We can all name a few of the seven wonders of the ancient world, such as the pyramids of Egypt, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon and the Colossus of Rhodes. But the wonders of today’s world are different; they tend more to events than architecture.

Consider, for example, these seven:

One: You are sitting down to your supper of brown rice and black beans, when the phone rings and you know the autodialer is striking again. It is, once again, the Bank of Whatever and its credit card team.

Except, wonder of wonders, this time it is different, and the conversation goes like this:

“Mr. Rush?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Paul Rush?”

“Still yes.”

“Mr. Rush, I am calling on behalf of the Bank of Whatever credit card. You have not been pre-approved. You have not even been pre-selected. When your number came up on the autodialer, we all sat around and had a good laugh, for your credit is laughable. And I’m calling to say we will never call again. Enjoy your dinner and have a nice day.”

End of conversation — and wasn’t it a wonder?

Two: You clump into the doctor’s office in the afternoon, carrying your copy of War and Peace, and settle down for a nice, long read. After all, where better to spend time than waiting in the waiting room? You may even be carrying a light snack in your pocket.

But the receptionist says, “Mr. Rush, the doctor will see you now. Go right in.”

And after you pick yourself off the floor, you go right in. Will wonders never cease?

Three: For the fifth time in a week, you phone your trusty contractor because you know that water puddling in the middle of your living room is not good. And, for the fifth time, you are assured that he will show up. And, for the fifth time, he doesn’t appear.

So, you pick a name out of the Yellow Pages, make a call, reach a contractor on his cellphone, tell him your troubles and, when you put down the phone, his truck is rolling up your driveway. Amazing.

Four: You stand bedazzled before the glittering display of frozen dinners in the fast-food section of the supermarket. Each package gleams with the promise of culinary delights. Succulent shrimp, heaps of vegetables, slabs of roast beef slathered in gravy. Yet, you know that the packaging is all promise and inside the square box you will find a round dish that once served Oliver Twist.

Then, off in a corner, your eye falls on a pale grey package offering pale grey food. And you buy it because you are striking a blow for truth. Yeah, it tastes as bad as it looks — but wonderful all the same.

Five: It’s time for a new car, and after checking the ads, you visit the dealer. And the conversation goes like this:

“How much for the Hupmobile you advertised in the paper?”

“It’s $28,750, just like the ad says.”

“I mean how much is the price I have to pay?”

“It’s $28,750.”

“But what about PDI and freight and gas and a spare tire and provincial sales taxes and the GST and hidden dealer markup and extended warranty? What is the real total I have to pay you before I can drive off?”

“It’s $28,750. Like it says in the paper. Write the cheque and drive off. And any extended warranty is a joke.”

Now, that conversation would be a wonder.

Six: You go to your trusty prostate doctor, and you know the news will be bad because medical teams have been carving away at that gland for years. Sure, you are on a new medication. But what hope does that hold out?

“Assume the position,” he says.

And you do. And he does.

“Congratulations,” he says, tossing a glove in the disposal, “you now have the prostate of a 30-year-old. Come back in a couple of years.”

Seven: With sinking heart, you pick up the phone to call your credit card issuer or your bank or your cable company or the government. It doesn’t make much difference because you know you are entering the automatic telephone maze of “press 1 for English.”

But you dial anyway and a human voice answers. A person — someone to whom you can speak. Someone who might actually have the answers.

Will wonders ever cease? IE

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