People are stupid. Now that probably seems like an obvious statement to you. But you probably also don't think I'm talking about you. I am. Yes, you too, are stupid. And so am I. I don't exclude myself from that statement. The difference is that I know it and try to avoid it.

I used to work in a grocery store. The bakery department to be precise. The retail sector. Customer service. Let me tell you about "serving" customers. On any given day, I can watch a customer walk in through the automatic door, walk straight past two other employees, across the store directly to me. And then have the gall to ask where the _____ is. Now I don't mind helping people, exactly. I wish more people would help others. However, I like to help people who help themselves. With these particular people, I get a little pissed off. They make no effort to search for the item themselves but rather expect me to point it out for them. And by the blank look on their face when I tell them, they expect me to pick it up, pay for it, and deliver it to their house as well. Half the time the item they are looking for is literally right under their nose. All they have to do is look down. But they are too busy to do that. The other half the time the item is no where near me. They ask about a certain kind of meat on sale or where a particular kind of ice cream is. At this point I look around and notice, to my chagrin, that I am surrounded by bread. For some odd reason, I am standing in the bakery section rather than, say, the meat section or the frozen section. I understand that some people would expect me to know where everything is in the store where I work. Admittedly, maybe I should but I don't. Whereas the people who work in the meat department or frozen section know mostly what is in their departments, I for some reason know only about what is in mine.

The fact that people question whether or not I know my own job offends me. I once had a customer come in and ask if I had and French bread left. "No," I said, "but Italian bread is the same thing." At this point she decided it was time to berate me with the differences between the two breads. After she left in a huff, I grumbled to myself, "For Christ's sake, lady. They come out of the same damn box, along with the white bread. Sure, maybe in a real bakery they are different. And I can say from experience that the bread is different in those countries. But at this bakery they are the exact same bread.

And people seem to think I bake everything from scratch. That is just ludicrous. I haven't the time to mix, form, proof and bake forty different products for a town of eight thousand people everyday. That would take too much time.

People ask if the bread is fresh. No, of course not. It's been sitting there for quite some time. I baked it some time last week and have left it sitting open in a paper bag all this time. What the fuck do you think? Of course it's fresh.

There was this one time I decorated a cake for a lady. Our policy is to take the order a day in advance rather than have the people standing there waiting for a half hour or more. So following the instructions of the order, I proceeded to make a Winnie the Pooh cake... with red trim. The red trim looked fine. Nothing spectacular about it, but it wasn't some Liberace fashion fuck-up, either. So her husband comes and picks it up, takes it home without incident. An hour later I receive a telephone call. The lady wants to complain. The picture of the cake she got had yellow trim. "Is that a problem for you," I asked, managing not to sound bitter. "Well, yes. I really hate the colour red. I thought I'd get the cake that was in the picture." I suspected she wanted me to giver her a refund on the cake and let her eat it, too. Instead I told her I do take some artistic liberties when decorating cakes. Unfortunately, she was quite insistent that she wanted the cake in the picture. Whoa, look out! It's the reality train! Those cakes in the pictures are made out of cardboard and plastic. I can't possibly be expected to make an exact duplicate of that with icing and food colouring. They don't make the best mediums. I'm sure her one year old child ("Happy 1st Birthday Olivia" the cake said) really cares what your favourite fucking colour is.

Then there is always that customer that insists we carry a product that we do not carry. One customer, for instance, I'm told by a colleague (though luckily I never had to deal with this particular one) asks for apple turnovers all the time. We do not carry apple turnovers. Sure, a lot of places do. But we don't. And yet, on a regular basis, this guy comes in and says he buys them here all the time. Obviously he doesn't. Firstly, he is always complaining that we never have them which means he can't be buying them here all the time. Secondly, we don't fucking carry the damn things. I don't know why he thinks my coworker is lying to him. Frankly, it's insulting to her. I figure these are mostly old people who pull this stunt. Their lonely lives quest for someone to talk to.

There are people who insist the product they ordered was from this store. Suggesting t them meekly that they may be mistaken can be hazardous to one's health. It is at about that time that they blow up. There is no possible way they could have made a mistake, oh, no. Not that person. And yet, a simple phone call to the only other grocery store in town reveals their stupidity. Yes, indeed, it was the other store in which the placed the order. However, I prefer not to make that call. A mistake is never so well recognized as by the person who made it.

