We all have regrets.
Missed connections. Faded opportunities. Sequels. In a culture that praises possession, the concept of loss is not only more prevalent mathematically, but it is also much harder to swallow. We have all felt it. We’ve turned down job offers, only to see our current job reward our loyalty with a pretty pink slip of paper. We’ve turned our backs on hot guys/girls at the club in favor of his/her hotter (and, as we later discover, quite transsexual) friend. We neglect to keep in touch with that extended family member who goes on to get walloped by a city bus and, worse, leaves his/her entire inheritance to the gerbil.
My own story of loss is no different, aside from the fact that, since it happened to me, it is thus far more important than your own tale of woe. I failed to seize an opportunity and, as a result, a gaping void was all I saw come of it. It’s very difficult for me to commit this story to print, so I hope you appreciate and financially reward my efforts here. I have only told it to two very close friends, about twelve not-so-close acquaintances, and a 7-11 clerk. As you might imagine, my loss involved a “Fraggle Rock” DVD set.
Yes, THAT “Fraggle Rock,” Jim Henson’s 1980s series that followed the adventures of a group of puppets living behind the wall of a very dimwitted man named Doc and his fake dog. I don’t know what the hell Doc is working on in that piece of shit shop he apparently lives in that opens each episode, but he must be focusing that lone brain cell of his on it pretty hard, because there is a LOT he has been missing. Does he even know his own dog is a puppet? Doesn’t he get suspicious when Jim Henson and a team of puppeteers scamper behind his wall every week, their hands covered in colorful felt. And the Gorgs! How the hell did he miss them?! They are at LEAST his size, if not bigger. Of course, he could be living in Philadelphia and would thus not at all bat an eye at a trio of overgrown hideous trolls.
Anyhow, as entire seasons (and series) of TV programs made their way onto DVD in the 2000s, it was only a matter of time before “Fraggle Rock” made it into the rotation. Ultimately, Jim Henson’s widow wiped tears from her eyes (using seventeen-figure residual checks from “Sesame Street”) and gave DVD manufacturers permission to bring her late husband’s vision to home video’s latest medium. The entire series was ultimately released and stamped with a triple-digit price tag. Since such a tag didn’t enter my budget needs, the DVD set never entered my home.
All of a sudden, a miracle occurred.
Electronic exchange, a discount electronics store on Philadelphia’s bar- , shop- , and hipster-laden South Street opened for business. An avid DVD collector, I visited the store numerous times. My movie collection (and weight of my backpack upon leaving the store) soared into the upper 400s, thanks to the store’s $2 and $6 price tags for DVDs. Even TV seasons had deals; an entire season of the exceptionally great show “Boston Legal” retailed for $10, unlike its fellow copies at the mall 30 blocks (and dollars) north. If this store was a restaurant, it’d be the type of place that would NOT charge extra for bacon on your sandwich/burger/spaghetti. Life was good.
And then, one day, I walked in and abruptly stopped in amazement as I approached the TV season shelf. The guy walking too close behind me did not appreciate that. Oh, well; fuck him.
Gracing the shelf was “Fraggle Rock: The Complete Series.”
For $50.
While the price was well below what other stores wanted for it, $50 is still a lot of money to someone who furnished his entire kitchen with $20 worth of Dollar Tree supplies. Plus, I had just gotten “The Ben Stiller Show: The Complete Series” on DVD from THAT VERY SAME STORE for a much more reasonable $4. I opted to side with my usual expenses (rent, cell phone, alcoholic drinks for hot girls) and leave the adventures of Gobo (control freak), Mokey (stoner), Red (slut), Wembley (retard), and Boober (sociopath) on the shelf. Surely in a city that worships little more than hip hop and sports, “Fraggle Rock: The Complete Series” will surely be on that shelf for eons, dust covering its colorful packaging.
A few months later, I received a $50 Visa gift card for my birthday. I could use it for one of two things:
–Groceries so I don’t starve;
–A DVD box set of a show I haven’t watched since age 7.
Clearly, the choice was obvious. I made my way to Electronic Exchange. Then I made my way back to my apartment, because my absent-minded ass had left the gift card on my table. I made my way back to Electronic Exchange.
It. Was. GONE.
Perhaps it was misplaced during cleaning. I scoured the store, checking every last section, including movies, video games, and the jacked cell phone shelves. If you don’t think a clerk would accidentally place a DVD box set on a shelf that contained nothing but iPhones, you haven’t dealt with Philadelphia-area store clerks. Nothing. Nada. Sure, “Charmed: The Complete Series” was still on the shelf (and probably still is today)!
I was heartbroken. I was torn. It took every last ounce of my strength to blow that $50 gift card on a season of “Boston Legal,” a few movies, and a pulled pork sandwich at Subway.
Folks, learn from my mistake. It is too late for me. But it might not be too late for you. Take chances. Seize opportunities. Quit your job (unless you owe me money, in which case quit after I am paid back in full). Buy DVD box sets of 1980s childrens’ programming at 1/3 the price. You only live once, and that life stretches out for like 70-80 long years. You need to be entertained.
And to whoever bought that awesomely priced DVD box set: I hope every disc was scratched and sincere hopes that you and your family die in a house fire.
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