One day in early February, I was washing my glasses when I suddenly heard a crack: the left side of the frame snapped and the lens popped out.
These were acrylic round-frame glasses that had been with me for about ten years, the color faded from deep pink to pale pink over time, with rust marks showing along the temples. Well, I figured, it was time for them to retire. I glued the lens back in with some white glue as a stopgap and booked an appointment at a nearby optical shop (let’s call it Shop A).
Little did I know, that was only the opening act of the disaster to come. Before you read on, take a guess: how long do you think it took me to finally get a pair of glasses that worked properly? I’ll reveal the answer at the end.
I hadn’t gotten new glasses in ten years, and on top of that, this was my first time getting glasses in the US, so everything felt brand new. I walked into this shop that claimed to be the best in the country, without really noticing why there weren’t many customers inside. I went through some tests with the optometrist, then had an off-site doctor examine me remotely over a screen. I walked out of the exam room in high spirits and picked out frames. They happened to be on sale, so getting two pairs at once seemed like a good deal. I brought the frames to the counter to pay, and the cashier, radiating an air of low-energy world-weariness, casually quoted me a price way higher than expected. Sam and I both flinched. Wait, wasn’t this on sale? She went “oh” and said that price was for the cheapest lenses; given how strong my prescription was, I’d need thinner lenses, which cost more.
All the pricing lived on her computer, and there was no printed price list I could check for myself, so I just told her a budget. Her fingers clacked away rapidly on the keyboard, and a new number came out of her mouth. That one was borderline acceptable. Glasses are a necessity, after all, so I just paid up.
“How long until the new glasses are ready?”
“Two weeks. We’ll text you when they’re done.”
Fine, I figured: this is America, after all. If calling customer service is slow here, getting glasses made is probably slow too. I’d just have to be patient.
Two weeks later, I got a text saying the glasses were ready for pickup. The text also said: “We are closing down soon. Please come pick up your order by 2/28. For any questions after that, please contact our other branch.”
I rushed over to Shop A to pick them up. A lot of the shelves inside were already cleared out, the optometrist was nowhere to be seen, and only that same cashier from before remained, her low-energy world-weariness seemingly even more pronounced under the harsh fluorescent lights. I tried on the new glasses and immediately felt dizzy and disoriented. Well, I figured, my body probably just needed time to adjust. I gritted my teeth and took the glasses home.
After several days of trying hard to adjust, something still felt very wrong: putting the glasses on made me dizzy every single time, I couldn’t read for long, my left eye was constantly out of focus, and the frame was clamped too tight, pressing painfully on my temples. I finally dragged Sam along to another branch to deal with these two new pairs of glasses. This branch, let’s call it A’, was quite far from home, a good thirty-plus minute drive. Not wanting to make the trip for nothing, I booked an appointment with a doctor there online in advance.
At branch A’, I ran into the same optometrist from before; apparently she’d been transferred there. She rattled on about how the axis might be off, though she wasn’t entirely sure, and said the doctor would take a look at me shortly. This branch actually had an in-house doctor, so at least she wasn’t on a screen this time, though her leg was in a cast, and she hobbled me into the exam room on crutches, not looking particularly pleased. She seemed like she wanted to brush me off with a few quick words at first, but after I persisted and explained how much trouble these two pairs of glasses had caused me, she silently retested my vision without explaining why I’d been dizzy. I had to keep politely pressing for an explanation before she finally said it might be because the prescription between my two eyes was too different, and that she’d adjusted it to bring them closer together this time, hopefully improving the dizziness. I took the new prescription and asked the front desk to remake the lenses, and also asked them to loosen the frame a bit.
So I waited, and waited, another two weeks, and finally got the text that my order was ready. We drove half an hour to A’, and the man at the counter pulled just one pair out from the back shelf. I asked, “Where’s the other one? I ordered two pairs.” He said, “Oh, our policy is we only start on the second pair once the first one’s confirmed to be right. The other pair still needs another two weeks.”
In that moment, my last nerve didn’t snap; it reconnected. Suddenly I could see every single absurd, unreasonable thing about this place with total clarity, and my “be nice” mode switched off, replaced by “reasonably angry” mode. I told the guy, you never mentioned this to us before: it takes us an hour round trip to get to this shop, and now we have to make another trip. He apologized, not very sincerely, then offered to just ship the second pair to our house instead, though, he added, we’d have to cover the shipping cost. (Do you hear yourself right now?)
