In Which I Do NOT Steal A Man’s Identity, But Could Do So Easily

You put together a puzzle. You take a photo. You run it through the Waterlogue app on your cell phone and this is what you get: PRETTY!

HERE’S WHAT HAPPENED

I was sitting in the waiting area in a small boutique eyeglass shop that is in an old house, formerly a residence, but now zoned for commercial use.

I was having my spectacles adjusted. The optician helping me had taken my glasses with her into the back of the house, probably into what was formerly [maybe still is?] the kitchen, to have her way with them.

Across the room from me a different optician was talking with a man who was ordering new glasses. The room we were in was what would have been the living/dining room, with an 8′ ceiling, about 20′ x 15′ in size.

This man hadn’t gotten new glasses in over 12 years. The optician had found his file, a paper one, and was confirming details by saying things about him out loud to him.

Very normal.

BUT THERE WAS THIS LITTLE ISSUE WITH ACOUSTICS

Inadvertently I was overhearing everything that was being said between these two people. I didn’t want to hear but I did. I’ve changed the specific details to protect his identity, but the following is what I know about this man:

  • his former residence is 123 Oak Street in one community;
  • his current residence, that he moved into in 2017, is 4567 Eagle’s Nest Drive in a different community;
  • his last name is Smith;
  • his legal first name is Frederick, but he goes by his middle name, Daniel, preferring to be called Dan;
  • his wife’s name is Martha;
  • his brother who also buys glasses in this boutique is named Will;
  • he has no children;
  • he confirmed the date of his birth, he is 44 years old;
  • he confirmed his cell phone number, mentioning that he’s had it for years
  • he used to work for Blah Blah Blah Corporation but now works from home for Yada Yada Yada Corporation;
  • his medical insurance is Boring Useless Insurance Company;
  • he no longer has a checking account with Fancy Regional Bank;  and
  • he prefers to use his Visa for large purchases because he gets points for travel on Whoop-ass Airline.

The optician didn’t ask about the following but in the course of their conversation I also learned that:

  • he drives a BMW that was parked outside directly in front of this business;
  • he and his wife have been remodeling their house using Super Duper Home Remodeling Company;  and
  • they have a vacation planned for August.

Obviously I accidentally know a lot about this man, the proverbial ship I passed in the night. If I was a person with nefarious intentions I could easily have snapped a fast photo of him + his car’s license plate, then assumed his identity by knowing these random, but incredibly personal, details about him.

KIND OF SCARY, HUH?

Please discuss 😳

The Tale Of The Accidentally Purloined Bag Of Potato Chips

LIKE MISCREANTS EVERYWHERE I’M GOING to say this wasn’t my fault because, as I will explain below, it was an accident.

Nothing pre-meditated about this.

Just a minor tussle involving a fast-moving me and a fussy computer in the U-scan checkout lane in the grocery store that lead to an unanticipated situation.

You see…

It was late afternoon and I was using the U-scan checkout lane in Kroger.  I like the self-checkout lane because it’s usually faster than waiting in line for the traditional checkout.

Plus, and I’m bragging here, I am very good at finding the little UPC codes on what I’m buying, expertly swiping the code across the flat UPC barcode reading screen, then tossing my purchase into the reusable bags I swear by.

• • • 

HOWEVER ON THIS PARTICULAR DAY in my zeal for checking out of the store, while grabbing a bag of potato chips out of my shopping cart, I twisted around in such a way that my crossbody purse did a little flying leap away from my body and landed on the flat UPC barcode reading screen.

PLOP!

Then for reasons known only to the computer, it immediately jumped ahead to the part of the transaction that asks you how you’re going to pay for these items.

But I wasn’t finished inputing all my items.

So being tired and in a hurry, without thinking much about it, I laid the bag of potato chips, not properly swiped, on top of the stuff already packed in my reusable bag.

Then I focused my energies on coaxing the computer, Little Miss Touchy Screen, to allow me to continue shopping. I was victorious, because I know all about that ⬅️ key that lets you keep buying stuff.

I input a few more items, the rest of what I wanted to buy, then paid for my purchases using a credit card, grabbed my bags, and walked to my car where I placed the bags in the trunk.

I drove home.

• • •

BUT AS I DID SO I had a slow realization, the sort that sneaks up on you in the most unlikely places, like at a stoplight while you’re waiting for it to turn green, that it was possible I had accidentally stolen that bag of potato chips, a small bag I assure you, from Kroger.

