by TEJ | Jun 3, 2023 | Fun and Leisure Humor
[Author’s note: The following is a letter I sent to DOLLAR RENT A CAR based on an actual recent car rental experience. – TEJ ]
This is me at the airport’s DOLLAR counter at midnight, immediately after they closed the counter, having just been informed they would not rent me a car, even though I had a reservation. Thank you, DOLLAR, for giving me my topic for this week’s column.
Dear DOLLAR RENT A CAR,
I wanted to tell you about my unforgettable experience that took place when I made the admittedly foolhardy decision to rent a car from DOLLAR RENT A CAR. I had just flown into Albany, NY Airport with plans to see my family and attend my high school’s 50th class reunion, so I needed a car.
Two months before my trip, I made an egregious mistake. I placed a reservation online with DOLLAR RENT A CAR. I selected an economy vehicle. I hope you don’t feel I was being too cheap by not going for your luxury SUV option instead. Anyhoo, my flight into Albany arrived three hours late. This was totally my fault, of course. I had made the reckless decision to try to save a few bucks by flying Southwest Airlines. I’ll never make that mistake again. But I digress.
I arrived at your airport rental car counter at 11:30pm – thirty minutes before it closed for the night. The employee at the counter named Tony immediately found my reservation in your system. I only had to wait another 22 minutes for Tony to casually inform me, “Looks like I can’t give you a car. You’re on our DNR LIST.” Perplexed, I asked Tony if I had heard him correctly: “Did you say, I’m on a DNR LIST? What’s that?”
Tony explained in a voice some might mistake as sounding gruff and irritated, but I’m sure was intended to exude warmth and empathy, that it stood for “Do Not Rent.” Like an airline No Fly List but for rental cars. Turns out I had been officially banned from travel with Dollar Rent A Car. I asked, “Can you tell me WHY I am on Dollar’s RENTAL BLACK LIST?”
“That’s DO NOT RENT LIST,” Tony snapped in what probably was a lot cheerier a voice than it sounded. “How the Hell would I know why? Maybe you have a criminal conviction or failed to pay some outstanding speeding tickets.”
“No, Tony, neither of those apply to me,” I calmly explained.
“Well, you must’a did something wrong, fella,” Tony barked, again in the kindest, affirming voice. Tony wrote down a phone number: “Call our DNR department during business hours tomorrow and maybe they can explain why. We’re now officially closed for the night. I gotta go.”
I want to thank you, DOLLAR RENT A CAR, for not telling me I was on your “DNR” list until 11:52 pm just as all the airport rental counters were closing for the night. I would hate to have received this helpful information, say, two months ago when I first placed my reservation, while I still had time to make alternate rental car arrangements. It would have totally deprived me of the memorable opportunity to spend quality time with your superstar employee Tony.
So there I was at midnight, stuck at the airport, no car, and all the rental car counters closed for the night. You may find the next part hilarious. I know I sure will – ten years from now. I was supposed to drive an hour north of Albany to meet a close friend. But thanks to your DNR policy, I had no choice but to shell out money for a cab and stay at a nearby hotel instead.
I called the nearest Courtyard by Marriott,. I spoke to a lovely person named Donna. I explained to Donna that I was in a bit of a jam and desperately needed a place for one night. To my great elation, Donna told me, ”Mr. Jones, you’re in luck. We have one room left.”
Within minutes, I was in an Uber heading for the hotel. When I lugged my luggage into the hotel lobby, Donna met me with a sheepish expression on her face. Uh oh. She apologized that she’d made a mistake. It turns out there were no rooms available after all. Here’s my question: Did DOLLAR RENT A CAR have someone call the hotel to inform them to place me on the DO NOT RENT A HOTEL ROOM list, too?
Thanks to DOLLAR’s DO NOT RENT policy, I had to look for a hotel room. I felt a lot like Joseph and Mary being turned away by every inn. At least they had a means of transportation to get from inn to inn, which is more than I could say.
