Keep Strummin’ – Tuning Your Guitar

Now that you’ve got your guitar, the next thing on the agenda is to tune it. To illustrate why this is important, strum down on the strings with your thumb and note the horrible noise that’s produced. Pretty awful, huh? Next, check your strumming hand to see if you’re holding anything that might have contributed to the ruckus, such as a Red Bull can or a salami sandwich. If so, drop said item and try again. Ugh! Still pretty awful! So, that’s why you need to tune your guitar.

Unfortunately, tuning can be an annoying little chore, so before we get into any details, the first thing you should do is look around and see if there are any experienced guitarists nearby who might be able to do it for you, such as Ricky Skaggs. If so, then you’re in luck! Now you just have to convince them to do it! If you happen to be a girl, it can sometimes help to bat your eyes and/or a do a cute little hair-flip to grease the skids. Guys, conversely, are going to have a tougher time in general with this, although don’t let that stop you from trying, especially the hair-flip part. You never know!

If it turns out that you’re unlucky enough to have to do it yourself, you’re going to need a tuner to assist you, which will be either a physical device that you clip to your guitar or an app downloaded onto your phone. (Side note: Some people can tune their guitars by ear, but they’re all freaks of nature who’d never read this essay anyway, so we’re just going to pretend that’s not a real thing.)

The short overview of how your tuner works is that it’s calibrated to detect the notes your guitar strings play and then tell you just how off-pitch each is from what it’s supposed to be. If your string is playing too high, you have to loosen it, and if it’s too low, you have to tighten it. Simple, right?

Ha ha! Just kidding! Of course it’s not simple!

The first confusing thing is that the notes you’re supposed to tune the strings to—which are denoted by letter names—are all random and make no sense. Starting with the thickest string and working down, they need to be: EADGBE. I mean, what? Why is E in there twice? What makes it better than C, which has been totally ignored? Or F? Have those notes offended the others and are now in exile or something? How rude! Then, to make matters worse, the first and second E don’t even sound the same! What’s up with that? Why can two notes have the same name but also sound different? 

The short answer to this nonsense is that a guitar can play a lot more notes than the six you tune the strings to, and the Founding Guitar Fathers could only afford the first seven letters of the alphabet (A-G) when they were purchasing the rights to use them. It wasn't long, then, before they'd used up all seven, and so they had no choice but to loop back around and start over again at the beginning. It’s really a shame, too, because it’d be way easier if they kept everything separate, resulting in such notes as J and Z and LMNOP. Also, sometimes you’ll see notes with weird little symbols after them, like the pound sign. (Example: C#) Ignore them for now, as their only function is to confuse you and make you want to quit. (The Founding Guitar Fathers were an exclusive club, and they wanted to keep the number of their members low.)

Unfortunately, your tuner can only tell you the letter name of the note you’re playing, and not if it’s the correct variation you’re trying to tune to. So, you might be tuned to Fat String E when you really should be tuned to Skinny String E! AARRRGHH! It’s at this point where you might need to turn to the internet for help, namely one of the millions of tuning videos you can find on the video sharing site of your choice. Pick one at random, because they’re all the same, and after watching eight minutes of commercials, jump to the end, where the smug person in the video will proudly play each tuned string nice and slowly. If you need to, you can now use this as a reference for when you begin trying to tune your own instrument.

(Note: I did say that all tuning videos are the same, and for the most part that’s true. However, the one exception I know of is a guy who teaches you to tune a mandolin, in which case he keeps talking about his G-String in the most serious manner, over and over again: “Okay, take hold of your G-String!” It’s one of the most unintentionally hilarious things ever, and sometimes when I’ve had a bad day, I’ll just watch that video several times to help lift my spirits.)