There is always that person that comes in five minutes before we lack the doors at closing time. They come to the bakery and marvel at the fact that there is none left of the particular kind of bread they wanted. Well, surprise, surprise. Perhaps had they shown up, oh, say, ten hours earlier, they might have found an abundance of that particular product. They don't seem to realize that as a department dealing in fresh foods, we try not to have our shelves fully stocked by the end of the day. That would yield a negative profit. It is a business, after all. The customer then proceeds to spend three quarters of an hour filling up a cart with various groceries and making the staff stay an hour later than scheduled just to accommodate their busy schedule.

Some people want me to make things magically appear out of nowhere. One customer asked me if there were any more English muffins left. "No," I said. "That's it. I'm sorry." "Oh, well, I got this one and I wanted another," she said. Then she proceeded to stare at me blankly. I held out my hand. "ABRACADABRA!" and poof! There you go. One more magic package of English muffins for you. But just for you. Jesus, do I look like Harry Houdini? I think not. I'm really more of a John Cusack.

There are people who believe they own reserved parking spots. Directly in front of the store is a lane way with big shiny yellow signs that say "NO PARKING" set against the dark black asphalt of the ground. Now you'd think people would be able to see those big signs. But no. Somehow they manage to park right over top of them without a care in the world. We'll see whose laughing when the store catches fire with them in it and the firemen can't put out the fire because some asshole parked in the fire lane!

There are people who think they can steal inside after the store has closed. The out door is left open so those inside can leave while the in door is locked so no one else can get in. But, oh, those clever few know this and come in through the out door after they realize the in door is closed. Once inside, they are promptly greeted by the manager who proceeds to kick them out the same door they came in. Some people would like to go home to their families rather than wait on your sorry ass to do your shopping which you should have done earlier.

The one that always gets me the most is "Do you work here?" No, sir, I don't. I stole the uniform and wear it just for kicks. Then, as a prank, I come into the store and do some work without getting paid. Hahaha. What a clever prankster I am. Hahaha!

On all the doors are signs written with bright red marker that say "small carts are not to leave the store." It even says it right on the carts. One fine day, a customer walks out of the store pushing a small cart. Going down the ramp, the cart tips over and takes it jockey down with it. The customer threatened to sue, claiming no one had told him not to take the carts outside. When an employee pointed to one of the many signs, the customer claimed that was not there before. You're right, sir. As soon as you fell, someone wrote a bunch of signs and posted them after the fact without you noticing. Whatever you say, sir. The customer is always a moron.

Of course it's not just customers who are stupid. My fellow employees can be pretty stupid at times, too. Particularly the young ones. Some of them can't even count of tell time. I blame the education system. But that's another story. These kids are either dumb of lack any work ethic whatsoever. And I'm no much older than they are. I like to do a good job. Do it right. And finish it. I leave a few simple directions for these kids. I tell them time and again that this or that has to be done. But they can't follow a simple order. My blatantly sarcastic notes are a wash on them. They pay them no more heed than they do the starving children in Ethiopia.

One of them was hired to do the job. He was told he had to work in the deli department from time to time to cover for their breaks. He was against this as he was a vegetarian. Now I have no problem with vegetarians. Nothing wrong with that lifestyle. However, it was part of the job. No one was forcing him to eat the stuff, just to slice it. Yet he insisted he would not do it. "I really don't want to do it," he pleaded. "I really don't want to do it, either, but that's the job." When I say I really don't want to do it, I really mean I hate it and would do almost anything to get out of it. But I still have to. Somehow he managed to get off the hook for it. But he still did a crappy job in the bakery. After being disciplined twice for not doing his work (which he admitted to the store manager), he was fired. And he wanted to contest it. I don't mind doing my job. But I hate doing someone else's. I was sick of coming in in the morning and doing his job before I could do mine. I'm glad the little bastard is gone and I'd bet everything I have that he's not coming back. Especially after admitting to not doing his job.

