“Let’s stop at the eye care place before going home. I might as well get my glasses fixed,” stated almost as an afterthought as hub and I made our way home following a morning of errands.
One arm or earpiece of my glasses (temple being the correct term, but how many of us know that?) bent slightly and extended awkwardly outward, not fitting snugly over my ear and becoming an annoyance. The problem began following a fall a few weeks ago. The glasses went flying. Initially a minor hindrance, the glasses got progressively more ill-fitting and awkward-looking day by day.
I also needed to replace one nose plug recently lost, the where and when a mystery.
Hub and I took the elevator to the third floor of the building housing a group of eye doctors on the second floor and the eye care establishment on the third. Go to the doctor, get a prescription, then march upstairs and buy new glasses. Very convenient. The first floor of the commercial building, actually the ground floor, contained a section of the parking lot.
Four customers milled around the waiting room, but only a few minutes passed before a young woman approached. Taking off my glasses and explaining the situation, she asked, “Are the glasses more than a year old?”
I could not lie. “Yes.”
If the glasses were less than a year old, she proceeded to inform me, repairs would be free and if necessary, a new pair of glasses provided at no cost to me. The company would try to repair my glasses but if unable to do so were not liable for whatever might happen while attempting the repair.
“OK.” I did not have much of a choice.
She took the glasses and disappeared. Reappearing a few minutes later with the glasses in one hand and the damaged arm in the other she said, “The arm broke off while attempting to repair it. We cannot fix it here, but can send the glasses out. It will take a week or so.”
We were leaving town the next day. I needed the glasses immediately. “Any other options?”
“I can try to find another frame that fits your lenses. I’m not sure I can. These frames (holding out my pair) are a couple of years old. You would have to pay for new frames.”
“OK,” I sighed reluctantly, hoping she could find a fit for my lenses, currently housed in an outdated, out-of-fashion, no longer manufactured, broken frame.
She disappeared, this time for more than a few minutes.
Finally the salesgirl-technician reappears, smiling, holding a pair of glasses. My new glasses – new frames, old lenses.
The cost only $40. I say only because frames can cost a whole lot more.
I left a happy customer, sort of…
The frames are not ones I would have chosen if I had a choice. Which I did not.
I have to get used to my new look. Or never look in the mirror with glasses on, which I can do, but without them everything looks fuzzy, maybe a good thing.
No more thin wire frames surround my eyes. Now my face sports black frames. Big, wide, thick black frames.
|Me and my new glasses|
“You look very intellectual,” hub informs me.
I’ll take it.