Now, you might be curious to know WHY I was put on your firm’s DO NOT RENT list. I admire your inquisitiveness. I called the following morning and a customer service person named Breanna put me on a brief five-minute hold. And then another ten-minute hold. And after what barely felt like another 15 minutes, she accidentally disconnected my call.
I called in again and in less than 20 minutes I reached Christina – or maybe it was Kristina. I’m sorry I failed to ask how she spelled her name. She said I had been placed on your elite “WE HATE YOU” list because apparently, I had the same last name as someone else who had failed to pay their bill.
An easy-to-understand mistake, seeing as how we were probably the only two people with the last name JONES in your entire 100,000-person customer database. I’m pleased to report that Kristina wasted no time in apologizing to me, by which I mean she didn’t bother to apologize. But that’s okay. I’m sure she was having a bad day – probably from having to deal with hundreds of other people calling in to complain about being put on your DNR list by mistake.
I asked Kristina if she could reverse the $450 charge I paid when I originally reserved a vehicle, since your company refused to rent me the car. She explained that she could not help me, as she worked for the DNR department. I needed to call the customer severance, I mean customer service department.
I finally reached a representative named Roy, who I have to say possessed almost as polished social skills as Tony from the rental counter. Roy explained that he couldn’t issue a refund because I needed to have cancelled my reservation at least 24 hours before the rental date, and I had failed to do so.
I explained in vain that I did not actually cancel my reservation. Dollar did. Never quite understanding my point, Roy finally explained that I’d have to call their billing department to submit a refund request. It’s been two weeks, and I’m still waiting for a call back.
DOLLAR RENT A CAR, you have given me a new appreciation of just how rare outstanding customer service is, at least. anywhere within the ranks of your organization.
I hope you won’t mind my sharing my memorable experience with a few thousand of my closest Facebook friends, not to mention on LinkedIn, Twitter, and Instagram. DOLLAR RENT A CAR, you guys made me feel like a hundred bucks – too bad those hundred bucks were all counterfeit.
Sincerely,
Tim Jones, former customer
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
#rentalcardisasters #rentalcarstory #dollarrentacar #rentalcarcompanies #travelhassles #customerservicefunny #donotrentfromdollar
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by TEJ | May 7, 2023 | Pop culture humor
This is perhaps the most iconic image ever taken of Bigfoot, from 1967. Is this really Bigfoot? If so, where was he going in such a hurry? Experts believe it was probably a male because it refused to ask for directions.
Now that I’m officially retired, I am filling my days with all sorts of leisure activities, like travel, playing racquetball, going to lunch with old friends, and binge-watching Season Three of Succession.
As a result of all the fun things we’ve been doing, I’ve noticed lately that our retirement savings are not quite where we’d like them to be. My wife had the craziest suggestion that perhaps her husband should return to work part-time. Isn’t she hilarious? (Although, if you ask me, I ‘d make a fabulous Walmart greeter.)
I did some rough calculations and determined that the statistical probability of my opting to return to work at this stage of my life is slightly lower than my chances of being selected in the first round of the next NFL Draft. So, how can I build up our nest egg again and have fun at the same time?
I think I’ve found the solution: Searching for Bigfoot. Hear me out. I read the other day that the state legislature of Oklahoma is offering a $3 million bounty for anyone who captures Bigfoot alive. If I can claim that prize, this reward would more than cover the cost of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream (my favorite) for the next twenty years – with money left over to buy the latest PlayStation 5. It just so happens I live in northwestern Washington state, pretty much Ground Zero for Bigfoot sightings over the past 50 years.
I almost feel sorry for all those poor misguided Oklahomans who have been searching all over the Sooner State for Bigfoot. They won’t find him. He’s not there. There hasn’t been a credible Bigfoot sighting in Oklahoma in over four months. I’m pretty sure he’s right here in Washington state, picking berries and chasing rabbits in some forest habitat – either that or dumpster diving for stale bananas behind a 7-Eleven along the Cascade Highway. Bigfoots aren’t exactly known for having haute cuisine tastes.
