Susan's Scribblings the Blog

Monthly Archives: July 2024

• Ring It Up

  Posted at 3:21 pm by kayewer, on July 27, 2024

  Earlier today I went grocery shopping. Being a Saturday, I was hoping that my bad luck streak from the rest of the week (read work-related blues) would have abated, but I was wrong.

  The Saturday before the first of every month can be easier on the nerves at a supermarket, because people who are paid once a month have exhausted their funds stocking up on things weeks ago. I chose the late morning to go as my last stop before home, since I planned to buy mostly frozen food.

  I managed to stock up on vegetables, which are supposedly better for me than canned. Besides the brick varieties, I also got microwave steam choices in bags. Eighteen items in all.

  Then I grabbed a small box of Yodels.

  Off to the self-checkout I went, confidently drawing out my generic shopping bag (my state being a plastic bag ban participant) and beginning my purchase experience. First, I scanned my savings card from my keychain (yes, I keep those instead of an app), then began scanning my bricks of frozen veggies, as a friendly female voice announced the financial damages. The bar codes are in the same place on all the boxes, so I took two boxes in hand, scanned one and bagged it while holding the other.

  That’s where my trouble began. The cameras stationed at every kiosk are programmed to watch what is placed in the bags, and my camera was ready to train its full attention on me because I had a box of frozen veggies in my right hand near the bag, which I had not yet scanned, while bagging the one I just scanned with my left hand.

  The kiosk shut down. Moments later, a helpful monitor came by and overrode the error with a crooked smile that says she has been through this more than she’d care to mention. I continued, but kept my other hand free so as not to look like a potential miscreant.

  Finally I reached the moment in which I was ready to pay for my purchases. Breaking out my credit card, I followed the prompt to slide the magnetic strip through the device. An error message then appeared, saying I needed to insert the card to scan the chip. With the resignation of “how much more wrong can this transaction go” in my head, I chipped, received the confirmation, removed my card. . . .and the kiosk produced another error message.

  Note to self and everybody: never, EVER, ask what more can go wrong, because Murphy (the angel whose law has become his to oversee in the afterlife) will hear you and make something else happen to wreck your day.

  A nice fellow came by this time and attempted to fix the problem by scanning his all-access-I’m-somebody card, and the kiosk came back to life as if I hadn’t paid. He asked if a receipt printed out, and I said no. It hadn’t. He then brings over the floor manager, and we have a chat about how much the bill was and what I had used to pay. Thank goodness I didn’t use cash! The lady manager sets off to review the activity at my kiosk, and returns to verify my personal information which was accessible to her–my phone numbers, name of my first grade teacher, blood type–and she reveals that no activity was posted since I last visited after the holiday earlier in the month. She suggested we go to another kiosk and repeat the entire transaction again.

  Now the resignation in my soul is telling me that I will have defrosted vegetables by the time I get home, but being a good citizen, we go to another kiosk and begin the process of scanning everything again. The floor manager helps, even pausing my scanning to remind me not to accidentally cover up the bar code when I hold the items. I suddenly feel like I should be in the tight quarters of the store’s security interrogation room, explaining myself to some business suited investigators who hold the power to put me in the slammer over a $1.99 box of frozen spinach. And I’ve done nothing wrong, nor have they implied that I have. It’s the inconvenience and the spotlight being on me that makes it such an issue.

  The total comes out exactly the same. I chip, the receipt prints out, and the manager says they will double check everything, but I should also see if two charges come up on the credit card when I get home.

  Sure enough, after I quickly stored my freezer full of properly double-scanned and paid for veggies, I found two pending charges for the same amount on my credit card.

  Dutifully I called up the issuer. Since the charges are pending, it may be five days before the transaction is finalized. By then the store will have found it and fixed it, or I can dispute the charge. This means a few days of the stress meter in my life on a slight upward tilt as I wait for the results of this debacle.

  Oh, and my Yodels were melted together when I got them home.

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• Wrong Way

  Posted at 4:05 pm by kayewer, on July 20, 2024

  Over the past few decades, we seem to have forgotten that life works well when we keep certain things to a prescribed plan which has been tested and proven. All of the “fail” videos we watch with amusement are testaments to what happens when we go about life as if everything we do requires no responsibility. Let me explain.

  Let’s say you decide to go to 7-Eleven and buy a Slurpee(R). This sounds like a simple thing, but it has several components to the experience. For the purposes of this example, we’re placing you in front of the dispenser for your purchase. First, you choose the size cup, then you have the initial task of selecting the lid to fit onto that cup. Your next responsibility is to fit the lid onto the cup securely so that your cup won’t pop the lid off when you fill it. You will also hold the cup firmly but not squeeze it. Then, you place the nozzle for the flavor you’ve selected over the hole in the lid and operate the lever to begin filling the cup. You are responsible for watching the process to stop the dispenser before you overflow the cup. Finally, you select a straw, remove its paper cover and deposit it in the provided trash container, and place the straw into your drink and proceed to the register.

