Provisional
Truth |
Essays | September 2006
Ask (Oprah) And Ye Shall Receive
Rarely do I
find myself tuned into to daytime television, aside from
news, and rarer still would I be found watching The Oprah
Winfrey Show despite that I actually have been an audience
member for an Oprah show taping a couple years back
(birthday present for my wife, who loves Oprah).
As luck would
have it, Oprah's show is rebroadcast locally late at night
for the TIVO-impaired among us who don't know how to work
our TV recorders and I happened to see her version of
extreme home makeover.
The first
segment of the show (titled “Desperate House Makeovers”)
featured actress Eva Longoria, of Desperate Housewives, who
had bought her parents a home, but then let Oprah's
decorator, Nate Berkus, completely remodel, paint, carpet,
tile, furnish, accessorize, appliance-ize and electronic-ize
the folks' new digs.
Oprah then
interviewed Eva and NBA-star boyfriend Tony Parker, who,
likely embarrassed that Eva's parents got a no-charge
remodel and a lot of free stuff, donated $50,000 to Oprah's
Angel Network to assist in the rebuilding of
Hurricane-Katrina-damaged homes in the Gulf area. Fair
enough.
The second
segment, however, featured what appeared to be a young,
healthy, educated, childless, upper-middle-class couple (DINKs:
Double Income No Kids) who had moved from Atlanta following
9/11 to be closer to family in Alabama, and this portion
really caught my attention.
Colette and Lee
bought a house across the street from her parents, a
thirty-year old “fixer-upper” as described in the show, but
from the filmed views of the neighborhood, the house
appeared to be in very good shape, as did the others on the
street.
Eventually,
Colette and Lee ran out of money while renovating their
fixer-upper, reasons undisclosed. But before they ran out of
money, they had ripped out their entire kitchen so they
could remove a wall to make a larger
kitchen-living-gathering area.
So for a year,
we were told, Colette and Lee lived in a home with no
kitchen, forcing Colette to trudge across the street every
night, grocery bag in hand, to cook dinner at her mother's
house. (Are you kidding me?)
Although later
in the segment we find out the couple had a refrigerator and
portable gas cooktop in their basement, which Lee supposedly
used to make breakfast. The dishes were washed in a bathroom
sink or tub, so they thankfully did not have to schlep them
across the street to the in-laws.
What to do?
What would most people do in a similar situation? Let's
review the options: one, take some money out of savings and
install a kitchen; two, borrow some money from a bank,
credit card, the 401k or the parents and install a kitchen;
three, sell the house – which even kitchenless might fetch a
higher price than when purchased several years earlier - and
buy another house with a kitchen.
Or, four, send
a video tape to Oprah and ask Oprah to buy them a new
kitchen.
You're already
ahead of me. Of course they (she) sent a video tape to
Oprah, practically begging her to help them with a new
kitchen. And it worked.
This young,
healthy, educated, childless, upper-middle-class couple of
DINKs got Oprah to get her decorator to install not only a
dream kitchen, but to remodel, paint, carpet, tile, furnish,
accessorize, appliance-ize and electronic-ize the entire
house, with materials
and merchandise supplied by a host of vendors whose names
were mentioned liberally on the show and listed on Oprah's
website. See the list of stuff: (www.oprah.com/presents/oathome/200602/tours/tours_b_thanks.jhtml)
Nate Berkus, the decorator, pronounced it his
best work. The DINKs likely received well-over a hundred
thousand dollars worth of labor, materials and merchandise.
The couple was in the audience, of course, but Lee, the
husband, looked uncomfortable. Perhaps knowing that half the
country now was aware of his wife's shameless solicitation
of a “desperate home makeover” was too much.
I hope the couple has enough money to pay the
income taxes associated with such largesse, but Oprah
probably took care of that too. I guess it makes for good
afternoon television ratings, which is good for Oprah, and
good for the couple, but it left me feeling a bit cynical –
or more cynical than usual.
For the record, Oprah may confer her and her
sponsors' generosity in any manner they see fit – I would
never question that right. I, however, do not have to watch
a show like that, even though I did, mostly because I could
not believe what I was seeing.
Maybe I'm only jealous and annoyed that I
didn't think of it myself three years ago when my wife and I
were renovating a twenty-year-old fixer upper and spent
twice as much money as we originally estimated.
Could've had the whole house redone plus some
great stuff, appeared on the Oprah Winfrey show as a guest,
not mere audience members, and only had the taxes to pay,
assuming Oprah didn't pony up for that, too. No, stupid us,
we paid for it – and still are paying for it – ourselves. Yeesh, what a moron I was.
Thinking about
that show reminded me of another annual demonstration of the
Oprah generosity.
About a year
ago, our local daily, The Oklahoman, featured a political
cartoon following Oprah's “Favorite Things” episode,
essentially a holiday shopping promotion for the rest of us
so unlucky not to be in the audience that day.
It depicted a
little girl beginning to write a letter to Santa with a
televison and image of Oprah in the background, scratching
out her salutation to the Jolly Old Elf and replacing it
with “Dear Oprah.”
Why not? You
may remember a couple of years ago when an audience of
teachers each received a Pontiac G6 automobile, in addition
to thousands of dollars of other merchandise which makers
and vendors begged Oprah to promote on her show, and which
were more than willing to give away two or three hundred of
in exchange for huge publicity.
Vendors know
that Oprah can move merchandise. A case in point: After last
year's Oprah's Favorite Things episode, my wife mentioned
some comfortable-looking Nike walking shoes that simulated
the lower leg muscle-tone benefits of walking barefoot. The
Nike Free, as shown on the show, retailed for $75.
Ever vigilant
to find a Christmas present that was reasonably priced, easy
to order and receive before December 25th, and
something I knew she would like, I went online that evening
to seal the deal. Sure enough, $75 and shipped in time for
Christmas, but since these shoes had to be customized –
perhaps why they were among Oprah's favorite things – for
color, markings, logo and so on, and to be sure of the size,
I didn't place the order that night.
Silly me, after
confirming all the details, I went back online a day or two
later only to find that Nike had upped the price to
$95, and were taking no additional orders that day.
Nor the next
day, or the next, or the next, no matter what time I tried
to order. Finally, in early December, I was able to place my
order, but – of course – no in-time-wrapped-under the tree,
I'm a hero delivery before 12/25.
In fact, the
shoes didn't arrive until the first week of February, and my
wife had to make do with a picture of her customized Nike
Free walking shoes for six weeks.
Thanks, Oprah.
Say...I need a new car. Need to check
www.oprah.com and see if
she is planning a “Desperate Car Makeover” show anytime
soon.
After all, as
it is written: "Ask (Oprah) and you will receive, and
your joy will be complete."
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