People have been looking for Bigfoot – or as we locals here in the Pacific Northwest prefer to call him, Sasquatch – since the 1800s. That’s when settlers in the northwestern United States began reporting sightings of a large, upright, apelike, hairy creature, sometimes estimated to be over eight feet tall, with a powerfully built frame. In other words, he probably looks eerily like my late Uncle Ralph – if you added three feet to Uncle Ralph’s height and made him slightly more attractive – and smarter.
Searching for Bigfoot will get me off the couch and out of the house, so I figure my wife will be all for my idea. Plus, I can set my own schedule. I won’t have to get up before 10am, which is ideal because from what I hear, Bigfoot’s not an early morning riser either.
When I start my search for Bigfoot, I think I’ll begin right here, at this Bigfoot Crossing sign. I think I’ll put out a trail of Reese’s Pieces to lure him to me, just like in ET – unless you think he’s more of an M&M’s fan.
Where I live is roughly halfway between Washington state’s two large mountain ranges, the Cascades and the Olympics, where most Bigfoot sightings have been reported. However, just last week an elderly woman claimed to have spotted Bigfoot hiding behind an ’87 Chevy Impala in a Walmart parking lot not far from my house. But it was later determined to be just an overweight stark naked extremely hairy old guy wearing only a MAGA hat and carrying a 12-pack of Miller Lite.
In preparing for this ambitious project, I’ve been doing some preliminary research on the equipment required. It turns out, there’s not much I’ll need to stock up on. All I’ll need initially is a powerful flashlight, a few boxes of batteries, maybe some waterproof hiking boots, and about 5,000 bear traps, strategically placed in areas Bigfoots like to explore, such as dense forests, caves, and drive-thru espresso stands.
I went to a gun store to purchase a rifle and a case of tranquilizer darts. I figured I might need them in case I spotted a Bigfoot charging at me. I’ve seen videos where these darts will take down a grizzly bear. I’m not the most accurate shot. But I figure, if I miss and accidentally take out a deer hunter, well, at least I’d have done my small part to reduce the world’s deer hunter population.
I will also need to buy a truckload of Red Vines, as I read somewhere that Bigfoots love Red Vines. I hope that’s accurate. I’d hate to lay down a couple grand on 400 boxes of Red Vines only to find out that the big guy is more of a Twizzlers afficionado. That would be embarrassing.
I have so many questions:
- How many Bigfoots are out there?
- What do they like to eat?
- Could they be taught to use cutlery?
- Do they make good pets?
- Could they be socialized enough to play linebacker for my Seattle Seahawks? (They’re in dire need of one.)
- Is the plural of Bigfoot Bigfeet?
As a soon-to-be nationally recognized expert on how to capture the elusive Bigfoot, please take my advice. If you spot him, don’t invite him to take a group family photo. From what I’ve learned, Bigfoot will most likely
attempt to sniff your child’s hair or – worse yet – try to mug for the camera.
I’m excited to get started. In fact, just last night, I thought I might have spotted Bigfoot in my backyard. Alas, it turned out to be our giant, way-too-big tuxedo kitty named Buddy, who had snuck out the back door again. Good thing my wife told me in the nick of time, as from my vantage point, I had a clear shot. Guess I should think twice about hunting for Bigfoot without my glasses.
I realize it’s a long shot that I’ll win Oklahoma’s $3 million grand prize. But if I bag Bigfoot, I know the perfect place in our house to display my taxidermized catch: in the main foyer. I think I’ll use him as a coat rack. My racquetball buddies will be so jealous.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
Subscribe to my new View from the Bleachers YouTube Channel and request notifications to see my latest videos. And check out my new book, THE SECRET TO SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS (is Something I Have Never Figured Out. I’ Open to Suggestions).
by TEJ | Apr 23, 2023 | Holiday humor
May is my favorite month for several reasons: The weather is finally turning mild and sunny. The days are getting longer. And it has some fun holidays, like No Pants Day. Yes, that’s a real holiday.
