Bright and early last Saturday morning
noon, Wilzie and I strolled power-walked, hand in hand, down the Magnificent Mile. We had one destination in mind – Tiffany – and neither hoards of people nor swooping birds would deter us me.
As we walked ino the store, I quickly scoped out the jewellery cases before moving on. I wasn’t interested in the watches or solitaires – I was single-minded in my focus…
I. want. my. BEAN.
I was directed up the stairs, and scanned all the displays before I finally landed on the Elsa Peretti designs.
I had already memorized the website, so I knew exactly what I wanted…the bean comes in 3 different sizes, and I had already made up my mind that I wanted the middle size. When I looked at the selections, the salesman told me they come in “mini”, “small” and “regular”.
Very shrewd marketing, Tiffany, because now the middle size – which I had already determined was perfect – suddenly seemed so…small.
I looked at Wilzie, knowing that the small definitely fit our budget better, and he just shrugged and said “Get whichever one makes you happy*.”
*Translation: “I don’t want to hear you complain for years to come that the damn bean is too small.”
I turned back to the salesman and happily pointed to the “regular”.
I watched, grinning like a crazy woman, as he slipped the necklace into the little, blue velvet bag, then placed it in the little, blue box, tied it with the white ribbon, and finally dropped it in the little, blue shopping bag.**
**I have heard it said that true happiness doesn’t come from “things” but from “experiences” and I can say, in all honesty, that buying this one “thing” was certainly an “experience”.
I dragged Wilzie back to the hotel so I could document the unveiling of the bean:
The damn thing is TOO SMALL!
Not the actual bean…the actual, “regular” sized bean was fine, but the chain it comes on is too small to fit around my (obviously) enormous neck and was choking me and getting lost in between my neck folds.
lost it! was bit upset. When Wilzie called the store, he was told that I could bring it in to have the chain lengthened, and it would be ready in a week and a half. And to ship it back to me – in Canada – would cost extra (approximately another $50!). BUT…(here comes the sales pitch) they do have a “large” bean that comes on a longer chain, and we were more than welcome to come on back and pay the difference for the more expensive piece.
I dropped the offending necklace back into the little, blue velvet bag, I tossed that into the little, blue box (not bothering to tie the white ribbon), and finally chucked the box into the little, blue shopping bag. Cursing the entire time and vowing to return the necklace and to never buy anything from that oppressive, scammy store again!
Wilzie just stood calmly by, hands in his pockets, until I ran out of steam and my eyes dried up. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, “they are putting the larger one on hold. We’ll see how it looks and make sure it fits.”
The entire walk back to the store, I was adamant that I did not want the larger bean. It was ridiculous that it only comes in one chain length. It was a scam; a way to force people to pay more for something that fits, and I wasn’t going to play into their money-grubbing hands!
Wilzie led me into the store, walked up to the salesman, explained what happened and, ignoring my protests, asked to see the larger bean that was on hold for us.
I tried it on, and it fit perfectly (Bastards!). I looked up at Wilzie and reminded him that it was much more than we had originally planned on spending (remember, the original plan was to get the “small”). He just shrugged and said “If I was picking it out, this is the one I would have picked for you anyway…the other one was too small. This one is perfect.”
“Did you want to wear out?” asked the perceptive salesman.
And I did.
This is why I have the best husband in the whole world. Not because he buys me expensive things (because he doesn’t very often), but because he knows what makes me happy – and whether its taking me for a greasy burger after a hard day at work and letting me eat the last french fry, or going on a slow, terrifying ferris wheel ride with me, or buying me a big bean to wear around my neck, he does what it takes to
make his life easier make me smile.
***My apologies – this didn’t start out to be an I-have-the-best-husband-ever post, but that is just where the narrative took me. Rest assured that I find it just as sickeningly sweet as you do. Plus, I get the bonus of having to listen to countless renditions of: “But remember how awesome I was when I bought you that bean?”whenever Wilzie does something to annoy me (which happens a lot).