Sit Where You Can

I walked in to the small medical office waiting room. All 13 seats were taken. The oldest person sitting looked about my own age. There was a woman of roughly late thirties-early forties sitting with her four noisy teens. Three were definitely boys and I suspect from "her" attire that the fourth just wanted to fit in. They had defied the “No Eating or Drinking” sign and clumsily dropped a chocolate muffin on to the carpet. “What are we supposed to do now, mom? We’re still hungry.” There was no answer from mom. Near the door was an elderly woman who obviously at some point had confronted the ravages of a stroke. She looked even though the effects of her malady, 70-ish. Her expression was grimaced. I sensed the expression was from bracing herself against the wall for support rather than any permanent effect of her stroke. I offered a sympathetic half smile, but she was beyond empathy/sympathy; old girl needed a friggin’ seat! I looked at each person seated silently questioning, do you see this woman? No one seemed to notice or care. As well, I am not trying to make it their responsibility, but I also wondered why the office personel had not asked someone to give up their seat for the woman? Finally a seat became available. I, of course insisted that the poor woman sit. She gratefully accepted. Most of those seated gave me a look as if I were that arsehole who works too fast on the production line making everyone else “look bad.” The topper was when one of the teens tilted his head towards me and made the international limp-wrist sign. To my shock the teens and their mother had quite the giggle at my expense. While I do believe that manners and good grace are inexcusably important, I had no idea that they were usually accompanied by a limp wrist and thus defined sexuality and as such were laughable. The very idea that one might sit while an elderly stroke victim woman leans against a wall is inhuman. Please understand that I get no accolades for doing what was absolutely correct in that situation either. WTF is wrong with people?

Wrong-Aid

Yesterday, as I walked along around two in the afternoon, I remembered that earlier that morning I had dropped off two prescriptions at a Rite Aid Pharmacy down the hill from the house. The sky was overcast and I was glad that I had my umbrella. I walked at a steady clip in that I wanted to avoid getting caught in the rain. In my right hand, I carried the umbrella and a small bag which contained a bad of Starlight Mints. I had purchased the mints a few blocks back at the Dollar Store. That small bag was twisted as to remove most of the air and fit neatly in my palm. The umbrella dangled from its strap from my pinky finger.

As I entered the Rite Aid Pharmacy store, I continued at the same pace as I had outdoors and made no stops, but went directly to the pharmacy “Pick Up” window. There was a short line in front of that station. There was also a patient at the window receiving service and one in front of me in line. The woman in front of me cooed an infant who apparently was named, “Profit.” My brain quickly pondered whether the mother was deeply religious and or a great fan of capitalism. I was distracted from Profit by what was next transpired.

The pharmacy at this particular Rite Aid location is situated in the back corner of the store. The counter forms kind of a backwards L with the “Pick-Up” counter/window covering the short part of the letter and the “Drop-Off” counter/window at the very end of the long part. As an aside, in third grade I was taught the names of these two parts of the Letter L, but like so much from that simpler time, I cannot recall. As I have stated, my thoughts concerning the motivation of naming a child Profit were interrupted. That interruption took the form of the chubby security man hopping onto the “Drop-Off” window counter to my right. My OCD brain had immediate issues with his big butt sitting on a Pharmacy counter. He stared and I stared back. I assumed that he was staring because he had not quite gotten my mental telepathic message “Get your filthy arse off that counter.” Unfortunately, that was not why he was staring. He was staring because something about me said to him that I had or was going to steal from that store. I don’t know… Maybe, I walked too swiftly when I came in to the store? Maybe, because I had a small bag in my hand when I came into the store? Maybe, it was the tie and starched shirt or the glasses or the blackness or the stupidity of the security man? Perhaps, it was some of these things or all of these things or others that I know nothing about. Never mind that I don’t steal. Never mind that I have never had so much as an overdue library book, that day I fit some moron’s profile of a store thief. I fit that profile so well that the store manager came over and went inside the pharmacy area and also casually stared at me and then she finally made an annoyed look and then left to return to her work (I assume).

Once I realized what was going on, I continued to stare in an attempt to make this fool twice as uncomfortable as he had made me. Finally, he whispered audibly enough for me to hear (to the pharmacist) “Watch this guy.” The pharmacist looked over at me with an expression which suggested he had been told a joke which he did not get. I stared back and the Pharmacist looked away. The security man then hopped down and walked quickly away.


I waited my turn and received great customer service from the Pharmacy Assistant. I thanked her and headed for the door. When I reached the mat of the front door, to the right of me I heard “he’s leaving.”


I looked up at their logo and shook my head "Rite Aid: With Us It's Personal."

Tim Burton Would Be Proud

Just before bedtime last night, I had a cup of calming tea. I woke at around 3:00 a.m. from a nightmare. The best that I could recall was that I was touring what appeared to be a highschool. My guide was a man of maybe early sixties with gray hair. The tour did not seem to end and I starting to get nervous. There were all sorts of students milling about when out of nowhere an old friend appeared. I sensed he was there to get me out of there. My old friend (A guy from school who I have not actually seen in 25 years or so.) gestured to me and tried to get closer. Then the students all closed in on him as they turned into aliens. The next thing I knew, I was in a small room. The voice of the sixty-ish tour guide came out of a wall speaker and said, “This is what happens when your friends intervene.” At this point, my old friend poured down from the ceiling. Yes, poured. He had been liquefied and was brown in color.

I woke scared out of my wits and sat on the side of the bed. My eyes burned as I tried to make sense of it all. I was confused and could make no sense of any of what had happened. I went and got a glass of water and fluffed my pillows and tried to get back to sleep.

At 6:39a.m. I woke up just as startled as before. A cousin who I have not seen in 40 years was involved in this latest train wreck. The best I could tell is that she was instructing me how to prepare meat for tomato sauce. I woke up at the part when I noticed that the huge platter of meat was actually skinned and quartered humans.

I sat confused on the side of the bed again trying to analyze both the first and second dreams. I drew no logical conclusions other than the point in fact that I was starving. I am usually up and about by 5:00 in the morning. I went to the kitchen and toasted a bagel and made a cup of tea. I really did not want the second half of the bagel but, I ate it anyway. I felt extremely sleepy after my meal. I flipped on the television and then realized that it was Sunday and that there would be no harm in returning to sleep if I could.

I got comfortably in bed again. I woke again at 8:37a.m. this time. I was in a cold sweat and felt as if I had been screaming. In this latest nightmare there had been a tall man of over seven feet I imagine who came to the door. He was wearing that familiar brown delivery uniform. He had a couple packages for me so, I let him in. Once in he grabbed my left hand and with a very sharp pen knife he sliced the skin from my knuckles down to the bone. I struggled as he told me that I “should never let strangers in my house.” After he finished with my knuckles he stabbed the knife into the back of my hand and twisted it as I screamed and screamed.

Holy nightlight Batman… I do not remember the last time I had a bad dream and three in one night had me shaken. I wondered if it had anything to do with the chili-cheese-fries with hot sauce that I had eaten earlier. I never eat such things and they seemed like a good idea at the time. When I was a kid such “treats” would give me horrible dreams. It was the best explanation I could come up with. Unfortunately, the only common thread that I could draw with the three bad dreams is that I might finally truly be nuts in a bad kind of way.

I’ve planned a far blander diet for tonight’s dinner. Wish me well!

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.