Sunday, November 25, 2012

If Life Were Simple

     So I'm chatting on-line with Chandrakath, a customer representative for the photo book publishing site Snapfish.  I'm wondering why, after spending over two hours putting together my photo book, I can't pick it up at my local Meijer store like the e-mail Meijer sent me said I could.

     Now, Snapfish wants to charge me over $40 for a photo book that I thought would only cost me $15 max.  Chandrakath does some quick research on his/her end and finds out that I am trying to order the custom photo book.  Only the classic photo book qualifies for the discount with local pick-up.

    OK.  Wonder why that little detail couldn't have been explained in the e-mail.  But no matter, it's not that difficult to turn my custom photo book into a classic photo book.  I spend some more time doing that, but when I go to check out and order my book, again it's not giving me the option of picking it up at my local Meijer.  And the price is still close to $30.

    So I click the button to start another on-line chat with Snapfish.  This time Durga responds to my inquiry.  I tell him/her my quandary, he/she does some quick research on his/her end (somehow, I don't think that end is here in the U.S.), and he/she says that I used a photo book specialty theme that costs extra and is not available for pick-up either.

     *sigh*  Again, why couldn't Meijer have told me that little detail IN THEIR E-MAIL!  Argggghhhh.

     Life is much more simple when I'm with my grandson Grant.  I babysat him for an afternoon a while back.  He likes to play with cars on the floor.  Nothing complicated.  In fact, Grant gives me the simplest tiny plastic toy car that he calls, "Bumpa's car."  Meanwhile, he takes for himself this bigger, fancier car that makes a engine-type noise as he pushes it across the floor.   He enjoys driving our cars over furniture, into the kitchen, back into the family room, until he gets bored and ready to move on to something else.    

 We go outside to throw a plush football around.  He enjoys that, but pretty soon his attention is distracted by a jet high overhead, leaving a snowy white vapor trail in its wake.  "Plane," he says.  Then after another little bit, he points out, "Moon," faint but still visible in the late afternoon.  We go around to the front yard and he inspects the tires of our mini-van.  "Wock (rock)", he says, showing me a little pebble embedded within the tire treads.

     Soon he's ready to go inside again whereupon he grabs the TV remote control and hands it to me.  "Mickey Mouse clubhouse," he suggests.  It's his favorite show.  His dad Greg says Grant can spot Mickey Mouses everywhere now (how does Disney engage these youngsters so?).   Greg says he was in a store recently, turned into an aisle and Grant said, "Mickey Mouse."  Greg says he stood for five minutes looking around before he spotted the mouse's mug on a coffee cup.

Ah, planes, cars and Mickey Mouse.  If only we could live our lives so simply.