A Wretched Proposal

If may be so bold, I'm going to ask you to participate in today's story. I want you to think back to earlier in the year, when I had television problems. Remember that? Okay, good. Your part is done.

You may also remember that I used some money from my annual bonus to buy a new flat-panel television...just in time for the World Cup. However, I still had the old, rather malfunctioning television taking up space in my living room.


Oh, sure, we hid it behind the doors of the entertainment center--itself a bit of an eyesore and about as stable as a college romance forged at a kegger. What to do with these two piles of refuse sitting in my living room? What to do, what to do?

As the television still sort of worked, I didn't want to just throw it out. I also didn't want to keep it around. I was in a sort of tele-limbo while I tried to make a decision.

Then, one day, I heard a commercial on the radio saying that Best Buy--they of the big yellow tags and the really shitty customer service--was offering e-recycling. Just bring in your old electronic appliances and they would take care of them for you. They would even give you gift cards for your trouble, especially if the appliance still worked.

The catch was that not all Best Buy stores had an e-recycling center. I needed to verify before going about the task of lugging my rather heavy television in only to find that they would not accept it.

Recently, we switched out some furniture in the house and we got a much nicer center for the television to rest on. Not to mention, it is now a far sturdier base, so I'm not afraid of my beloved third child television toppling over while my son is dancing around playing Link from the Legend of Zelda series. In the course of rearranging the room and switching the furniture, I ran (and, I'm not exaggerating, I promise) my tele up the hill of my front yard and stowed it in the back of my car. Whenever I could, I would take it Best Buy and get rid of it, safely and environmentally consciously.

Which brings us to Labor Day weekend. I decided to drive to Best Buy near my wife's place of employ, and see if they had an e-recycling center. I had the children with me. I walked in, queried the man at the front, and he directed me toward the customer service counter where I could leave the television.

Fabulous! Away we went back to my car where I hefted the television into my ursine grasp. My daughter grabbed the remote, my son carried the chord so that it didn't drag on the ground, and my daughter closed the back of my car. Into the store we went, through the doors, and over to the customer service counter. I set the television down and waited in line.

Finally, it was my turn and I told the woman that I had brought in the television for recycling. While in line, I began to fantasize about all the wonderful electronics I would be able to buy with my newly-acquired gift cards, a reward for my environmentally-conscious efforts.

"Excellent, thank you," she said, "that will be $10."

I pondered for a second and whipped out my Best Buy card. $10 was a little less than what I had envisioned for the effort of dragging the television into the store, but, what the hell. I figured I could get the $10 as a credit on my card, which meant a little less I'd have to pay off in order to even my balance with the cold, heartless capitalistic pig of Best Buy.

I swiped my card, but nothing happened.

I swiped it again. Again, nothing happened.

"I can try it for you, if you'd like," the young lady offered.

Suddenly, the lightbulb over my head finally began to flicker to life.

"Hold on a second," I said as she was poised to swipe my card a third time. "Are you...are you charging me $10?"

"Why, yes," she stated. "It's our policy, with anything that has a screen. Televisions, computer monitors. Things like that." She was so perky delivering the news I wanted to punch her in the throat.

"I'm sorry. I must have misheard you. You are charging me to recycle this television?"

"Yes. It's our policy."

"Fuck a bunch of that!" "Then I will be taking my television back now, thank you very much," I said.

"What are you going to do with it?" the girl asked, suddenly huffy and defensive. The perkiness had disappeared in half a heartbeat.

"I'm going to set it out on the curb in front of my house. Someone will take it away. For free!" I added a bit of extra emphasis on the last two words. I probably even raised my eyebrows in a mockingly friendly fashion.

"But it won't be recycled!" she countered, still huffy. Apparently, the eyebrow-raising had not had the intended results.

"Don't care. Someone will take it. For free!!" Again, the added emphasis on the tail end of the sentence. More eyebrow waggling, to boot.

And so, I gathered my television back up. My son took the chord so that it did not drag on the ground. My daughter took the remote. We were leaving the store when the asshat at the front tried to stop us.

"Where do you think you're going with that?" he asked, defensive.

"To my car, douchebag. I own this television and you can't stop me. Although, you're free to try. I'm sure it would look nice on you as a hat." And I continued on out the store, unmolested, to my car.

I went home. I carried the entertainment center to the front of my yard, setting it beside the driveway. I put the television in it. I hung a crudely-made sign (is there any other kind?) that simply said FREE! on it.

The following day, the television was gone.

A week later, the entertainment center was also gone.

For free.