First World Problems: The Perfect Club
First World Problems is a weekly advice column for India’s first world population. Write to Judy at email@example.com (confidentially!) if you’ve broken a nail, felt a little blue, yellow or green lately,
or had a strange encounter of the any-numbered kind.
PROBLEM: I was at the club over the weekend, and I saw a woman raise a huge cry to the waiters because her club sandwich was only two tiers, not three. The thing is, I agree with her — it’s not a club sandwich if it’s not three levels. But surely it could’ve been handled in a better way?
So let me get this straight – you don’t actually have a problem, but you’d like my validation on your opinion of someone else’s problem? Okay, then. You’re right. It could have been handled better. The woman could have sent the food back quietly and explained to the manager — in private — why it was unacceptable to serve a two-tier club sandwich. And she probably would have — except she hadn’t eaten a thing all day because her maid had not shown up in two days, and she was up to her neck in household chores. And her babysitter had cancelled last minute, so she had to carry a screaming toddler and a cranky 9-month-old to work, and everyone had rolled their eyes and told her she was no Erin Brockovich. And when she was finally ready to get back home and unwind, she happened to learn that her husband of seven years was having an affair. So she left the kids with her neighbour and went to the club to get a club sandwich. Because she figured she deserved to get one thing right this day and a club sandwich wasn’t a big ask. Now. I just made all this up, and she probably didn’t have this particular day, but do you still want to ask me that question?
PROBLEM: My parents are elderly, but still quite active. They travel quite a bit in India and abroad. But every time they go, they print off a binder full of papers that they don’t need — boarding passes, reservation confirmations, etc. Everything is done on a smartphone now, and they both have iPhones. It breaks my heart to see so many trees killed for a weekend trip. How do I bring them into the 21st century?
Darling, Fifty Shades of Grey sold a 100 million copies. Now, I don’t know how many trees that took, but those trees died to convince 100 million people that abuse is sexy. I’m not condoning wastage of any kind, but I have this strange suspicion that trees would much rather be martyred to preserve a happy old couple’s time-warp bubble.