The Loupe Man

Remember the old days? The days when it took 6-8 weeks to get something by mail order? Well, those days are still among us.

See, I have a watch.

Unfortunately, this watch was defective. The crown was loose, allowing the date mechanism to change on an hourly basis. Frustrating stuff. Fortunately, we live in an age where you can still get your things repaired instead of replaced.

Being a good, eco-conscious citizen, I decided to take it in for repair.

Watch shops aren't terribly easy to find. Well, they are, but half of the shops in Beaverton seemed to be either closed or out of business. Fred Meyer to the rescue.

Fred Meyer--that superstore of all things home and household--has a watch repair guy on staff. Yes, ladies and gentleman: a genuine repair guy. Loupe and all.

I handed him the watch, and--lo and behold--he couldn't fix it. Not on-site, anyway. Apparently, replacing internal components is a surgical operation of monumental proportions. He said he would send it away to "The Shop" and get back to me.

This was mid-January. A loooonnnng time ago.

You see, I'm not used to waiting.

And face it--this is an age of two-day free shipping, with magical warehouses that operate 24/7 and have zero turnaround time. This is an age of McDonalds, with service efficiency that borders on perfect. Low margins, high volume. That's the name of the game.

Nobody told Freddy's.

Two weeks later

I went back to the store. Surely, my watch had been repaired and he'd just forgotten to call me. Nope.

Four weeks

I received a call. "The Shop" had evaluated my watch and plotted a course of action. $118 and change to repair. I felt seriously committed at this point. They would fix it or I would die a disillusioned death.

Six weeks

I returned to the store with renewed hopes. The man with the loupe dashed them again without sympathy or fanfare.

Eight weeks

I flung myself upon the mercies of God. If it was His will, I would face death without my watch: the glories of Heaven being superior to the fickleties of Earth. He was silent on this point. I continued to wait.

Ten weeks

I sat subdued in a bean bag chair, reading a travesty of modern fiction. To what depths I had fallen! Every fifteen minutes, I rummaged around in my pocket for my iPhone: to check the time. Watches were invented to solve this problem, but I had no watch. Fred Meyers had taken it from me.

The phone rang.

I answered.

It was the man with the loupe! My watch had returned!

And now--here I sit. Ten weeks of patience have paid off. However, I do not plan to revisit the watch repair man at Fred Meyers. It would take a better man than I to endure that process again. Consider yourselves warned.

Until next time,

- Daniel