Another of the twerps had a major operation performed on his chest which required him to take two months off from work. Ok, fine. When he could return to work, he bore a note from his doctor saying that he could return to work but must refrain from any heavy lifting, bending over and anything exerting. Essentially it meant he could return to work but must not actually do any work. So he'd come in and stand around while other people did his work for him and he got paid.

The same kid also decided he wanted a lot of time off, specifically weekends and holidays. So he draws up a list of all the days he wants off between now and the same time next year. That's not very fair to the rest of the people who would like time off. He even asked for Thanksgiving and the week of Christmas off. In the retail sector, those are the busiest times of the year. No one is supposed to have those days off. When I asked for New Year's off, I was laughed at. Even though the other kid got it off. I guess I should have asked for it off back in 1986.

That kid later got fired for stealing cartons of cigarettes.

They had real difficulty in figuring out how to do dishes. Though I wrote a detailed explanation of how to use hot water and soap, to rinse, scrub and set to dry in large bold letters with black and red Sharpies and posted it above the sink, they could not figure it out. They would simply rinse with cold water and then leave the pans to soak in stagnant cold water until they became moldy.

The management had its high points, too. I was the first employee to arrive in the morning. I had to knock on the window and hope the night crew would hear me from the other end of the store. They would come and let me in. There were three doors to the place. The front door, the loading bay doors and the back door for letting in the drivers. After six years, I was finally trusted with a key to the loading bay doors. Yet I still had to rap on the window to be let in. Nor was I given the key to the back door to let the drivers in. So while the trucks could pull up and I could unload the stuff from the trucks, I was unable to let the drivers in to sign for it. It's that kind of thinking - that we could save two dollars by not getting those other keys cut - that makes executives worth every penny of their six figure salaries.

I don't know whether they do it just to annoy me or they genuinely don't have a clue but other people always manage to get in my way. I do the same thing every day. You'd think they would be able to foresee my coming and going as I see them. I make a trip down the hall after moving various items out of my way. I get what I need. As I walk down the hall again on my way back, I have to move the same crap out of my way again. A few minutes later, when I make the trip again, I have to move the crap again. The space is cramped, admittedly, but I still manage to keep things out of other people's way.

During a contract dispute with the store owner, the union threatened a strike. The first two drafts of the new contract were voted down. A third and final draft was made. It was accepted by a majority even though it was worse than the second one. The first two were voted down due to a couple of outspoken types who didn't have a clue what they were talking about. Nonetheless, they managed to rile a majority and convince them that a 7 cent raise now was better than a 5 cent raise now and a 5 cent raise in three months. The third contract was accepted because no one wanted to stand in the cold for twenty hours a week to get their strike pay. After if was accepted, another employee said to me, "I guess we really had [the owner] scared, eh?" "Yep," I responded, full well knowing that it was the union members who had caved rather than the owner who hadn't made any real changes to the contract. He had deleted some good things and replaced them with some not so good things. And this guy thought we got a good deal.

There is a lady who I simply hate to see. She enters the store and from across the building, she yells, "Can my child have a cookie?" Not even so much as a please. She has to be one of the rudest, most self centered people I have ever met. Her child, on the other hand, seems to be quite mild mannered. He is polite and actually looks embarrassed by his mother's actions. He must get it from his father.

And that's just my old job...

Christmas Card to The People I Don't Know

A number of times this season I was asked what I wanted for Christmas. My typical response was, "Nothing." The typical response from the women asking me was a grimace or eye roll. Truth be told, I'm a pretty Spartan person with much need for material possessions as long as I can appreciate the beauty of the things I have. And I do have a fair bit. I have friends, family, a girlfriend and two dogs. What more does one need in the world? I mean, other than food and water, clean air, clothes, heat, a place to sleep... Anyway, I have pretty much everything I need. Now I've already had my Christmas and I'm not going to complain about the things I received (because I got some pretty cool shit), but next year, when you ask me what I want, I'll tell you this:

Whatever money you had budgeted to spend on me, go take it out of the bank in ten and twenty dollar bills. Go downtown among the Christmas lights and holly, the falling snow and the throngs of shoppers. Find the feeling of Christmas, the true meaning of Christmas, the people for whom Christmas is truly important. Find those unluckiest of souls that wander the streets and give them one of the bills. Repeat as necessary until all the bills are gone. All I ask for is the smiles and stories of those people you've helped. Because while I might like a Wii or a surround sound system, I don't need them. But someone else could use a warm bite to eat.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas....

