It is a rare occasion that a person is really struck with an actual moral dilemma, one that tests the fiber of one's being and thrusts into cold reevaluation what it is that one believes.
.
This is not one of those occasions.
.
But, I did have a clogged toilet the other day, and found that, somehow, I had gone three and a half years living on my own following my separation from my wife (now X), without coming to own a plunger. Now I'm not blaming anyone, but the toilet coincidentally backed up just after my six year old son left his mark on the bathroom. After hoping for sometime that the problem would resolve itself (don't laugh, there were potentially encouraging signs), I realized that I would have to break down and purchase a plunger. The timing of the purchase was a bit frustrating, as I most certainly won't need one of my own in about seven months or so (more on that later).
.
So off to Target I went in search of a plunger. Oddly enough, given the size of the store (read: gi-frickin-normous), there were only two choices. The first was the designer version of the old standard plunger. Tastefully coiffed so that you could apparently use the tool as a dining table center piece when it wasn't in use. The other wasn't so much a plunger, as something of a bicycle pump with the plunger like suction cup end.
.
This interesting contraption claimed to unblock your clogged pipes with a burst of compressed air and without the regular "back up." OK, I thought, interesting enough, and given that it was a full two dollars less than the designer plunger, I plunked down my hard earned Washingtons for the "Plung-It."
.
I assume it's a soft "g", but one can never be sure.
.
Anyway, after about two seconds of employing the contraption on my quite full toilet, it became disgustingly obvious, that it was not going to be compressed air that would unblock the pipe, but a burst of poo water sucked quite horribly up into the chamber of the pump portion of the ridiculous device. It was effective, I suppose, and the clog was soon on its merry way out to the Chesapeake Bay, but I was left with a device that had sucked poo water up into itself and now was far from clean.
.
I did my best to clean it, and washed it to the best of my ability with scalding hot water and even some Clorox, but I must say I don't feel particularly confident that it's really all that clean. And it sort of creeps me out, not knowing how successful I really was in cleaning its insides.
.
So here's the dilemma: I still have the receipt. And weirdly enough, the packaging did not tear at all when I opened the thing up. I feel quite confident that I could put the thing back in its plastic, with the labeling all in the right places, and return it without raising an eyebrow.
.
Huh.
.
I'd get my ten bucks back and be rid of that ridiculous invention. But would I sleep at night?
.
This is not one of those occasions.
.
But, I did have a clogged toilet the other day, and found that, somehow, I had gone three and a half years living on my own following my separation from my wife (now X), without coming to own a plunger. Now I'm not blaming anyone, but the toilet coincidentally backed up just after my six year old son left his mark on the bathroom. After hoping for sometime that the problem would resolve itself (don't laugh, there were potentially encouraging signs), I realized that I would have to break down and purchase a plunger. The timing of the purchase was a bit frustrating, as I most certainly won't need one of my own in about seven months or so (more on that later).
.
So off to Target I went in search of a plunger. Oddly enough, given the size of the store (read: gi-frickin-normous), there were only two choices. The first was the designer version of the old standard plunger. Tastefully coiffed so that you could apparently use the tool as a dining table center piece when it wasn't in use. The other wasn't so much a plunger, as something of a bicycle pump with the plunger like suction cup end.
.
This interesting contraption claimed to unblock your clogged pipes with a burst of compressed air and without the regular "back up." OK, I thought, interesting enough, and given that it was a full two dollars less than the designer plunger, I plunked down my hard earned Washingtons for the "Plung-It."
.
I assume it's a soft "g", but one can never be sure.
.
Anyway, after about two seconds of employing the contraption on my quite full toilet, it became disgustingly obvious, that it was not going to be compressed air that would unblock the pipe, but a burst of poo water sucked quite horribly up into the chamber of the pump portion of the ridiculous device. It was effective, I suppose, and the clog was soon on its merry way out to the Chesapeake Bay, but I was left with a device that had sucked poo water up into itself and now was far from clean.
.
I did my best to clean it, and washed it to the best of my ability with scalding hot water and even some Clorox, but I must say I don't feel particularly confident that it's really all that clean. And it sort of creeps me out, not knowing how successful I really was in cleaning its insides.
.
So here's the dilemma: I still have the receipt. And weirdly enough, the packaging did not tear at all when I opened the thing up. I feel quite confident that I could put the thing back in its plastic, with the labeling all in the right places, and return it without raising an eyebrow.
.
Huh.
.
I'd get my ten bucks back and be rid of that ridiculous invention. But would I sleep at night?
2 comments:
I say, if the design is faulty and you point it out and save others from future possible illnesses.....
Are you returning it because you are a bad person and want to spite them, or do you want to advise them of the flaws. Are you the only person in the world to return one of them do you think?
Heck, I just thought I could get my ten bucks back!
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