Sometimes it's not helpful to know what you want

From the moment I opened the box and mom said, "I know that's not what you wanted," the whole enterprise was doomed. She figured I would have to return any ring I got to get the proper size, so she picked out a ring she thought was cool that was nothing like what I'd described.

I was frustrated because I'd gone to a lot of trouble this year to avoid having to return anything. I'd made discrete lists so family members that can't be bothered to email each other wouldn't double-buy things for a change. Sigh.

The ring she picked was cool, modern and silver, but it was large, spanning my knuckle to the joint and also tall. It fit my forefinger but really wasn't suited for a thumb ring (which was what I wanted) even if I'd gotten it in another size. Since the shop where they bought it was an hour away, mom consulted the weather channel and asked me when I wanted to go over inferring a two-day weather window of Tuesday or Wednesday. We went yesterday.

The jewelry store was housed in what looked like an old bank. There were two open rectangles of long glass counters and display cases all along the walls. I knew I wanted a different ring, so I started browsing. Mom herded me towards a case on the wall with silver bands. I looked them over, saw nothing I wanted, and started perusing the jewelry at the counter.

To my great dismay, I heard my mom pointing me out to a sales clerk. She was under the impression I'd made a decision when all I wanted to do was browse the whole store uninterrupted before getting helped.

Fortunately the saleswoman was very nice as she lead me around to cases all over the store where I didn't see anything I wanted. She sized me up by my cargo pants and corduroy jacket, pointing out rings that weren't too "girly." This assumption of hers might have bothered me except that I didn't feel anything negative about it coming from her. She was just trying to help me find something I'd like.

Though the store had "silver" in its name, it really didn't have many silver rings to choose from. I do not care for gold (aside from white gold) and never have. I wondered where I'd gone wrong. Since last summer, I'd been describing the thumb ring I have in mind. It's not one unique design I'm looking for; I thought I'd been clear on the parameters: wide, flat, silver, with a bit of design interest, size 8 1/2.

My dad knew this buy a ring she can exchange approach wasn't a good idea, but then I hadn't spent time pointing out elements of rings I liked or disliked to him. It was like my mom hadn't listened to me at all.

By this time, 3 salesclerks were looking for rings for me, and my options were slimming. A direct return was never suggested. Store credit or exchange were what was left to me. The thought of coming back every couple of months to see if they had something new I'd like made my soul shudder, so I shifted to plan B.

We'd exchange the ring my Mom had picked out to a size she could wear and leave it at that. She had wandered down the street after she sicced the saleswoman on me, so Dad and I left the store to find her.

As expected, she gave me that slightly exasperated look when I told her the plan. She made me feel worse for not finding something even though she knew from the start it would have to be exchanged.

Am I really that picky? To some degree, yes. I think a lot of it stems from wanting less stuff in my life: for the most part, I only want to keep things I really want, the rest just takes up space or feels like a waste of money.