Moral Issues - Part 1

I think I’ve learned just about all I’m going to learn from my mistakes in 2005. In any case, it is nearly the end of January, so as of today, my thoughts are firmly planted in the year of The World Cup.

That said, in keeping with the theme of themes, this week I will pose some important and enigmatic moral questions of our time. I hope to get some input.

Issue #1: Moral Duty With Respect to Hair Products

Situation:

Being a novice hair dyer but looking for a change, I purchased the $30 hair dye and highlight kit by L’Oreal.

The kit was called “French Éclair” and the pouty-lipped beauty on the box promised hair that would scream sophistication, fun, and cream-filled pastries.

The base colour was to be an intense chocolate brown and the highlights would be golden.

D and I drank a few beers* and then set to work on my hair.

About one hour later, I rinsed the highlight goop from my hair to reveal a head of fluorescent-orange hair. I was Ronald McDonald.

I salvaged whatever brown base dye was still left in the bottle and slapped it all over my head in an effort to tame the orange highlights. It kind of worked and the result was a head of uniformly auburn hair.

Upset by the trauma of clown hair, and incensed that I had purchased the most expensive dye known to woman, only to have it ruin my hair, I demanded my money back from Shoppers Drug Mart.

After many calls back and forth with the lovely Makeup Expert:

Her: I’m not sure we can give you your money back, since you already opened the product and used it.
Me: Yes, but that’s the point, it didn’t work
Her: Yes, but you used it. I’m only authorized to take back unopened products.
Me: Look, what would you do if someone bought a chocolate bar and when the customer took a bite it was rotten and moldy?
Her: I would refund the money.
Me: So then?
Her: [blank stare]

I did get my money refunded in the end. But here is where the moral dilemma comes in.

It is now just over a week later, and I now really like my hair.

[* I am certain that the beer had nothing to do with what ensued. The instructions were read thoroughly.]

Moral Question:

Do I now have a moral obligation to return the money since I am, in fact, satisfied with the product outcome?

My thoughts:

No.

While I may be happy with the outcome, this was not the outcome that was bargained for. I still do not have what was promised to me: i.e. golden highlights.

I don’t think that refunds on hair dye should be made on purely subjective factors like “do I like it” or “does it make me look sexy.”

The fact that I like my now auburn hair is irrelevant.

In the realm of hair dye, the only relevant basis upon which to refund or not refund hair dye is how closely, from an objective perspective, does the dye do what is promised.

Here, L’Oreal failed to deliver what was promised and so I deserve a refund. I do not need to give the money back.

Please feel free to agree or disagree.

Lesson #3:

They say you can’t stick a square peg in a round hole.

But this is simplistic.

Sometimes you can stick a square peg in a round hole, but the length of the diagonal of the square (i.e. from point to point, cutting it into two triangles) must be just less than the diameter of the hole. This may actually be an ideal situation. Square pegs in square holes and round pegs in round holes make for peg-ish monotony.

Sometimes, at the beginning, the square peg is slightly larger than the round hole and won’t fit. But over time, the square may shrink slightly, and the hole may increase slightly. Then the square peg will fit.

But sometimes the square peg will shrink or the round hole will enlarge too much. Then, the square peg will fall right through the round hole. It will get lost. It may even forget that it used to be a square peg. Or, years later, the square peg may go through an identity crisis, remember it was a square peg, but it will have forgotten how to be a square peg. Then it may make a fool of itself behaving as an exaggerated caricature of a square peg. This is not an ideal situation.

What They say is also simplistic because it negates the fact that part of getting the pegs into the holes is a function of sheer will. Given two identical square pegs and two identical round holes, with concerted effort, one could likely make the first set fit, even though with less effort the second set might not fit. And then even once the first peg is in the hole, it may still require some effort to keep it there.

My Task: Not only recognizing when a square peg is being jammed into a round hole, but assessing the cost of the effort that would be required to get it in versus the benefit to be acquired once it is in.

NOTICE: If you have become aroused by all this talk of pegs fitting into holes, you have a dirty mind and have missed the point. There was no sexual innuendo intended here.

LESSON #2:

There is a chance that at one time my mother was resident on Tralfamadore. In any case, she often comes unstuck in time. Though it seems that her time travel only occurs in respect of grocery purchases.

Pull any item out from the back of the cupboard. For example, the box of cheerios that has turned a weathered brownish colour and has pictures of a mother with a big perm on the front of the box.

Me: How old is this, mom?

Mom: Oh, [she now comes unstuck and travels back ten years….] I just bought that last week.

My mother is diligent in house upkeep in every other respect, but in the realm of groceries, the fridge door opens a fissure in time through which one can gain insight into the Loblaws of the 1990s.

This is what happens when one’s children move from the house and one adopts a salmon- and blueberry- only diet. I kid you not. Apparently they are good for the skin.

In any case, my lesson begins with a visit home to mom. To her credit, I find a fresh bagel and some cream cheese. I make a sandwich.

Then, I stick my head through the fridge portal and see a jar of pickles far in the back of the fridge.

Me: Mom, how old are those pickles?

Mom: Oh, […time travel…] I just bought those last week.

I gazed at the jar. The pickles seemed to have a hyper-green tinge. I was uncertain.

Me: Are you sure they are fresh? They look kind of old.

Mom: No, [still in the past] the oldest they could be is one month.

I opened the jar. There were three pickles left. Well, three and a half. One appeared to have had a bite taken from it and been placed back in the jar. A more pungent-than-usual vinegar smell assaulted my nose.

While cloudy brine may be one of the indicia of freshness, I wondered what positive opaqueness meant.

Mom: Go ahead, they’re fine.

I forked one of the pickles from the jar and took a hesitant bite.

It instantly disintegrated in my mouth and burnt my tongue.

MY TASK: Trust my gut instincts more. If it looks like a bad pickle, and smells like a bad pickle, in all likelihood, it is a bad pickle.

For the next few days I am going to try and reflect on some of the mistakes I have made in the past year and resolve to work on preventing these sorts of mistakes in 2006. I am not going to divulge the actual mistakes I made, but I will provide illustrations to make my point.

LESSON #1:

As a child, every night before I went to sleep I would say my prayers. They went like this:

Hi,
Please forgive me for anything I’ve done wrong.
And please, please, please send me a Snoopy Snow Cone Machine.
Sincerely,
Nadine

And then I would fall asleep and I would dream of being one of those pink-faced kids on the Snoopy Snow Cone Machine box. I was the one squeezing the cherry-flavoured syrup from the head of the snowman onto the crushed ice sitting in the Dixie cup. The ice had been sent down the Snoopy House chimney and then shaved into snow by Randi, my best friend at the time.

But the gracious heavenly father never saw fit to send me my gift.

At some point in adulthood, I recounted this story to ex who then, months later, surprised with a brand new Snoopy Snow Cone Machine that he had purchased on ebay.

I hugged the box. I was very, very touched. We immediately made snow cones.

They tasted like crap. The box now sits gathering dust in my mother’s garage.

The disappointment of the cough-syrupy snow cone far outweighed the pain of childhood-long longing.

MY TASK: Work on figuring out which “things” should be pursued in the flesh, and which should not. This involves recognizing that some things intrinsically bring more pleasure as abstract ideas than they do as physical realities.