Press 1 for Hell

"Okay, let me see if I can help you".  Thus began the voice prompt odyssey.  And at first I was hopeful that this sexy voiced computer would be able to dispatch my problem with great haste.  I imagined myself the star in a science fiction fantasy where the mod she-bots dote on my James Bond like character.  Greeted as I enter the room with a sexy "Good morning Dr. Feuer.  How may we assist you?"  You can picture it.  The she-bots are wearing those Twiggy style mini skirts and their hair is in an over sprayed, non-movable "updo" configuration.  And perhaps they are wearing those white gloves which reach practically to the elbow.  "Ah yes", I breathed in anticipatory delight.  I will not have to deal with a clerk who states his name is Joe when we all know his real name is Rajesh.

But no, Verizon's artificial intelligence system is not quite ready for a Star Trek like experience.  There is no proactive command function available to the hapless customer who just wants his Fios voice mail to not cut off his Mom in mid message.  Apparently, the rocket scientists over at the Verizon R and D department have been instructed to program the voice recognition tech support hotline to weed out the morons who have simply forgotten their voice mail phone number, lost their 4 digit pin code, are not sure how to leave a message prompt, still have a rotary phone, or have no idea what voice mail even means.  So rather than simply having me state my problem I had to suffer through this cross examination:
"Do you have a dial tone?"
"Yes"
"Sorry, I didn't get that."
"YES!!"
"Okay, have you forgotten the number to retrieve your voice messages?"
"NO"
"Have you forgotten your pin code?"
"NO"
"Would you like your current balance?"
"Not really."
"How about how many text message units you have left?"
"Seriously?"
"Would you like to hear about special offers Verizon has for our special customers like you?"
"I thought this was tech support."
"A simple yes or no will do."
"NO."
"No, you don't want to hear our special offers or no, a simple yes or no won't do?"
"No. No. No. No.  No."
"Okay then.  Congratulations.  We have determined that you have an actual problem.  Please hold for the next available technician."  CLICK.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!!!"

Can I Return It if It Is Not Comfortable?

I recently cracked my toilet seat in half.  While I was sitting on it.  I didn't even get to finish the comics section.  True story.  Fortunately no shards pierced my delicate bottom.  I am not one hundred percent certain, but I think skin that has never been exposed may be more delicate than the weather beaten kind.  So I dodged a bullet there.

So shopping for a new toilet bowl seat is not as straight forward as one may imagine.  Aside from the almond versus white and the elongated versus round there are a myriad of choices that no man should have to bother himself with.  It's easier to pick out flowers for your wife and that's just wrong.  Thank goodness the bowl itself usually comes pre-installed in a new home so the shape decision has already been made.  And if you think it is strictly about accommodating the male physique I invite you to "Google" elongated vs round.  There is a discussion thread for every bored man, woman, and plumber on the face of the Earth.

But our story begins on the top of the bowl.  The porcelain-ass interface if you will.   Where man meets contraption (concraption?).  The weak link in any piece of adaptive technology such as a prosthetic leg.  And with all due respect and empathy for the disabled, the importance of avoiding chafing and numbing due to pressure points may be of equal concern to handicapped athletes and potty sitting couch potatoes alike.  And that is why I  don't understand the retail mechanism by which toilet seats are sold.  When you go to purchase new kitchen chairs they are not all hanging on a wall.  Same with living room chairs.  And mattresses.  Even bar stools.  One does not walk into a dinette set showroom only to be confronted with a wall full of hanging furniture.  No.  All the seats are on a display floor.  Strategically placed for the leisurely appraisal of durability, stability, and comfort.  So why when I walk into Lowe's or Home Depot are all the toilet seats hanging on a wall??  Are they artwork for purchase?  They are seats.  And a seat, I should point out, which will get more action than the dining room chairs we use twice a year.  And those chairs were carefully vetted over a course of weeks and months of trial and error sitting.  In furniture showrooms across a three county area I might add.

I know what you are thinking.  I should have gone to the Kohler showroom.  Well, that is like telling me to go see a Frank Lloyd Wright house when all I want is a sub division double wide.  Toilet seats are for the masses, and the masses shop at Lowe's, or Walmart, where we actually ended up buying the thing.  Their selection was rather limited which suited me just fine.  If I couldn't try the seat out, I might as well not have too much to choose from anyway.  Though we did fight over cushioned versus firm.  And "whisper close" versus metal hinged (which slam closed).  And satin finish hardware versus shiny.  And wood toned finish (perfect for a log cabin in my opinion, but not Tammy's) versus plain white.  And plastic molded contoured versus melamine covered wood.  And a ten dollar model versus a twenty dollar model which differed only in their respective warranties.  And if you are not clear as to why a toilet seat requires a warranty I refer you to the first paragraph of this essay.