Picking the Wrong One

On many occasions I have purchased the one item that was broken, had missing parts or had a rotten core. Out of masses of perfect products that are ready to be plugged-in, turned-on and good-to-go, I picked “the” looser.

For instance, last week it was thirty minutes to party time at my home. I rushed to the store to get the one product needed to complete preparation for the family lunch gathering, a topping for the dessert. Once back home, I grabbed the whipping cream carton out of the brown grocery bag and was beginning to add it to the mixture when I got a whiff of rancid, sour cream. I had checked the date and it was good. So, why was I the one person to get the bad carton of cream? And, when I needed it immediately! That’s what I mean when I say I have a talent for picking the one wrong thing.

In the past, I’ve chosen the one toy kitchen set to assemble for Christmas morning that was missing the pink Barbie sink that was critical. How could a pretend homemaker wash the purple flowered plastic plates without a sink? How could I explain that Santa made such a mistake? Where was “inspector # 8 when this toy made it out the manufacturer’s door?

Then there was the time I picked out a darling sky-blue empire-wasted dress that fit perfectly and looked great at the store. I found the flaw the first time I actually wore it when the garment began to fall apart and off my body. Each seam disintegrated because this silk beauty had been sewed together with tiny stitches, so tiny they cut through the fabric. This might not have been quite so horrible if I hadn’t been at work where fellow workers began pointing and laughing as my skin and underwear became visible. I had to borrow a housekeeper’s uniform to complete the day without being arrested for indecent exposure.

I’ve chosen the one dried up toothpaste tube out of the hundreds available. My home is full of aerosol cans that can’t spray, batteries that were dead within minutes, a paper shredder that won’t shred but one piece of paper at a time, a vacuum that spews dirt out instead of in and a brand new shirt that has a hole under the arm. We won’t even discuss the new Mercedes I was so proud to get. It had a gasoline tank that collapsed from pressure in the fuel system. Now that I think about it, there have been two husbands who might fit into this scenario also.

None of this would be so bad except for the hours of time and emotional strain it takes to return, exchange or repair items. I’ve learned to use a variety of stress reducing systems to deal with these situations. I use Yoga breathing, listen to soft music and always take a good book to read when waiting for customer service personnel to decide what they will do to fix the problems. Probably the most important remedy is to tell myself, “out of all the people in the world, these orphan products like me.”