Thursday, April 22, 2010
Wagons East
I'm one of those people that really enjoys my job, now that's not to say that I don't have bad days or that I don't have to do things that I don't want to but for the most part the people I work with are a good group and I enjoy working with them. Unfortunately there are times that my job really sucks and I think I may have hit a low point today. Occasionally my job duties entail people leaving the company, some retire, others quit and on some occasions they get fired. My involvement is pretty minimal, I type a few keys on my computer, remind the supervisor to make sure all the paperwork gets back to me and file things away, it's all very banal. Today though I actually had to sit down and talk to the employee before they left, we moved into a conference room for privacy and they just let it go. Their health had been failing for months because of the stress of the job and things in their personal life. They just couldn’t do it any more, and after talking with their spouse, decided it was the best thing for both of them. As I walked the employee out, they stopped and gave me a hug and said thank you for the things I had done over the years, told me they had a few more months to pack up (they have had their house foreclosed on) and they were hitting the road. “I’m going to hitch up my fifth wheel and we’ll point our wagon’s east”. I waved as I watched the now ex-employee leave the parking lot and wondered if I was going to be one of those people, at the end of my “career” disenchanted with the system on a whole and slightly broken from the experience. Would I just take my husband and the kids and pack up? This person talked about getting over the Sierra’s and into the open, they could hit the cruise control, set the speed to 85 and drive with their knees the rest of the way there, I had been saddened by the loss that they had experienced initially but now that I think about it, I realized the glimmer they had in their eye wasn’t necessarily tears for a loss but also maybe a little bit of adventure. Maybe this could be the turning point for them; a new life that ends’s up a little better. I honestly don’t know but I think I like that idea more than the vision of a slightly banged up and broken person I witnessed walking to their car.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Costco Gestapo
A few years ago while trying to get together a large fundraising campaign at work we decided that we needed supplies from Costco for a snack bar. Now I’m not one to keep a card like that, mostly I can’t afford it and when I have had it in the past it didn’t get used as often as I wanted to, to justify the price of the membership. In addition anyone that does own a Costco or Sam’s Club card knows that they tend to spend far more than they intended to, than when they walked in. Back to the story at hand, I tried in vain to find someone that would go with me that had a card; it’s amazing how busy people become in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday. Instead my boss decided to give me his card figuring there would be no problem and I wouldn’t have to bother anyone with the shopping process.
So off I go, I get into the store just fine; get my supplies, making very good time and head over to the check out aisle. Here’s where the problem starts, most of the time they scan your card and hand it back to you, I know from past experience they don’t check the name and, as long as you’re paying cash you don’t usually have a problem. My mother and I shop all the time together she has a card, pay’s for her stuff with a check or ATM card, I come through after with her card, pay cash and we’re good to go. This was not the case that day, the gentlemen behind the counter; scan’s the card, looks at it and passes it off to another guy waiting in the wings. I’m thinking this is odd but not worrying too much about it since they’re still scanning my order and making some small talk. We get to the total I pull out my cash and he stops to look at me,
“Who is Bob Brown?” he asks me loudly
I’ve prepared for this before I came in, thinking of all of the scenarios that might come up and decide the best approach is to lie – just a little fudge mind you nothing too big since most people will see right through a big lie.
“My dad.”
“Do you know he has the wrong type of card?”
Wrong type of card? Ok I had not prepared for this one, and what does that mean? He’s using a wholesale one when he’s not supposed to?
“I’m sorry no I wasn’t aware of that” I say quietly trying not to draw too much attention to myself. It’s not working too well as the annoyed crowd starts to build behind me, and it doesn’t help that now the cashier is starting to look really puffy.
“You know its people like you,” – great here we go, I’m waiting for him to grab one of the cardboard boxes and start preaching to everyone in the checkout section “that make our jobs so complicated. There should be a photo on this card so we can identify who’s using it at the start of the transaction.”
