Creative Commons License photo credit: Midnight-digital

I have been told many times that my lifestyle is a brooding monolith on the corner of Hedonist Ave and Obsessive-Compulsive Blvd. The sustainability of such a lifestyle has been debated at length; I maintain it justifies the mindless hours lost behind the event horizon of the heartless singularity that is customer service. Sure, spending 4 hours changing soft-returns to hard-carriages in a 26 000 word document can be perceived as obsessive-compulsive; having an intricate zombie plan can be percieved as crazy, but we really all should have one. Personally my Zombie Plan involves a certain well fortified building with supplies, near a mechanical workshop and a readily available supply of chemicals. Of course, I can’t divulge anymore for security reasons, and my meager fortress can only sustain a manageable number of zombie-plague refugees. In case of emergencies, however, there is a quickly accesable bag of clothes and equipment should the Zombies catch me at a moment of weakness in my ever vigilant stand. This, however, is not the point.

Hypothetical Me is confronted with two products or services; one of a high quality with a matching pricetag, and the other its inverse. Hypothetical Me doesn’t hesitate to spend the extra dollar, and feels justified in doing so. I concur wholeheartedly with my hypothetical doppleganger, of whom I now feel needs a name. This is not to say I will squander my earnings on pointless lavishness. Comfort where comfort is due should not be seen as a sin. However it should be pointed out that with a premium product comes premium service. A case example at hand, my leather jacket by Sinikka. A $500 pricetag adorned its sleeve, extravagant for someone on a student income, however the value is in the lifetime service from the store. One button thread came loose four months after purchase, and upon my return to the store, the friendly leatherworker removed the rotten cotton (I hear a song title there) and replaced the button while I waited. I should note that he also did this to the exclusion of other customers entering the store. I thanked him and within 10 minutes I was on my merry way, freshly stiched fasteners and all. Should a customer come to myself or my colleague at my work and purchase a couple of $2000 DSLR Cameras, we are more than happy to go out of our way to track down an obscure lens for them at zero profit for us. Head on over to Headphonic in West Leederville and you will be amazed at the fantastic service you are immediately presented with. A staff member will walk you through your needs and custom select the perfect audio device for you, making sure you trial it first and are happy with the choice. Why? Because it is a premium headphone store. You spend $600 on a set of AKG 701’s, but you come away knowing that you now possess exactly what it was you wanted. Again, I digress.

I love boxsets. There, the words have been given form and now roam free in the ether. I have been recommended to experts in the field, and common concensus is that I have something akin to bibliomania. I maintain, however, that I just really like them. The words Collectors Edition and Limited Print drive my blood into a wild frenzy that threatens to boil out of my very pores. I simply cannot pass up a chance to own something as beautiful as the leather-bound Dungeons & Dragons 3.5 Players Handbook and Dungeon Masters Guide. Their silver etched pages and gilded edges sparkl in the dim light of a dungeon crawl, as if their brilliant display was put on specially just for me. Deluxe Ghosts I-IV sits in a large matte-black box, standing resolute against the feable attempts of photons to reflect off its surface. Thrice I own Nightwish’s Once, each a different special release. Opeth’s discography graces my drawers in its entirety twice over, myriad limited editions and re-releases scattered in their midst. In more recent days, I hunted down the last collectors edition of Warhammer: The Age of Reckoning from a small warehouse in Towoomba! The harrowing ordeal of nearly being unable to attain a copy left me a broken shell of a man, cradled only in the warm glow of hope and determination.

What brings this bout of self-convincing revelry you may ask? I am in the middle of my fourth year exams at Curtin University and sitting next to me are a disgusting pile of collectors editions of games that I can’t touch until next week! The pain of having Fallout 3 so close to my body, yet so far away in time is simply agonising!

  • It’s fucking good, too :P