After much reflection, I’ve concluded that truly our own worst enemy is within, and not outside of us all. Does that mean that I am my own worst enemy? For the most part, no. But, surely, the enemy is close to us – within our “Circle of Trust”. The theory of “keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer” is only to our advantage when we purposely bring them in. Not when they are discovered to be so near to us.
Example: Down the drain…
I’m sure this will come as a great shock to many of you, but after years of denial and closeted behavior, I can no longer hide my addiction. I’ve lied to family and friends, I’ve done it at the workplace, and, yes, I’ve even done it in the bathroom. It doesn’t matter if there is a crowd, I’m in a public space, and it’s far worse when I’m home alone – even when the kids are there and in bed. I’ve ignored the kids for the sake of my addiction, and I’ve missed their requests for attention to feed my hunger.
I’m addicted to my cell phone. And, since the invention of web-enabled cell phones, and now with my Blackberry, it’s terrible. I go everywhere with it. I can’t turn it off. I panic when it’s not with me. So, of course, I bring it to the bathroom stall wherever I go, lest I miss THE call I’ve been waiting for. (No, there really isn’t any call that I’m waiting for. Or is there? I don’t know… what if there is? And I miss it…) Anyway… so today I had a business meeting at the hotel next door. As I was being wined and dined, the need to visit the “little girl’s room” struck between the tea and my sandwich, and I excused myself, grabbing my Blackberry with me. Typically, I put the Blackberry in my purse, which hangs behind the door. But, as I biked to work, I had my backpack, and I left it at the table with my colleague. So, as I often do, I put it on top of the toilet paper dispenser. This one had a nice flat top. As I was done with my “other” business, the automatic toilet flushed, and I had an epiphany.
Those damned automatic toilets are a Blackberry addict’s worst enemy. Far worse than the handheld laws, sticky fingers, or those bogus “Don’t use your cell phones here because they mess with our equipment” signs. WHAT IF that toilet paper holder were ROUND, as many are, and I didn’t find that “sweet spot” to balance it on? WHAT IF, as I got up hastily, to turn to manually flush, not realizing it was an automatic flush, I knocked the cell phone down? Into the toilet? As if that weren’t bad enough on a standard toilet, could you IMAGINE what would happen if the toilet THEN FLUSHED? Especially with some of the smaller models of phones? I snatched my cell phone away, looked to the heavens, and thanked my lucky stars I had the sense to find a flat surface, swearing never again to forget a purse or leave something to safely contain my cell phone whilst on the head.
Example 2: A little bit of this… a little dash of that…
Last night, I went to sleep as usual. This morning, I woke up sniffly, sneezy and with a stuffy head. Truly, allergy season hit, and with a vengeance. My car was slathered in yellow schmutz, and, what is usually a mild case of a sniffle for an hour annual became a royal pain, especially on my 5 mile ride into the office, passing by all the lovely, flowering, allergen-riddled flora on High Ridge Road, deeply inhaling all the contaminants I could. During my lunch meeting at the Sheraton, my nose was dripping so badly, that I decided to walk an extra block down Summer Street to CVS and pick up some Claritin or something.
Of course, thanks to brilliant marketers and brand managers near and far, the options for medicines are as endless as the grains of sand on the seashore. And, when your head is stuffed, you need simplicity, as in “Mongo, take box. Good. Good, Mongo”. So, after finding 2 opened boxes of CVS-Sudafed substitutes, I decided to go to the pharmacist, give her the two open boxes, and ask her opinion. She looked at the boxes, shook her head, and said, “Unbelievable! Second time this week – and… yep! A couple of sheets are missing… “I looked at her quizzically as I just thought some careless fool accidentally opened the boxes, not that it was part of some sort of crime spree, and asked her what she’d recommend. She said, “Claritin-D, or the CVS version, but you can’t get it on the shelves. You have to get it behind the counter up front.” Ok… so I guess that, because it’s now allergy season, the po’ folks who can’t afford allergy meds have to steal it, so they keep it behind the cashiers. No problem…
I stroll up to the cashier, and ask for the Claritin-D – whatever is cheapest. The lady behind the counter says, “What’s it for?” I tell her, as though my drippy, fire-engine red nose isn’t tell-tale enough, for my allergies. She said, “Ok. Be sure to get the 10-pack, not the 5-pack, because you won’t be able to buy more for a few days.”
Huh. How did she know what I had, or didn’t have, in my bank account? So I ask for the 10-pack, and begin the check out. First, she rings up the two other items I was picking up. Then she swipes the Claritin-D under the scanner. I look at the total, and see that the price isn’t showing. SWEET! Computer error – I’d better swipe my debit card before she realizes the mistake!
“Can I see your ID?”
“I assure you, I’m over 21,” I retort, while showing the license through the window in my wallet.
“No, please take it out. I need to scan it. Federal law.”
Hello, Big Brother? I take the license out of its happy home, and sure enough, she scans it. Up on the screen comes up what looks like an agreement comparable to what Lucifer may offer up in exchange for your soul.
“I’m sorry, this isn’t a prescription – do I need to sign this?”
The cashier laughs and says, “THEY need to monitor all sales of allergy meds.”
“Why? Are they being rationed?”
“Well, kind of.”
*Scooby Doo – HUH* escapes my mouth, met with the cashier’s laughter.
“It’s the crack.”
Now, wait a second. That’s my line when I do something stupid, if I’ve played the blonde card too often. I laugh and ask her what the real reason is. She looks me dead in the eyes and restates, “It’s the crack.”
WHAT? You see, apparently, people are stealing and hoarding Claritin-D and similar drugs because they contain something (that she wouldn’t repeat to me) in order to process crack. So, the Federal government is having stores regulate how much you can buy at once, or within a certain timeframe, and requiring not only the presentation of a valid ID, but scanning it to TRACK PURCHASES. And, since one of the other items I purchased contained another “gem” of a product, she had to wait to see if I was on “THE List.”
What a shocker, I wasn’t, and since Blackberry addictions are unrelated and not Federally criminal, I was able to take my Claritin-D and scurry back home, looking over my shoulder, frightened by who else was keeping a mindful eye on me.