Okay, so now you know what tuning your strings means, but you still need to know how to do it. We’ll start with the big, thick E string. (Not your G-String.) Squinting intently, follow it up the neck of the guitar to where it ends. If it disappears just past the big, scary hole, you’ve gone in the wrong direction and need to do a three-point turn and head back the opposite way. Eventually, you’ll see that its terminus is a metal post that the string is wrapped around, holding it in place. Also note that at the end of the post is a handy little knob you can twist. This knob is the key to everything. If you twist it one way, the string tightens, and if you twist it the other, it will loosen. However, keep in mind that the end of the string, not to mention possibly the ends of its neighbors, might be poking out of the wrapping like a thorn bush, ready to puncture your flesh at the slightest misstep. This is why I recommend you have plenty of bandages and antiseptic on hand any time you attempt the tuning process.

Now, here’s where things get extra-tricky. If you start looking at other tutorials, they’ll all say that there’s a method to determine what direction you need to twist to either tighten or loosen a string, one that depends on such complicated factors as what side of the guitar you’re currently working on, whether you’re north or south of the Equator, and whether or not you’re in Daylight Savings Time. However, that’s all nonsense. What I’ve discovered over the years is that the direction you need to turn the knob is completely random and can change daily, sometimes even hourly. When a knob does this, it’s called “reversing polarity,” and why it happens is a great mystery that’s best not dwelt upon. So, what you’re going to need to do is twist the knob in a random direction, clockwise or counterclockwise, and see what happens. You’ll either feel the string tighten, loosen, or it will break with a frighteningly loud snapping sound that will cause you to have a minor heart attack and/or poke one of your eyes out.

In the case of the string breaking, you’ll have to refer to another essay I intend to write, “Restringing Your Guitar in 36 Hours or Less.” However, if the string makes it through intact, you’ll now know what direction to turn the knob to tighten or loosen it, which then leaves you with the task of combining your tuner with the online video and the knob to sync it all up. However, you have to be fast about it, because there’s always the potential for the knob to reverse polarity halfway through the process, which has happened to me on more than one occasion.

When you’ve finally finished tuning all six strings, you’re going to need a break. You’ll most likely be bleeding from several puncture wounds, your nerves will be shot from the fear of strings breaking, and it will be several hours later. However, before you flop down on the couch, run your thumb down the strings and note that it now makes a completely unremarkable, yet totally inoffensive sound. Hooray!  Your guitar is tuned and sounds completely tolerable! (At least until it falls back out of tune sometime in the next few days.)

All right, that’s all for today! Join me next time when we discuss attempting to play a few basic chords! (Note that I said “attempting,” as I don’t want to get your hopes up.)

Until next time,

Keep Strummin’!

Keep Strummin' - Obtaining Your Axe

Okay, so you’ve made the big commitment to learn to play the guitar! Now what?

Obviously, your first priority is to take a series of classy portraits of yourself for use on the cover of your inevitable debut album. In addition, you might want to pen the introduction of your autobiography, which you will inevitably have to write, as it’ll be super-cool if it came from the time before your meteoric rise to stardom.

Once you get those important tasks taken care of, it’s time to move on to the next step: Getting yourself a guitar to play. Unfortunately, this can be a particularly confusing and stressful endeavor, due to the sheer number of options out there, and so I’ve taken the liberty of coming up with a potential hack. Listen close, as this may save you a LOT of time: What I want you to do is search your entire house, including all of those dark little closets that play host to massive spider parties, and see if you can find … a guitar. If so, congratulations, you already have one!!! Hooray!! What a lucky break! Now you can just skip the rest of this essay and take some well-earned time off.

Still here? Bummer! That means you don’t own a guitar and you now have to go out and find one.

The obvious play here is to go down to your local music shop, since there should be people there to help you narrow your options and assist you in making a wise choice that not only suits your needs but also fits your budget. However, I wouldn’t recommend this, since music shops all have an air of … how do I put it? … competence to them. The few times I’ve entered one, I’ve always felt like an absolute poser with no right to be there, like every single person inside has Jimmy Hendrix-like abilities and is already judging me. In fact, in my mind, this is how I fully expect things to play out each time I decide to frequent such an establishment:

Proprietor: {Mildly suspicious} “Oh, hello. Why are you here?”

Me: “I play the guitar. I’m here to examine your wares.”

