"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.

"DISPLAYING YOUR NAME"

Still sick, but on the upswing.

I got motivated and went to the supermarket a yesterday afternoon. I walked in and was met with a most unusual scene. The upperclassmen of a fraternity had descended upon the store for a scavenger hunt and were playing produce football, launging with the manager, shouting things to each other like, "Big fag Slovieski on aisle four!"

Good times. I rallied for a bit and went to dinner with Partridge and Waterflicker and strangely, was approached by a woman with a tiny notebook, asking us to write a few things about purple. I jotted her a little story about purple a guy, whom the narrator hated and was saddened by, though she kept his goldfish. Waterflicker wrote her a haiku and Partridge gave her a list of sorts. Anyway, I wasn't able to rally for long, as I haven't had much sleep in the past week or so, so I started to fade and went home and right to bed.

Anyhoot, if you will again pardon me for a vanterie sans scrupule, three reviews I wrote are up on Bookslut. Swing by. Give them a look. Click around.

Because I haven't been terribly productive in the last few days because I haven't been feeling too spiffy, I woke up with that vague panic this morning that I get when I feel behind. Back to work.