Modern Life: I bought a Car Faster Than I Traded in My Verizon Cellphone

 After nine years of faithful service, my cellphone euthanized itself and died a painless death. 

My wife and I went to Verizon to buy a new phone, and it took us about two hours to complete the transaction. I purchased my new Honda pickup truck in less time.

Later, I went back to the Verizon store to turn in the old cellphone, which took 40 minutes. I could have bought a set of tires faster.

I'm not complaining about Verizon. My sales associates were very helpful and professional. That's just how long it takes to switch out a cellphone nowadays.

After leaving the Verizon store, I drove out on a side street where my car was blocked by a woman sitting in an idling vehicle that completely straddled the road, impeding traffic.

Why? She was waiting in the takeout line at Panda Express, which stretched out into a public road. 

Did it bother her that she was impeding other drivers? I doubt it. She was probably talking on her mobile phone.

I bought groceries at my neighborhood Albertson's store a few weeks ago. My cashier was wearing earbuds and carrying on a personal conversation while he scanned my grocery items. He sacked my purchases without ever acknowledging my presence, but the checkout process was slower because my groceries distracted him from his social life. I felt like I should apologize.

My CVS store wants me to scan and bag my purchases without a cashier's assistance, but it takes me twice as long as it would take me to pay a CVS employee standing at a cash register. If I buy cough syrup, my transaction is stopped until a live sales associate saunters over to view my driver's license to ensure I'm at least 21. I'm 77.

If I scan a CVS coupon that entitles me to get a buck off a bottle of Tums, I must stuff it into a slot where it always gets stuck. I'm forced to wait until a salesperson walks over to jam the coupon deeper into the bowels of the self-checkout machine.

America has constructed an urban landscape that has become increasingly tedious and inconvenient for average people to conduct their personal business. People drive around in air-conditioned cars, anonymous behind tinted windows, and consult their cellphones while waiting in the takeout line of fast food restaurants. They needlessly burn gasoline, and when they finally arrive at the takeout window, their food is cold.

Occasionally, I'm surprised by mercantile speed and efficiency. I have a monthly car wash account at Benny's Car Wash. A sticker on my windshield registers me as a dues-paying member, entitling me to purchase a car wash for a cheaper price.

I bought a pickup truck recently and knew I would need to register it with Benny's and get a new sticker. How long would that take, I wondered? Probably an hour.

No, a cheery young man, probably an LSU student, transferred my account to my new truck while I was going through the car wash. He awaited me when my clean car emerged and slapped a new sticker on my windshield. 

That young man will succeed in life, regardless of his chosen vocation. For my sake, I hope he keeps working at Benny's Car Wash.

Image credit: The Today Show