But i’m ahead of myself.
I forgot to tell Carl I’d decided to store my glasses on the floor of the garage, so he didn’t realize they were there when he drove out. And nasty. He pulverized the frames.
Amazingly, though, the lenses escaped with only a scrape and a divot or two.
I went to Eyeglass City today (or some such spot) and asked if they had frames that would fit my lenses.
This amazing woman picked up the one lens that had popped out and strode to the banks of frames while this officious man was informing me at length that no one could guarantee that any frame could fit the lenses precisely, particularly if, blah, blah, blah, blah.
I followed the woman leaving the man as quickly as I could turn and leave.
As I got to the woman, she held two frames. “These two would work,” she said with assurance. “These,” she said, are more like the ones that your husband smashed.”
“I didn’t like those anyway,” I said. “I’ll take those.” I bought them without trying them on.
As we went back to the counter, she popped the one lens right into the frame and when we arrived, we removed the other from the old, ratty frame and popped it right in. She cleaned it spiffily, then we went over to the checkout place.
“Thank you,” I said, “for not trying to sell me new glasses.”
“I knew what you wanted,” she said.
“And thank you for not lecturing me on what might go wrong with what I wanted, too,” I said.
“Don’t mind him, “ she said. “He’s from another store, He’ll be going back soon, though we’ve been told we’ll have him for another week now.”
“Maybe it was his wife who put in the recommendation?” I suggested.
“Do you really think he’s married? she said?
That’s the only time she tipped her hand but that solidified it. I really love her. She’s the best salesperson in the world. And I think the sale took only about ten minutes.