It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. I’m referring to Charles Dickens’ opening line for A Tale of Two Cities, but I’m most definitely not referring to his classic novel. Rather, I’m describing our visit to Best Buy this afternoon.
We had a couple hours to kill between the time Earl returned from church and the time we were to attend a potluck social. So I suggested we visit the local Best Buy to begin studying what TVs we wanted in our new home. While I personally didn’t want any, I knew my roommate would have a different opinion. And, because I know defeat when I see it, I thought we should get this exercise behind us.
A few weeks ago we had the Geek Squad come to our new place and make recommendations. The young man answered questions and said he’d put together a proposal with everything we need and email it to me. The worst of times was that we didn’t know what those recommendations were because the PDF describing them got lost in the ether.
Instead, we strode into Best Buy and attached ourselves, barnacle-like, to the first salesperson we met in the home theater section. Truthfully, he could have been my son’s son in terms of age. He spouted manufacturers and TV sizes and hertzs with great skill, but we couldn’t understand a word. We told him there were recommendations lurking around somewhere, but he kept on reinventing the wheel until I was on overload while Earl watched the early Sunday afternoon football game on the most giant TV he could find.
Finally, Aaron the Youthful passed me off to Frank the Attentive. I went through the entire story again, reiterating that someone had come to our home to make personal recommendations. Frank took my name and went off to hunt for the company’s copy of said recommendations in the files.
It took a while, but suddenly it was the best of times. Frank found the missing PDF with its precise information. I poured over it and was relieved. My life had suddenly become that much easier. I knew what televisions to buy, what cords and cables; and I was duly relieved that the proposal recommended wireless headsets for every room. This way Earl can listen to any program to his heart’s content, while I can enjoy the silence that is my favorite noise.
Yes, let the best times roll . . .
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