MucinexD

For the past two weeks and two days I have been fighting some sort of an upper-respiratory ailment. This has been compounded by the point in fact that on the Friday before Christmas I got caught in a chilling downpour while walking two miles from home. That lovely event was repeated on the Tuesday after Christmas. My symptoms have been nasal congestion coupled with chest congestion that has caused me to wheeze as if I were on an iron lung. A few days ago I was told by a couple people to get some Mucinex. I was leery in that I am a great fan of advertising and I absolutely hate their commercials. Later that day, I went to the drug store and discovered the stuff went for $23.99. I could not imagine that it could be worth that price so, cheap bastard that I am I opted for the DayQuil instead. Nothing like making yourself fell better rather than well.

A couple days later (New Year’s Day) I noticed that the Mucinex was on sale at the local Rite Aid. It is just a couple blocks away so, I bundled up much warmer than the weather and made my journey. The display in front of the pharmacy order window offered Mucinex D which has as its active ingredients: Gualfenesin, an expectorant and Pseudophedrine, a nasal decongestant. The pharmacy assistant told me that they kept the Mucinex D behind the counter. She got an 18 count box and asked for identification. I thought it odd that it was kept behind the pharmacy counter and odder still that she was asking for id. I was floored when she typed all of my driver’s license info into her computer. I asked why and was told that it was store policy. My ailment and the fact that she was so cute prevented me from arguing. I’ve always found it impossible to argue with the very cute. Anyway, I just told her that the stuff better work at this price and with such a process. She smiled and I lost my train of thought.

I was to learn later that Pseudophedrine is a main ingredient in Meth. production and is now being controlled tightly by the government. This reminds of gun control in some respects… The jerks making meth are probably not going to be willing to go to the local drugstore and offer up driver’s license id. just as I suspect that people who want guns to kill other people most of the time avoid the legal gun-getting process. –just sayin’.

Well, I hobbled back up that great hill and got back into my bed clothes; read every inch of the packaging and took two of the huge tablets which were to work for 12 hours. “We’ll see” I thought… I fell asleep for a couple hours. I woke up to what felt like someone had shoved an industrial Shop Vac down my throat. I coughed violently for about 45 minutes. A couple times there I thought I was going to lose consciousness. I actually saw stars and deep purple for a second or two. About 15 minutes after that I felt right as rain. My chest was clear and my nasal congestion was 80% gone. Around mid might I took another two tablets. About ten the next morning I again had the same horrifying coughing/expectorating. This was equally productive as the first time. Again around four in the afternoon and equally wrenching and far less productive coughing event transpired. I took another two tablets at bed time and this morning I have to admit that I feel 90% better than before MucinexD. I guess the moral to the story is that, sometimes the process is worth it.

I've Heard Enough!

I realize that I am more times than not un-cool and out of the loop but, when did we get to the point where we have no idea how to define privacy or a personal matter? I am addressing more specifically, cell phones. Every public place that I go there is someone in the midst of a conversation that is really audible and very personal. These conversations range from fights with lovers and spouses to financial problems to angry gossip about other people concerning matters that really isn’t anyone’s business (even the speaker’s). As a case in point, earlier a woman stood next to me in line and talked into her cell phone as if she were at home and in the privacy of her own room. She was telling her husband or baby daddy that she had “…signed the papers in case the kids wanted to get in touch with them later on.” She was clearly talking about the point in fact that someone was adopting her children. She added that their (she and the father’s) “…final visit with the children would have to be at a public place like Chuck E. Cheese’s.” The circumstances or what may have lead up to this “decision” she did not mention.

My first reaction was that I felt horrible for her. Then I felt bad for me. Why did I have to hear that, it was really none of my business? This led me to wonder why someone would have such a conversation in line at a Rite Aid Pharmacy. Have we become so used to cell phones that we don’t even consider that others can hear our conversations? Are we so ill-bred that we don’t have any sense of shame or privacy? I am not sure what is the dominate force here. What I do know is that I see on a daily basis people of all walks of life on cell phones, people inadvertently sharing with the world very private conversations.

