Men Have Not Changed
13/01/09 11:00 Filed in: slice
Men have not changed since the dawn of creation. Although we have morphed from the Stone Age to the Space Age, men have simply exchanged their crude clubs for credit cards -- they are still hunters and gatherers.
In Canada, the busiest shopping day of the year is December 26. It’s called Boxing Day.
In 2000, Boxing Day dawned clear and cold. Long before the sun peeked over the horizon my husband Gerry was in his car heading for Future Shop. There wasn't a soul there when he skidded into the dimly lit parking lot at 5:30 a.m.
“I’ll be first in line!” he chortled
In Canada, the busiest shopping day of the year is December 26. It’s called Boxing Day.
In 2000, Boxing Day dawned clear and cold. Long before the sun peeked over the horizon my husband Gerry was in his car heading for Future Shop. There wasn't a soul there when he skidded into the dimly lit parking lot at 5:30 a.m.
“I’ll be first in line!” he chortled
Since there was no competition for first place he took a foolhardy chance. Wheeling the car around he sped off to a nearby donut shop and grabbed a large java -- to go.
That was a strategic error; it bumped him to third place.
Drops of sweat froze on his brow as he leapt out of his warm car into the Arctic blast of a Canadian winter morning and bolted to take third place in a quickly growing line.
According to the flyer gripped tightly in his fist, there were only three televisions at this store for the incredibly low price of $499 -- a saving of $200. Being third in line meant that when the doors opened at 8 a.m., it was every man for himself and get outta my way! The first customer to lay a hand on one of those TVs won the chance to buy it.
Huddling on a windswept sea of concrete in the pre-dawn chill quickly took its toll. Because he had been in such a hurry to get away early, Gerry wasn’t properly dressed; he had on running shoes, jeans and a windbreaker. No hat, mitts or scarf. No boots or winter jacket. No long woolies. He soon began to shake.
Standing in line for over two hours after drinking a large coffee began to cause other problems as well. Fortunately, most people thought he was hopping from foot to foot because of the cold.
Before long, he had heard the dreams and aspirations of Shoppers One through Five. As you can imagine, this was a group of kindred spirits. They were all careful, though, to guard their hearts just enough so as not to lose the ruthless edge needed for the door-crasher-sprint.
At exactly eight o’clock, the doors were flung wide. Frozen joints proved remarkably limber as, elbows and knees pumping, Gerry got his hand on the third and last TV.
"Belated Merry Christmas!" was the cheery halloo that woke me up when he came home at nine a.m. I was completely surprised, not having noticed his absence. The only thing I rejoiced in was the saving of $200 so I smiled and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
“Where’d-ja-get-it?” I murmured, cramming my feet into slippers. He told me the whole story as I helped lug the monstrous thing in from where it was tenderly seat-belted in the car.
Struggling with the bulky cargo, we stumbled to the family room where we set it up and plugged it in.
“We may have to build a bigger room!” Gerry announced as he moved the couch back as far as it could go. Every few minutes he would shake his head, give a low whistle and say, “We saved $200.”
For the remaining week of Christmas holidays we enjoyed big-as-life sports, news and movies. One night, we decided to have a movie marathon complete with snacks. We rented two films, popped corn, poured drinks and met in front of the screen. Everyone hunkered down in anticipation while dad - the proud hunter-and-gatherer - inserted the movie and doused the lights.
It was pitch dark.
He reached for the remote that he had set on top of the TV beside his drink.
Crash. Tinkle. Fizzle. Zot. Sparks flew out of the back of the TV. I rushed for the lights. My husband tried desperately to mop up orange juice as it ran freely into the back of the TV. Within seconds, there was a gradual dimming of sound and pretty soon, no sound at all. The color was sickly green and fuzzy before it disappeared altogether. Oh dear. The party was over.
All was not lost; we were able to have the TV repaired. Since dumping drinks into your TV is not covered by the warranty we had to pay for the repair … and the cost? You guessed it, $200.
That was a strategic error; it bumped him to third place.
Drops of sweat froze on his brow as he leapt out of his warm car into the Arctic blast of a Canadian winter morning and bolted to take third place in a quickly growing line.
According to the flyer gripped tightly in his fist, there were only three televisions at this store for the incredibly low price of $499 -- a saving of $200. Being third in line meant that when the doors opened at 8 a.m., it was every man for himself and get outta my way! The first customer to lay a hand on one of those TVs won the chance to buy it.
Huddling on a windswept sea of concrete in the pre-dawn chill quickly took its toll. Because he had been in such a hurry to get away early, Gerry wasn’t properly dressed; he had on running shoes, jeans and a windbreaker. No hat, mitts or scarf. No boots or winter jacket. No long woolies. He soon began to shake.
Standing in line for over two hours after drinking a large coffee began to cause other problems as well. Fortunately, most people thought he was hopping from foot to foot because of the cold.
Before long, he had heard the dreams and aspirations of Shoppers One through Five. As you can imagine, this was a group of kindred spirits. They were all careful, though, to guard their hearts just enough so as not to lose the ruthless edge needed for the door-crasher-sprint.
At exactly eight o’clock, the doors were flung wide. Frozen joints proved remarkably limber as, elbows and knees pumping, Gerry got his hand on the third and last TV.
"Belated Merry Christmas!" was the cheery halloo that woke me up when he came home at nine a.m. I was completely surprised, not having noticed his absence. The only thing I rejoiced in was the saving of $200 so I smiled and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
“Where’d-ja-get-it?” I murmured, cramming my feet into slippers. He told me the whole story as I helped lug the monstrous thing in from where it was tenderly seat-belted in the car.
Struggling with the bulky cargo, we stumbled to the family room where we set it up and plugged it in.
“We may have to build a bigger room!” Gerry announced as he moved the couch back as far as it could go. Every few minutes he would shake his head, give a low whistle and say, “We saved $200.”
For the remaining week of Christmas holidays we enjoyed big-as-life sports, news and movies. One night, we decided to have a movie marathon complete with snacks. We rented two films, popped corn, poured drinks and met in front of the screen. Everyone hunkered down in anticipation while dad - the proud hunter-and-gatherer - inserted the movie and doused the lights.
It was pitch dark.
He reached for the remote that he had set on top of the TV beside his drink.
Crash. Tinkle. Fizzle. Zot. Sparks flew out of the back of the TV. I rushed for the lights. My husband tried desperately to mop up orange juice as it ran freely into the back of the TV. Within seconds, there was a gradual dimming of sound and pretty soon, no sound at all. The color was sickly green and fuzzy before it disappeared altogether. Oh dear. The party was over.
All was not lost; we were able to have the TV repaired. Since dumping drinks into your TV is not covered by the warranty we had to pay for the repair … and the cost? You guessed it, $200.