Instructions Not Included

Every now and then I like to try something new in my life just because I get antsy for a change, sometimes it can make me feel grown up, and sometimes it's just fun to switch things up. Plus, it feels good to be able to say, "Oh yeah, I've tried that before and it SO DOES NOT WORK FOR ME."

Last August, when I was living back in the Loo for a few weeks for work training, my relatives from Boston came to visit (my parents' place). I wasn't around to host, hang out or even receive a little gift they usually bring with them. My aunt, of course, does all the shopping and in the past she'd buy me these awful outfits I'd only wear as pjs to bed, or tacky pj sets that I swore I'd never wear period. Now that I'm a bit older, she seems to have either wisened up or is trying all sorts of random things until she strikes gold. Enter the gift of August 2009: the electric toothbrush.

I, at 24 years old, have never used an electric toothbrush. To me, they were "fancy" aka "expensive" and growing up, I never had anything much more than simply what I needed. So, when all this elaborate dental care stuff came out I didn't bother with any of it (I still only sort of know what a water pick is) thinking that I would do just fine with my old school ways. But I wasn't adverse to trying something new and different, and I have to admit that I was pretty excited to have an electric toothbrush because sometimes I'm just too much of a scrooge to go out and buy something like that for myself. So, there I am, on that fateful day that it is time to replace my ratty, manual toothbrush and I happily cut through the plastic packaging that held the future to my improved oral hygiene.

To start, I had trouble opening the package. It was that hard plastic that usually comes with electronic goods and requires garden shears to cut through. That stuff can break skin if you're not careful. You all know the kind I'm talking about. When I finally got the brush out, I couldn't really figure out how to turn it on. I pressed around for a second or two and behold! it buzzes! So on goes the dab of toothpaste and in my mouth goes the dual-action spinning head and zzzZZZZzzZZZzzzZZ goes my teeth. And my gums. And lips. And the rest of my face until I realized, "Holy crap, this thing is INTENSE!" I tried to hold on for the required two minutes, but it got to the point where my hand was getting uncomfortable from the buzzing, my mouth was going numb and I could swear I was getting a headache from all the vibrating.

And here arose a problem: I couldn't figure out how to turn the damn thing off. There wasn't a switch of any sort and I tried pressing the button-type nub that turned it on in the first place, but that didn't work. I fumbled in the shards of plastic packaging in search of a mini-instruction manual. I read the piece of cardboard that came with it. Nothing. I squeezed, I twisted, and all the while the head is still doing its dual-action thing and foamy toothpaste is just spraying everywhere. After struggling with the damn brush for what seemed like way-too-long-to-turn-off-a-toothbrush, I finally press in the right spot and it stops. THANK GOD. Honestly, who needs to hide buttons underneath so much padding?

Paired with an old experience with a fuel cap lid* and a recent experience at a new gas station** this does not bode well for me trying to buy an RSP before the end of the week. I need to research and start a Retirement Savings Plan? Excuse me, didn't I just tell you that I needed instructions on 1. how to open my fuel cap lid 2. how to turn on a gas pump and 3. how to turn off a TOOTHBRUSH? ...Plan for my RETIREMENT? As if.


* I went to get gas with #2 of my 3 rental cars during my recruitment position with my alma mater and sat at the pump for 20 minutes trying to figure out how to pop open the lid so I could open the fuel cap to put gas in it. There was no lever under the driver's seat, there was no button anywhere, there was not even a little space for you to put your finger to manually open the lid. I even tried prying my nails in between the lid and the body of the car to wrench it open. No luck (and ouch). All my searching was futile until I grabbed the owner's manual and sat down to read the damn thing. I found the section on gas. Want to open the fuel lid? You press on the left side of the lid and the right side will pop open. It's that simple. No lever nor button inside, you press on the left side. Took me 20 minutes, folks.

**I'm driving home after a night out in the Loo, which is at least an hour and fifteen minutes away from home, if I speed. I was low on gas leaving the city, but I figured that maybe I could stretch it and make it home anyway. I couldn't. So I had to pull off the highway into suburbia somewhere and find a gas station, preferably the one I normally use so I can collect Air Miles. I didn't want to stray too far away from my route, so I stop at the first one I see, an old-school Canadian Tire. I get out of the car and do the gas pumping thing, only to realize that squeezing the handle did not produce any gas. I kept squeezing. I took out the pump and repositioned it. Nothing. Oh god - don't tell me I pulled up to a closed gas station (it was early Sunday morning and no one was around), but nope. The little booth definitely had a gas station guy inside who I'm sure was watching me with much curiosity at this point. I checked for buttons. The thing didn't even have a credit card swipe, so what were the chances of it having fancy buttons? Finally, I sucked up my pride and went into the attendant's booth. A less than chipper, angsty-looking teenager looked at me from behind the small counter. He looked like the type to readily defend his booth in the case of a hold-up.

"Uh - morning. I'm having a little trouble out there. I can't seem to... to get the gas pumping. Am I doing something wrong? Like, is there an ON button or something?" His brow wrinkled ever so slightly. "You're kidding me, right?" I realized what I must have looked like: it was super early Sunday morning and here I was, still dolled up up from the night before in my red coat and pointy-toed, lace-up hooker-witch boots. My hair and make up was that kind that says, This looked good about twelve hours ago before I passed out from overindulging in alcohol and tex-mex. I smiled meekly. "Uh, unfortunately, I'm actually not... not kidding."

*pause*

"Really, seriously, I can't turn on the pump. I'm squeezing the handle and nothing is coming out and I'm sorry, but I'm used to going to Shell stations because I collect Air Miles and I've never been to a Canadian Tire station before..." The ranting, pleading look in my eyes must have been pathetic, but at least it was enough to induce some form of mild pity. "There's a lever beside the pump, not a button. To turn it on, you push the lever down."

"Oh. Okay. T-thanks." I turned on my hooker heels and bolted out of there. He was right. Right beside the place where I grabbed the pump from in the first place was a big lever that had a giant arrow pointing in the ON direction. I'm such an idiot.

Suffice to say, I have never pumped gas so quickly in my life and when I had to go back inside to pay, I endured his chuckles with whatever grace I had left and flew out of there like a bat outta hell.
10:12 pm