I’ve heard people make drug deals and once even offer to purchase a pizza and a pack of cigarettes’ in exchange for sex. There does not seem to even be an attempt to disguise these conversations. It is as if the speaker has no idea what telephone etiquette might be. In some cases I feel that the speaker might just get some sort of gratification from sharing with the world but, for most it would appear as if they are just oblivious. Well, when I was a kid I was told by others that if I did not like hearing something I should not listen. Unfortunately, that is the problem here. The most offensive conversations usually take place where I am trapped; like public transportation or in line trying to pay for breath mints.

I have written about this topic before a couple years ago with the hopes then of things getting better. They are not getting better. They are getting worse. We either don’t know or care that our personal conversations are just that, personal.

Goodwill?

Yesterday I took a trip to the Wegman's grocery store because they have the greatest Half Moon cookies and "every day you get [their] best," as well. Next door to that particular Wegman’s is a new Goodwill thrift store. I am of course drawn to such ventures so; I decided to check it out. What an incredibly strange place. It was kind of a cross between Marshall’s, The Dollar Store and a traditional thrift shop. What an incredibly curious marketing approach.

The Marshall’s reference is because the store’s layout has the feel of a small discount department store. As well, the Goodwill sells many new items (most over priced); by new I mean "never worn or used" in lots and quantities that suggest they purchased the stuff from some wholesale closeout operation and just jack up the prices in order to abuse one group of poor to benefit another. Opps, did I say that out loud? Anyway, they had new socks, winter gears, house wares etc. The curious marketing faux pas was that the actual thrift store donated and gently used items looked really bad and not worth purchasing next to the new stuff under the bright department store lights. “Whose idea was this” I thought? Perhaps if the new items were in a separate department in another area of the store the comparison might not have been so dramatic. For instance they had new hats and scares on 3 or 4 end caps and on the next end cap were used ties.
Most of the ties were originally expensive. There were several Brooks Brothers ties there. Unfortunately, they were wrinkled or horribly pressed flat beyond repair. I could be wrong but, I believe that Brooks Brothers ties are kind of like the flag. Once abused or if their usefulness has waned, they must be ceremonially destroyed with others in a great fire. To add insult to injury the price on these useless neck affectations was $6.99. I looked at the tag again and then checked out others and indeed they were all priced at $6.99. Who might purchase a rumpled worn tie for $6.99 when other thrift stores sell them for $.50 or $1.00? Might they not sell more at a more reasonable price and has no one connected with their organization(s) ever taken a price theory course? Some poor soul who does not know any better will buy them. That’s where the abusing one group to support another comes in. This makes the store’s name a bit ironic don’t you think?

Moving right along I was captivated by a very pleasant young woman who appeared to be removing shoes from the shelves and stacking them on a cart. Since it was none of my business, I asked her what she was doing. She told me that shoes and other items that were on the selling floor too long and had not sold were removed and then tossed in the dumpster out back. She added that it was the store’s policy and some clothing items were baled and sent to third world nations. I asked her if that was why I see starving children on television in Denver Bronco and Buffalo Bills jerseys. “Probably” she giggled. “Why don’t you just set them outside the door or put them in a big bin with $1.00 on the front?” I suggested that people might be leery of purchasing used footwear for 7, 8, 9 or 10 bucks but, they might find $1.00 affordable and the shoes useful considering you are going to throw them in the garbage anyway. Future, I stated that people donate to help and not so one group can leverage free stuff to the highest bidder and then like spoiled children toss what they then consider useless. Again, she reiterated that she thought it a ridiculous practice but, it was the store’s policy. Indeed, it is the store’s policy, and that of several other major charitable organizations that operate thrift stores including The Salvation Army and The Rescue Mission.

I just don’t get this. I believe that the practice violates the trust that donors give the charity to make their former items useful to others. These are not specified donations. People don’t realize or expect that only one group will benefit. They drop the stuff off closest to their homes or travels for a particular day. They donate rather than toss the stuff themselves because they want to help. As well, I believe it stupid to toss stuff that you can get a buck for or better yet might help someone at no cost.