  Any deviation from this task list can result in a problem, in the form of a spill or explosion of the cup or, in the case of a conscious choice, leaving loose straw papers about which are “somebody else’s job” to clear.

  The key to life, folks, is that we are all “somebody else.” That means if you take on a task, you should complete every aspect of it. It is your job to perform from step one until the last step. Many people are not taking on that responsibility. It shows in everything we are doing today.

  We are sharing the road with drivers who have never changed the oil on their vehicles. Worse, they let their tires go bald, and when rust develops, hold the undercarriage of their vehicle together with everything from rope to duct tape to spray foam. Buying a vehicle carries with it the responsibility to keep it maintained so it’s safe on the road. Ignoring the processes which keep a vehicle safe causes accidents and fatalities. People who buy a vehicle and do nothing except put gas in the tank are examples of folks not following the responsibilities which come with vehicle ownership. Shops can’t do anything except record what they see (for a look at some examples, look for “Just Rolled In” on social media).

  People who have children sometimes don’t do so responsibly. Their parents’ methods don’t always work raising today’s children. Occasionally the methods wouldn’t work with anybody, and the excuse “well, they didn’t do it right, but I turned out okay” is a copout. Some concepts of good parenting are well-proven and appear in online tutorials as well as self-help books. The duty of a parent is to take on the responsibility of guiding children through those years when they learn the basics, explore and test their environment and begin the quest for independence. This requires interaction from changing their diapers to picking them up at two in the morning wherever they find themselves. Too many parents can be found not engaging their children in anything resembling basic life skill learning.

  Your pets should be spayed or neutered before they hit puberty. Your kids can witness the miracle of birth on one of a jillion videos online without bringing more mutts or alley cats into the world. Besides, the old rumor that “giving birth calms a mother dog/cat down” refers only to the short span of nursing time when females are happily jacked up on oxytocin, the hormone that helps the nursing parent endure the rigors of being a 24-hour feeding machine for a growing family. As it does with humans, it goes away and the original demeanor restored. It’s not an excuse to add to the population, for animals or people.

  Back in the “good old days,” if you look at old photographs and advertisements, you will see that people followed a general ideal for daily living. People dressed neatly, children were well-mannered, nobody wore a logo on their clothing, carried around a support animal sporting multiple DNA backgrounds or drove a “clunker.” The results of mutual cooperation were peaceful and safe lives for everybody. We could have that again, but it would require a different mindset for the population, and some others would complain about it. The more we deviate from what works, however, the worse our world becomes.

  Remember that next time you get ready to dispense that beverage.

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• Number 8

  Posted at 3:30 pm by kayewer, on July 13, 2024

  Over the summer I have had a few experiences with people who don’t follow the basic rules in life. Oftentimes I read about them in social media, but I have stories of my own about integrity and honesty which I feel are worth sharing.

  The other week I was at a coffee shop with some fellow writers. Naturally the shop had a merchandise table, so I added a tee shirt to my purchases for the afternoon (along with my pastry and parfait). I dutifully brought the items to the cashier, and tapped my credit card. When I got home later, however, I realized that, even though I had placed the tee shirt on the counter, it wasn’t rung up with my purchases.

  Some folks might be thinking, “It’s their loss if they weren’t paying attention.” To me, though, this tee shirt still does not belong to me. This means a trip of some 20 miles to go back and pay for it. My conscience will thank me later.

  My most recent big shocker about integrity came when I went to buy some supplies at a major chain whose name I won’t divulge for reasons you will see in a moment. I came out of the store with a little bag for an upcoming project, and the total bill came to over $100. The cashier told me I could become a rewards member and get this discount and that offer to offset my purchase, and while we were discussing it, I was told the story of how certain people make a regular visit to the store with the sole purpose of robbery, to the tune of thousands of dollars. The store personnel are advised by corporate–as they are in many stores and chains–to not engage.

  This means that the money you spend honestly is being thwarted by those who steal. The stores may end up in bankruptcy and shutting down because of these dishonest johns making a mockery of the process of earning and spending for their own greed and eventual doom.

  Stay with me now, because we are going to go to the lectern in front of the church for a few minutes to make a point.

  One of the Ten Commandments specifies not to steal. Okay, you think, this means that the folks who rob the store are in big trouble from On High. It’s worse than that. Because these people are absconding with large value items not for their own use, but to pad their pockets with tax-free income. They will put their pilfered products on the market in back-alley thrifty retailers, street corner vendors or through private commerce. Every cent they make will be profit because they only used gas funds on the getaway car to get the stuff.

  So what, you ask?

