Saturday, April 4, 2015

A Hipster Philosopher

I borrowed my nephew's ukulele this week. After ten lessons, I was feeling ready for an upgrade, and it was just sitting in his room while he was away at college. And indeed, it was a little better for me– as much as I love love love my pint-sized pineapple soprano, I found the larger frets on his a tich more forgiving to my still-clumsy fingers.

The strings were a teeny bit buzzy, though, and I knew from my own that they probably needed replacing. The easiest thing to do? Order a set from Amazon and wait to restring it when they arrive Monday. I did that, but since we were out and about today I decided to stop into the Guitar Center and pick some up.

The teenager who helped me was super-nice and then super-apologetic when we found they were out of stock on the strings we needed. "I can call another store for you," he offered.

"No thanks," I told him. "I have some coming Monday, but I kind of wanted them right away," I shrugged.

"Right away?" he repeated. "Good for you! That's like the American dream!"

"Yeah, but I didn't get them," I sighed. "I have to wait."

"Well, that's more like the American reality!" he replied.

Thanks, kid.

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