Boring Story
It’s about blenders. Sorry
This isn’t interesting. Sorry. I’m going to write it down because I’ve been thinking about it for most of the afternoon. But.
Other stories are available.
And since you ask — yes. I have seen the advice that stories should have catchy titles. More than once, actually. Many more times than once.
So. Blenders.
Can’t remember where, but somewhere recently, I saw the words “immersion blender”.
And I thought: I wonder what that is.
Today, I was walking through Malletts in Truro when I happened to notice a “hand blender” on a shelf. It was expensive. There were others, cheaper, but I looked and there were no “immersion blenders”.
But — wait — what if “immersion blender” is the American term for “hand blender”?
Because those things do look as though…
I picked up the cheapest hand blender and took it to the counter.
“Excuse me. Is this an immersion blender?”
The woman looked at me and then she looked at the box with “hand blender” printed in large bold type above the picture of the hand blender inside.
“It’s a similar idea.”
Get William Essex’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
“But if I’d been told to get an immersion blender, and I came home with this, would this be the thing I’m meant to buy?”
It’s a man-flu thing
Without really thinking about it, I’d started role-playing a man who had been handed a shopping list with “immersion blender” written on it, who needed help from some kind, caring, sympathetic person who understood.
She was looking at me like a woman who had role-played this role before. The day had been long already — and now there was me.
“The more powerful ones would be more effective as immersion blenders. But that one does work by immersion.”
“So if I took this one home” — I was really pushing the role now — “I could say that I’d bought an immersion blender?”
It wasn’t working. “That one, you could do smoothies, for example, but a more powerful one would make mayonnaise.” She turned away.
My imaginary friend likes to cook
So. Either an expensive, powerful mayonnaise-making hand-blender, or an affordably cheap smoothie-making hand-blender?
What would the totally imaginary person who had given me the shopping list with “immersion blender” written on it — what would she want me to do?
What if she wanted to make mayonnaise? But what if she didn’t and I spent all that money?
By now, I could see her clearly in my mind’s eye. She would be disappointed if I got it wrong. Worse — I might make her insecure. Did I really not know her well enough to know what kind of a blender she wanted? Was I really committed to this relationship?
I used to dream of romantic evenings. Champagne and roses. Rugs. Log fires.
My fantasy life ain’t what it used to be.
I bought a blender.
And I wish I could tell you she’s happy with the blender I bought.
Time for another smoothie, I think.
It seemed important to write this without consulting the internet. But if you’re still with me (really?), you might like to see this.