I love the month of May. It’s one of my 12 favorite months. Flowers are blooming. Summer is around the corner. And the air is thick with the sweet aroma of fresh-cut grass (not from my yard, mind you – I usually wait until mid-August to break out the mower – or whenever my wife gets fed up and threatens to make us visit her relatives for a week – whichever comes first).
May is also the time of year when I polish up my golf clubs and head out for my first – and in most years, last – round of golf. That’s because by the seventh hole, I usually remember why I hate that miserable, cruel, soul-crushing sport.
But perhaps one of my favorite aspects of this month involves all the fun holidays that are observed. Of course, there are the major holidays like Star Wars Day on May 4th (so named because then you can say “May the 4th be with you”).
Right on the heels of Star Wars Day comes the always festive holiday Cinco de Mayo, observed on May 5th. I’m not sure what this holiday was originally meant to celebrate. I’m guessing something to do with Mexico’s longstanding love affair with mayonnaise as a condiment.
Then there’s Mother’s Day. But that holiday is only celebrated by people who have moms. Feel free to skip that minor holiday – unless you have a mom or are married to one, in which case, you’d better not forget the date like I did last year. My wife still hasn’t forgiven me. In my defense, the Goodyear 400 NASCAR race was on Fox Sports so I had a very full plate that day.
What many people may not know is that May has several other slightly more obscure holidays every bit as fun as Cinco de Mayonnaise and Start Wars Day. If you’re looking for reasons to play hooky, why not tell your boss you won’t be able to make it into work because you’re celebrating one of these lesser known holidays? Here are just a few of my favorite actual honest-to-God May holidays:
No Pants Day (May 5th)
Celebrated on the first Friday in May, the origin of this holiday dates back to the 1980s. Like most great holidays, it was started by a bunch of drunk college kids (in this case, from the University of Texas) as a prank. It celebrates the freedom from having to conform to a society that requires men to wear pants. It first appeared when a bunch of UT students decided to take off their pants right after finals and parade around campus in their underwear.
May 20th: Be a Millionaire Day (an actual holiday). On this day, you can act like you’re the richest person you know. All you need to celebrate is to start with a million bucks. Either that or marry George Clooney or Dolly Parton.
Surprisingly, not one of the students who instigated this craze has ever won a Nobel Prize – although several apparently went on to distinguished careers as members of the Texas State Legislature. While you’re not legally required to get totally hammered, if you really want to get into the spirit of this holiday, experts say getting sloshed helps. If you’ve never previously tried alcohol, this might be an excellent day to start.
National Talk Like Yoda Day (May 21st)
This holiday was first created in 2003, inspired by the Jedi master’s wisdom and wit. Fans celebrate this important annual tradition by coming together and mimicking the way Yoda talks. On this day, you’ll hear people all over the world – and by “people” I mean males in their twenties who haven’t had a date in a long time – speaking words of supposed great intellect using Yoda’s unusual, high-pitched voice and convoluted sentence structure.
I have to say, it’s highly amusing talking like Yoda. I celebrated this special day last year by asking my wife questions in the style of the diminutive Star Wars character incessantly all day long. I remember it clearly, because that’s the day she screamed in frustration, “Oh my God. I’m married to a seven-year-old!” To which I eruditely replied, “My talking this way annoying you, dear, is it?” Then she made me sleep on the couch. A fan of Yoda not everyone is, concluded have I.
National Lost Sock Memorial Day (May 9th)
Some geniuses decided it was a brilliant idea to set aside one day each year to commemorate all the socks we’ve lost over the decades. What happened to them? How did they meet their tragic fate? Will they ever be reunited in sock heaven?
May 11th: Eat What You Want Day, Celebrate this real holiday by eating whatever you want – as much as you want. If you plan to celebrate by eating all the broccoli you can fit into your pie hole, see a psychiatrist. There’s something seriously wrong with you.
