Some things are just tougher to buy
Some things are just harder to purchase.
Now shirts, shoes, jeans, purses — that’s not really all that tough for me to make a choice, because those kinds of consumer purchases are ones that call out to me.
They know my name. They’ve got my number.
Take me with you, they seem to lure.
But a watermelon?
That’s something different.
Watermelons don’t engage me in conversation and don’t seem interested at all in a transaction.
Such purchases remind me of the title of that Ringo Starr song — “It Don’t Come Easy”— bad grammar but true. Buying just the right one — well, honestly “It Don’t Come Easy.”
This summer I would say that I’m two for eight when it comes to picking just the right watermelon — ripe, sweet and juicy.
It’s not for lack of trying or studying, either, I can assure you.
Around Memorial Day came my first bad watermelon experience.
I was at the grocery store buying all those types of must-have picnic foods we love to feast upon in May after a long winter season of chili and comfort foods. And those gotta-have picnic foods include the watermelon, naturally.
The store had big cardboard bins of them — I think three deep ones, each of them piled high and loaded to the gill.
I glanced at them all, hoping beyond all hope that one would just jump into my arms or my buggy or whatever, but nothing happened.
So I did what any good watermelon shopper worth her salt would do. I started picking them up, this one first, then that one, then another one. You’d have thought I was going to play basketball or something the way I was bouncing them around.
Then I checked the coloring of the watermelon for yellow spots and knocked on them to see if they sounded hollow or heavy.
All of this is not so easy to do, mind you, especially for women who have their purses slung over their shoulders. It makes it very awkward, picking up and putting down watermelons and trying to keep your purse from dropping on the floor.
This selection process went on for what seemed like a really long fruitless time until a former high school classmate came to my rescue, although initially I had my doubts about any rescue attempt since she wanted to know what I was doing.
I thought it was pretty obvious. I was experiencing purchase paralysis. This is when you can’t decide what to buy, an affliction common among would-be watermelon purchasers.
The watermelon I ultimately bought wasn’t very good and to add insult to injury, it had seeds. What???
Oh, well, what are you going to do — return a sticky, leaky watermelon with seeds to customer service?
A couple times this season I managed to get a good one, though, one by accident, the other by fate.
I was knocking on a watermelon when Better Half came up behind me, laughed and said, “Come in.”
That was a good enough watermelon conversation/sign for me.
“Let’s get out of here,” I made a decision. “All of us.”
(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily. She can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.)