A Shoppers Card Rant

At the inception of the “shopper’s club” card I told a friend that it really wasn’t for the consumer but, rather the store. I added that stores would track what you and others purchase and eliminate slow selling products and manipulate prices far easier. Stores now know when and how many of a certain item you and others purchase. They can now predict to expert certainty what day and what time of day a certain item will be purchased. They know how much you will pay and can push that envelope as far as we will let them. (I even read that online merchants now adjust prices hourly based on data they have collected.) Because they have all of this information that is updated every second that their doors are opened, they can now sell you what they want to sell you rather than what you might need or want. This all sounds a little like one of my Port-laden conspiracy theories but, it really isn’t. We are being manipulated big time.

I imagine that it has been at least ten or twelve years since my first card. I believe that it was with Wegman’s supermarkets. This is only important in that they helped set a trend. I now have a separate wallet for my shoppers/club cards.

My rant today is about how in the past two or three months every time I go to the grocery store, drug store or anywhere else I cannot find what I am looking for. I recently went to the local Price Chopper supermarket for my favorite tea that only they sold here. After about 20 minutes searching on my own and another 20 with a customer service person; we discovered that the store was no longer carrying the tea. Yesterday, I went to Kenney’s Drugs for my usual deodorant and shower gel and neither were on the shelves. The store is no longer carrying them.

Why are they discontinuing all of the products that I like? Well, I guess I should not take it personally… it’s only business. Right? On one level it certainly is a very wise business practice/move to quickly get rid of slow sellers and replace them with stuff that’s going to make the business a lot of money. The problem is one of choice. For instance, I would purchase and drink that tea that I searched in vain for because I have IBS and it greatly helped to maintain a balance in my system. As well, I used that particular deodorant because I found through much trial and error that it worked best for me. Do you see where I’m going here? There is a great clash between the retailers profit motive and the products that I (we) believe are good for me (us). Products that specifically work for me or are good for my health and well being are not of particular interest to a profit driven shopper’s card. I am almost forced to do what I did yesterday, which is to go to three different stores only to arrive home sweaty and pissed with a product that is over-priced that I did not want. Also, after I got home I discovered that they charged me the regular and not the sale price on the shower gel.

So, what’s a consumer to do? Well, this is a rant and not an advice column. BTW, I wouldn’t suggest “Occupy” the grocery and drug stores… you’ll just end up buying the stuff they want you to purchase.

They tried to make her go to rehab and she said, Yes.

I should first state that I am not an ultra-conservative. In fact my political leanings are very much dependant on the topic or issue at hand. This tale is about how a simple ride on public transportation can make you at least cognitively race to the right.

Yesterday, I took a very crowded bus from downtown four miles south. In the seat in front of me were two women in their mid-thirties. I am assuming here although, they both looked a bit older. I gathered that they had not seen each other in a while. The white woman had her hair pulled back in a very neat bun. The black woman’s do was similar but not so neat. This does not really matter, just setting the scene. Their conversation went something like this:

BW: Where you been, girl? I ain’t seen you in a long while.
WW: I just got out of rehab.
BW: Really, I thought you were doing so good?
WW: I got my settlement check. It was 30 grand and I relapsed.
BW: What settlement check?
WW: You know from when I fell at work. (She mumbles but, I got the impress it was at a fast food restaurant)
BW: Really, $30,000?
WW: Yeah, but I only got $8,000. left.
BW: $8,000.?
WW: Yeah, like I said I relapsed and spent the rest in 2 months. I woke up and two months later that’s all I had left. Yeah, they took my kids. That’s where um comin’ from now. They gonna give them to my mother for now until I can get things straight. My dad got the rest of the money, but, they don’t know about it. (I assume “they” here means the courts and the county).
BW: Dang, so how you gonna get them back.
WW: Well the first step was finishing rehab. I got another $20,000 comin’ too.
BW: Fa what?
WW: The whole amount was for $50,000. The 30 grand was just the first check.
BW: So, you get another $20,000?
WW: Yeah. (she puts her head down as if she were sad or ashamed. I’m not certain which?