Now there’s an actual holiday to help us honor the memory of these dear departed feet coverings. Even though this holiday technically falls in May, I’ve found that whenever I accidentally show up for a formal, special occasion wearing one black sock and one dark blue one, I simply mention that I’m doing my small part to mourn the loss of two pairs of socks. People rarely ask me any follow-up questions… and usually slowly back away from me.
As much as I love the month of May, in some ways, I love June every bit as much. After all, it’s hard to beat a month that has a holiday called National Chocolate Ice Cream Day (June 7th). I’d better put that date on my calendar before I forget. Looks like someone’s not going to be able to make it into work that day.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
Subscribe to my new View from the Bleachers YouTube Channel and request notifications to see my latest videos. And check out my new book, THE SECRET TO SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS (is Something I Have Never Figured Out. I’ Open to Suggestions).
by TEJ | Apr 7, 2023 | Fun and Leisure Humor
Cats are the most popular pet in most western countries. That’s because they’re furry, extremely cute, make a soothing purring sound, and help their owners procrastinate whenever they jump on our laps. Good kitty. Daddy didn’t want to defrost the fridge anyway. I’d rather pat you instead.
Cats living with humans dates back over 10,000 years. But in all that time, there is not a single documented case of a cat ever thanking its human cohabitant. In ancient Egypt, people worshipped cats as gods. To this day, that’s still how most cats see themselves.
Throughout history, cats have served many valuable functions for their owners. In many early civilizations, as cats became domesticated, they were kept as a means of chasing away snakes and killing mice and other rodents in order to protect the grains in storage.
It is speculated that cats were once used to herd sheep and cattle. However, historians say this practice was believed only to be associated with one group of people in medieval Wales. Apparently this terribly in-bred population suffered from a genetic defect in which everybody was severely near-sighted, and thus they mistook cats for dogs. Before long, this society appears to have died off, most likely from widespread starvation – because they kept losing their food supply of sheep and cattle. It turns out even back in the 700s, cats were terrible at herding. Many generations later, the entire tribe was posthumously given the Darwin Award.
In more recent times, cats have been adopted into families as household pets – mostly by lazy couples who preferred cats over dogs because they’ve concluded that getting up at 5am on a December morning to walk the dog and scoop up its poop on a frozen sidewalk was way too much work.
Throughout my marriage, we’ve owned cats as pets, typically two or three at a time. Don’t worry, I never became one of those “crazy cat people” with a dozen cats – because my wife would never agree to this. We love our cats dearly, but over the years, we’ve had to replace several living room chairs and many blown glass vases, thanks to our cats’ hardwired obsession with scratching furniture and knocking onto the floor anything on a counter that looked expensive.
In recent years, I have found yet another extremely useful function for our three cats, Buddy, Zippy, and Monster: I frequently use them to get out of having to help my wife with chores. That’s because we have a tacit agreement: Whenever one of us is lying on the couch, and there’s a cat on our lap, we mustn’t disturb our furry friend from their peaceful slumber.
As a result, whenever a cat is looking adorably cute, lounging comfortably on my lap, I get an immediate hall pass to avoid helping my wife with any chores until my fuzzy feline decides it’s time to move on to something more fascinating – like a nearby twist tie or a piece of lint. And our giant moose of a cat Buddy has been known to park himself on my lap for hours at a time, all but guaranteeing I won’t have to lift a finger for the rest of the afternoon.
This is our cat named Buddy. He’s huge. And he loves nothing more than to park himself on my lap and stay – usually within 30 seconds of when I was planning to get up to make myself a snack.
This system has been working wonderfully for me. For example, let’s say my wife could use a little help in the kitchen cooking dinner. As she’s getting close to the point where I anticipate she’ll likely be asking for my assistance, I make sure to grab say, Monster, park him on my lap and pat him until he settles in for a nice long nap. “Hey, honey, I would totally help peel the potatoes, but I’m stuck. I have a cat on my lap.” Chore averted.
