My encounter with Edward Eyeglasshands

Here’s the thing about me.  I’m kind of a time freak.  I’m always punctual and expect others to be as well.  (Here are a few of the excuses I accept, only if accompanied by a polygraph test or certified check.)

1.  I was abducted by a pterodactyl.

2.  I had to do a segment on CNN due to breaking news.

3.  I will give you a large some of money to make up for my tardiness.

Now that we’ve got that established, here’s what transpired a couple of hours ago.

Here's the one thing I like about Sarah Palin. Her Kawasaki glasses.

I took a walk a few blocks down down to Michigan Ave. to have a small adjustment made to my eyeglasses.  (For what I paid for these, they should have come over to my house and fixed them while making me dinner.)

I walk into their boutique on Oak St. from which they were purchased and was promptly directed to their second store a few blocks away in the Bloomingdale building.  Apparently repair person extraordinaire, Edward Eyeglasshands, could be found in location B.

I make my way over to the second building, and up the escalator to the fifth floor.  There, Edward’s assistant tells me that if I return in 20 minutes, my glasses will be ready for pick up.

Okay, fine.  20 minutes, is more than reasonable.  I will meander around the shops in the indoor mall killing time while Mr. Eyeglasshands lovingly (or so, I hope) makes the little adjustments.

A little while later, the alarm on my iPhone goes off signaling that the 20 minutes were up.  (I told you I was a time freak.)  I return to the store all business-y ready to snatch my glasses and head home.  The assistant looks up and says, “May I help you?”

Really?!  You just talked to me twenty minutes ago.  I thought we had a moment.  Apparently you were in a trance.

Me:  Um, yeah.  I was here 20 minutes ago.  You told me to come back in 20 minutes [time freak] to pick up my glasses, so here I am.

Her:  Oh, has it been 20 minutes?

Me:  (inaudibly)  No, it’s really only been three minutes.  I’m just fuckin’ with ya.

Yes, it’s been 20 minutes.  22 minutes actually.  I set the timer on my iPhone.

(inaudibly)  I totally know they hate people [time freaks] like me.  Sorry, but if you tell me 20 minutes, you damn well have my shit ready.

Then Edward Eyeglasshands, himself, makes an appearance.

Him:  M’am.  Could you fill out this form?

Me:  (inaudibly)  I didn’t realize this was the IRS.  Form…WTF?

Him:  We’ll call you when the glasses are ready.

Me: (inadudibly)  Oh, no…he  didn’t!!!!  I’m about to go medieval on his ass.

Sorry, but that’s not going to work for me.  Your assistant said 20 minutes.  I came back 22 minutes later and they are not ready.  So now I need to know how much longer.

Him:  Why don’t you give me another hour?

Me: (inadudibly)  Or why don’t I just beat you with my eyeglass case until blood starts spurting out of your eyeballs.

Again, that isn’t going to work.  Had I known that this was going to turn into an hour and a half project, I would have seen a movie, gone home or done something else.  You are going to have to do better than that.

Him:  Wait. Are these your glasses?

(He holds up a mangled pair of men’s Tag Hauer glasses that look like they came out of the wrong side of an encounter with the running of the bulls at Pamplona.)

Me:  No, last time I checked, I’m pretty sure I’m female.

Him:  Ohhhh…these are your glasses!  (Finally holding up the correct pair.)  Oh, these….these I can have done in 5 minutes.

Me:  Okay, now that’s more like it.  (WTF, was it absolutely necessary for me to have a brain aneurysm for you to figure out which glasses were mine?)

Him:  While I’m working on these, let me give you a few tips.  First, never put your glasses on top of your head. 

(Yeah, no problem. Never do.  I figured out when I was pretty young that my hair doesn’t need vision assistance.)

Secondly, always remove your glasses with two hands, grabbing the frame at both corners. 

(Okay, I’ll try to remember that one.  Not making any promises, though.)

Thirdly don’t tuck one of the temple pieces into your shirt.

(No problem.  I’m pretty sure that my boobs don’t need vision assistance, either.)

Him:  Okay, so here are your glasses.  And we’d like to give you some free eyeglass cleaner.  And feel free to bring back the empty bottle and we’ll refill it for you.  Oh, also, come back every three months for an adjustment.

Me: (inaudibly)  I guess his meds just kicked in.  If I stand here long enough, he might starting throwing free frames at me.

Thanks very much.  See, now I’m happy.  (And it only took 32 minutes.)

Categories: Scheduling SNAFU , Shopping roulette , Vanity is expensive


1 Bea { 07.16.11 at 6:22 pm }

When they suggest that I return in 15 minutes, my response is usually ‘No I have to stay here until you’re thru because I can’t see without them’. Then I sit and glance at my watch every few minutes. 🙂

2 Hallie { 07.16.11 at 8:24 pm }

You are the master. I would probably have caved at the — we’ll call you when they’re ready.

3 Sophia { 07.16.11 at 8:39 pm }

Yeah I wasn’t having any of that. Lol