Purchase History

Purchase History

‘tis the age. Time to look at the past, understand that you understand nothing. Still.

Time, also, to look at the world we live in, and note that everything we say and do these days is etched forever in some hard drive on some server in a remote area of the connected world we live in.

The Internet Never Forgets. And so, your Purchase History will live on long after you’re gone. As will mine…

And yes, that is true. A fact. A true fact. We can try and deny it to no avail. (Unless, we take a page from the great leaders of our world who ignore it happened and move on, threaten those who bring it up or double down and claim it is false. Or all of the above.)

Social commentary taken care of, I am going to move on and tell you about my Purchase History. This way I can get my story in before someone else does. So I can lead from the front, aka control the narrative, get ahead of the curve and other pieces of corporate jargon against which I waged a long and lonely battle, to little or no avail.

But! I digress, bitterly, in all directions. Let’s get on with some basic historical background, shall we?

A bit of history.

Once upon a time, I was born.

But you knew that already, right?

And, as I grew up, found a wife, and started out in life, I was penurious. In fact, the Purchase History of this period is sadly dismal, consisting of 15 paise bus rides, 1 Re lunches of dry muri, (puffed rice) and chanachur (a mix of spicy fried pea flour, assorted nuts).

Life went on for a bit, until that fateful phone call, which I almost didn’t take.

This caused bread, and butter, to appear on our table, and finally, some jam as well. And then we could start on our little foray into consumerism and build out our Purchase History. We looked around and spotted a VCR player, left behind by a brother visiting from the USA. It had lain in a corner, unattached to a TV, because we didn’t have a TV.

The Colour TV

I learned that the VCR used the NTSC format. Now that we could afford a TV, I set about wondering, researching to figure out what make and model I should get.

I went looking for TV models that could handle NTSC format tapes. Why? Because, India, where I lived at the time, used the PAL/SECAM format. So a multi-format model was the way to go. I found a Videocon, that the sales guy confirmed was multi-format and could handle PAL/SECAM (India default) and NTSC.

So I bought it.

Well, then, I tried connecting the VCR to it. And found that the tapes wouldn’t show up in except as a hazy black and white.

My Beloved Bangalan said, “Did you connect all the cables correctly?”

I deigned to answer, but did check to see if there were any loose connections.

“Yep, all the cables are fine. Let me try this wedding video.”

It worked.

“Hmm”, she said, “I thought you specifically paid extra for the mult-format thing.”

I sighed and went to bed.

In the following days I did some interesting sleuthing, and learnt that there were 2 NTSC formats; NTSC 3.58 used by US. and NTSC 4.43 which was used as a sort of compromise with PAL players. The US tapes left behind by my brother and the VCR used NTSC 3.58 and the TV was able to handle only NTSC 4.43 (and PAL/SECAM).

I had to wait to earn some more money to buy a VCR capable of talking to the TV that I had bought.

The Turntable

I grew up in the era of vinyl. I’ve chronicled before my dad’s gramophone, with the fang and the windup motor, where he would play his 78RPM records of KL Saigal, his favorite singer. In Calcutta, we upgraded to a big system, with a Garrard turntable, Sonodyne amplifier and speakers. Buying vinyl was a special treat, as you got to go into town, pick a sample and go into a “listening booth”, where you could listen to the record you had selected. The controls remained with a member of the staff.

Over the years, I had a selection of 45s, and a plenty of LPs (33 & 1/3). When I moved to Canada, I got my wife to pack a suitcase of my records and bring them over. She did bring all the LPs. I have no idea where the 45s went. And for many years, as we grappled with penury, one more time, in a new and strange land, the LPs lay around unused, unheard.

Then, we went to see the Lion King on Broadway. Walking down the street, I came upon a store. And I looked inside. And I saw a Technics turntable. I bought and brought it home.

My Beloved Bangalan said, “Well, plug it in! Let’s hear it!”

I said, “Um yeah. It doesn’t come with a cartridge and stylus. I have to get those.”

