I’ve been procrastinating writing this post because, well, it doesn’t exactly paint me in the best light. As you can probably deduce from the title, I recently experienced a relocation. Something that took me down a notch or two.
Remember my glasses saga? How I feel that, as a blind-as-a-bat person, I’m overcharged for necessary eyewear? And then how my optical shop called and added insult to injury? The story doesn’t end when my glasses arrived.
So my fab specs finally arrived from FrameLot.com on a Saturday right before I was making my weekly trip to the grocery store with Hubs. As we pulled out of the driveway, I excitedly ripped open the package and slapped my stylish new glasses on my face. I expected people at the grocery store to notice and gush over my newest accessory, but alas, we didn’t see anyone we knew (which is rare in this tiny burg).
As all new glasses do, this pair fit poorly, so I decided to do some amateur adjusting. How hard could it be? They’re plastic. I Googled “how to adjust glasses” and found some good information – specifically a page talking about how you can use a hair dryer to warm up the earpieces in order to bend them.
Woo hoo! I wouldn’t have to go in and see the scary lady at the optical shop to get my glasses adjusted! (Remember from before that I think she’s snarky?) So I whipped off my lovely frames and aimed my new, powerful hairdryer at the side pieces. I warmed and bended, warmed and bended, warmed and bended until I thought they looked about right, then I slipped them back on my face. Yes, they fit! But I noticed that I needed to clean them because there were some smeary areas on the lenses.
I cleaned them, but when I put them back on, the smeary areas were still there. I whipped them off my face and examined the lenses.
This is what I saw:
Those lines are called crazing. After much self-flagellation and pouting, I Googled this and discovered that I’d melted one or more of the lens treatments (photogray or anti-scratch or some other pixie dust thing). My glasses that I’d owned for 2 hours were ruined. And after all of the heartburn I’d gone through.
…a glimmer of hope began to flicker in my brain. I’d never gotten back to the optical shop about the lenses they’d accidentally ordered for me. Beyonce (the scary/snarky lady there) had called me on Wednesday and I told her I’d have to talk to Hubs about it, but I never called her back. This was Saturday night. Maybe they still had my lenses…
I decided to pop in on the following Monday to see if I could offer them $100 for the lenses. After all, they were going to have to toss them if I didn’t take them. $100 was better than nothing, right? And I’d swap out my bad crazed lenses for the new ones.
When I walked in and told Beyonce I’d like the lenses, she showed them to me. You know those big round samples they have for tint colors or additional coatings? Yeah – my lenses were big round things, not nicely shaped polygons ready to pop into my frames. Bummer. And Beyonce tole me the $350 was from the lab, not from them. It was for shaping the lenses. Argh. I told her no thanks and asked if she could adjust my glasses.
She took them and did her magic on them. They fit even better than when I did my Google brand of weirdness on them. As she was taking them a second time to clean them before I left, she noticed the crazing. She assumed that the warmth from the adjustment she had just performed had done that and she said they would replace the lens.
What? Replace the damaged lens? For free? These thoughts chased each other around my brain. I pointed out that the right lens had some, too, but she said that it wasn’t crazing, just normal wear and tear. I asked how much to replace that lens when they replaced the left lens.
She said, “How about $100?”
Wow. Two lenses, $100. I made the arrangements and left my new frames there, feeling a bit uneasy as I left.
I had let her believe she had damaged my lenses.
I walked around the corner to Starbuck’s for a cuppa and some quiet time to work on my Bible study. Know what I was thinking as I went over there? “How can you be a leader in your Bible study when you basically just lied to Beyonce? How can you teach your children right from wrong if you can’t even do the right thing?” And even scripture was rattling around in my head, “The love of money is the root of all evil.” Ack!
Yes, the Holy Spirit was not just gently pricking my conscience, He was full-on in my face. I had lied and I knew it. The question now was how to fix it? I really didn’t want to pay the $250 difference. That would bring the grand total of my glasses up to roughly $775. I was having a hard time swallowing that pill. But I had lied. My pants might as well have been on fire for as awful as I was feeling. I did absolutely none of my Bible study sitting there in Starbucks, instead texting my bestie about what an awful person I was.
I knew what I had to do, though.
I took a last swig of my blonde roast latte and went back around the corner. This time I had to wait for Beyonce, and as I sat in the chair, I got more and more nervous. Finally it was my turn.
“I need to apologize to you. I let you believe you damaged my lenses, but I did it.” I wasn’t planning on telling her the whole story about the hair dryer, but before I knew it, I was spilling everything. Even tears. “I need to pay the difference for the lenses,” I ended.
You know what she did? She stood up, held her arms out and said, “It’s ok,” and gave me a hug.
I knew I had done the right thing, but I wanted to hide under a rock. Geez, I’m almost 40. You’d think that honesty wouldn’t be an issue for me. I haven’t done something like this since I was in college, and even then I can’t think of a specific instance. I just assume that I was a heathen back then because I was still a teenager and not in my right mind.
So this is the sorry end to my saga. I have my glasses, I have come to the realization that Beyonce is actually a very nice lady, and I even told my kids what happened so they would hopefully learn from my mistake.
The lesson here? Nothing is more important than integrity. Not even a deal on a pair of over-priced glasses.