Some people immediately see an old woman with a bump on her nose looking down. Some people immediately see the side profile of a younger lady facing left but looking to her right . Eventually, after studying the image and maybe with some guidance, both groups see both pictures.
They just had to change the way they immediately saw things. That was the lesson to be learned from this literal illustration . . . in third grade!
Today, it's hokey. It's old-fashioned. It's irrelevant. And it's not an Ipad so . . . I'm not interested. But this weekend, I guess it came in handy.
Saturday, I was so engrossed in something, I lost track of time and had to rush out the door to meet my buddies downtown. And I needed cash in case we were in a cash only situation at a private club or something. So a pit stop was mandatory.
Anytime I am in a full blown leave-now-or-die rush, something is forgotten. Usually it's my Chapstick, my eye drops, or my reading glasses.
If my Spidey sense starts tingling, I've neglected something else . . . important. I just don't know what. But I figure it out miles later when it's categorically inconvenient and I need whatever it is I forgot.
I got that feeling three miles or so out from my pad. I dismissed it. I figured it was me second guessing myself.
Wrong.
Several miles later, when I'm at the Ingles self-checkout with a hand full of groceries, I scan my loyalty card and I figure out what that Spidey sense was. I forgot my wallet!
I curse myself. I'm already late. I call my friends, tell them the deal, and back track all the way back home to grab my wallet.
When I get back to the same Ingles with my wallet, I scan my items, pull out my debit card and an unfortunate piece of randomness happens. I can't remember my PIN number!
I've used this same PIN number sometimes several times per day, several times per week, for several months and several years.
But my brain decides to play hide-and-seek with it. Of course, I can't will the PIN number into my brain's focus.
I do the trick of pantomiming the PIN digits on the card reader with my fingers. Maybe the habitual pattern will trigger my brain to reveal it.
Nothing.
Then I basically flush two of my three access opportunities down the toilet. I pop in two bad guesses. One more attempt and we know what happens. The bank has that safety measure to block the card after three failed attempts.
Then all would be lost. I wouldn't be able to at least use the card as a credit card. I'd be cashless and cardless!
Aargh!
Luckily, I needed zero cash that night. I convinced myself I had the PIN number at my pad and would simply retrieve it the next morning.
I tore my place apart. Nothing.
The thought of going through the process of getting another PIN number was unpleasant. Having to go to the bank in person for cash, request another PIN, wait for the PIN to arrive in the mail, remember a new PIN . . . It's a pain in the ass!
I was determined I would find a way to remember it. That PIN number would reveal itself or . . . Or nothing.
No "or". No options. The PIN number would reveal itself. Period.
I did a Google image search for an 'ATM keypad'. Instead of racking my brain for what IS my PIN number, I switched it to what ISN'T my PIN number.
I went to Ingles' self-check again. I scanned my items, slid my debit card through the card reader, popped in the numbers I had convinced myself a third and final time was my PIN number, held my breath and . . . APPROVED!
I even did a little fist pump which probably got a raised eyebrow from the person behind me. And like any random episode of 'The Brady Bunch', I learned a few valuable lessons:
1) Changing the WAY I look at/for something can make all the difference in the world.
2) That little voice that says something else is missing has NEVER been wrong.
and maybe most important:
3) Be ready way earlier to cut down on the rushing around and forgetting stuff in the first damn place! Geez!
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