Calendar Woes
Well, I tried. My husband needed a new calendar. He likes Frank Lloyd Wright, so I got on Amazon and found what looked like an interesting calendar. Oh my, no. The only thing interesting about this calendar is that it could win a “Least Interesting Calendar” design contest. You know how most calendars have a picture on the top half, and the dates on the bottom? Not this one. The top half is blank. Rather than bother with pesky pictures, they simply put the hanger in the middle so that only the bottom date half needs to be displayed. Then, I imagine at the last minute someone remembered that the calendar was supposed to have something to do with Frank Lloyd Wright, so they slapped some vague geometric designs in a blah pastel border to go around the dates. Full points for laziness on this item!
On that same calendar shopping day, I also found the National Park Monster Calendar sold on Etsy. Each month features a stylized painting of a national park with Godzilla or some other monster in it as one of the natural features, often with people in 1950’s style clothing admiring the view. I thought others in my family would love it, so I recklessly bought four.
The first thing I noticed was the overall poor quality of the printing and slightly blurry images. Oh well, it was still fun, right? I looked at January, no monster. Instead, at the very bottom, under the dates, was a description in bold print that said, “The menace of flying saucers.” “Oh,” I thought, “The flying saucers must have been cut off at the top, boy is this cheap.” Flipping through the other pages, I was glad to see monsters, but I also saw that the description of every month read, “The menace of flying saucers,” regardless of what was pictured. Then I stopped and read one of the descriptions. Here’s what it said:
Here is some generic text. Don’t worry, at some point I will write actual text here but for now it’s generic text. Here is some generic text. Don’t worry, at some point I will write actual text here but for now it’s generic text. Here is some generic text. Don’t worry, at some point I will write actual text here but for now it’s generic text.
This same description was on every single page. I sent a nice email to the manufacturers pointing out the problems and suggesting that they should send me a corrected version. Here’s the response I got back in various fonts.
Dear buyer,
Thanks for your email. We are so sorry to hear that you are not satisfied with the item you received. But we didn’t send the wrong item. The calendar is the same as the picture.
The text on the calendar is the same. Blah blah they don’t pay return shipping…
In addition, we didn’t sell the calendar at a high price. This is the best quality we can provide at this price.
Meanwhile, a friend pointed out something I’d missed. Under each picture, the year is 1955. But, whether by accident or design, the dates are correct for 2023, so it’s useable. I was relieved by this, because by this time I had grown fond of the calendar and thought it was funnier than if it had been done right. Obviously, it wasn’t going to be corrected during my lifetime. I wrapped it up and gave it to my family where it was a big hit (or at least they were kind enough to say they loved it).
Now that I think about it, that calendar is an excellent metaphor of how I present myself to the world. A good idea, well-intentioned, but deeply flawed. And bless my family, they love me anyway even as they brace themselves for the next surprise I send them.
On that same calendar shopping day, I also found the National Park Monster Calendar sold on Etsy. Each month features a stylized painting of a national park with Godzilla or some other monster in it as one of the natural features, often with people in 1950’s style clothing admiring the view. I thought others in my family would love it, so I recklessly bought four.
The first thing I noticed was the overall poor quality of the printing and slightly blurry images. Oh well, it was still fun, right? I looked at January, no monster. Instead, at the very bottom, under the dates, was a description in bold print that said, “The menace of flying saucers.” “Oh,” I thought, “The flying saucers must have been cut off at the top, boy is this cheap.” Flipping through the other pages, I was glad to see monsters, but I also saw that the description of every month read, “The menace of flying saucers,” regardless of what was pictured. Then I stopped and read one of the descriptions. Here’s what it said:
Here is some generic text. Don’t worry, at some point I will write actual text here but for now it’s generic text. Here is some generic text. Don’t worry, at some point I will write actual text here but for now it’s generic text. Here is some generic text. Don’t worry, at some point I will write actual text here but for now it’s generic text.
This same description was on every single page. I sent a nice email to the manufacturers pointing out the problems and suggesting that they should send me a corrected version. Here’s the response I got back in various fonts.
Dear buyer,
Thanks for your email. We are so sorry to hear that you are not satisfied with the item you received. But we didn’t send the wrong item. The calendar is the same as the picture.
The text on the calendar is the same. Blah blah they don’t pay return shipping…
In addition, we didn’t sell the calendar at a high price. This is the best quality we can provide at this price.
Meanwhile, a friend pointed out something I’d missed. Under each picture, the year is 1955. But, whether by accident or design, the dates are correct for 2023, so it’s useable. I was relieved by this, because by this time I had grown fond of the calendar and thought it was funnier than if it had been done right. Obviously, it wasn’t going to be corrected during my lifetime. I wrapped it up and gave it to my family where it was a big hit (or at least they were kind enough to say they loved it).
Now that I think about it, that calendar is an excellent metaphor of how I present myself to the world. A good idea, well-intentioned, but deeply flawed. And bless my family, they love me anyway even as they brace themselves for the next surprise I send them.