But be careful not to abuse this strategy. A few years ago, during the peak of the pandemic, I was working from home. My boss asked me for my quarterly sales forecast. I tried to explain that I was not ready to present it at our Zoom meeting because there had been a cat on my lap for the previous two hours.
I figured my boss would understand. Turns out she had no sympathy for my predicament. I made the mistake of working for someone who was a dog person. (It’s my fault for not asking her about this during my job interview.) She had this crazy notion that focusing on my job during work hours took priority over patting kitties. Such a heartless person. I would have submitted a formal harassment claim to the HR department but I couldn’t – because I still had a cat on my lap – and our small company did not have an HR department.
I have been able to avoid raking the leaves, doing laundry, and power-washing the driveway for weeks at a time, thanks to this “Cat On My Lap” (COML) addendum to our marriage vows. But lately, our cat Zippy has been gravitating more to my wife’s lap than mine, thus ruining the balance of cat lap time that had been disproportionately favoring me. My wife is deliberately attempting to turn the tables by claiming “I’d be happy to help you with the gardening, but as you can clearly see, Zippy is parked on my lap.”
As far back as 2,500 years ago, in ancient Egypt, cats were revered. Here is a piece of funerary fabric depicting a cat trying to decide which priceless urn to knock over. It ultimately chose the one on the right.
Our COML agreement worked perfectly when Zippy preferred my lap to my wife’s. But lately he’s turned into a traitor. Even Buddy – who ALWAYS prefers me – has taken to preferring my wife over me for cuddle time. What’s going on??!! My wife has nefariously used this technique to get me to cook dinner three nights in a row – and clean the BBQ grill. So unfair. I think she’s bribing the cats, but I have yet to catch her in the act.
This has to stop. I’m going to start spraying all my wife’s clothing with a dog fur cologne. (I wonder if Amazon has this in stock.) Hopefully, they’ll start to view her with suspicion or even terror and return to choosing my lap over hers, thus restoring order to the cat universe.
I know, it sounds extreme. But when it comes to my relaxation and my desire to avoid helping out around the house, sometimes a husband has to take drastic measures.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
Subscribe to my new View from the Bleachers YouTube Channel and request notifications to see my latest videos. And check out my new book, THE SECRET TO SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS (is Something I Have Never Figured Out. I’ Open to Suggestions).
by TEJ | Mar 24, 2023 | Lifestyles humor
My wife complains we have way too much stuff. That’s so silly. She thinks that I should give away my boom box just because I haven’t turned it on since 2004. But what if cassette tapes make a comeback? Then what will I have to play my 1970’s Roy Orbison tapes on? Did she ever think about that?
For the past several years, my wife Michele and I have had a running debate about how much stuff to hold onto and whether or not to give away (or in some cases, throw away) some of the rarely used excess items lying around the house.
Michele has a long list of what she considers to be totally unnecessary items that are no longer being used, just taking up space, and should be given away. I’m cautiously optimistic to report that as of this writing, I am not one of the items on that list. But I suspect I’m on the bubble.
I totally agree with my wife that we have too much crap. It’s just that we can’t quite agree on whose crap needs to be jettisoned. For example, we have an entire freezer filled to the brim with frozen broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and cauliflower. I assure you, I will NEVER EVER eat any of these, so if it were my call, I would give all of these away to a needy broccoli-loving home.
But my wife, for reasons unfathomable to me, seems to be under the misguided notion that I’m the far guiltier party when it comes to holding onto things we don’t need. The example she often cites is the fact that I have taken up one full closet to stash memorabilia from my childhood. It consists of barely 25 boxes of papers, photos, art projects and other keepsakes dating back to first grade and continuing through graduate school. It includes important relics like a clay sculpture I made in first grade that looks like a rat but was supposed to be an elephant, my fourth grade social studies report on Uruguay, several high school term papers, and three boxes of letters from college ex-girlfriends.
