the future's so bright, i gotta wear shades

There's a scene in the 1957 film 12 Angry Men, where studious Juror 4 (as played by E.G. Marshall), weary from a day-long jury room debate, removes his wireframe glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. The little indentations on either side of the bridge of his nose are noticed. Someone remembered that the key witness had those same marks on her nose, even though she was not wearing glasses. Suddenly, the accuracy of the witness's eyesight was brought into question. The room erupts in another heated debate. Lee J. Cobb yells at Henry Fonda, Jack Warden throws a crumpled piece of paper at an imaginary basketball hoop and Martin Balsam rubs his own nose and mutters: "Yeah, she had those marks! Whaddaya call 'em?"

"Nose pads," Martin. You call them "nose pads."

I was sitting at my desk at work when I felt something drop and ricochet off the top of my hand as it was poised above my keyboard. I looked around and discovered a small, yellowed piece of flexible plastic that, as a long-time glasses wearer, I identified immediately as a nose pad. If you have ever worn glasses fitted with these little doo-dads, you know that normally, you never give them a second thought. But, if one becomes misaligned or — even worse — breaks.... well your glasses are uncomfortable until it is replaced. Glasses sit funny on the bridge of your nose, affecting your ability to focus. If your prescription is for bifocals, it can be very disorienting. I know from past experience that getting one of these things replaced can be a breeze or it can be a long, drawn out, dreadful hassle. It was in the hands of fate now.

First of all, the place where I got my glasses is out of business. I got my glasses at the small optical concession at a nearby CVS Pharmacy. On a recent visit to this particular CVS, I was surprised to find the little area where my eyes were poked and prodded and put through a regimen of tests and, later, a technician adjusted the temple pieces on my new pair of glasses, was now filled with colorful racks of greeting cards for all occasions. It was as though the optical department had never existed. I had to ponder my next move. I could innocently wander into another local optical store like America's Best or Lens Crafters (if there is still such a place) and try to convince them to fit my glasses — that I did not purchase there — with a new nose pad. Or I could see if the Walgreen's near my house carried this item alongside the small assortment of non-prescription reading glasses that occupy a endcap of the first aisle near the antacids. Coincidentally, Mrs. Pincus and I had appointments at Walgreen's to get our eighth or ninth COVID booster shot early on Saturday morning. On the off chance that they didn't carry them, I would reluctantly employ my original plan of hitting up a mall optician.

That evening, after dinner, I logged onto an online eyeglasses website. I joined the ranks of thousands of other folks and made my first ever purchase of glasses via the internet. Sure, I'm late to the party, but when you're used to buying things one way, trying a different method can be daunting. This was not. It was easy and cheap and.... did I mention "cheap?" I ended up getting two pairs — a pair of sunglasses to supplement my new pair of internet-bought glasses. I may never set foot in a brick-and-mortar optician store again. Or so I thought..

On Saturday morning, the weather was nice, so Mrs. P and I walked to Walgreen's. While we waited for the slow-as-molasses pharmacy staff at the nearly empty Walgreen's to call our names for our shot, I perused the glasses rack. Nothing. Aside from a single repair kit hanging on a lonely hook, the display was filled with a selection of magnifying reading glasses in variety of frames. But, no replacement nose pads. I was disappointed but not exactly surprised. We got our shots and left the store. I was still wearing my glasses, even though they rested cock-eyed on the bridge of my nose. I remembered that in the small, never-busy shopping center across from Walgreen's there was an independent optical store — one I had passed by, but ever entered. We walked over and Mrs. P waited outside, allowing me to try this on my own. Usually, she is much better and way more persuasive than I am. I thought: "I'll just ask. The worst they could say was 'no' and tell me to get out of the store."

The store barely looked open. It was kind of dark and I didn't see anyone inside. I entered anyway, half expecting the door to be locked. It wasn't. There was a long glass display case that formed a sales counter. The walls were lined with Lucite displays of sample frames and huge photos of sophisticated-looking models looking at me from over the tops of their shiny designer frames. At the far end of the sales counter, an older man (I'm 61 and he was definitely older than I am) was seated at a computer. When I tapped on the counter, he eased himself out of his chair and  asked in a monotone: "Can I help you?" There were no other customers in the store. It looked as though there hadn't been a customer in this store for days or maybe months. I removed my glasses and explained my dilemma, pointing to the empty spot on my glasses where the missing nose pad once resided. The man took my glasses from my hand and shuffled to a work area beyond his computer. He began rifling through some boxes and drawers, but his back was to me... and I was without my glasses, so I couldn't tell exactly what was going on. So, I just stood and waited patiently. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned and squinted. Although blurry, I recognized my wife. She asked in a low voice what was going on. I pointed in the direction of the "back room work area" and shrugged.

Within a few minutes, the man returned with my glasses. He said nothing as he handed them back to me. They sported a brand new clear silicone nose pad, proudly fitted into the tiny metal socket opposite the original yellowed and dirty nose pad that had been there since Day One. I slid them on and they felt like they did before this whole episode began. I asked the man how much I owed him for his services. He waved me off and grumbled "no charge" under his breath. I thanked him and I thanked him again. My wife spoke up, offering to pick up a cup of coffee for his trouble and generosity. Again, he waved his open hand and said "no... no thank you" in the same low voice. I said a few more "thank you"s as we made our way towards the front door.

While I was genuinely appreciate of this guy's kindness, I have never been in his store before and, in realty, I have no plans of ever going into his store again. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he has closed up shop the next time I pass by, due to competition from bigger stores at the mall or unbeatable deals available on the internet. I wish he would have accepted a buck or two as payment to alleviate my guilt.

My new glasses arrive on Friday.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com