And you know what?  When I got home I checked my register receipt and well… yep I stole a bag of potato chips… like a thief… a perp… which I am not… except maybe I was.

And here’s the thing because all perps have a thing, if interrogated by the Coppers I’m gonna squeal on my accomplice in this unfortunate situation. IT WAS THAT DARNED COMPUTER’S FAULT for getting flustered.

I mean what kind of wuss is that thing?  It wasn’t like I hit it with the heft of a heavy leather Hermès Birkin Bag, now was it?  It was only a lightweight nylon baggallini Uptown Bagg, a sleek crossbody.

Honestly, I didn’t mean to do this.

You believe me, right?

~ ~ 🛒 ~ ~

A few other *oops* stories about *situations* at Ye Olde K. Roger…

In Which Ms. Bean Is An Accessory After The Fact, Maybe [2018]

Carelessness, Coupons, And Cake– OH MY! [2017]

The One About The Friend, The Dog & The Suburban Grocery Store Salad Bar [2014]

~ ~ 🛒 ~ ~

No Grimness Allowed Here: 1 Wonderful Quote + 3 Wacky Quandaries

David Oglivy is a businessman who is known as the Father of Advertising. More about him here.

ONE

YOU’RE STANDING IN FRONT OF YOUR REFRIGERATOR getting some ice from the freezer compartment. An ice cube falls out and lands on the floor at your feet. Do you:

  1. pick it up and use it;
  2. pick it up and put it in the kitchen sink to melt; or
  3. kick it under the refrigerator to melt there?

TWO

SHOPPING IN MACY’S WOMEN’S LINGERIE DEPARTMENT I overheard a woman telling her friend that she had to buy bras and undies that match because her husband insists that she wear matching ones. This baffled me in MANY ways:

  1. why is this woman in a relationship with such a domineering man– OR is she making this up so she can rationalize spending more money on unmentionables? [my guess is the latter not the former]
  2. if she wears black pants and a white blouse, does she go with all dark undergarments knowing that you’ll see her bra through the white fabric OR does she wear all light undergarments hoping there’s no indication of light undies under her black pants? [a decision tree for this would be helpful]
  3. asking Z-D if he knew what color bra and undies I wore each day, his reply was that he didn’t know, adding that he preferred to see me out of them rather than in them [ain’t he a pip?]

THREE

YOU HAVE ALEXA IN YOUR HOUSE AND every morning you ask her for the day’s local weather forecast. For months she tells you the forecast, then adds “have a good day, Ally.” She is your friend, until one day after telling you the forecast she unexpectedly stops referring to you by name, not even bothering to wish you a good day. Do you:

  1. take it personally;
  2. research why she’s stopped being friendly; or
  3. chalk it up to making your first disembodied computer voice frenemy?

+ + • +

FEEL FREE TO WEIGH IN ON ANY OF THE ABOVE QUANDARIES

or

TELL ME YOUR CURRENT QUANDARY SO WE CAN TALK ABOUT IT

+ + • +

A Conversation About Curly Hair With The UPS Delivery Man

Our new front sidewalk, pristine and perfect.

THE Scene

I heard the UPS truck pull up in front of the house, mid-morning. I looked out the study window and saw the UPS delivery man step off the truck carrying a thin squishy envelope package for me [a t-shirt from Lands’ End].

He’s a nice guy, handsome, a regular in our neighborhood, and I’m a nice person so I walked out the front door and started walking down the sidewalk to meet him halfway.

Save him a few steps in the intense summer heat, ‘ya know.

Welp, I smiled and said “hello” while extending my left hand to grab the thin squishy envelope package, figuring he’d hand it to me. But instead he froze in place about four feet in front of me and just stared at me.

I followed his gaze and realized I had MY HAIR TIED UP on top of my head in what probably seemed to him to be an UNUSUAL style. I was wrong about that assumption.

THE CURLY HAIR BACKSTORY

When I can, like on days when I’m staying home, after I wash my hair I don’t use a hairdryer;  instead I pull my wet curly hair into a topknot held in place with an elastic.

Then I twist bandana around it in such a way as to tie up my hair. This way my hair dries off my neck AND it forms groovy, beachy curls in the process.

It’s AN OLD-FASHIONED WAY of styling your hair that back then involved clean rags, but now as an affluent suburbanite I use A BANDANA purchased at Walmart for $1.98.

THE CONVERSATION BEGINS

Curly hair, he said.

Yes, said I while trying to reach over to grab the package from his hand, but to no avail.