My wife lamely brings up the minor detail that technically I have not opened up any of these boxes once in the past 30 years. That may be true, but I was planning on getting around to reviewing one box a month very soon – by which I mean whenever I have completely run out of ideas for other things to do in my life.
My wife rightly points out that I have literally dozens of shirts and pants filling up our bedroom closet that I haven’t worn in years (mainly because I can’t fit into any of them at the moment). But I’m planning on losing 40 pounds, and when I finally get down to my college weight, I’ll be so glad I held onto that lime green Nehru jacket and those lavender bell-bottom corduroy slacks for all these years.
This is a small sampling of my collection of novelty hats. I bought them to use in my VFTB YouTube channel videos. My wife points out that I never wear them after the video is done. But I say, you never know when you might need a Viking helmet or a Canadian Mountie hat. I want to be properly attired if the prime ministers of Norway or Canada ever stop by for a visit. It’s good to be prepared.
Anyone who knows me is aware of the fact that I’m seriously into sports of all kinds. The fact that I suck at most of them is beside the point. So, over the years, I’ve accumulated a large assortment of sporting equipment – some of which I actually have used. She pointed out that we never use our badminton set or our croquet set. “And why are you holding onto a second set of golf clubs?,” she rudely intoned the other day. “Because,” I reminded her, “what do I do if Barack Obama – who is a close personal friend of mine ever since we worked out together – came to visit and wanted to play golf?” You never know when you may need a backup set of clubs.
The list of items my wife wants me to give away is getting longer by the day. It includes such precious heirlooms as my Rock’em Sock’em Robots set which I got for Christmas in 4th grade (the red boxer still works). She also questions why I’m still holding onto my extensive assortment of 1980s movies on VHS – since we haven’t had a VHS player for years. But I will have you know I still have every Ace Ventura, Pet Detective movie Jim Carrey ever made.. And I’m sure you’d agree that my Director’s Cut VHS edition of Patrick Swayze’s cult classic Road House alone will be worth a small fortune someday.
For reasons I still don’t grok, my wife also feels there is no reason to keep my 1992 Casio keyboard. It’s true that I can’t remember the last time I played it. But now that I’m retired, I was planning on taking up piano again. I explained to my wife that it’s never too late to start a music career. I reminded her that Willie Nelson didn’t even take up singing until he was 58 years old. Imagine that! Okay, so technically that’s a lie, but my wife didn’t know that. And I needed this statistic to bolster my case to let me hold onto my Casio player.
This is CHOMPERS, my guard T-Rex that sits next to my desk in my office. For some insane reason I can’t fathom, my wife feels it’s ridiculous for a man my age to have a giant stuffed animal in my office. She says we should get rid of it. But I pointed out that if we gave away Chompers, how would I protect myself from deadly rhinoceros sneak attacks while I’m writing?
She keeps harping about all the items she feels we should get rid of. But the door swings both ways. There are several items she still clings onto, like her voluminous inventory of art supplies – not to mention her closet full of dresses, blouses and jewelry – none of which I have worn in years. But you don’t see me telling her to throw out her cherished possessions. Because I am a considerate spouse.
I’m willing to meet my wife halfway. I’m open to compromise. Heck, I long ago stopped complaining when she kept putting the toilet paper rolls on the wrong way (under instead of over). I no longer bring up the fact that she still doesn’t know how to properly load the dishwasher. So, don’t tell me I’m not willing to be reasonable and accommodating.
But there’s a line in the sand my wife had better not cross. If she thinks for one second I’m going to let her throw out my three-feet-long stuffed animal whale named Maybe Dick that I got for my birthday in second grade, then she’s in for an ugly fight. I’d no sooner part with Maybe Dick than I’d let go of my priceless collection of life-size Simpsons action figures. My daughters will thank me someday.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
Subscribe to my new View from the Bleachers YouTube Channel and request notifications to see my latest videos. And check out my new book, THE SECRET TO SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS (is Something I Have Never Figured Out. I’ Open to Suggestions).
