Thoughts on storming the capital but mostly click-bait
The real title of this misleading post is click-bait because I lack any serious thoughts on the recent issue. Maybe that's dishonest marketing but - in line with my worldview that happiness is about perspective - the ploy is dumb and does make me laugh (hence the title of the blog). The opportunity was too available not to capitalize on.
Now that I gulled ya (and assuming you're still reading, not bothered by a flippant reaction to a serious issue) here're five instances where I myself was “click-baited” (using as a synonym to “tricked”).
On a Saturday, I once waited a full hour for the T bus - a bus that should run every 15 minutes, but only on the weekday - before realizing I'd wasted my time.
Question: Where's the one place you can buy a lifetime supply of meatballs? Answer: Costco. … When my college-departed ship made landfall in Seattle, one of the first areas I explored was Costco. From the familiar territory, I excavated a lifetime supply of meatballs. The large bag wasn't explicitly marketed as “lifetime supply” but the size strongly implied it. Literally taking up half my freezer. I left the store under the impression that I'd never have to buy meatballs again. However - unless my life is going to end in the next few days - I was fooled.
The last example may have been a weak fit to the “click-bait” theme; this next one is an even weaker example. … Recently, while wading through a sea of dishes needing to be washed, I came upon a curious, black olive. Curious because I've never bought olives before. Not even once. On closer inspection I realized it was, rather, the rotten end of a banana. “Maybe this is overdue, but glad I'm doing dishes now,” I thought to myself.
Long ago, in a small North Carolina town on the east coast, I was in the market for a suit. I chose a store that exclusively sold suits, since I figured they could best help the clueless me in this unfamiliar endeavor. For 30 some minutes they took measurements, taught on the different types of fabrics, counselled on smart stylistic choices, and ultimately helped me choose the perfect suit. At the register, the well-dressed associate, said, “Eleven forty.” Not sure I heard the man correctly and concerned that I'd have to spend a tad more than my Benjamin Franklin budget, I asked, “Do you mean $140?” The associate, realizing he had just lost the last half hour with an unsuccessful sale, politely said, “No - $1140.”
I once ate eight Heath bars in a single sitting, because I thought they said Health bars. Let's pretend I wasn't in highschool when this happened.