Proprietor: {After doubling over in a fit of hysterics that lasts for far too long} “Oh, that’s a good one! You play the guitar!! Can you imagine? Still, you almost had me going there for a second!” {Wipes a few tears away} “Okay, now really, why are you here? Are you lost or something?”

However, if you don’t have crippling music-shop-anxiety, feel free to give it a shot and let me know how it goes!

Another option would be to go to a few local yard sales and see if you can pick one up cheap there. People are giving up learning to play left and right, and if they haven’t already destroyed their instrument in a fit of rage, there’s always a chance they might be selling it. The advantage of going this route, as opposed to looking at various online marketplaces, is that you get to see the instrument in-person and squint at it knowledgeably before deciding if you should buy it. Of course, you’ll have no idea what you’re doing, much like when you open the hood of your car to try and diagnose that funny wheezing noise, but you can still do a few basic checks, such as making sure it’s still in one piece, it doesn’t have any fire damage, and there are no rats’ nests inside of the sound hole. Beyond that, though, I recommend you don’t even touch it, much less try to play it. The last thing you want is to be chastised by some smug know-it-all who has the nerve to tell you that you’re not supposed to be holding it like an upright bass.

This leads me to my preferred method of obtaining a guitar: Intending to do intensive research online but then getting frustrated and picking one on a whim off of Amazon. Yes, I always go into purchasing a guitar with good intentions of doing my research, including a critical analysis of different brands and styles. However, I’ll then remember that about 7 million companies make guitars of various shapes and sizes, including some that you’d never expect, such as Yamaha. This sobering fact always makes my motivation crumble, leaving me looking for an easy way out. I’ll then go to Amazon, search for guitars, and sort the results by price. Next, I’ll scroll to those within my specific price range, look at a few, and finally pick one pretty much at random, just as long as there are no user reviews stating that these particular models have been known to spontaneously combust.

All right! Assuming you follow these steps, you’ll soon have gotten yourself a guitar! Congratulations! At that point it’ll almost be time to start completely humiliating yourself! However, you won’t be there yet. So, join me next time as we’ll discuss tuning your new guitar, which is a necessary step to make your initial attempts to play sound slightly less terrible.

Until next time,

Keep Strummin’!

Keep Strummin’ - Introduction

So you want to learn to play guitar, do you?

Maybe you’ve noticed the lulls in the conversation during your summer camping trips that you think would sound good filled with a high-decibel rendition of “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” Or perhaps you finally want to fill that guitar-sized empty spot in the corner of your living room, so that when somebody drops by and sees it, they might say, “Do you play?” at which point you could then shrug and reply, “Oh, I dabble.” Or, assuming you’re a single man under the age of 30, maybe you’re hoping that as soon as you learn to strum a single chord, every girl within a fifty-mile radius will fall hopelessly in love with you and come knocking on your door, prepared to fling themselves at you with reckless abandon.

Regardless of your motivations, though, I can say definitively that you’ve come to the right place.

Or, at least that you’ve come to a place.

I mean, a place that’s won’t charge you any money or anything.

Anyway, unless I get bored and eventually give up on this project, what’s going to follow this introduction is a series of straight-to-the-point essays that will help get you up to speed on playing the guitar. These will be written by a “regular Joe” for a “regular Joe,” which means I won’t be getting into all of the technical jargon and music theory that makes most internet tutorials on the subject much too dense and virtually unusable. I do this out of respect for your time and sanity, not to mention the fact that I’ve yet to figure any of it out yet myself. (Circle of fifths, am I right?) Plus, if I’m being honest, you don’t really need any of that stuff anyway, unless, of course, you’re one of those people; you know, those snobby guitarists who like to show off by playing things such as (rolls eyes) melodies.

But ... before we go any further, here’s a little bit about myself:

I play the guitar at a level somewhere above that of a beginner and below that of an expert.

