Consumer Angst

I can't buy windshield wipers. Shame and embarrassment stalks me at every turn. If I go to the auto parts store in September to buy new blades to prepare for the winter to come, I feel the scorn of the cashier who must be thinking, "What kind of anal-retentive freak are you? It hasn't rained in years." If I walk into the store in a pouring rain, I can almost see the thought bubble form over the clerk's head: "Look at that goober; he doesn't have enough sense to put new wiper blades on his car until it's too late."

When noise our aged, dried out wiper blades made as they chattered across the windshield literally made conversation impossible this weekend, I had no choice but to replace the blades, on pain of a family revolt. To my relief, the purchase went without a hitch. The cashier didn't say a word.

But I know what he was thinking.