It’s Come to This…

Today, I sanded and painted like a madwoman. I have been doing this for months now because I moved into a condo that needed some work. I’ve painted five hardwood doors, first sanding them thoroughly, then putting four coats of paint on each side. That meant I also had to sand and paint each door frame. I just finished painting my living room and have now painted every room upstairs except for my bathroom, which is beyond hope in pale pink with a shell shaped sink and gold faucets. I’ve also painted every room downstairs. If I could reach the high stairwells, I’d paint them too, but death seems like a pretty high price to pay for a fresh look at home.

So, when I take a break, I really look forward to it – almost scarily so. Which is why the other night I bought myself some Dove Mini Bars. They’re bite-sized round bars with really great Dove dark chocolate coating on the outside. If you took a hot dog and cut it in three, that’s about the size of one.

I try not to eat too many, but painting is a pain so I like to treat myself after a job well done. As I was driving home, I couldn’t wait to dive into my Dove Mini’s and grabbed one in the car. Usually the box has an equal number of chocolate and vanilla ice cream filled bars. I bit into my first, and it was vanilla. A minor disappointment because I have no problem eating either, but I LOVE the chocolate filled ones.

I knew there were others waiting in the box, so I had another one. (At 60 calories a bar, I figured I could eat three and not feel too much guilt.) Another disappointing vanilla. I thought, OK the next one HAS to be chocolate, so I dove into yet another and came up disappointed again. I put them away and decided that the next time I open the box, it will be chocolate heaven.

So, today, after finishing painting my living room and hallway, I stuck my hand in the box, knowing that my chocolate dreams would finally come true…only to be foiled again. What the hell?

I know, that in the wide scope of life with global warming, nuclear annihilation, tornadoes, deadly wildfires, etc, this is nothing to be up in arms about…but I was ticked. I then opened every stinking package of Dove mini’s in the box (you can see the telltale vanilla peeking out from under the chocolate coating) to discover there was only ONE CHOCOLATE, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

And this is the embarrassing part. I actually called the company and complained…hey, the number was right there on the box! A very nice, calm young man named Jad answered the phone. I told him I acknowledge that in the wide scope of life the concern I was about to tell him about is not important, but that it was a bit of a disappointment.

People in that line of work are always really good at apologizing and trying not to make you feel petty for calling about the number of chocolate bars in a box of ice cream confections, but I still felt ridiculous realizing that if I was still working full-time I wouldn’t have time for such frivolity.

Jad asked my name, email, phone number and address, which he said he needed (not for Dove management retribution) but so he could mail me a coupon for a free box of Dove Minis. He also got the box number and the SKU number just in case other people call ranting about how they got cheated out of their alotted number of chocolate treats.

Jad kindly said it’s good when customers let them know about things like this because they need it for quality control. It was like a verbal pat, pat on my arm to calm me, like they do to people they’re trying to talk off a ledge. I offered him my suggestion of labeling the plastic holding the treat, chocolate or vanilla so you know just by looking at the wrapper, or better yet, making a box of just chocolate ones for crazy people like me. He said he wrote it all down.

Is this the beginning? Will I start counting the number of sheets in toilet paper because I want to be sure that 6 really does equal 12? Will I call and complain about sugar because it’s four pounds and not five anymore? Or will I just settle down, go get a hot fudge sundae and forget the whole damned thing?

Yeah, that sounds good. And I think I may have to stop painting.