The Black Box

Adventures at Microcenter

Allen approaches me with the black box in hand, the one we bought at Microcenter two weeks ago. He does not appear agitated, so I let my shoulders relax. “This motherboard is the wrong kind,” he says, speaking a language with which I am passingly familiar. “I want to take it back so I can get the right one.”

I nod my head, but all sorts of obstacles involved in the simple act of “taking something back” invade my brain. I examine the box carefully and notice the bright yellow sticker. “It was on sale,” I point out to my son. “It says right here that sale items cannot be returned.”

Photo by Laura Chouette on Unsplash

His stubborn DNA donated by my German and Native American ancestors makes him square his shoulders and stare me down. “We could TRY.”

Yes, I agree. We can try. We check the store hours and drive up on Sunday.

We are in the parking lot when I make a momentous decision: Allen will handle this return on his own. In the last year, his social skills have improved and it is time for him to fight this very small battle on his own. I give him my credit card, just in case they will refund the money, tell him to ask the guard at the door to direct him to the return counter, then pull out my phone to make a call I don’t really need to make. Allen sighs and makes a face at me, but he shuts the car door and heads towards the entrance to Microcenter, the black box in hand.

I play a game of solitaire on my phone and pick at my fingernails. No burly guard from the store approaches my car to tell me my son is causing a disturbance. I review all the steps Allen needs to take to attempt this return.

Step 1. Talk to the guard at the door and ask for the return department.

Step 2. Find the return department without getting twisted around and frustrated in a large store with humming fluorescent lights.

Step 3. Tell the person at the return counter--possibly more than ONE person--why he needs to return the item.

Step 4. Accept what he is told--to take back or not--quietly and calmly.

Photo by Sergey Zolkin on Unsplash

I chew on another fingernail. Maybe I asked too much.

It is another few minutes before Allen returns, the black box in hand. I survey his body language: he looks calm. He is not clenching and unclenching his fists, screwing up his face in an angry scowl, or muttering under his breath. He slides into the car and heaves a sigh.

“They won’t take it back,” he says, “because it was on sale.”

I resist the urge to utter I told you so and instead concentrate on the success of this moment. “I’m proud of you for doing it on your own,” I say as I start the car. “That’s more important than the money.”

He gives me an “Oh, Mom” look and buckles his seat belt. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he says.

But in the world of the autism spectrum, I know that it really was.

If you know someone who is developmentally challenged, what are some seemingly insurmountable tasks they have accomplished? What tasks have you accomplished you thought you could not?