You do that when it’s wet, he said. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

Yes, said I whilst staring intently at the package in his hand, hoping he’d remember why he was here.

Huh, he replied.

A LONG PAUSE during which time I began to notice how hot it was outside standing on the sidewalk in bare feet in the direct sunshine. DAMNED HOT.

THE CONVERSATION CONTINUES

My wife does that with our daughter’s hair, he explained.

Yes, said I nodding my head in what I hoped was a conversation-ending gesture of understanding.

I thought she was pulling my leg when she said it’s what you do with curly hair. I had two sisters but they had straight hair, he continued.

Yes, said I.

They never did that, he confided.

Hmmm, said I wondering where this conversation was going to go next.

After another LONG PAUSE, during which time he further scrutinized my hair like I WAS A SCIENCE PROJECT, he handed me the package.

THE UNEXPECTED COMPLIMENT

The bandana is a nice touch. My wife doesn’t use one of those but it looks cute on you, he said.

Thank you, said I whilst pondering how out of kilter the Universe must be that I, a gray-haired woman of a certain age, had just been told my hairstyle was “cute” by a handsome 30-something man.

I’m going to suggest she get some bandanas for our daughter’s hair, he told me.

Good idea, said I.

And with that he FINALLY handed me the package and said “goodbye” as he walked back to his truck, SHAKING HIS HEAD IN AMAZEMENT, mumbling about how he couldn’t believe his wife hadn’t been joshing him all along.

~ THE END ~

PLEASE NOTE: I’m having difficulties leaving comments on some blogs and it’s incredibly frustrating.

I don’t know if the problem is in my browser or if it’s another example of gremlins in WordPress. The problem seems random. Rivergirl, yes. Nicole, no. Kate, sometimes. And so it goes…

Also, on random blogs I’m not consistently receiving an indication that there’s been a reply to my comment when there has been one. Another gremlin?

The One About My Car Gone Wacko: My Kingdom For Some Earplugs

This is not my sweet Olivia, but it is a lovely 1908 Ford Model T car. I bet it had a heck of a horn on it. [Image via autos/yahoo.com on Pinterest]

And then this happened… 

I went shopping in a real store instead of online.  [My first mistake perhaps?]  The store was about 20 minutes from home.

I parked my sweet Olivia, my 19 y.o. Honda Accord, in the parking lot then went inside a store to buy a few things.  I returned to the parking lot and put my bags of stuff into Olivia’s trunk.

No problemo.

Then I got inside the car, began to turn on the ignition with my key, but before I could get Olivia started THE POOR DEAR WENT WACKO and began blaring her security alarm with me inside the car.

I tried getting in and out of the car, but to no avail.  She continued to produce a jarring cacophony.

I tried pushing random buttons on the dashboard, but the noise continued.

I tried using the little button on my key to deactivate the alarm but the battery in my key had gone dead. Did. not. work.

Given up the ghost.

This left me sitting inside my car in a parking lot with no way to turn off the alarm while the alarm continued to shriek in a pattern of 3 long honks, 2 second pause, 3 long honks, 2 seconds pause, ad infinitum.

Thus it came to be that I drove Olivia home serenaded by her ear-piercing security alarm system, noticed by many other drivers on the road.

Oh yes I was.

But the story does not end here… 

Once home I pulled into our garage.

You may remember that a few months ago a car was stolen at gunpoint from inside a neighbor’s garage;  the neighbor walked into his garage while the car was being stolen [weird story here].  It was the talk of the subdivision.

Unnerving.

At that time Zen-Den and I agreed that if I ever knew or thought someone was following me home, I should pull into our garage and start blaring my car horn, thus alerting him to trouble.

Which, of course, is exactly WHAT I UNINTENTIONALLY DID when I pulled into our garage because I couldn’t turn off Olivia’s rather robust alarm system.

Big problemo.

Thus it came to be that a worried Zen-Den, who was working from home, heard the alarm and figured I was in trouble.

But before I could get inside the house to tell him what had happened, he came running into the garage to rescue me from harm, not realizing it was just my sweet Olivia throwing a hissy fit.

Oh yes she was.

QUESTIONS OF THE DAY

Has your vehicle [car, truck, SUV, van, motorcycle] ever set off its security alarm system for reasons unclear?

If so, what did you do?

Do you prefer to shop online thus avoiding any and all drama associated with going to a brick & mortar store?

[Gold star to anyone who understands the literary allusion in the title of this post.]

~ ~ 🚗 ~ ~