensued:

1) P checked out Consumer Reports and suggested she ask for xx brand, which he had recently bought himself, and which was a mere $300.

2) P and C1 (who had met the day before at the big cousins party, which I’ll blog about later this week), spoke on my cell phone, and P persuaded C1 to ask for the kind he had.

3) She agreed.

4) Later Sunday evening, when I was alone, I looked up the kind P had recommended, and saw that there were complaints about customer service for that brand. I had had trouble with that same store over customer service 30 years ago, and they were horrible. Apparently they still are.

5) So, between 1 and 2 in the morning, I did my own research on all the top 10 Consumer-Reports-recommended vacuum cleaners, and sent C1 off a bunch of messages, finally suggesting yet a third brand, one that cost $150.00

6) This morning I received a message from her that read, I trust performer’s judgment. whatever he and consumer reports recommend is fine.

and, in response to one of my other messages on the same subject, i defer to performer’s expert opinion.

* * *

She just met the guy and he’s god already!!

Just when I’m beginning to realize that he’s not god, just a guy who loves buying electronics and appliances and the art of the deal…..

* * *

So I guess my mother and I will get her the Performer-recommended vacuum cleaner.

Meanwhile, I actually managed to work my new tv this morning to see an old videotape on the screen (Performer spent quite a bit of time connecting my old equipment to the new), and this weekend I’ll see the DVD I need to see for work.

But now I’m warned: I may not let Performer (whom I’ll have to rename Consumer) and his art of the deal drive my buying so much next time.

* * *

The next screen I get will be 18-inches. If they’re still making them like that.

* * *

When we left P.C. Richard’s at midnight or whenever it was, the manager said goodbye to me and then, as Performer left, called after him, ‘Take care, Big Guy.’

!!!!!!

Maybe I’ll sell my old tv on Craig’s list.

Anyone interested?

* * *
UPDATE

I see that in the middle of this post I refer to standing by “a cash register.”

Hmmm.

Do they still exist? and if not, what was I standing by — a pay station? a credit-card-taking place?

My sexagenarian vocabulary dates me.

* * *

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