It's the Thought That Counts (10-18-2007)

A couple of weeks ago, I got up, I took my pills to keep the pharmaceutical industry executives high-fiving, and I sat down at the breakfast table. Marge was sitting across from me and I asked, “You come here often, baby?” She didn’t respond; she just kept reading her paper and eating her oatmeal. Hadley kind of dog-chuckled though.

Before long I took Hadley out to the Hemi for his daily walk. Because he’s older than I am (in dog years he’s 70), I have this ramp that we use to help him get into the van. So he ran up the ramp, and then, as soon as he got inside the van, he started to poop! Inside the van! I’m sorry to talk about oatmeal and poop in the same time frame, but that’s what he did. He started pooping.

So I started yelling. And I yelled and grabbed him and lifted him down to the driveway right in mid-poop. I couldn’t believe it. I know he’s getting old, but I was pretty ticked off. So I called him a bad dog, and an Airedale loser, and then to punish him, well, I had him stuffed. He really looks great. He doesn’t “come” very well, but man can he “stay.”

But I digress. By the way, what is the opposite of digress? Egress? Regress? Ungress? Gress? I just don’t know. And I don’t have time to look it up. And even if I had the time to look it up, I wouldn’t know where to go to look it up. And if you say I can just Google it, I’ll say “Google this!” I don’t know why I’m so hostile.

But to get back to the nondigression: After Hadley and I got back from our walk and before I had him stuffed, I was sitting at my computer. I went into my email account and found an email message from Barnes & Noble. They had this wonderful promo going: If I would buy $75 worth of books, I would get a free Itty Bitty Book Light — an $11 value.

How could I pass that up? It was almost Marge’s birthday and I thought she would love some books and especially love her very own Itty Bitty Book Light. Maybe I could have it monogrammed. Do any of your wives have a monogrammed Itty Bitty Book Light? No, I didn’t think so. And why don’t they? Because you guys don’t love your wives enough like some thoughtful gift-givers I know.

So I hit the button to buy the books and get the free Itty Bitty Book Light. Barnes & Noble said that the charge for the Itty Bitty Book Light would be deducted at the end of the transaction in checkout. I decided to get the $75 gift certificate and everything went fine in the checkout until I was ready to pay. And I noticed that the $11 charge for the you-know-what was still there.

I was a little concerned. But I went ahead and clicked the final purchase and I thought for sure the deduction for the free Itty Bitty Book Light would kick in. Well, like those penis enlargement ads, nothing happened. They charged my credit card for $86 plus shipping.

So I sent Barnes & Noble an email asking them why I was charged for the light. They responded that the offer wasn’t good for any gift certificate purchases. You had to actually buy books on the Internet.

Well, you know me. I’m a mild-mannered guy. I make Clark Kent look like Alec Baldwin. I know I have somewhat of a rep for getting mad, but I only get mad if I’ve been wronged, damnit. And I was wronged here. Really wronged. I was just happily sitting at my computer looking at my email and they, the Barnes & Less Than Noble people, asked me to spend $75. I didn’t go to them. I didn’t ask for a discount. They offered it. And they didn’t say anything about it only being good for online books and not for gift certificates. Nope. They bamboozled me. And I don’t like it. I can be bammed and I can be boozled, but just don’t ever bamboozle me.

Finally, I’m getting to the point of my column. On Marge’s birthday I gave her the gift certificate for the books and I gave her the Itty Bitty Book Light. She kind of liked the book gift certificate. She said it was very, uh, well, uh, personal and intimate. I felt good, even though I could hear a little retching sound in her throat.

Then I gave her the Itty Bitty Book Light and she opened it up and she looked at it and that’s about it. She just kept looking at it. She didn’t say anything; just stared at it. I said it was a light for her books. She could hook it onto the book itself and it would make light, at night, to help her read. She said, “Hmm. A book light.”

I said, “Is that all you have to say?” And she said, “I guess you couldn’t find that turquoise necklace, huh? “

And then I said the stupidest thing I have ever said in my life, and believe me, that is saying something. I said, “I thought you’d like the Itty Bitty Book Light more than the turquoise necklace.”

She just stared at me — kind of like that old mythical chick who turned some dude into stone. That kind of a look.

I said stonily, “You know, it’s the thought that counts.”

And I think she said, although it is hard to hear with stone ears, “Where does your thought come from? Your Itty Bitty Brain.”