"AS I LIVE AND BREATHE"

Due to a minor but unfortunate string of events, I have changed hotels. Let's just leave it at that. What can I say? You've got to speak up when things go awry and sometimes that clears the way for wild streaks of great luck. Anyway.

I went by Bookwoman this morning and said hello-- what a cute place! Another store I adore. I picked up a cook vegetarian book and a few fun stickers for my typewriter case (and one for my friend Schwartzy because it was so "her" I couldn't not get it). So great. I'm excited for the reading. It's small in there, so I have no idea where all the crowds and crowds of people will sit tonight (har har) but it'll be great. I just know it.

Anyway, the rain pissed off, the sun is beating down on this gorgeous city, and I am off to scrounge up some lunch and see what I see. I think an old favorite place of mine still exists near here. That'd be a kick.

"YOU MUST PLEASE REMEMBER"

Everyone who weighed in on the previous post about the douchey grocery-store clerk felt just about the same way-- write the letter. I think the comment that really sold me came from my brilliant and kind BFF, Katie Schwartz who reminded me about elderly persons on a fixed income who would be without if their groceries were broken. So, that does it. I'm writing the letter. More on that later.

So, anyone have a theory on why I woke up feeling like I had been punched in the ribcage? Did someone break in just to kick me in my sleep? How did I miss that? This is far greater than any pounce a nine pound cat could possibly deliver. What gives?

Anyway...



Look at that! March, folks, is Small Press Month. We should celebrate! Let's start by taking a look at the Small Press Month website. Especially the Things To Do section. Look at all of the ways we can easily support small press media.

I'm just saying. It wouldn't kill you.

"SWEET AND TENDER HOOLIGAN...?"

Okay, I need your help, folks.

Last night, I was in the supermarket. There was only one checker, moving terribly slow and everyone in line seemed to be irritated. I softened about it probably because everyone else was pissed off about it, thinking maybe the guy is new, or developmentally disabled, or maybe he's had a rotten day, I'm not going to worry about it. I have plenty of time.

Then, it was my turn to pay. I handed him my litle keychain barcode preferred card thingy and he scanned it unsuccessfully. I told him that it's gotten a little worn, so maybe he'd have to type the number in manually. He looked at me and kept trying to scan it. Oookay. So, this goes on at least two or three minutes, which feels like forever when you have twelve people in line behind you. I tried to tell him to not worry about it, but he just looked at me and kept trying to scan it. Oooookay. Finally, the guy in line behind me offers up his scan card, it gets scanned, we move forward, but not before the cashier hands my keys back to me with a surly, "Your problem is that you have too much stuff on your keychain!" (I have a car key, a housekey, a building key-- what gives?)

Anyway, he scans my items, pausing at each to wrinkle his face at each. Matzah, beep, wrinkle, veggie sushi rolls, beep, wrinkle, edamame, beep, wrinkle and scoff, curry powder, scoff, pause, scoff, wrinkle, ginger root, scoff, wrinkle, scoff, wrinkle... everything in my basket got at least a wrinkle, but as it went on, things got scoffs and wrinkles.

Whatever. I'm letting it go. I don't care. Maybe he's not into ethnic cuisine like I am, so I don't care if he amuses himself with my groceries this way.

Then, as I am swiping my debit card, he throws my groceries into the paper bag. Throws! Ginger root atop delicately rolled veggei sushi! Juice atop seaweed salad! I said, "Thanks, have a great night." and what did he said? Yeah, as he thrust the register tape into my hand. Sigh.

So, here's the rub. I am a person who writes letters for positive customer service experiences because I've worked in thankless customer services jobs before and I know it sucks to be cheery all day. And, because of those experiences, I think I am terribly tolerant of the various behaviors that arise from persons working in customer service positions. But, in the spirit of fairness, I have written a complaint letter or two when experiences are terribly shitty.

But never without much consideration. Which is where I am today.

