It’s hard enough to absorb the extra load of holiday cooking, partying and foraging for the perfect gift.
Now, it seems, we’re also on deadline to snag solutions for life’s little aggravations before they disappear from the store shelves and we have to pay shipping.
Anyone who’s tried to purchase an electric potpourri pot in April knows how this works.
“We had those during the holidays,” the clerk is quick to say. “Maybe you should come back in November.”
I didn’t fully appreciate the pressure of seasonal item shopping until the other day, when a prescription that was supposed to be ready in 15 minutes actually took 45.
“No problem,” I muttered, and busied myself with finding perfect stocking stuffers at my local pharmacy.
The quest quickly led me to a series of boxes over near the Ritz Crackers, sporting little red square labels that read “As Seen On TV.”
Of course, most had not been seen on TV, at least not by anyone with a DVR. These are the things we whiz by, in search of a gripping plot.
But now, eager to help shoppers who drew Uncle Harry in the family gift exchange, shopkeepers have put out the most tempting gadgetry of the year, most for the door-busting price of $9.99.
Each box promotes its contents masterfully – pitching a brilliant solution usually to a problem that until that moment we didn’t know we had.
Reading the promo, for example, I wondered how I’d managed so far without a Smart Mop, which holds 10 times its weight in water. Apparently not everyone just wipes up the floor with a microfiber rag. Should I take home a Smart Mop, I wondered, and do it right while I can?
Being a woman of a certain age, I thought I could warm up to the Neck Slimmer, whose inventory seemed to be diminishing fast. No wonder. It “gently firms underlying muscles and tightens skin for a dramatic fit.”
It probably doesn’t work, I thought, but what if it does? For $19.99, it was cheaper than plastic surgery, not that I’d ever looked into such a thing.
I wondered idly if the checkout clerk would examine my neck if I were to purchase one. Like the reverse of a pre-teen sending her mom for feminine supplies, I decided that if anyone buys me a Neck Slimmer, it should be my daughter.
If I sent her to the store for one, I’d probably ask her to pick up a Perfect Fit Button as well. The Perfect Fit , touted as “the perfect gift for everyone,” is designed for those who are “a couple pounds off your previous waist size” and promises to “extend the size and life of your favorite pants for years.”
By the time my prescription was ready, I was still reading boxes and too conflicted to snap up any of the TV offerings. I left the store with only a bottle of eye drops. I know I’ll regret it. After the holidays, when my pants are too tight, I’ll come back for the Button and find nothing on the shelves. Well, maybe one thing: the cake pan that makes giant Oreo cookies.
Copyright 2010 Pat Snyder
