h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

After ten years of pondering and denial, I had my eyes tested at an expensive optician the other day. After an inward struggle that lasted for years I accepted the possibility that one day, something that the human race calls reading-glasses would have to appear on top of my nose.

Gradually I had figured out a nice formula that would work for me: I would divide the test results by two and get glasses based on those numbers. In that way, I don’t need to hold a book just 10 centimeters in front of my face, which would make my world even smaller.

After phoning some other opticians a sales-woman of Pearle - her name was Annemieke – told me that they actually offer this service as long as the customer signs a true contract for deviating from the official advice.
“That’s no problem at all”, I said.
Fuelled by the special promotion “free frame till March 13th”, I went down to the Pearle outlet that I had called, since it really was a sunny day and since a person has to be realistic for an hour at least once in his life.
However, I wasn’t bursting with joy, which is of course asking for trouble.


Once at the shop, I noticed that it was busier than I had expected.
My Annemieke is taken.
A man, a manager-type, told me that I’d just have to wait for her, “or otherwise I can help you”. From that moment on, everything went as smoothly as a train losing a carriage every other beam.


I told about my test at the luxurious optician and that I wanted reading-glasses at half the test values, and that I had understood that this was possible here. On top of that there was a special promotion at the moment, and a free frame is always nice. “A metal one, so that I can bend it the way I please” I added courageously.


By hearing these naïve proposals, the man got red of agitation. I was “denying reality” and he went on and on about it. “Pearle keeps strictly to test results! No spectacles are sold, before Pearle has conducted its own tests! Spectacles should never be bent, that’s why there are little ear-pieces!” And besides, all the frames in the rack where I was looking at “weren’t included in the special promotion!”


Al together, I felt a horrifying drama coming towards me. Every remark or question of my side increased the dismay of this man, and this increased mine again. Plus, when he took me to his consulting-room and I asked unsuspecting: “what is my left eye, anyway?” I got the reply: “well sir, MY left eye is not YOUR left eye of course!”


As a last desperate attempt I tried. “But when I’m in a car I also don’t know what is meant by the left headlight!”
“But you’re NOT in a car. You’re in a Pearle store”, he said, arrogantly now. “Yes, I notice”, I replied and while I pointed at one of my eyes I gambled: “so this is my left eye, then?”
“YES OF COURSE!”


A man isn’t born with the knowledge which eye is his left, I thought silently. It all depends on the way you look at it, especially in a glasses-store; excuse me an optician I mean of course.


Anyway, everything I did or didn’t do was totally out of place according to him. He even called my good eye “exceedingly normal”. “Your other eye only sees 35% and you want to drive a car with that?”
“I’m here for reading-glasses now, and that’s bad enough in itself”, I courageously fought back.


So it was testing and arguing while I had to keep three different special promotions apart at the same time, even though I was wearing no glasses. When he had to go to the restroom (to scream perhaps) – thank god – I asked a lovely silly old lady: “what do you think; which of these two frames suits me best?”
“The dark one”, she said sweetly, “as the other one is sort of old-fashioned-ish”. “Thank you for your advice”, and when I said “advice” I saw my spectacles-man returning…
Despite the advice, this caused me to get lost in an emotional maze.


Finally, after 90 minutes, a technical magic formula appeared which would make sure I respected the test results and I could still hold a book at a distance of half a meter and be able to read the letters.


I don’t know how it got into this man, but suddenly he said: “now you can pick a second pair of spectacles for free and use that in your car”.
“Free, and with custom polished glasses?”
“All custom polished”.
“Oh, in that case, the same frame please”.
“No sir, you have the most expensive frame, we’re not giving that away for free of course”.
“Where are the freebies then?”
“Can’t you see? Next to the entrance!”
“I don’t see a thing. Where does the free paradise start, and where does it end? And what’s for men, women and children?”
The man held his peace, totally out of heart.
So do I and desperately, I grab some half-baked frame.


Despite his anger, the man had picked up something relevant about me, as he shows me a much bigger model. “This one is also a part of the special-second-spectacles-for-free-promotion and this one gives you bigger glasses.”
“That makes a Dutchman happy” I say frankly and I even note a repressed smile although I don’t let him notice that.


When I enter my personal code semi-laconically, I straightly ask: “Do I get a cover or a case with it?”
“Sir, listen to me. You are already getting a free pair of spectacles with custom polished glasses. You don’t expect us to give everything away for free, now do you!?”


“You are taking my questions and remarks pretty personal, don’t you?” I reply smartly from my social-education-knowledge. “No, not at all!”

With the end of this adventure near I ask: “May I have the coupon?”
“There you are and I’ll call you to tell you that your spectacles are ready in about a week”.
”You can leave a message at my answering machine” were my last words on the first day of my life with Pearle.

That commercial is never the same again for me from now on.
“Pearle, Pearle, Pearle,
You ain’t my kind of girl, girl, girl.”


Greetings from Amsterdam