Do I write/call the store manager? The casher might be fired? What if he doesn't have much of a financial cushion and being fired destroys him financially? What if he can't find another job easily because he can't get a strong referral from this job? But, if I don't rat him out, I'm saying it's okay to throw groceries and not give a shit. Do I have a moral obligation to say something... if for no other reason than there are undoubetly shoppers who can't speak English or who can't write a letter who this guy has treated poorly? I can let it go, so should I? I had supervisory jobs before. I'd want to know if my employee was a douchbag. I'd want to know because he represents my store. Or, what if ratting on him, he gets fired and then realizes he's been a shit and gets inspired to make some needed-positive change in his life and becomes employee of the month at his next job?

What do I do here, folks?

I await your insight.

"AS I LIVE AND BREATHE"

I just woke up at 5:45, with lights on, my laptop in my lap and my cell phone in my hand, having fallen asleep hours ago trying to work on odds and ends. And, and, and, I fell asleep and was dreaming about multitasking, trying to make a dent in a nonstop pile of work. Sigh. Well, that's what I get for trying to multitask so much lately. Yawn. Luckily, I am pretty open until Sunday to catch-up. I just got a little overwhelmed with projects and such this week, is all. It's a busy time at the ol' Guth-a-Go-Go factory. Yes, indeed. But, after this weekend, things will be a bit different and far more efficient. You'll just have to wait and see!

In the meantime, here are some pointless/worthless questions bouncing around my head in the pre-dawn hours...

1. I can't make myself give a shit about fooball. I tried. I have asked many people to try to explain it to me, one explanation including the props of sweet and sour sauce and soy sauce packets. No dice. I just don't care.

2. My face skin is so dry despite massive moisturization that it might crack if I laugh right now.

3. Because of item #1, the rumor about temporarily suspending some areas of the Chicagoland smoke ban for the Bears is, to me, outrageous. I'm that ex-smoker who is a giant asshole about it now.

4. The bus just went by, filled with people, eagerly heading into the center of the downtown action, I imagine. I am not jealous, but wish I found myself in the center of the Chicago universe a bit more often.

5. My cat, of course, seems delighted to see me awake and therefore is trying to initiate a game of Pounce on Covers When Toes Are Wiggled. I need to trim his claws, which always makes me the tyrannical asshole for a few days.

6. Comcast could not possibly have worse customer service.

7. I heard, while flipping stations, a guy on the radio say that his office was empty and therefore "just a tiny quiet", blatantly omitting the all-important word "bit". Similarly, I heard a woman talking about attending a family celebration and eating "millions of food", then only a week later, hearing a man say he had "literally seen" a particular movie a million times. Sigh...

Yawn. Okay. I'm going to try to get more sleep before tackling for day. Zzzz......

"WHY DO I GIVE VALUABLE TIME TO PEOPLE WHO DON'T CARE IF I LIVE OR I DIE?"

It's nothing short of heartbreaking to think of the number of us, especially freelancers like me, who do not have health insurance and/or pay out the nose to self-insure. A friend of mine broke her wrist, demanded to be taken to the shit-ass county hospital and still nearly had to file bankruptcy. Bah! Further, I have been dealing with many different health insurance companies lately, as I'm shopping around, as I often do, to make sure I'm getting an okay deal, and blongity-bloong it's fucking confusing. I really appreciate when someone in a particular industry uses coded jargon only other industry insiders know. Sure, it pisses me off when people condescend one another, too, but, c'mon, there is a middle ground. I asked a customer service representative what a string of initials stood for and he scoffed. Audibly. It turned out to be something specific to pediatric emergencies. I don't have kids! So, how the hell would I know what it stood for then? Jeebus. Then, when I attempted to end the call by thanking the representative and insisting I needed a day or two to think over my options, the dude exploded. He said, "Sweetheart, you don't want to make a decision today? After all I've done for you?" Bling! Blam! Bloom! Did you hear that? Sweetheart? And, wait-- was that an attempt at making me not feel like a pleasing and nice girl for troubling you to do your fucking job? Get real. So, when it was over, I called the supervisor and let him know that I wouldn't be pursuing health insurance with any company that would allow their employees to speak to a customer or potential customer like that. Boo!