Okay, now that we’ve established my rock-solid credentials, I’d like to next share a few, overarching thoughts about learning to play the guitar that you should keep in mind as you set out on your journey:

1) Be Ready To Be Terrible

I know it might sound harsh, but it’s best not to sugarcoat it. In fact, a recent survey has revealed that 17.4% of all beginning guitarists give up in less than a month. Or, wait, is that the percent of New Year’s resolutions that last through February? Anyway, the point is that it takes a certain kind of person to be able to push through the beginner phase, where you’re going to be terrible. Now, don’t panic, that’s totally normal. It happens to everybody. Heck, it even happened to Jerry Reed! (Source: My assumptions)

In short, learning to play has a way of throwing your ego onto the ground, stepping on it, and grinding it into dust. It’s just the natural order of things. You might not believe it now, but you will after you attempt to play a few chords and each time the result sounds like you’ve just thrown a cat down a flight of steps.

2) Don’t Compare Yourself to Others

Don’t do it. Just don’t. You see, no matter where you go or who you play with, there is always going to be somebody better than you, probably one of those annoying “melody” people, and after listening to this person perform, you’re going to want to set your guitar, and possibly a few other things, on fire. The only real way to deal with it is to decide early on that you’re only going to compare yourself to … wait for it … yourself. Yes, as long as you’re doing better than you were a few months ago, then all is well and you can move forward with your head held high! (Side note: It’s when you’re continually getting worse month after month that you might need to have a hard conversation with yourself, which is something I’ll cover in the “Quitting With Dignity” essay, assuming I remember to write it.)

3) Find a Proper Practice Place

Having a good spot to learn to play is paramount. For example, a courthouse jury room would be a bad choice, as would a doctor’s office or my living room. In short, you want to be outside of the hearing range of any high-strung individuals with potential anger issues, as you never want to have to use your instrument as a means of self-defense should someone finally snap as you work through “Sweet Home Alabama” for the sixtieth time. Also, if your practice area is not located on a ground floor, make sure the windows all have locks. You see, one of the greatest temptations when you’re learning to play is to throw your instrument out of one of these said windows, so you can hear the satisfying sound of it breaking into a thousand pieces on the sidewalk below. Now, while this can be a fun little exercise, it can also be quite fiscally irresponsible, especially if it becomes a regular habit.

4.) Always Make Sure Your Lists End at 3

All right, that’s it for today! Next time we’ll get into how you should go about obtaining your first guitar! (Note that I didn’t say “buying,” as theft is most definitely on the table.)

Until next time,

Keep Strummin’!

A Good Friend

Fun Fact: I’ve got a good friend whom I’ve never spoken to and whose name is completely unknown to me.

Now, after reading the above statement, I’m going to guess at your initial response, based entirely on your gender:

Guy: “Lucky.”

Girl: “What??”

Yeah, guys often tend to value efficiency and simplicity in matters such as these, opting to instead save their brains for other things, such as determining the mathematical chances of their favorite team making the playoffs or trying to figure out how to talk to girls.

Anyway, the point I’m trying to make here is that simplicity is generally good for guys, which goes a long way in explaining my good friend whom I’ve never spoken to and whose name is completely unknown to me.

Let me elaborate:

Not far from my house is a paved, thee-mile loop, perfect for jogging, walking, and evading the local authorities. I’ve taken to using it quite often, which means that over time I’ve had to develop a specialized technique for encountering others going in the opposite direction. The point of this is to minimize the chances of social interaction, since—at least in my experience—social interaction inevitably leads to social awkwardness.

Now, after reading that last statement, I’m going to guess at your initial response, based entirely on if you know me personally or not:

You Know Me Personally: “I can see that.”

You Don’t Know Me Personally: “What??”

Yeah, sometimes I tend to overthink things, but it’s all in an attempt to keep things simple in the big picture. Anyway, my technique works as follows:

When I encounter somebody on the trail, I initially hope they’re so engrossed in some activity—such as looking at their phone, wondering why they brought their 800-pound, high-velocity dog along with them, or evading the local authorities—that they won’t even notice me pass. If, however, they’re paying attention to their surroundings, I glance in their direction for the briefest of moments, just to be polite. With any luck, we won’t make eye contact, leaving me to conclude that this person is either too snobby to waste time on me or too busy calculating playoff probabilities in their brain. Either way, I can then happily avert my gaze and keep on trucking, satisfied that I tried to be polite. If, however, we end up making eye contact, I will reluctantly nod. (A downward head nod, mind you, not an upward one, as those should be reserved for spouses, other loved ones, and Cy Young Award winners.) Bear in mind, now, that eye contact and a nod is an absolute worst-case scenario, as it can lead to return nods and perhaps even {shudder} waves. (There’s no coming back from a wave. After you exchange one of those, you’re obligated to repeat the process every time you encounter that person until the end of time. In fact, if you ever find yourself in such a predicament, moving to a different state may be the only way to extricate yourself.*)

