The Parable of the Alarm Clock

This is a tale that does not involve bread šŸž. As always, any connection to persons or places you may know, is purely incidental.
The Parable of the Alarm Clock

There was once a man, who missed an important meeting because his alarm clock didn’t ring. He was a bit upset, and wished for it to be corrected, so he promptly got up, got dressed, and took the alarm clock back to the store, where he’d gotten it from.

He stood in line, patiently, at the service counter, and waited his turn. When he got to the front, the clerk asked, ā€œHow may I help you?ā€

ā€œOh, I’m having trouble with this alarm clock. You see, it doesn’t ring, when the time is reached. I was wondering if that could be fixed.ā€

ā€œWhy should we fix that? We’re actually very busy building the new model. Should be out in a few weeks. Just wait for that one. Goodbye.ā€

ā€œWhat? Wait! You can’t just leave it broken, like this.ā€

ā€œWhy not? What right do you have, to demand an alarm clock that rings? Besides, how many alarm clocks have you built?ā€

The customer was now quite flustered and a bit ashamed of his self, ā€œWell, none. I admit that, butā€¦ā€

ā€œWell, there you go! Outrageous, that you should criticize something someone else has accomplished, that you have not. Besides, you are incompetent to tell if anything is even wrong. Maybe this is some sort of non-ringing alarm clock. Perhaps it has lights or wave soundsā€¦ā€

The second customer in line suddenly piped up, ā€œAhem. I’m sorry to interrupt. I must admit, I’ve also never built an alarm clock, but I’m a jeweler, who sells and repairs watches, and I must agree with you, sir,ā€ nods to first customer, ā€œThis is most definitely a ringing alarm clock and… See here? This bit of the bell arm has rusted through and broken off. Shoddy craftmanship, I’d say.ā€

ā€œOh, Mr High-n-Mighty jeweler, claims to know how a good alarm clock is to be made, while having zero experience. I’ve had enough of this outrage. I’m getting the vapors and need at least a two-week sabbatical, to recover from such gross mistreatment. The store is closing immediately. Everyone out!ā€

ā€œBut my clock, sir!ā€

The door slams in his face, and he heads home, dumping his clock in the garbage bin down the street. Next time, he will simply use the alarm on his cell phone. That always rings.

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