The best tao poem ever written was never written.

Random Writing #1

In my senior year in college we sat around after the party when almost everyone had gone home and listened to nostalgic music that reminded us of the good old days which had never been all that good nor were they that old. But in the haze of too much beer and the acrid smoke that hung unmoving in the air the past seemed so much clearer than the future we were about to embark upon. We had looked forward to freedom, to being on our own, to be able to go anywhere anytime we pleased. We had ideals and goals back then. Save the penguins and chain ourselves to trees. Roadtrips to the Rockies for skiing and Tofino to surf, Nevada for Burning Man. That was the future of the past. Now the future was growing black, choked out by a suffocating student loan. We had a few months left to make the most of it before reality would come crashing down. Those things had required not freedom but money. Money was still required but now it would go to pay the rent and the loan and feed the baby and the dog and all the little useless things that define the status of a graduate. None of our group ever loved what we did. We did it because we were good at it, or someone else thought we were good at it, or it was the least dreadful of the things we could do. Minds were built in those ivy league classrooms and dreams were smashed. What we liked to do was sit around getting high and imaging all the things we could have done but never got around to doing.

You know, so much of my writing is music oriented. Much of it is either inspired by a song I’m listening to or is meant to have its own little soundtrack going in the background. I wish there was some way I could attach the music to my words through this miracle of electrical engineering we call the internet. I’m sure there is probably some way to link in a song but though I grew up with the rise of computers, I never learned how to write html. Better yet, have John Williams write the score. But I suspect he’s a little busy. And too expensive.

Censorship

I was getting some work done today, grooving to my iPod plugged into some computer speakers when the song “Damn, It Feels Good to be a Gangster” came on. One of the lines goes “All you cocksucking, pussy eater gangsters.” The boss noted how some people might find that music offensive, strongly hinting that I ought to turn it off. Now, my first thought was that I find country music offensive and they pump that through the speaker system for the customers to hear. My music was only detectable to the three people in the kitchen. While I don’t usually go in for hip-hop, that particular song is actually fairly intelligent. It has a point to make.

The next song to come on my iPod was “Cocaine” by the Grateful Dead. A classic song that still gets radio play. While I don’t recall any particularly bad words in the song, it is a song about doing cocaine. In fact, I realized, a lot of classic rock songs are about doing drugs. A lot of country music is about cheating wives and alcoholism. The reality is that popular music is generally about bad behaviour.

It’s not my responsibility to censor myself for the moral millions. Censorship is not a part of this country. The reason why is that something will offend someone. Any one thing will offend somebody. If we censored everything that one person finds offensive, that will be the end of society. Offensiveness – or at least heated discussion - is the basis of expanding social concepts. Without close mindedness, we would have no progressive artists and everything would be a bland mash of Kenny G mixed with a little Kenny G. What would life be like without a little spice? Not worth living. I want some jerk chicken in my life.

Tim Hortons Starves the Homeless

From the Toronto Star, November 29^th, 2008

Toronto - CP

A few years ago, coffee and donut giant Tim Hortons would donate its day old food to homeless shelters in a goodwill mission to help feed the country's poor. Not anymore. Today, an estimated 14,450 tonnes of baked goods will be carted off to landfills across the country, according to Toronto based think tank, Gurney and Lovitz.

"Tim Hortons used to bake their products twice a day and donate any leftover products to local charities such as the Salvation Army or local missions," says Pete Browning, a marketing relations expert for Gurney and Lovitz. "But in 2003 they switched to a method of 'Always Fresh' baking, ostensibly to provide their customers with the freshest product available. Food is now baked continuously around the clock as it is needed. Donuts have a shelf life of eight hours. After that they get tossed."

The switch to 'Always Fresh' baking has decreased the amount of excess of food waste by about ten percent and has saved the company an estimated $10 million dollars a year. But at the same time, the decision was made to halt the flow of day old goods to charities around the country.

