Wristwatch defies wisdom, requires watching


With Thanksgiving this week, I should be writing about gratitude and/or turkey dinner memories. This time of year reminds us what we should be grateful for, two of which ARE NOT my cow yoga monthly calendar with its torn heavy cardstock hanging loop that keeps causing the months to flip back to May or July and my junk wristwatch that refuses to keep accurate time. It’s a wonder I get anything done without accurate date and time reminders.

While the cow yoga calendar randomly jumping months really bugs me and would seem to be more annoying than the watch, it’s not. For I reference it only occasionally, not several times an hour like I do the watch. Plus, when I look at the calendar and see, for instance, hearts illustrations and the word “February” atop a page, I remain oriented enough to time and place to recognize it’s actually November, not February. Conversely, a watch that’s slowly losing time is not immediately and/or obviously detectable, which carries great potential for getting its wearer into trouble.

My watch first began losing time two years ago, when I was supposed to be a speaker at a regional conference. I went in well in advance of the session I was to facilitate and set up the room and my materials. Glancing at my watch, I saw I had at least another 30 minutes to kill before I’d need to speak, so I went to find the conference’s emcee about a later session where we’d be partnering.

When I returned to my speaking room 25-minutes later, I was shocked to find the chairs filled with participants, all waiting for me. It was horribly embarrassing, believing I was working ahead of schedule when I was actually running behind. Must be the watch’s battery running down, I thought. For the duration of the conference, I used my cell phone as a substitute timepiece.

Timepiece. Now there’s a word you don’t often hear, unless you hang around in old-money European circles. But there was nothing cultured-looking about virtually wearing my phone on my sleeve. And my conference wardrobe selections lacked pockets, so there was nowhere to put the darned thing, except atop my conference folder. What I would have given for a pocket protector and a pocket to which to fasten it!

When I got home from the conference, I went to Batteries Plus for a replacement watch battery. “Would you like one of our lifetime warranty battery plans?” asked the manager. He explained that for around $15, roughly twice the cost of a new battery and installation labor, I could get a lifetime battery replacement certificate – essentially medical insurance for my watch.

Heck yes! I have spent a fortune on replacement batteries. Some were easy enough to access through popping off the backs of my watches. However, some watch backs refused to go back on once they were removed, necessitating me going to a watch or jewelry professional for help, thus immediately skyrocketing the price of battery replacement – the very thing I was attempting to avoid.

You’re probably thinking the watch I am writing about must be pretty special to warrant lifetime battery replacement. But you’d be wrong. We’re talking a basic woman’s Timex Expedition that retailed for around $25 max. I initially paid a dollar for it at Goodwill with intent to part it out and use its band on another watch. However, when I noticed it was an Indiglo (lighted face) and actually kept time, I started wearing it all the time.

The lifetime battery replacement was my attempt to legitimize my purchase. Throwing of good money after bad is a time-honored American tradition, as is praying for God’s wisdom and then ignoring it. Turns out, the battery wasn’t the issue, anyway. Something else deep in the watch bowels continued to malfunction. Grrr! So my watch-specific lifetime battery was of no help to me.

This Thanksgiving, I am going to be thankful God gives me the wisdom to make better decisions, should I choose to listen to Him and not keep doing things my own, ridiculous way. Gotta go now and re-set my Timex again for the umpteenth time. I’m still wearing it.


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