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It’s sad, to see him sit there, as time slowly takes away all that once made him great.
Once durable and strong, a powerful and moving company that any man would be proud to keep. To think, his days pressed snugly against my back pocket are numbered.
Oh, get your minds out of the gutter. I’m talking about my wallet, my faithful companion of many years, who is slowly succumbing to old age, rotting away in the depths of my jeans pocket.
Yes, good old Wally and I came to know each other about six years ago. I lost my wallet, and had to replace it. I went through several replacement wallets until I came across Wally. Wally was soft and pliable, and had a little divider in the pocket so that you could keep your cash on one side and ATM receipts on the other. With previous wallets, I had only room for cash. (I am a strict wallet segregationist.) ATM receipts ended up scrunched up in the floorboard of my car, where I would forget about that transaction, only to remember it in a month when my bank statement would arrive. (Note to bank customers: financial institutions do not buy the following excuse: “But the transaction was wadded up in a McDonald’s bag in my backseat! How could I have possibly remembered that I had taken out that money?)
But Wally had a little Berlin Wall of Transactions for me. Granted, the ATM receipt side was full far more than the cash side. I’m not sure how it happens, but whenever I have cash in my wallet, it always seems to disappear, yet I never seem to have any tangible items in return.
But over time, Wally’s strong exterior has slowly decayed. The edges are frayed, and there are little cracks all over the outside of it. Plus, some of the supporting seams on the inside are starting to unravel, so occasionally I will pull out a credit card and get a little ticker-tape parade streaming from my wallet. This is especially fun in a windy gas station parking lot.
I went to one of the –Mart stores to look at new wallets. There, I discovered that there are far too many styles of wallet. In my opinion, there should be two choices when it comes to picking out a new wallet – black or brown. Apparently, the wallet manufacturers think differently. In addition to many colors (and what self-respecting male would own a mauve wallet?), there are about a bajillion styles. There are bi-folds, tri-folds, single folds, Velcro, cloth, leather, and wallets with chains long enough to string together at least four or five prisoners. But all I wanted was a brown tri-fold with a little divider in the middle.
Turns out that doesn’t exist. For one thing, it is not, according to the wallet industry, technically a wallet. It is a passcase. A wallet apparently doesn’t have a separating wall. A passcase does. But I will not be bullied by the wallet cartel into carrying something called a passcase, because let’s face it, a passcase is for the man who thinks a mauve carry-all is snappy. A wallet is something manly, for someone who is not, technically, sure what color mauve is. Therefore, you call it a passcase all you want. It’s still a wallet to me.
After my moment of indignation, I resolved to suck it up and browse through the “passcase” section, after convincing myself that I could do away with all mentions of “passcases” and everyone would assume it was just a good old manly wallet.
Enter hurdle two: apparently, the –Mart stores only carry bi-fold passcases, whereas I needed a tri-fold. I know what you’re saying – you’re saying, “Mike, why not just buy a bi-fold, and stop making us endure this story?” Well I’ll tell you why – because that’s what they want you to do. They want you to roll over and accept anything they want. Trust me – today the bi-fold victory, tomorrow you’re reciting the Pledge of the Wallet Makers in school. Don’t give in. Unbridled and uncontrollable paranoia is healthy.
So I continue on my quest for a brown tri-fold passcase-that-will-become-a-wallet-immediately after purchase. I have hit three stores now, all with the same results. My wife did make one important observation: “Uh, why don’t you go to the place where you bought your old wallet?” Wise, she is. Wise indeed. Perhaps I will go back to that store. Assuming I can remember which one it is.