Monthly Archives: March 2009

I See Dumb People

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For those of you that don’t know, my wonderful hubby (The Bean) is a finance manager at a car dealership. The car industry being what it is in today’s recession, he still sells a few cars on the side, mostly from repeat business. People like to buy their cars through him because he’s straightforward, no-nonsense, and because he has biiiig soft brown eyes that inspire a lot of trust. In fact, this is pretty much what he looks like:

In addition to his deceptively-innocent eyes (love you, babe!), he’s also a popular choice because he goes the extra mile for his customers.

Anyhow, onto the story: The other day, early in the morning, The Bean received a phone call from a very angry, very irate woman he had sold a car to the previous week. Apparently, she was stuck on the side of the freeway because the new (used) car she had just purchased from him was a LEMON.

Angry, irate woman: (rant,rant,rant,rant) and the car is now STUCK on the side of the road, because it has run out of COOLANT.

The Bean: What do you mean it has run out of coolant?

Irate Woman: There’s no coolant, and I’m stuck on the side of the road in rush-hour traffic! This is ridiculous! You sold me a car with some sort of a leak!

The Bean: How do you know it has run out of coolant? Are you sure that’s the problem?

Irate Woman: Because it says it right there on the gage! The coolant gage is on empty, THAT’S HOW!!!

The Bean (knowing full well there’s no such thing as a coolant gage): Coolant gage? Are you sure it couldn’t be the gas gage?

SILENCE

Irate Woman: I have to go. (CLICK)

Tampons and Condoms: An Expose on the Dangers at Your Local Grocery Store

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I would like to meet the person who designed grocery store layouts.

I’d like to meet him, and then immediately smack him on the back of his head.

I mean, REALLY. Whose decision was it to stash the condoms right next to the feminine hygiene products? Is that really necessary? Buying a box of tampons is embarrassing enough as it is.

I don’t like doing it. I know it’s stupid to be embarrassed, but I can’t help it.

Every time I go to the store to pick up a box of feminine hygiene products, whether it’s tampons or kotex, I feel like I might as well have a huge neon sign blinking over my head, flashing, “BLEEDING. THIS WOMAN IS MENSTRUATING, AND BLEEDING, AND HER HOO-HOO IS ALL GROSS.” I feel like I ought to hire a band of ancient Levitical priests to walk ahead of me and clear the aisle ways by hollering out, “UNCLEAN! UNCLEAN WOMAN!” in disapproving tones while I ponder store-brand vs. name-brand. Having to make this decision while standing next to some 19 year old wanna-be stud just compounds an already fragile situation.

This is the exactly what happened to me a few nights ago. After walking past the aisle several times, waiting for the “stud” to finish agonizing over his own personal decision, I finally bit the bullet and stood beside him. I think we were both trying to out-wait each other before making our decision, so I finally gave up and reached for my purchase.

That’s when it turned dangerous.

While putting my chosen box into the cart, I distinctly saw him glance with slightly raised eyebrows at the economy-size vat of tampons I bought. Yes, Mr. Nosy, I did buy a box that contains roughly 3,378,926 tampons. I did it because I am economical, not because I have a gynecological disorder. I did it because I am trying to postpone repeating this loathsome chore for as long as possible. So keep your slightly-raised eyebrows to yourself next time, okay?

If I hadn’t have had the good sense to walk away, this situation could have turned really ugly, really fast. I called up my sister on my way home to discuss the stupidity of the tampons/condoms placement, and she agreed. Who came up with such a stupid layout? After a bit of arguing, and a lot of laughter, we finally came to a unified conclusion.

My sister and I would like to open our own grocery/convenience store. It will have all of the benefits of a normal grocery store, but instead of mixing angry, hormonally-charged women with horny, eyebrow-raising teenagers, the last three aisles of the store will be as follows:

Aisle 16: Feminine hygiene products/Chocolate/Cookies
Aisle 17: Diapers/Formula/Baby Supplies
Aisle 18: Frozen Pizza/Beer/Condoms

See? Doesn’t it make perfect sense? Aisles 16 and 18 will have their own private self-checkout, so that everybody can buy their own items in embarrassment-free comraderie. And in between the two aisles is a tiny little reminder about why both aisles are oh-so-important.

Anyways, I think it’s genius.