How to Pretend That You"re Interested in Furniture
There comes a time in every man's life when he'll be called upon to offer his opinion in regards to furniture.
This inanimate object could well become a new addition to his environment, or worse, it could even be replacing another piece of which he may well have become quite accustomed too.
Consequently, it should be his duty at least to pretend that he is even a little interested in what's going on, if not to please somebody else, to at least back up his sudden display of nobility in the face of unnecessary change.
The first way this can be achieved is to take control of the matter of size when coming to a decision about a new piece of furniture.
Take a bed for example, there is a fair likelihood that when your partner is looking through the catalogue, or browsing the internet, she is going to be focusing on the visual aspects of the piece.
Iron or wood? Double or king-size? Four-poster? This is fair, the first thing anyone does to discern each item from another - when you're glancing over a page - is to notice how they look.
Well you can step in before she gets to size.
How much space have you got to work with length-wise, width-wise and height-wise? Can you even get it up the stairs? And don't pretend that you don't relish any opportunity to whip out your tape-measure.
The second aspect to grasp with some zeal is the matter of durability.
Know your materials.
Know your fittings too.
Ever heard of planned obsolescence? Remember this phrase - and use it if you want to seem like you know what you're talking about.
So will pine last longer than beech? Or will MDF or chipboard do? After all you don't want to be in this position again in ten years' time.
And how's the piece going to fit together, or fit to something else if it needs to? As a rule, don't expect something that requires Allen keys to last.
And don't trust something that boasts that a tool-kit is included.
(N.
b.
this is also a perfect time to earn some ethical brownie points).
Another realistic way to show that you're interested is to focus on the practicality of the piece.
There is a chance though that this can backfire, with the entirely plausible result of verbal abuse amounting to something like the following: 'Lighten up McPractical, that widescreen TV ain't sensible!' So care does need to be taken.
Just try to concentrate on how well it's going to serve her needs and you'll be fine.
With these lessons in mind, and a little bit of practice, you'll never look at a chest of drawers the same way again.
This inanimate object could well become a new addition to his environment, or worse, it could even be replacing another piece of which he may well have become quite accustomed too.
Consequently, it should be his duty at least to pretend that he is even a little interested in what's going on, if not to please somebody else, to at least back up his sudden display of nobility in the face of unnecessary change.
The first way this can be achieved is to take control of the matter of size when coming to a decision about a new piece of furniture.
Take a bed for example, there is a fair likelihood that when your partner is looking through the catalogue, or browsing the internet, she is going to be focusing on the visual aspects of the piece.
Iron or wood? Double or king-size? Four-poster? This is fair, the first thing anyone does to discern each item from another - when you're glancing over a page - is to notice how they look.
Well you can step in before she gets to size.
How much space have you got to work with length-wise, width-wise and height-wise? Can you even get it up the stairs? And don't pretend that you don't relish any opportunity to whip out your tape-measure.
The second aspect to grasp with some zeal is the matter of durability.
Know your materials.
Know your fittings too.
Ever heard of planned obsolescence? Remember this phrase - and use it if you want to seem like you know what you're talking about.
So will pine last longer than beech? Or will MDF or chipboard do? After all you don't want to be in this position again in ten years' time.
And how's the piece going to fit together, or fit to something else if it needs to? As a rule, don't expect something that requires Allen keys to last.
And don't trust something that boasts that a tool-kit is included.
(N.
b.
this is also a perfect time to earn some ethical brownie points).
Another realistic way to show that you're interested is to focus on the practicality of the piece.
There is a chance though that this can backfire, with the entirely plausible result of verbal abuse amounting to something like the following: 'Lighten up McPractical, that widescreen TV ain't sensible!' So care does need to be taken.
Just try to concentrate on how well it's going to serve her needs and you'll be fine.
With these lessons in mind, and a little bit of practice, you'll never look at a chest of drawers the same way again.
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