“Sir, I am truly sorry, I had no idea and I’m sure my dad didn’t either” now that I’ve gone down this road I’m going to need to play it out to the bitter end. I’m quickly deciding what my options are and if tears are going to need to be involved to get me out safely with my stash. Oh yes I’ve decided I’m leaving with my stash, most would just walk away from the situation but now I’m determined that regardless of this man who has decided I am dirt, and all of these people are staring at me, I’ll be damned if I’m walking out with my head down and empty handed.
“Well what do you want me to do about it?” he asks, “technically we’re not supposed to let you purchase anything and we should probably hold you here until your dad comes down to get his picture taken and can purchase these items himself” wonderful, he’s not buying the dad bit now what? He starts to motion to another man off to the side I’m frantically trying to figure out what to do – should the tears start now? No then he’ll know you’re caught and you’re not making out alive. Hold me? Where are they going to hold me? And can they do that? I guess so I mean you’re a paying member to get in here I’m sure they can do whatever they want to. I wonder if they have a room. I wonder what type of room it is, I bet it’s small and smells bad, like rotten food or something with lots of pallets and spare boxes. I wonder if it has an old metal chair in the middle bolted to the floor with a single bright light bulb above. Great what am I going to tell people at work about this? I got held at Costco for using Steve’s card? He had to come bail me out of Costco for fraud? “I don’t know what happened to Sarah, she went into Costco one afternoon and never came out, you know they have a secret police force there that catches you and send you off to work as a slave in foreign countries”. Ok get it together the crowd is starting to get restless and there are a number of men walking quickly towards you. Wait this one looks important he’s wearing a button down and a tie, talk to him he’s your ticket out of her.
“Sir, are you the manager? Yes? good, I am so very sorry for this confusion we had no idea that the policy had changed on your membership cards, I told my dad” I turn slightly back to the cashier with a look “since he’s so busy at work at the moment that I would come down for him and pick up the supplies for my brothers birthday party this evening. Had either of us though this would be a problem he would have gotten off his conference call with the President of his company to take care of it…..” then just for a bit of luck I managed to squeeze out one tear to show my fear and embarrassment.
“Ah oh, no dear that won’t be necessary” he stammers uncomfortably “now it’s nothing to cry about, we’ll get this taken care of right now, you ah, what’s your total? Ah a see ok do you have the money to pay for everything”
“Yes sir” I sniffle
“OK, well, we’ll ah, have to hold the card until your ah, dad comes down to take his picture but… go ahead and take your items and we’ll get this worked out later.”
“Oh thank you so much, and again I’m very sorry for all of the trouble” I smile brightly at the manager as the cashier is burning holes into the side of my face. He takes my money doesn’t bother to ask me if I need help out , which I don’t and wouldn’t have taken anyway but, they’re still supposed to ask After all I’m still a paying customer. And follows me out of the store, “You know it is people like you that make this job such a pain”
“Well, thank you for your insight I’m sure it’ll do me no good in the real world” And off I go to my car. Thinking all the while that I’ve escaped from the Costco Gestapo and they didn’t take my soul or sell me to slave traders.
So off I go, I get into the store just fine; get my supplies, making very good time and head over to the check out aisle. Here’s where the problem starts, most of the time they scan your card and hand it back to you, I know from past experience they don’t check the name and, as long as you’re paying cash you don’t usually have a problem. My mother and I shop all the time together she has a card, pay’s for her stuff with a check or ATM card, I come through after with her card, pay cash and we’re good to go. This was not the case that day, the gentlemen behind the counter; scan’s the card, looks at it and passes it off to another guy waiting in the wings. I’m thinking this is odd but not worrying too much about it since they’re still scanning my order and making some small talk. We get to the total I pull out my cash and he stops to look at me,
“Who is Bob Brown?” he asks me loudly
I’ve prepared for this before I came in, thinking of all of the scenarios that might come up and decide the best approach is to lie – just a little fudge mind you nothing too big since most people will see right through a big lie.
“My dad.”
“Do you know he has the wrong type of card?”
Wrong type of card? Ok I had not prepared for this one, and what does that mean? He’s using a wholesale one when he’s not supposed to?
“I’m sorry no I wasn’t aware of that” I say quietly trying not to draw too much attention to myself. It’s not working too well as the annoyed crowd starts to build behind me, and it doesn’t help that now the cashier is starting to look really puffy.
