When I was a kid in the 70s and 80s my dad would buy As-Seen-On-TV merchandise. He wasn’t drunk and blind ordering in the middle of night, the reason why I own a cd collection from Time-Life of Frankie Valli and The Four Season’s greatest hits, he was just trying to make my mother’s life easier.
This attempt at love led us down the road of: the Ronco In-the-egg egg scrambler, a bread kneading machine that was a dough hook mounted to a pot lid, Slap Chop, that water thing… ShamWOW.
ShamWOW is the most truthful name in advertising. Sham, wow.
Lately he’s bought that non-stick brownie pan that pops out perfect brownie squares with no fuss or muss and the greenie frying pan, the one where they melt marshmallows on it and show that it cleans up nicely. For those of you who like fried marshmallows.
Where are they now? I’ll ask my mother.
Mother: In the trash where they should have been put in first place. What was the in-the-egg scrambler? I don’t remember that.
Me: Oh sure you do, you wouldn’t let us use it. It was a pedestal with a wire hook that you inserted into the bottom of the egg then pressed down on the top of the egg which depressed the on switch and the whip would rotate in the egg and scramble it.
Mother: Well, that’s just stupid.
Me: He thought it would work.
Mother: And did it?
Me: No. The whip had to be the exact shape of the egg or it would cut through the shell and since you are pressing on the egg, it was the equivalent of smashing a raw egg on the counter and calling it scrambled.
Mother: What about the whip?
Me: That went through your hand. Afterwards we weren’t allowed to use it. You had to get a shot for something.
Mother: Never should have bought the damn thing in the first place.
It was cheap and novel, who could blame him if he had disposable income? Take a look around. Look at your desk or that pile of stuff in the corner. Cheap chotchkys.
Which is fine for chotchkys but would you buy a Ronco outdoor brick patio or Ronco foundation?
Why? Because that’s serious shit. Porches are not disposable. Quality is not disposable.
Now to get to our topic, cheap transcription.
Is your work disposable?
Then why hire transcriptionists at slave-labor prices?
Mother: Because it’s cheap.
And how did cheap with glorious XXXX rewards promised work out in the past?
Mother: I had to hide a lot of things in the trash from your father.
Exactly. You get what you pay for.
Father: So I shouldn’t pay for a dollar minute transcription?
Mother: History shows I’d just throw it away.
Make your life easier and set your dollar-a-minute transcription email to where it belongs, the junk bin.