Super-Duper Cheese: Only for the Rich

A few months ago, I had my annual eye exam and got a new prescription, not too different from the old one, but enough so that my eye doctor said he thought I should get new glasses.

I got my current glasses from the office of a different eye doctor (I go through eye doctors kind of fast, for the thrills), who has an actual guy who does nothing but help people pick out glasses all day, plus that office has a huge selection of frames, so I telephoned that guy—let’s call him Harry—and asked if it would be OK if I went to him to get new frames, even if my prescription originated elsewhere. He said that would be fine, so one afternoon I went to that office, and looked at all the glasses, and didn’t see much I was crazy about, meaning that I didn’t see any glasses exactly like the ones I already had on my face.

As the hours wore on, however, Harry convinced me that times had changed and that what I saw before me were the new, fashionable shapes; why, he said, in so many words, that maybe it was time for a change. Of some frames I kind of liked, he said, “Well, if you WANT to look like John Adams … ”

The glasses he himself had on were not unappealing—they were rimless and incredibly light. From about four feet away, you could barely tell he had glasses on. They were $300, but at this particular moment in time, I have pretty good insurance, and so I ended up deciding to get these glasses. I wasn’t in love with them, but they seemed to be the best choice given what was available.

However, by then I’d been in there so long, the price had increased to $350; I think he had actually just accidentally given me the wrong price the first time around, though when he said $350, he acted like that was what he’d said in the first place.

With my insurance, it was still going to come out to be $267, and this for glasses I wasn’t completely crazy about, so I said I was going to have to think it over, and I did a very smart thing, which was to ask for my prescription back.

That evening, I decided that, since I like the glasses I already have very much, all I really needed was a backup pair.

When I called Harry to tell him that, he said peevishly, “I wish you’d told me that before you took up all my hours.” Which is to say, it really wasn’t OK with him for me to bring a prescription from another doctor to him—I know he would have been perfectly nice about it if the prescription had come from his own office.

I thought about sending him a note saying that, but decided my remaining moments are too few to waste in that manner, so in the end, I just went back to my current eye doctor’s office, determined to choose something from his much smaller selection of frames, all of which I’d thought were horrible when I saw them on eye exam day.

When I saw them again, however, it turned out Harry had given me a gift, because they all looked fantastic—they were all the new, fashionable shapes! I easily picked out some frames within 30 minutes. There was a rimless option similar to what I’d seen at Harry’s, but my eye doctor said, “Don’t get those! They don’t hold up well. I wouldn’t recommend them at all.”

So in the end, it cost me $39! Instead of $267! Thank GOD I didn’t get those rimless glasses at Harry’s. Probably a couple of months ago, I would hardly have blinked at spending $267 on glasses, but with the dreadful thing that has happened to my savings, even though it was pretend money to begin with—I think our entire economy is one big Ponzi scheme—I no longer feel so sanguine; now I’m all, “Uh, how much does that cost?”

Not long ago at Rainbow I saw some very highly touted cheese, only two containers left, customer favorite and after you taste it, you’ll know why; get it while it lasts. I picked it up and saw it was $20 for about six ounces, and said to myself, “I guess I’ll never know what that super-duper cheese tastes like.”

I also saw something in the bakery department called “Vegan Pleasure Domes,” a nice treat for the PETA member.

It is a bit worrisome to watch my imaginary money vanish, but if the economy does actually recover, which I tend to doubt it will (I mean, I'm sure there will be ups and downs, but I think we're basically at the beginning of a final collapse), stocks will have been the best thing to buy at this juncture, and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t matter if your money is in stocks, bonds, a checking account, crumpled bills under your cat litter box or in gold.

When it comes right down to it, it’s going to be about water and food, and if you can contrive to make sure you have those things, or get along well enough with your neighbors to form some collective way of getting those things.

I was reading quite a gloomy thing in the New Yorker about the economy; nearly every person quoted has a gun, because they foresee a future where we will have to guard our last few drops of water from other desperate souls.