Lileks quests for glasses

As I'll be soon shopping for new glasses, I have sympathy with James in his never-ending quest for something that doesn't look too dorky:

This prescription was never right, and had to be changed several times. It's the nature of the diagnosis: it's up to me to tell me if the prescription is right. Better? Worse? Better? Slightly better? Incrementally better? I don't know! You have the fargin' shingle on the wall, you tell me! The first prescription was weaker than my previous one, and I couldn't quite understand why I would want weaker glasses. Obviously I'm not walking up to strange women and telling them their lingerie tags are crimped up, and that must be uncomfortable. I don't have super-vision. Can't see through walls. Garrison Keillor's logic, yes, but a mole with an eyepatch could do that.

But they stepped me down, and I wandered around in a fog and a haze for a week before I went back, pointed to the sign on the wall that said I was guaranteed satisfaction, and asked for a different prescription. Whereupon they guided my hand to the actual position of the sign; I was pointing at the bathroom door. Which only made my point stronger.

I was never happy with the final results, and got my money back. Went three stores down in the very same mall, tried another place, got "hipper" glasses, and they were just as bad. Or so I recall. At that point I'd just given up.