I generally consider myself quite cunning. I’m fairly proficient in evaluating adverse conditions and selecting a plan in which to best achieve my goals. I can take care of myself (all previous points exclude female-related situations), and I’m aware of it. The problem with this over-confidence in my ability, is my tendency to ignore possible scenarios in which I might be in peril, simply because I believe I’m smarter than the situation. In many ways, despite my self-proclaimed genius, I’m an idiot.
A fine example of my skill in ‘blowing it’ came not more than three weeks ago as America was in the height of the Peter Pan peanut butter recall. If you remember correctly, Peter Pan peanut butter was recalled due to a salmonella scare. Well, my life was moving at its normal relentless pace and all was well until I fell quite ill for all but no reason. Not only was I feeling less than frisky, but for the first time since moving out here from the Midwest, my seasonal asthma was taking a serious toll on my breathing. Of course, I thought nothing of it and continued to work feverishly while clinging to never-used nerd-defining inhaler.
As the week progressed and I became more and more irate with my failing immune system and lung capacity, I received a letter in the mail. It was from a beautiful girl who had taken to clipping interesting/humorous articles out of newspapers. Though she more than likely had romantic notions in mind, the newspaper clippings were both a way to indicate her creative merit while giving my busy life an opportunity to receive the newspaper “Cliff’s notes” on the day. On this occasion as I was riffling through her clippings and kind words, I came across an article for the tainted peanut butter. Though I’d heard of the recall, I cared little for the information until this clipping found my fingertips.
Not only did the article describe the problem, but it listed a product code which identified the tainted stock as beginning with the numbers “2111”. Without saying anything, I walked to the kitchen, opened my cupboard and removed my container of Peter Pan peanut butter, which I had been eating from at least once a day during that week. I jokingly noted the irony as I peered upon the lid only to find the numbers “2111” staring back at me. Yes, I had been eating tainted peanut butter.
Does this mean I’m going to pay more attention when they announce a recall on a product I currently use? Probably not. I just hope I don’t say something stupid so a pretty girl stops writing letters.