Fuming, I took the pair they had and went straight home. Wearing them, I got dizzy all over again, and the frame that used to be too tight was now too loose. I took them off to examine them closely and discovered the lens technician had literally shaved off a corner where the temple meets the lens! Yes, shaved it off: the kind of damage you can’t undo.
My anger cooled into sheer exhaustion. Sam and I talked it over: it had already been over a month, and the pair I now had still wasn’t wearable, and there was still another pair to wait on. Given this shop’s customer service and craftsmanship, I could easily picture having to make yet another trip to get things adjusted even after picking up the second pair. Round and round, when would it ever end? After thinking it over for a few days, I decided to cut my losses, took the glasses back, and returned them for a refund, including the pair that wasn’t even finished yet. I got my money back for the glasses, though I couldn’t get a refund on the doctor’s exam fee. But that was fine. My time and energy really needed an immediate stop-loss.
After leaving Shop A, I did some serious research and found a different optical shop with much better reviews (let’s call it Shop B) which offered an online glasses-ordering service: you fill in your prescription on the website, and they ship the glasses straight to your door. There was also a physical location just ten minutes from our place for any adjustments. Not wanting to spend even more money on another eye exam, I decided to just try using the prescription from A’. As luck would have it, the delivery date happened to land on the exact day I was flying back to Taiwan. While I was at the airport, Sam took photos at home and texted me: “I think the quality on this one is so much better!” Just the glasses case alone was nothing like Shop A’s cheap, low-quality clear plastic box. This one had a hard black shell with a spring hinge that popped open or snapped shut with the lightest touch, lined inside with soft, skin-toned microfiber. It felt genuinely premium, and the glasses looked pretty impressive sitting inside it.
Three weeks later, back in the US, I finally got to put the new glasses on. The overall quality from Shop B was clearly much better than either A or A’. The only downside was that I still got dizzy; it just took longer to kick in. I thought about it and realized that since I need to read and write for long stretches, I really couldn’t settle for “good enough.” So I booked an appointment with Shop B’s doctor and decided to get my prescription checked all over again, from scratch.
Shop B was bustling and had a cheerful atmosphere, and even with plenty of customers, the staff still managed to take good care of everyone. The optometrist ran her tests, looked over the two prescriptions I had in hand, and said, “Ah, so you’re looking for a second opinion?” Then she looked again. “Oh wait, no, these first two are from the same shop, but two different doctors. You’re actually looking for a third opinion.”
The doctor then strolled in, calm and unhurried, a relaxed-looking older gentleman. The optometrist relayed my situation to him while he listened and asked me questions along the way. As I aired my grievances about the other shop, he kept dishing out sympathy in full measure: “Oh no!” He carefully explained my situation, saying the other shop had probably over-corrected my astigmatism, that overly strong astigmatism correction was likely the source of my dizziness, and that what I actually needed was a pair of glasses that felt comfortable, with a prescription close to my original one.
“We’re not going to be like that other shop,” the doctor said, with real conviction.
When I went to pay, I asked the front desk how long it would take. The short-haired young lady answered with confident pride:
“Within the hour!”
And sure enough, in under an hour, I got a text saying:
“Your glasses are ready! We got it done in just 24 minutes!”
Once I put them on, my vision snapped into focus and, finally, no dizziness. The front desk staff, who by then knew all about my absurd ordeal, looked genuinely relieved seeing the satisfied smile on my face. I walked out of that shop feeling like I’d stepped into a different world, wandering through the nearby shopping street under the noon sun to test the glasses out: no dizziness. I walked into the bookstore next door to test them under the dim lighting: no headache either. From walking into that shop last Monday for the exam to finally getting my new glasses, the whole thing took barely two hours total.
Did you get the question from the start of this post right? I picked up my glasses last Monday, and my very first appointment was back in early February, over three months in total.
Truly absurd. I’m recording it here for everyone’s entertainment, and maybe as a cautionary tale too: if you want a bright future ahead of you, choose your optical shop wisely.
NB: This article was first published in Chinese on 05/18/26. It was later translated with assistance from AI tools, edited by me, and published in English on 07/15/26.