Board. There was a. . . board?
After that, my nickname was Four Eyes, and it only got worse from there. Over the years, my lenses got increasingly thicker, and due to astigmatism, the edges were like Coke bottle bottoms. I didn't quite have that swimmy-eyed, distant look of the terminally nearsighted, but almost.
"Oh, no, I already picked a pair. You put them aside for me."
It was the same clerk. She looked blank.
"Remember, I came in the other day and. . ."
"No, I don't think you. . . "
"Could you look around for them? They're blue, metallic, sort of rectangular-ish. . ."
"But you put them aside for me. You - "
"Could you, like, ask the other clerks, or - "
"Could you maybe help me look?"
"But you said they're not here."
"Oh. Uhhhhhhh. . . I guess somebody already bought them."
So somebody sauntered into Dr. Boyco's Image Optometry, plucked a pair of frames off the shelves (which just happened to be the one pair out of 700 that I wanted), paid for them, and left. None of that getting-the-right-size nonsense. I guess one size fits all, eh? (- and who needs lenses anyway?)