I envy decisive people.  They make up their minds quickly and share their opinions without apology.   I do not possess that ability.  I am the eternal fence sitter.  Whatever choice I eventually make, I have little confidence that it was the right one.

Here is a case in point.  I need to buy a new wallet. For most people, this would be a fairly easy purchase.  I, however, panic at the thought of all of the wallet options that are out there.  Should I buy a leather one, a fabric one, or a tasteful-looking plastic one made to look like leather?  Do I want an attached key ring or not?  What about getting one that has a tiny pen tucked inside plus a little pad of paper for jotting down notes?  Do I want the wallet to have a little calculator inside it or should I learn to use the calculator on my cell phone?

I take a deep breath and remind myself that I have only two primary criteria to consider.  First, I want a wallet that is small, not one that is the size and density of a brick and will have to be pried out of my purse with a crowbar.   Secondly, I want one with plenty of slots for all of the cards I carry and, in addition, places for a few photos, folding money, and coins.  That’s it.

I approach the Accessories Department, trying to feel confident in my ability to make a good choice. The first wallet I pick up is made of black leather.  It has the required compartments but appears to be a bit thick.  Next, I consider a red paisley print one that also meets all of my requirements, in addition to providing every “extra” imaginable, including:  a mirror; a plastic, reusable toothpick; tiny nail scissors; and a small square of satiny fabric for cleaning eyeglasses.  Who doesn’t need all of those things occasionally?  The third one I examine is made of cheap black plastic and has all the class of a Happy Meal toy, so I reject it out of hand.

In order to gain perspective, I open my purse and take out the wallet I currently own.  It is tattered, was once white and could be pictured in the dictionary next to the word “ratty.” I  compare my current wallet’s size and features to those of the black leather wallet and the red paisley print fabric wallet.  Both potential new ones are good possibilities.  Since I can’t decide between the two, I employ the scientific method and do eeny-meeny-miney-moe.  Ah ha!  The red paisley print one it is!  I congratulate myself on the speed and efficiency with which I made my decision.

I browse through the purses and scarves that are also on display in Accessories.  I try on a hat, hoping it will make me look like Meryl Streep in Out of Africa but the face I see looking back at me in the mirror looks more like the old woman in The Goonies.

I am heading for the register to pay for my new wallet when I hear my name announced on the loud speaker.  The voice instructs me to go to Customer Service.  What in the world?  When I get there, a clerk hands me my old ratty wallet.  “Another shopper found this in Accessories and turned it in,” she says.

That settles it.  I am graduating to a fanny pack.