I stared out the window while the words representing WTF! repeatedly paced through my brain. I had a million questions that I could not ask for obvious reasons and will ask a few here.

Does she need to reimburse the county for care for placing her children in foster care? Does she need to pay for her own rehab? Does she need to reimburse the courts for their time? Does she believe that she has any responsibility to the taxpayers that will have to foot the bill for her very bad choices? Do the powers that be know that her dad had squirreled away the money for her? I’ll save you the effort. The answer to all of the above questions I believe is a resounding, NO!

My eyes drifted to the guy across the aisle with muddy boots and a face that I felt certain was weathered 15 years beyond his actual age. He was a hump, a proud hump that I imagine got up every day and went and humped for the man to pay for his life; to provide for his family and give them a bit better than he had coming up. I felt far sorrier for this guy than I could ever for Miss Rehab. Yeah, I fully understand that a whole lot of bad, bad direction has made her the person she is today. I fully understand that in many ways the society, schools, government etc. have failed her and her children but, I can’t help thinking about that guy and a whole lot of others like him who have tried and more times than not succeeded in making good choices. His good choices have resulted in barely making it himself while supporting a system that believes in redemption/rehab. What about him? He gets to hump for his good choices. She on the other hand gets to blow the money obtained from a nuisance lawsuit while at the same time create “bills” she won’t be held responsible for. Yes, indeed I know that life is not often fair but, I still ask, is this situation fair? I believe that we are a society and as such should care for those who either temporarily or permanently cannot care for themselves but, where should the line be drawn? If your life sucks and you are handed $30,000., and you do not use it to move your life forward; should those of us who are pushing forward each day be responsible for your bad choices? I say, no, no, no.

A Little Squirrelly

Around 2:30 in the afternoon yesterday, the electrical power went out. The cooking gas stayed on but, the electrical power was out. The house alarm kept making this horrific screeching noise to alert me that it was off line. The nearest neighbor across the street was not affected. The problem seemed to be contained on my side of the street. After a couple three hours the power company came out to alert all involved that they need a bigger truck and would be right back. They said that the problem would take a couple hours to fix and to be careful with candles and “oh, by the way… squirrels had angrily attacked the transformer which knocked out the power.” They of course needed to replace said destroyed transformer thingy.

Roughly three hours came and went before the bigger truck with the replacement part returned. They made quick work of things. The process took roughly 30-40 minutes. The interesting story here really is how I spent my time in the dark.

After making a cup of tea and a peanut butter sandwich for dinner, I then allowed my mind to roam pondering the possibility that this was personal and the squirrels had it in for me. You see the inset photo I took a while back is key here. A bit earlier I had watched that same squirrel along with a friend rip a hole in the neighbor’s garbage and remove that very same half full (and it was half full and not half empty) Dorritos bag. They both dragged the bag around to my door where they proceeded to party. The second squirrel was camera shy and scurried away when I began to snap the shots. Eventually, the second squirrel dashed off and I tossed the Dorritos bag. A short while later three bewildered looking squirrels appeared to be glaring at the door. In the darkness I wondered if they wanted revenge and putting the power out was their first step. I even texted Dr. M and Dr. D who both suggested comical solutions being unaware of my true peril. One even suggested an appetizing dinner might be in the offing. Anywho, having exhausted my unrealistic fears I moved on in ridiculous thought.

I wondered how squirrels who acted so well, “squirrelly” in the yard and on the fence could shimmy up a utility pole and chew around live power lines until they had destroyed things and power was out? These same squirrels knew how to make a party with popular munchies but, at the same time could not get across a roadway without becoming pizza. What a curious lot. They were indeed crafty. This led me full circle to my belief that they were coming for me; then the lights came back on.

Sign of the times?