“You know its people like you,” – great here we go, I’m waiting for him to grab one of the cardboard boxes and start preaching to everyone in the checkout section “that make our jobs so complicated. There should be a photo on this card so we can identify who’s using it at the start of the transaction.”
“Sir, I am truly sorry, I had no idea and I’m sure my dad didn’t either” now that I’ve gone down this road I’m going to need to play it out to the bitter end. I’m quickly deciding what my options are and if tears are going to need to be involved to get me out safely with my stash. Oh yes I’ve decided I’m leaving with my stash, most would just walk away from the situation but now I’m determined that regardless of this man who has decided I am dirt, and all of these people are staring at me, I’ll be damned if I’m walking out with my head down and empty handed.
“Well what do you want me to do about it?” he asks, “technically we’re not supposed to let you purchase anything and we should probably hold you here until your dad comes down to get his picture taken and can purchase these items himself” wonderful, he’s not buying the dad bit now what? He starts to motion to another man off to the side I’m frantically trying to figure out what to do – should the tears start now? No then he’ll know you’re caught and you’re not making out alive. Hold me? Where are they going to hold me? And can they do that? I guess so I mean you’re a paying member to get in here I’m sure they can do whatever they want to. I wonder if they have a room. I wonder what type of room it is, I bet it’s small and smells bad, like rotten food or something with lots of pallets and spare boxes. I wonder if it has an old metal chair in the middle bolted to the floor with a single bright light bulb above. Great what am I going to tell people at work about this? I got held at Costco for using Steve’s card? He had to come bail me out of Costco for fraud? “I don’t know what happened to Sarah, she went into Costco one afternoon and never came out, you know they have a secret police force there that catches you and send you off to work as a slave in foreign countries”. Ok get it together the crowd is starting to get restless and there are a number of men walking quickly towards you. Wait this one looks important he’s wearing a button down and a tie, talk to him he’s your ticket out of her.
“Sir, are you the manager? Yes? good, I am so very sorry for this confusion we had no idea that the policy had changed on your membership cards, I told my dad” I turn slightly back to the cashier with a look “since he’s so busy at work at the moment that I would come down for him and pick up the supplies for my brothers birthday party this evening. Had either of us though this would be a problem he would have gotten off his conference call with the President of his company to take care of it…..” then just for a bit of luck I managed to squeeze out one tear to show my fear and embarrassment.
“Ah oh, no dear that won’t be necessary” he stammers uncomfortably “now it’s nothing to cry about, we’ll get this taken care of right now, you ah, what’s your total? Ah a see ok do you have the money to pay for everything”
“Yes sir” I sniffle
“OK, well, we’ll ah, have to hold the card until your ah, dad comes down to take his picture but… go ahead and take your items and we’ll get this worked out later.”
“Oh thank you so much, and again I’m very sorry for all of the trouble” I smile brightly at the manager as the cashier is burning holes into the side of my face. He takes my money doesn’t bother to ask me if I need help out , which I don’t and wouldn’t have taken anyway but, they’re still supposed to ask After all I’m still a paying customer. And follows me out of the store, “You know it is people like you that make this job such a pain”
“Well, thank you for your insight I’m sure it’ll do me no good in the real world” And off I go to my car. Thinking all the while that I’ve escaped from the Costco Gestapo and they didn’t take my soul or sell me to slave traders.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Lunch
I think everywhere around noon time this conversation has to be happening to dozens of people.
“I’m hungry!”
“OK, what do you want to eat?”
“I don’t know I’m just hungry.”
“Well, there’s Chinese, Japanese, Mexican, Pasta….”
