During my lunch break, I dashed into a hair salon in London to get a manicure. In the chair next to mine sat a slender, pretty woman, slightly over thirty, clearly one of ours from her accent, getting her hair done and animatedly chatting about something. The sound of the hairdryer was loud, so I couldn’t help but overhear her conversation.
I picked up the story midway, so bear with me as I start from the middle. “I kept wondering what to get her for her birthday. She has everything, you know. It’s hard to surprise her; she’s beautiful and can buy herself anything she wants, being a lawyer and all. We’ve been friends for about seven years since university, and I’ve already given her all kinds of presents. I didn’t want to give her another scarf but wanted to bring her joy. So what would you give someone who seemingly has everything, Jean?” she asked the hairdresser. Jean pondered for a moment and suggested, “Maybe a set of creams, that’s always useful…”
“Exactly, Jean! So there I was, wandering through the city centre nearby, and I stumbled upon a shop – it looked exquisite, like a Victoria’s Secret. I went in, and they had lingerie and all sorts of personal life accessories. Everything was quite decent. And then I decided – I’d buy her a set of fragrant creams because, although she’s a lawyer, her personal life isn’t going great. You know, scented creams can be quite alluring! But – that wasn’t to be. A charming Latino staff member immediately approached me, listened to my cream request, and laid out a bunch of completely different gadgets.
I don’t know, Jean, how we moved from creams to this other thing, I honestly don’t know, don’t ask. It just happened… Somehow, believe me, he clouded my mind and persuaded me to buy… a vibrator!”
The entire salon fell silent. Jean turned off the hairdryer and said, “I’ll just massage some oil into your hair tips for a moment…” My manicurist unplugged the nail dryer and sternly told me, “No need to dry them; they’ll air dry just fine.” Everyone huddled together, given the small space, and I pushed my chair as close as possible.
“Well, straightaway, I really liked this large, purple, very advanced one. The Latino showed me how it worked. Not in use, of course – just waved it in the air. It buzzes a little loudly, in my opinion, but it’s simply superb. Lots of settings.” No one in the salon even pretended to be busy with their tasks anymore – everyone was listening intently.
“It came in a huge velvet box with a big manual of instructions,” the woman continued. “Anyway, I bought it, named it Purple Joe, tied it with pink ribbons, shut my eyes, and gifted it. Well, I thought, whatever will be, will be.
My friend was thrilled. She had never seen anything like it. Wow!
She took it home. She flew there, coming through the green customs channel. They asked to scan her bag – the massive box caught their attention. ‘What’s in there?’ demanded the customs officer.
‘A watch, maybe a Breguet, Hublot? A tourbillon? What’s it called?’ The brand name stood proudly on the box. ‘I haven’t heard of that watch brand before, something new?’
My friend was flustered, feeling hot all over, and whispered, ‘No, not a watch… it’s… a household appliance,’ very quietly.
‘What kind of household appliance comes in such a box?’ the customs officer demanded even more sternly. ‘You must be kidding me! A kettle? Curlers, perhaps, ha-ha? Open the box!’
Well, she had no choice, so she opened it. Everyone suddenly became very interested. The customs officer blushed. Those waiting behind her in the queue craned their necks. My Purple Joe certainly made a strong impression!
‘It needs to be scanned,’ the officer insisted, ‘just in case there’s something inside. Take it out of the box!’
Okay, they placed both the box and Joe back on the conveyor. And all of a sudden – to my friend’s absolute horror – Purple Joe, once out of the box, perhaps due to the vibration of the belt, suddenly came to life and buzzed joyously! And buzzing, twisting, and flipping, showing itself in full glory, went through the scanner. “Oh God, let the ground swallow me up,” my friend silently prayed.
A small crowd gathered. The young man behind her whispered warmly into her ear: ‘Why do you need that? I can do better, and I’m even willing to buzz.’
At that moment, right back into the customs officer’s hands came the cheerfully spinning and buzzing Purple Joe from the scanner. Now it was flashing a light, which apparently, it had as well. My friend heard giggles behind her. “What is this? Quiet it down already! Take your belongings,” the irritated customs officer exclaimed.
Basically, red-faced and sweaty, she barely escaped the crowd with her half-opened box, unable to shove Purple Joe back in. It poked out with its purple tip. From under the velvet lid. She felt quite popular with a young man who was eager to buzz following her. To stop his buzzing offers, they exchanged phone numbers.
“Shall I offer you a ride?” asked another passenger behind her. “My driver is waiting… you can take your time, pack it… him, I’ll wait.”
But that wasn’t the end of Purple Joe’s adventures in town.
She called me two days later, complaining – your Joe isn’t working. How isn’t it working? I felt defensive about Purple Joe. The first thought that crossed my mind was – maybe it turned impotent – perhaps it lay unused in the shop for months, perhaps they’re just like people – if not needed, they kind of forget how it goes.
Should she take it to a repair shop? Which one?!
I suggested taking it to my friend Steve, a jack-of-all-trades – he’s the one to go to.
She went to Steve. Steve got excited too. Honestly, I was proud of my Purple Joe – it immediately brought joy and zest for life to anyone! Steve’s eyes lit up, and he said, ‘Leave it with me for a couple of hours, and you’re such a lovely lady, I fix fridges too, vacuum cleaners, and can hang a chandelier – everything’s alright with your home appliances, right? Just say the word, and I’ll drop by.’
By the time Joe was sorted (it turned out it needed a different adapter), my friend had acquired a bunch of admirers, and Joe remained unused.
Everyone in the salon was thoughtful… There was a pause. The hairdryer buzzed again, and the nail dryer hummed – everyone returned to their procedures.
“So, where did you say that shop was again?” quietly asked one of the visitors…