This brings us to my friend, whom I met on the trail years ago and still see quite often. When we first crossed paths, I did the ol’ polite glance over in his direction, but he was having absolutely nothing to do with it. His eyes were fixated intently on the ground right in front of his shoes, making it obvious that he wanted no part in meeting new people. However, what made this different from other encounters I’d had was that I sensed there was nothing rude or snobby about it. Instead, it was just coldly-efficient and businesslike. I then felt something wash over me, like he was reaching out to me telepathically with the following message: “Look, I’m here, you’re here, and it’s going to keep on happening, so let’s not make a big deal out of it, okay?”

And so, right off the bat, I liked the guy. I mean, who wouldn’t? From the get-go he’d put us in a position where we’d never have to speak to each other—or even attempt eye contact— no matter how many times we met! That in itself deserved maximum respect!

Since then I’ve bumped into him many times, and it's always been the same thing: Head down, eyes to the ground, no attempt to even acknowledge my existence. He’s amazingly consistent, to the point where I’m pretty sure I could walk past him wearing a giant chicken costume and he still wouldn’t bat an eye. Regardless, due to his blunt simplicity and consistency, at some point I decided we were good friends, and as a good friend I’ve found that I enjoy not sending him Christmas cards, not asking him about his personal life, and, in general, not knowing a single thing about him besides having a vague recollection of his facial features. That, in my opinion, is the basis for a solid, long-lasting relationship. In fact, I’d like to think that if we were to randomly meet in a grocery store, we’d both smoothly turn in opposite directions and inherently know to shop in alternating aisles until one of us was able to make a successful escape.

And you just can’t put a price on a friendship like that.

* I miss you, Wisconsin!

The Good Stuff

I’d been trying to ration what I had left, spread it out a little, even though it was an admittedly-foolish strategy. You can’t beat physics, and if you keep consuming without replenishing, eventually you’re going to be left with nothing; it’s just basic math. Plus, eventually it’s not even worth using anymore. Watered down, spread thin, it just doesn’t give the same kick. You’re better off not even teasing yourself with it, and I was now at that point. I was barely even using it once a day.

The problem was that my supplier was hundreds of miles away, and this was the stuff I never had sent to me via the mail. I always brought it back personally, in a bag in the passenger seat of my car. That way I never had to worry about some government stooge accidentally shipping it to the wrong state.

Of course, I could always get some locally. It wouldn’t even be that hard. Take a quick drive into town, find the right people, fork over a little cash, and the deal would be done. However, the local stuff was of inferior quality, and at this point I wasn’t even sure I’d consider it as a last resort. I’d probably rather take a long road trip, regardless of the howling wind and the sheets of snow sweeping across the horizon.

Then I remembered the old cabinet.

Hoping I wasn’t fooling myself—making up memories in exchange for short term hope—I stepped into the small room, swung open the door, and begun to scan the contents of the dusty shelves.

Nothing.

Ignoring the initial wave of despair, I swept some odds and ends over to one side, exposing a back corner, and suddenly my heart skipped a beat. There it was. A brown paper bag, just like I used to bring my lunch to school in.  With fumbling hands, I pulled it out of the shadows. It had a pretty good heft to it, and that was a good sign. The crinkling of the brown paper was loud in the room as I reached in, and a moment later I extracted a brick of the stuff. To say it was a beautiful sight was an understatement, as expressed by the wide smile that blossomed on my face.

Once the initial rush of excitement had passed, I realized I needed to keep track of my stash more closely, so as to avoid this ever happening again. I needed to chart my usage, measure my supply, and replenish early. Never again would I have to rely on finding an overlooked bag in a dark corner of an old cabinet.