“Eh, whatever…”
It got me thinking today, as I was desperately searching the internet for restaurants in the area. Why? It’s probably just us, you get two people together that don’t like to make any extra decisions and when one really doesn’t have a preference on where to go, it can put a lot of added pressure on the decision maker. It’s not like we work in the boondocks and we don’t have a vast amount of choices to go to. We could visit every continent within 10 miles of our office but almost everyday we have the same conversation. Sometimes it’s easy, “hmmm, soup and salad from Chevy’s sounds good”. Or “I think something light, like Panera” Then there’s days like today where for 15 minutes I list of places and get lukewarm responses to all. I mentioned last week that we needed to expand our horizons since it seems that we migrate to the same places all the time and the wait staff has gotten to know us on a first name basis, but, it hasn’t really motivated him to branch out. We finally ended up going to a deli and had what I thought was a pretty good lunch, a little pricy but what isn’t now a days. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get him back there because of that but, at least we did manage somewhere different. As I walked back into the office I found myself still wondering what it is about us that makes it so complicated to decide what to have for lunch. I suppose we could just bring our lunch, then the decision about what to eat would be taken care of, but, for us then we would have to decide if we wanted to sit outside at the picnic table or would we want to go to a park? We could sit in the atrium but then we’d have to talk softly and there’s not much people watching going on in an office as small as ours. For that matter we usually know what’s going on with everyone before lunch time so the entertainment value’s not there. I suppose we could pick different types of food on different days and see what alternate restaurants are out there but I think I might make too much of it and there would be charts involved, it could become really complicated really fast. I have been told that men don’t really crave things usually. It’s by some fluke that you find a man saying “You know I would kill for a Bacon Cheeseburger right now” and that may be one of the reasons that we have this conversation so often. That along with my own disillusionment with the food industry on a whole has led me to really think about where and what I'm eating, and it's made the choice far more labor intensive. I suppose I could make it easy and find a few new places that I think we might like and drag him along but….he’s a man and can get kind of whiney if 1. I don’t feed him quickly and 2. It’s anywhere out of his realm of comfort. I guess for the moment we’re going to be stuck in this rut. At least tomorrow we’re going with other people and they’ll have to decide what to eat.
“I’m hungry!”
“OK, what do you want to eat?”
“I don’t know I’m just hungry.”
“Well, there’s Chinese, Japanese, Mexican, Pasta….”
“Eh, whatever…”
It got me thinking today, as I was desperately searching the internet for restaurants in the area. Why? It’s probably just us, you get two people together that don’t like to make any extra decisions and when one really doesn’t have a preference on where to go, it can put a lot of added pressure on the decision maker. It’s not like we work in the boondocks and we don’t have a vast amount of choices to go to. We could visit every continent within 10 miles of our office but almost everyday we have the same conversation. Sometimes it’s easy, “hmmm, soup and salad from Chevy’s sounds good”. Or “I think something light, like Panera” Then there’s days like today where for 15 minutes I list of places and get lukewarm responses to all. I mentioned last week that we needed to expand our horizons since it seems that we migrate to the same places all the time and the wait staff has gotten to know us on a first name basis, but, it hasn’t really motivated him to branch out. We finally ended up going to a deli and had what I thought was a pretty good lunch, a little pricy but what isn’t now a days. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get him back there because of that but, at least we did manage somewhere different. As I walked back into the office I found myself still wondering what it is about us that makes it so complicated to decide what to have for lunch. I suppose we could just bring our lunch, then the decision about what to eat would be taken care of, but, for us then we would have to decide if we wanted to sit outside at the picnic table or would we want to go to a park? We could sit in the atrium but then we’d have to talk softly and there’s not much people watching going on in an office as small as ours. For that matter we usually know what’s going on with everyone before lunch time so the entertainment value’s not there. I suppose we could pick different types of food on different days and see what alternate restaurants are out there but I think I might make too much of it and there would be charts involved, it could become really complicated really fast. I have been told that men don’t really crave things usually. It’s by some fluke that you find a man saying “You know I would kill for a Bacon Cheeseburger right now” and that may be one of the reasons that we have this conversation so often. That along with my own disillusionment with the food industry on a whole has led me to really think about where and what I'm eating, and it's made the choice far more labor intensive. I suppose I could make it easy and find a few new places that I think we might like and drag him along but….he’s a man and can get kind of whiney if 1. I don’t feed him quickly and 2. It’s anywhere out of his realm of comfort. I guess for the moment we’re going to be stuck in this rut. At least tomorrow we’re going with other people and they’ll have to decide what to eat.