An insider at TDL Group in Oakland, Ontario – the corporation holding the Tim Hortons brand – stated that "the decision was wholly about saving money. Some scrupulous bakers may have been inclined to bake more product than was absolutely necessary in order to contribute to the cause of feeding the homeless. Tim Hortons is a business. We are here to make money, not feed people."

"It's sad, really," claims one Tim Hortons employee, a baker who wishes to remain anonymous. "Baking used to be an art. Not it's just assembly line work. It's like industrial cooking with an E-Z bake oven. Donuts come in frozen and we put them in the oven for two minutes and that's all there is to it."

When confronted with the insider's information, the baker responded that "that's ridiculous. I'm here to do a job. But it was a nice thing back then when we donated. It helped the community. Now it's such a waste."

Tim Roald, a spokesman for Greenpeace Canada, applauds the action of TDL Group for its commitment to decreasing its carbon footprint. However, he says, "morally, it's repugnant. Instead of feeding the homeless, they are just dumping it in landfills. While [food] may decompose fairly quickly, they need to work on decreasing their food containers and garbage bags which take much, much longer to decompose."

TDL Group refused to comment.

The insider claims that the company will continue to seek means of saving money while "duping" its customers. "People have brand loyalty. They will stick with us no matter what," he said. Is this cruller smaller than they used to be?

 

The proceeding story is entirely fictional. Any resemblances to actual people are purely coincidental. Sounds like it could have been true, though, doesn't it?

Stuck in the Nut

I hear the most inane things on the bus.

Behind me were two stoner rock star wannabees. “I think it’s time to take our band to the next level,” said one. Truer words were never spoken. My immediate thought was, “Yeah, like maybe write a song.” They ranted against their apparent bandmate, Gord because he was “old.” It seems Gord wanted to perhaps make some progress as a band and wasn’t content to sit on his ass covering the hits of the 60’s and 70’s anymore. Kind of odd considering this kid was going on about how they should do something.

They ranted about how Jimmy Bowskill only had skill and no talent. Jimmy is something of a local celebrity, having recorded blues albums in Nashville while still being in high school. While not being a big fan, I can say the boy has a pretty good song getting airplay in town. These kids behind me didn’t. Which of them had skill, I wonder. What the difference between talent and skill is when it comes to playing guitar, I’m not sure. “He went and he learned the tricks to how to play that style of music, that’s all. He doesn’t have any talent.” I’m no musical prodigy but I’ve learned a thing or two about writing – not that I’m a literature prodigy either. Any accomplished writer worth his salt will tell you to read as many books as you possibly can and absorb not just the story but the manner in which they are written. In short, learn the tricks of the genre and imitate them. If you happen to rip off another writer... well, that’s the way the world works. We’ve all done it and there is no shame. What these boys seemed to be saying was that they had no skill or talent.

“It’s more than just skill and talent. You need ambition. You need drive.” These kids couldn’t drive a car. After all, they were taking the bus. Ambition they might have had. But I think what he meant was that you need business savvy. You need connections. You need to be out there making it happen instead of ranting about how others make it. Yeah. That’s what he meant. If only he knew what he meant.

They went on to complain that Jimmy had the nerve to name his band simply Jimmy Bowskill. Now I kind of agree on that point. It’s a little arrogant to name your band with your own name. But it is the status quo. Can you name Brittany Spears’ drummer? Jimi Hendrix’ bassist or Sam Roberts’ keyboardist? Not likely. And that’s because, for all intents and purposes, those names are the stars. They are the talent. Band members are generally as interchangeable as lightbulbs, electric and bright as they may be.

“We should try to be something different. Maybe a cross between, like, Boston and Rush. Rush and Boston. Yeah. Moving on.

One complained of playing a certain song and always getting stuck in the nut. I don’t know what the hell that means. A quick Google reveals that no one else does either. In fact, the search revealed more of a sexual perversion of men who seem to like to stick their penises into metal nuts and then get erections which seems to result in hospital visits.

“I’m sure we’ll have an album out in a year. Maybe two. No, a year. Until then, I think we should just chill out and find our groove, you know?” I’ll be looking forward to it. I can’t find my Frisbee.

Random Thought of the Day

Society is not made up of people. It is made up of ideas. People are made up of people. And they have their own ideas.