  Using an example made famous by late comedian George Carlin, let’s dig deep here and see where this path goes. First, the ringleader decides, “I’m going to go to (store) and nab some stuff.” They then employ assistants to help them with the heist, so now you have the ringleader who has concocted a sin, and a few others committing the same sin. They plan out the heist, which is a sin. They go to the place and bring paraphernalia to commit the actual sin. They make it out of the store, unhindered, with their ill-gotten merchandise, and the sins keep piling up. They now divide the spoils among themselves (another sin), send it off for resale (another sin) and collect their cuts (ad nauseum).

  But wait, there’s more.

  The people stocking and repricing it are sinning. The so-called innocent consumers buying the stuff are also sinning. If you’re buying a $200 item on a street corner for $80, you must know something is wrong with how that item is sitting in front of you; if you do it anyway, you’re contributing to that wrong.

  If these thieves can concoct such elaborate processes, they could have a legitimate job that did not have police battering down their doors. Instead, they are bringing the entire system of commerce down, and us with it.
  
  There is a reason why there are products labeled Good, Better and Best. Your income can determine which you can afford, or your determination can earn you something in a higher price range by saving for it. All products are supposedly monitored for quality, so the lowest-priced version should work well, and the higher- with some minor differences. What’s important is that the product does its job.

  My mother always looked at how car dealers tout the beauty of what their newest model looks like on the outside, but when you’re driving it you can’t see how it looks. You’re more concerned that it will consistently get you where you need to be. With your needs and your wallet in mind, you should find something in a price range for you without resorting to fibbing about how thick your wallet is.

  I don’t feel guilty buying off-label, but I allow for some nice things in my budget, which was why I was in this particular store willing to buy a handful of things for $100. They will last me for months, so the breakdown in actual cost is small.

  The folks who take stuff while I’m buying them will deal with the fallout at some point in their lives. Meanwhile, I do my best to be honest and proud to say I have a receipt.

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• How Single I Am

  Posted at 3:35 pm by kayewer, on July 6, 2024

  I was at a July 4th party, and it was a fun event. We ate, drank and watched fireworks. In the past I always put in an appearance but didn’t overstay my welcome. This time I went to the party and stayed until it started breaking up after 11 PM, which makes me officially a partygoer. Anything after 10 o’clock is considered eligible.

  For years I eschewed social events, mostly due to a combination of the way people respond to newcomers like me, and my own self-doubt. As a bullying survivor who has spent a long adult life still fighting to overcome prejudices on others’ sides and learned avoidance behavior on my own, it’s not easy to take those steps outside the sanctuary of home. More so now than ever before, because we have spent years in isolation and some of us are not going back to anything resembling a workplace environment to cultivate those social vines that keep the plant thriving.

  For most of the time during this party, I was at the table with some of the ladies closer to my age or older than me. As I listened to their stories, recollections and humorous side notes, I began to feel the familiar pangs of outsider guilt begin to overcome me. I kept quiet and observed so as not to ruin the give and take of the conversation, but I quickly realized that, as usual, I didn’t have much in common with the rest of the folks at the table.

  These were women whose histories included long-lived marriages with overseas vacations and memories of children and grandchildren (and their marriages), along with some folks damaged by multiple marriages and divorces, or stranded in the wasteland of widowhood.

  The not-by choice single women who were living in elderly communities spoke of actually being hit upon by the widowers and bachelors there. This is something I’m not used to. For a second I remembered a scene in the movie Jaws in which fisherman Quint and scientist Hooper compared scars on their bodies, as the two of them were into sharks and had wounds to prove it. The third man out, police chief Brody, only had an appendix scar, considered it for a moment, then chose not to mention it. At that moment I thought, gee, I can’t get a guy to hit on me for any reason, but kept it to myself.

  They talked of their adult children’s latest job successes and recent trips to exotic places. The best I could do was say I had never been to those destinations and keep listening. How does one just pack up and go to faraway Jibbip? How does one who doesn’t have kids or a spouse go about it? How do you survive going on a trip with a spouse and kids?

  Anyway, so I was there with the other ladies, some of whom had a whole third of a century of life more than I, discussing the best novels they’ve read (and that I’ve never heard of). I’m glad that retirement will afford me the chance to read these books. Unfortunately I probably won’t be able to discuss them with anybody who has also read them by that time, unless those recommending them can be there by the time I catch up.

  When is a person supposed to work, eat, read the books everybody else reads, work out at the gym and get a healthy amount of sleep? I don’t believe it’s possible. I have given up a lot of my reading in order to work on my novel series, and television is an occasional luxury turned on mostly for the background noise while I work from home in what amounts to solitary confinement with benefits.

  Don’t get me wrong: the party was a fun time, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Sitting there in what was, to me, an entire world I will never be part of, at least gave me an opportunity to learn what is happening out there. Sometimes knowing the possibilities is enough to get one through the endless highway of single isolationism.

  That and some good food and fireworks.
  

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