It’s very nice to appreciate what other people have, but as to those things fitting into my life, well, in most cases, no.
I have no need for the latest in mobile phone and computer technology, or TV surround sound, or electronic gadgetry. Anything we purchase is done so with practicality and economy in mind. It’s called a budget. (Not that I’m complaining, we live very well thanks.)
My expression Big Car, Little Dick always makes Hubby laugh.
Now before any guys start getting up in arms, let me explain.
Years ago, I worked in Finance, one of my roles being analysis of the purchase and running costs of COMPANY VEHICLES.
One of the many directors stood just a little taller than a grasshopper (OK, I exaggerated a little, add a few feet or so) , and selected for his choice one of the biggest top of the range 4×4 off-road Tanks of the Highway that the Company budget would allow.
His nose was practically level with the door handle, and he not only had to have the running bars fitted but also a fold down step on the driver’s side so that he could get in and out of the damn thing. Neither of these things came as standard, and the additional cost was almost £1000!
He was also one of the biggest posers in the Company, and believed that having a big car made him look top dog. Er, no.
Other people may call this sort of thing Penis Envy, especially when a female buys a large vehicle purely to impress others and expect them to pay homage as they drive past.
Excuse my lack of awe.
Now going back even further into my working life, when I had no idea of the cost of company cars as I was just a humble accounts clerk, the Big Boss drove a Bentley.
OK, it was an old one, but then so was he.
The Son drove an Audi, but had decided that come August that year, he was going to have a Brand New Beamer.
Car parking outside the office was very limited in both space and time zones, so if I timed it right, I could park my car in a different zone to someone else and if a warden was around we’d be able to swap places when necessary. Add a third office worker in yet another parking zone, and there was no problem at all. Time it wrong though, and it was a half mile walk up from the multi-storey car park in the centre of town.
One particular day mid July, I timed it VERY wrong, it was pouring with rain, and I had a long walk. I was crossing the road when this idiot deliberately drove through a puddle in front of me, and I got absolutely soaked.
By the time I squelched into work, I was not a happy bunny, and this was enhanced when I overheard Son bragging about the poor unsuspecting soul he’d drenched on his way in.
I used the hand drier in the ladies on my hair and also directed the heat to the inside of my sodden shoes which I couldn’t wear for most of the day. I hung my coat up as close to the radiator as I could, hoping it would dry by the time I went home.
August 1st was a Saturday that year, but Son had been permitted to collect his New, Black, Shiny BMW on July 31st, which he parked in the company yard.
I was not feeling well. Something had disagreed with me, and my immediate boss said I would be better off horizontal and told me to go home.
Luckily, my car was parked only a few yards down the road, but as soon as I turned the key, I turned it off again and rushed back to the office to get to the loo.
The loo was at the back of the building, and the quickest way to get to it was to go through the yard.
Yep, you’ve guessed it. I didn’t make it, and threw up all over Son’s new motor vehicle.
My boss (who thought he was an arrogant twit) was in hysterics as I sobbed in the loo and she cleared up the mess.
Son had driven it precisely 4 miles.