I had to fight hard to keep from using it right then and there, and as the hours passed, my anticipation mounted. Finally, I could take it no more. I grabbed one of the bricks and admired it in my hand for a long moment, then stepped into the shower.

Yes, my mom’s homemade soap really was the good stuff.

The Gauntlet of Terror

I feel sweat beading up on my forehead as I slowly peek out from behind my hiding spot, surveying the maze of danger lain out before me. My heart is pounding loudly in my chest, and I find myself continually having to wipe the cold sweat from my hands onto my jeans. Not exactly the way I pictured this day going.

Although everything looks clear now, I know I can’t allow myself to be lulled into a false sense of security. They’re most certainly out there, skittering around looking for victims, able to appear from seemingly out of nowhere in an instant, always ready to pounce.

I take a deep breath. Staying where I am is just as bad as moving around out in the open, and so I have to go for it. I have to at least give myself a chance! Selfishly, I hope they’re busy with others, allowing me the opportunity to slip through their perimeter and gain my freedom. I shake my head at the darkness that’s crept into my thoughts.

I wipe my hands dry again and slide out from behind cover. With my eyes darting about relentlessly, I move ahead ten yards or so before ducking behind another obstruction. Slow and steady, I say to myself. Calm and controlled. You can do this.

I slowly peak out again, and as I do, I see one of them on patrol, winding its way through the chaos, its eyes searching for another victim. I gasp audibly and duck back down, wondering how something so small can be so scary. I also wonder how it can’t hear my heart banging in my chest, for to me it sounds as loud as thunder. I squeeze my eyes shut, as if pretending it's not there will somehow make it go away.

A long minute passes, and miraculously I’m not discovered. Knowing I have to keep moving, I make sure my cargo is still secure and then peak out again. The coast is clear. For now.

The next few minutes are tense, with every nearby sound causing me to shudder in fear. My movements are sporadic and harried as I make my way towards the exit, using every bit of cover I can find along the way. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I can see it looming ahead, gleaming brightly in the late afternoon sun: the door to the outside world!

However, just as I step out into the open, ready to make a final run, I suddenly see one of them heading my way. I freeze in terror, knowing I’ve been spotted, and also that trying to hide would be useless. Now what? Is this it? Is this how it ends? I look around helplessly, but there’s nowhere to go, no escape to be had.

Then, just when I think I’m done for, my pursuer turns off abruptly, shifting its attention to a party of two off to my right. Those poor people! However, knowing there’s nothing I can do to help them, I decide to make a break for it, and a moment later my arms are pumping as I sprint for the door. I dodge various obstacles, weaving left and right, and soon a feeling of elation is welling up inside of me. Maybe, just maybe, I can make it!!

Then, just as I reach the self-checkout aisle, I hear a cute little voice in front of me, materializing from out of thin air: “Hello! Would you like to buy some Girl Scout Cookies?”

AAAAAUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

The Coffee Incident

 So I’m in a bit of a pickle.

Have you ever done something so ridiculously stupid that you instantly wanted it to be purged forever from the annals of both written and oral history? However, at the same time, was this stupid thing also so amusing that you realized it could actually help to make this crazy world a better place, were it to be shared with the masses?

Yeah, so that’s where I’m at right now, and I can tell you it’s not an easy decision to make.

However, since I don’t want to bore while I think through this conundrum, let me tell you a completely unrelated story about this guy I know. Aside from being devilishly handsome and incredibly witty, he’s just your normal, everyday kind of guy. Anyway, not that long ago he dropped by his local Holiday gas station during his lunch break in order to pick up some fresh coffee and to air himself out a bit. (Working from home has its perks, but there are times when you start to wonder just how many days it’s been since you’ve last seen the sun.) 

