Wanna know how dumb I can be?
Sure you do. Here's an example.
The handle on my main travel suitcase broke a while back. Gina agreed to take care of it for me by sending the broken one to the Tumi mothership for repair. In the meantime, though, I had to travel again and so needed another bag. My solution, which Gina implemented (my credit card in hand): Get another Tumi. Just to try it, we went for one with four wheels instead of two.
The reason for my brand loyalty to Tumi is another story for another time. Remind me sometime, and I'll tell you.
Anyway, the suitcase came, and off on a trip I went. The whole journey, the suitcase steered like a drunk with a noisemaker, unable to stay on course and squeaking the whole time. I came to hate that bag--a first for me with a Tumi. Still, I thought, perhaps it's just not broken in. I don't send back things, so I figured I had to get used to it. Penance for my sins (small penance).
Next trip comes, and the damn thing still sucks. Finally, as I'm griping about it, Gina says she'll take it back for me. As we're talking, she looks at the suitcase and notes that it has brakes on two of its wheels--and one of those brakes is engaged.
She disengages the brake and, voila, the thing rolls straight and true and silent.
Brakes on a suitcase. Who knew? Clearly, I did not.
Given that the suitcase's behavior perfectly mimicked that of a bag with one stuck wheel, which was exactly what it was, I should have noticed this issue on my own and fixed it. But, no: I preferred to gripe and live with it.
Gina and Tumi: 1. Mark: 0.
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4 comments:
If it makes you feel better, I did the exact same thing with my daughter's stroller. Fussed and mussed about it getting stuck all the time and not rolling right...generally bitched so much, my husband finally took a look at it only to tell me that I had the stupid brake on the whole time. I feel your pain.
I hate inanimate objects.
Do you recall the SF story where inanimate objects really are trying to kill the hero?
John
Yeah, ya gotta hate when that happens.
John, I don't hate them, but they do sometimes best me.
I vaguely recall such a story, but not enough to remember the title. Sorry.
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