“Hmm”, was the response.

Months went by in a steady stream of work, dreams and research. Until one day, I bought a magnetic cartridge and stylus to match. (Ceramic wouldn’t work for an audiofool like me, you see!)

She said, “Do you know how to set it up?”

I said, “Yeah. I think so.”

A few weeks later, and a couple of hundred dollars later, we were set up.

She said, “Ok, we can hear it now!”

I said, “Um yeah, the home theatre receiver can’t handle the signals from the turntable. They’re too weak and the receiver doesn’t have a phono input jack.”

She said, “What does that mean?”

I said, “It means I have to buy a pre-amplifier, so the signals from the turntable can be upped, so that the home theatre receiver can process them.”

“Hmmm.”

A few more months (and $$$) later, we were set up! (It works great!)

Guitar

Once upon a time, when I turned 34, or maybe it was 35, She decided to buy me a guitar for my birthday. I signed up for lessons at The Calcutta School of Music. My tutor just happened to be one Carlton Kitto, the #1 jazz guitarist in the city, well known, much respected. He didn’t care for the guitar I brought along, and convinced me to get another, from a store he recommended in North Calcutta. A jazzman’s guitar, with cutaways to allow easy access to the upper frets.

I found it hard to drop my business meetings and drive across town for my “frivolous” guitar lessons. The other reason was my inability as Carlton put it, to add some life, some swing, to the mechanical method I was using to follow his tabs. My lack of familiarity with jazz standards like Cannonball Adderley’s “Work Song”, I dropped out of class and, shortly thereafter, dropped out of the country.

A few more years later and I got a gift of another birthday guitar. (You have to admire the faith, man!) This time, I didn’t purchase lessons, but tried to remember what I had heard from Carlton, all those years ago. I also came into possession of  an electric guitar.

Then, I had occasion to give my first public performance at my son’s wedding. No recording, video or audio exists of this. Which should tell ya something…

Emboldened by the lack of open criticism, I would frequent the guitar stores and try out the stuff they had lying around. I was attracted to this one dark and dusky model that sounded dark and dusky. It was an acoustic with pickups so it could be amplified. I longed for it, but it was quite expensive.

The years floated by and the dream of that dusky beauty with the dusky voice refused to fade away. And one day, I saw it on sale at a store in the US. I hesitated for precisely 13.27356 minutes and 27.38567 seconds before placing an order for it, to be shipped to my elder brother in Connecticut. I was due to make a visit , and I thought it would be waiting for me.

Order was placed. Confirmation received. Two days later, notification received: Order cancelled due to fraudulent purchase. Called the store.

“What happened?”

“Sir, the credit card seems to be fraudulent.”

“But I have it here. In my hand! How did you decide it’s fraudulent?”

“We found a phone number for the shipping address and called them and the gentleman who answered said he had not placed an order for a guitar.”

“It’s my brother! I will be picking it up from him! Why did you call him? He doesn’t know about this!”

“Well, it’s too late now. We’ve cancelled it and marked your credit as fraudulent.”

“So I can’t use it to place the order?”

“That is correct, sir.”

Lots of gaala gaali, (curses, if not Bengali speaking) ensued. Customer Service lady hung up on me, midstream.

Angry emails then ensued. In both directions.

I called My Beloved Bangalan and complained. She said she’d call the store and use her credit card to place the order. Brother was called and told to expect a guitar.

Customer Service lady told My Beloved Bangalan “You’re such beautiful person, so warm and kind. Not like your husband, at all!”

She was amused. I simply harrumphed. Two weeks later, I made a trip to New York, saw Brooklyn from a local’s eyes, stopped off in Connecticut and found a large package in my brother’s house.

And that is how Taz came into my life. Here she is, with me.

Lessons Learned

I should not Purchase anything. The History of my Purchases clearly indicate that this is the wisest course of action.

No Purchase, and thus, no Purchase History.

Winning!