Now, this guy has been firmly in the 20-ounce-coffee camp for most of his life. However, lately he’d been dabbling a bit with 24-ouncers, which cost only ten cents more. Yeah, I know: living life on the edge, right? Anyway, deciding to stick with his recent trend, our hero grabbed a 24-once cup and placed it into the machine that grinds the beans right then and there. (Hey, when you’re at Holiday, you tend to pamper yourself.) After punching a few buttons and getting things all cranked up, he then did his usual, which was to stand in front of the conveniently-located doughnut display and see just how well his willpower would hold up. Amazingly, he was able to resist the numerous temptations, but when he turned back to his freshly-brewed coffee, he realized his happiness was destined to be short-lived. You see, although he’d placed a 24-ounce cup into the machine, he’d accidentally picked 20 ounces from the digital menu. So, he was now left with a cup filled with four ounces less than its maximum capacity.

Obviously, the easiest solution would have been to top it off with some of the pre-brewed java from another machine, but frankly, that thought never crossed his mind. Instead, he immediately began to wonder if he should just eat the ten cents and pay for the full 24 ounces. (Obviously, he wasn’t going to discuss the situation with the cashier and try to explain what had happened. That would be asinine!) However, he just didn’t feel right about getting overcharged, even if it was only by ten cents. His stubbornness—one of his greatest strengths and also a debilitating weakness—was beginning to rear its at-times-ugly head.

Finally, deciding that he simply wasn’t going to pay for four ounces he wouldn’t be able to consume, he determined that it’d be a trivial matter to just grab a 20-ounce cup and transfer the contents into it. Easy-peasy, right? Granted, the result would be an additional cup in the local landfill, but in his mind it was a worthwhile tradeoff. So, feeling just a bit conspicuous at having to engage in such an atypical exercise, he grabbed a cup and began to dump his 20 ounces of coffee into it.

Except it wasn’t a 20-ounce cup.

Yup, you guessed it: Our hero had accidentally grabbed a 16-ounce cup, and by the time he realized his mistake, he was left with two cups, each containing different volumes of liquid gold. It was at this point that he began to get flustered. I mean, seriously?? Who messes up cup size twice?? Mathematically speaking, it was quite a momentous achievement, but to him it was a sign that he should have just taken a day of PTO and stayed in bed.

Now, if he’d have been smart, our hero would have simply conceded defeat, dumped the 16 ounces back into the 24-ounce cup, paid for the extra four ounces, and called it a day. However, he was now getting annoyed—both at himself and the universe for making a mockery of what should have been such a simple task. So, fueled by his stubbornness, he grabbed a third cup, this time making certain it was 20 ounces. He’d come this far, darn it, and there was no way he wasn’t going to walk out without paying for and consuming exactly the 20 ounces of coffee he'd accidently brewed!!!

It was at this point that another customer entered the store and walked over to get his own fill of caffeine. Looking back over his shoulder—with three different sized cups filled with varying amounts of coffee—our hero had no idea what to say; he figured he must look like some sort of mad scientist, vigorously transferring liquids from one container to another, seemingly at random. Hoping to diffuse the situation with humor—his trademark go-to move—he racked his brain and said, and I’m quoting here, “Um . . . don’t mind me.”

Ugh.

“Don’t mind me?”

Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, UGH!!

At that point, fleeing was the only viable option left. Luckily, our hero had just finished filling up his 20-ounce cup with the contents of the two others. Throwing the empty containers away so they could spend the rest of their miserable existences clogging up some unlucky landfill, he quickly made his way over to the cashier, happy to be wearing a winter hat so his suddenly-crimson ears couldn’t be seen.

Now, I’m quite certain that some of you are now wondering when our protagonist is going to accidentally drop his 20-ounce cup onto the floor, finishing the story with a dramatic flourish. However, I’m happy to report that didn’t happen. Instead, he managed to escape without incurring further damages to his pride, to the point where the emotional scars he sustained aren’t so bad that he can’t go back out into public on occasion. So, that’s good news.

Still, I sometimes wonder about the other guy—the one who walked up and witnessed the tail end of the incident at the peak of its escalation. I wonder what his thoughts were on the whole thing? Maybe, if we're lucky, he has his own blog and we can eventually get his own unique perspective on the matter.

Oh, and by the way, I’ve decided that I’m not going to tell you my embarrassing story. A man has to have a little self-respect!