I spent last weekend putting together a proposal and contract for a new client. It all went smoothly and I was pleased as to how things came together. I felt certain the client might be please too in that I believed I had attended to and anticipated every detail or question. We were to meet Monday morning at ten- thirty.

Late Sunday evening after I had put everything in cover folders and then in my bag for the next day, it occurred to me that a certain document while not totally necessary, might be handy for the presentation. I found the document I wanted and giving it the once over thought that by adding a sentence it might be clearer. I had the document saved on a flash drive and came up with the bright idea that I would get downtown early, correct the copy on a computer at the main library, and then get myself a cup of coffee at the Starbucks across the street from where I was meeting the client. I have this thing about being on time. There at the coffee shop I could read through everything again and be over-prepared as I am oft to do.

Imagine my surprise when I entered the main library and walked over to the elevators that would have taken me to the upper floors where most of the internet and word processing computers were held. There were what appeared to be stanchion ropes surrounding off the area in front of the elevators. From the ropes hung a few signs that read something about the upper levels being closed to the public until 11:00am and that only library personnel were allowed to go up there before that time. Huh? I stepped closer not believing my eyes. Really, the main public library in this town is not open to the public until 11:00 in the morning? That couldn’t be, I thought as I stood in disbelief. My head swarmed with the implications of this policy. Was this everyday or just Mondays? What does that say about a town that cannot or cares not to have its main library open until half the day is over? All of my questions would be soon answered by a woman at the check-out desk.

The woman at the desk appeared either horribly disinterested or more than a little sedated. Apparently, the 11:00a.m. policy was for every day of the work week. That library branch was not opened on weekends. Also, I learned that the first floor where books could be checked out and many new titles were shelved, was however open at 9:00a.m. each weekday. The more incredulous I felt I was projecting, the more I felt responded to as if I had just arrived from another planted and asked to be taken to her library leader. She looked at me as if I were the oddest thing she had ever seen and offered no apology. Get with the program homeboy, this bi*ch be closed up in here; I am of course wildly paraphrasing. Feeling as if my head was going to spin off in a second or too, I gave the attendant a hard stare certain that I would detect the circuitry behind her eyes. I could not detect any and decided coffee was my best option.

All the way over to the coffee shop I was livid. “What kind of a friggin’ town is this” I even once asked aloud. How incredibly embarrassing that this town is building a multimillion dollar bus shelter to put all of the poor under one roof but, it can’t find the resources to keep the main branch of its public library open. “This is absolutely nuts” I thought. What does this say to visitors and potential business concerns that might be looking for a thriving community to work, play and prosper? I’ll tell you what it says. It says that we are a town of dullards and those libraries with all they hold, with all they offer to enhance the lives of young and old alike are not at all important to us. It says that we in a word suck! It says that we have no important priorities. It says that we are misguided and have paved a road to our own demise. It says that I am perfectly justified in being very ashamed.

The client presentation went well. I verbally added what I needed to the missing document and none were the wiser. After the meeting I went back over to the library to try to print out a copy again. (I don’t have the best memory and have found it a great idea to always do things when I think of them when I can). Here’s what happened. I got off of the library on the third floor. I walked over to the internet computer reservation desk and followed the instructions there. A slip of paper was spat out of the little machine informing me that I had a 35 minute wait for the next available computer. This was too long so, I thought I would go one flight up and just use the word processing computers and get it done. I told the woman at the desk there my dilemma. She told me that I could not use the word processing computers while I still had a reservation downstairs for the internet computers. I looked over my shoulder and directed her to notice that the six or eight computers for word processing were not in use. Not one person was there. I told her again that the work I need to do might take all of 60 seconds if I am slow. No, sir, “It is library policy.” If I were two years old or mentally challenged I might have interpreted her smile as empathy or even sympathy. I started to tell her of my ordeal earlier in the day and thought better of that. I then went down to the third floor picked up a copy of Advertising Age, Architectural Digest and Harpers. I sat and read trying to calm myself for oh, thirty five minutes.