Day 31: iPod Speakers

I recognize that there is probably a moral in here somewhere about investing in quality products, but my bank account doesn't want to hear it.

One thing you should know about me is that, when it comes down to it, I like my music loud.  It tends not to happen in the presence of others (in fact, now that I think about it, I'm usually the one asking people to turn down the sound, for ear health), but little gives me more joy than cranking up the volume to a good tune and singing/dancing my heart out.  I'd worry more that my roommates and neighbors hated me for it, except that I have serious trouble finding speakers or music-related machines that can actually get loud.  My laptop speakers are straight up weak (fail, Apple), and all the speakers I've found for my iPod are barely audible above my window unit's complaints of old age and poor upkeep.  You'd think the manufacturers of these things were hoping they'd be used for nursery and elevator soundtracks.  It is thoroughly disappointing.  But don't you worry, I will find loud speakers one day, and there will be a mighty dance party in my room.  I would invite you, but it's like imaginary friends.  Some things are better kept to yourself.

These speakers broke a year ago, and when they did, I wasn't even surprised.  You see, in addition to having terrible luck with finding loud speakers, I also have terrible luck with electronics in general.  A few years ago, I bought some speakers to use in my car for the long drives between home and school to spare me from hearing Beyonce tell her man to get out the house (and to the left, to the left) even one more time on the radio.  They worked great, until thirty-three or so days later, when they just up and broke (story of my life.), and then sat in my car for a few weeks, as if to commemorate my utter inability to keep electronics alive.

 The fall of my last year at UVA, I bought a DVD player at Target, replacing the one that had graduated with a roommate the year before.  Again, it worked great at first, but sure enough, a few weeks in, the thing just stopped responding.  It would turn on, and then go into screensaver mode as I jabbed my finger at every imaginable button, unplugged and replugged every imaginable cord, and occasionally beat it with my fist (it works sometimes).  Once I got past the obvious frustrations, I found myself relieved: at least this one managed break before the first thirty days were up.  Well, I drove the twenty minutes out into the boonies to return it and traded it out for a new one.  As soon as I got home, I plugged it in, pressed play, and watched as the brand-new machine haltingly skipped through a particularly suspenseful episode of The Office (damn these electronics and their skipping!).  I quickly threw a hissy fit, unplugged the thing, shoved it back into the box, and sped back out to Target.   Fed up with their crappy DVD players (and hoping to cut down on any time not spent obsessively watching episode after episode of the show we had just discovered), I got a refund and bought a DVD player at the closer-to-home Best Buy.  Not too long after, I ran into the house, put in the DVD again, and took a deep, relieved breath as the first previews began.  But it didn't last.  Wanting to just get on with it already, I hit the "next" button on the remote, only to get no response.  I hit it again.  No response.  I pushed every button on that Best Buy remote, and nothing worked.  I couldn't do it; I couldn't drive out there again that day.  I just didn't like Best Buy or my car or the traffic on Highway 29 that much.  So instead, we sat and watched every episode and deleted scene and anything else that came up when you couldn't choose "next" or "select."  The next day, I brought the thing back to Best Buy, pretty much resigned to a fate of frequent interactions with Customer Service, but with the fourth, slightly more expensive DVD player, things finally worked.  It turns out that as soon as I break down and pay the ten dollars for insurance, the thing stops malfunctioning.  That would be great if it were a preventive feature, but since it's not, it most feels like the electronics gods are spitting on me.  It's like finally paying up for flood insurance after getting three feet of water, only to find yourself in a drought.  You think to yourself, this can't possibly be necessary, but you know as soon as you stop making the payments, that sky will open up and you'll be swimming to that front door.  (Alanis Morissette, I believe, would call this a little bit ironic.)

Nonetheless, I am an eternal optimist when it benefits my pockets to do so, and so I have held on to this portable iPod player that only plays when plugged and with terrible quality, in the hopes that one day it will get its act together and do what it's supposed to do.  But no more.  Time to stand up and say sayonara to this useless assembly of plastic and wiring.  So long, farewell.  May I learn to resist cheap price tags, and may Altec Lansing stop making crappy products.