So I’m reading this book called The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari by Robin S. Sharma- it’s one of these inspirational/personal development types of literature. My mother got it for me for Christmas, bless her. She seems to always push these positive, uplifting books that she reads onto me whenever she finishes one. I’m not sure if it’s because she thinks I really need them, or if she knows that I’m just too damn proud to so much as even set foot in the “self-help” section of Borders. It’s probably a combination of both.
And I have to admit – it’s a good read. If you can get past the whole this-is-obviously-not-a-true-story-about-a-monk-who-travels-to-India-and-is-just-a fable-for-Sharma-to-get-his-message-across malarkey. I’m only halfway through but so far, the message I’m getting loud and clear, is that in order to obtain true happiness and contentment in this chaos, one has got to learn to “master the mind”. It’s this whole notion of learning that YOU can control your mind and the thoughts that enter it but in our society, we have been trained through worry and negative thinking, to let our minds control us.
Trust me – it does make sense when you read it.
It actually couldn’t be better timing for me to be reading something like this, considering I just spent an entire two weeks sitting on my ass in Brigg, juggling the first Christmas with the parents being divorced and having to deal with (shock, horror!) going to two different houses on the holiday (including the one where my dad and his new girlfriend have shacked up). Plus, there’s the fact that it couldn’t have been a more unproductive holiday – all I did was eat fish ‘n chips, Indian takeaway, mounds (seriously) of Cadbury’s whilst sitting on the living room couch watching crap British television and constantly procrastinating on writing. Why is it whenever I’m surrounded by family members, my energy is zapped and I can’t seem to bring myself to write?
Then, of course there’s the money situation. Not that I haven’t been poor before – I’ve scraped the barrel a few times back in my college days. The problem really is, I’m NOT in college anymore. I’m 26 (27 this month – blast time!). I keep telling myself (with the help of Mr Robin S. Sharma) that age has nothing to do with anything. But the “broke bartender in Boston” alliteration keeps creeping back into my head.
So, with all of this on the road behind me, yes – I welcomed a tale about a top-end litigator who was able to strip himself bare of all of his material things and all of the elements that made his life familiar in favor of a soul-enhancing trip to India. I’ve always been a big fan of that country and considering I was there this time last year, hey – bring on the mystic prescription, Sharma. I’ll take a bit of some kind of literary medicine right now.
Halfway through, I’m finding myself implementing little slivers of the book into daily life. I’m trying to cultivate my mind and “protect it” – keep it free of ANY negative feelings whatsoever. Apparently, you can’t afford to even have ONE negative thought in your mind – it’s like a virus. We’re supposed pretend we’re serious horticulturalists and treat our minds like a beautiful garden, fending off any weeds.
I’d say I’m not doing too badly. Thinking positively? Yes. Blocking out bad feelings from all people (including family members)? Yes. The fact that I’m broke as a joke and certain people who owe me very large sums of money don’t want to pay up? Doesn’t bother me one bit. Honestly.
But today was certainly a trial.
You see, I’ve never been very good at keeping a phone for a set period of time. We never seem to have good relationships – they always leave me. They must think that I don’t treat them right. Perhaps they get jealous or resentful that I never use them enough. Or maybe they’re angry at the fact that I never notice the fancy technology that they’re wearing (camera? Never use. internet? Occasionally. MP3 player? No way – already got an iPod thank you very much). Or perhaps it’s just the plain, simple fact that they tire of my late night shenanigans that they run out the first chance they get (I’m starting to think it’s no coincidence they usually get lost when booze or boys are involved).
But despite my inability to maintain a cellular relationship, I’ve never really had much trouble finding a new one.
Until today.
So, for all of you folks out there who have just suffered a tragic break-up with a snazzy iPhone, here’s a step-by-step account of how to move on and re-enter the mobile world with confidence:
Step One: Go into AT&T store. Spend at least one hour with extremely dimwitted associate who will make you feel more worthless than you have ever allowed yourself to feel for losing your phone (one must truly hit rock bottom before you can get over this mess).
Step Two: Allow said dimwitted associate to try and convince you to purchase a new iPhone at a non-discounted price – it’s “only $500″. Remember, AT&T does not insure ANY iPhone relationship. If it’s gone, it’s gone.
Step Three: Rebuild your self-esteem by telling dimwitted associate that you don’t want to get back together with the iPhone. There’s a reason these things end. Respect yourself enough to treat this as if it’s really over. You need to move on.
Step Four: Wait another 35 minutes (on top of the hour you have already spent in the store) for dimwitted associate to try and even locate your name on the system. Obviously, if your relationship started out-of-state, this is going to be harder than it should be.
Step Five: Recognize first wave of clarity. This dimwitted associate is obviously not taking your feelings/situation seriously – NOT a good shoulder to cry on. Leave store immediately in search of new, helpful mentor to guide you through the process.
Step Six: Drive 20 minutes to different AT&T store. Find more helpful associate who tells you to get back out there. You listen and buy new phone.
Step Seven: With new phone in sight, wait patiently while associate proceeds to talk for 45 minutes about his recent trip to Aruba. Remember to be polite – you may have accidentally caused this tirade after mentioning the UK and how the phone system is better there. This may spurn a racial attack on all things non-New England, and thus formulating into a detailed account of his North American travels.
Step Eight: Spend a further 50 minutes on the phone in the store to AT&T customer service (associate may not offer to do this step for you – perhaps this can help you regain your independence?). Customer service representative will be new and unable to do any simple task without putting you on hold for an extended period of time while consulting with manager.
Step Nine: With new, installed phone in tow, make quick escape out of store before any damage is done to the relationship with your new phone.
Really, it’s that simple – I promise.
I wonder if Mr Sharma has ever been into an AT&T store. Perhaps I should email him and ask? If he’s with Verizon, I’m really going to kick myself.
