Annnnnddd…now I think I’m a quality tester. Or on an Angie’s List commercial. My buddy Joe and I took a little road trip to IKEA today (yes, of course we had a hot dog first; every adventure of ours features a hot dog), and somewhere in the maze between duvet covers and placemats I acquired a temperature of 101.1. So I was a little off, maybe.
We’re standing on the checkout line, me dizzy, Joe gabbing about city politics, when I had to stop his rant and excuse myself. The lady in front of us was purchasing a faulty product — I could see the damage with my eagle eye: a cute little nightstand, with fold-down leaves, and a broken hinge!
“Madam!” I stepped in, startling her. “You can’t buy…”
I was pushed aside by an IKEA worker, who gave me a dirty stare, picked up the little table, and carted it away.
What a terrible superhero I’d make. Gallant, maybe even a cool outfit, but saving absolutely no one.
Your best intention counts.