If you tell me take it up with customer service … that’s exactly what I’m going to do

Understand that I’m not normally a customer service complainer.  Like I write in the letter that follows, I make it a point when I shop to seek out employees who are doing a good job and fill out a customer service card or at least stop a manager and tell them. When you look for good customer service, you find good customer service. And the bad employees often get the attention, while the good ones do their job in obscurity.

But I had an unpleasant experience today at my local megagrocery store, and when the cashier told me I could “take it up with customer service” I can only assume that’s what he actually wanted me to do. In the interests of fairness, I’ve deleted the name of the store and the employees in this post. It could be any store, any where. But you know where I was.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dear ***** Customer Service,

I am generally not a shopping complainer. In fact, I make it a point when I shop at your stores to find an employee who is doing a good job and leave a comment in the box or tell a manager what a good job their staff is doing. I figure if you want a pleasant shopping experience you should look for it. But my experience today at the ***** store was unpleasant enough to feel like I needed to bring it to your attention.

I don’t normally shop at that store. My preferred store – for a variety of reasons – is the ***** Rd store. But I needed some essential oils and thought ***** would offer me the most choice.

Saturday at the ***** ***** isn’t the optimal time to shop. But I was pleasantly – and most gratefully, I might add – surprised by the fantastic employees on the floor in the departments where I shopped. From ***** at the Tea Bar to the man stocking the shelves in the specialty foods section to the employees in health and beauty to the chef I grabbed as he walked by. They were all friendly, helpful and not in the least fazed by the Saturday morning chaos around them.

But when I got to the check out, it was a different story. My cashier was friendly and laid back enough, but when I pointed out that he was ringing up the wrong prices and quantities for my items, things went south.

Handgun lesson #1 – don’t point the gun at anyone, even if it’s not loaded

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Last week my sister and I went to Beikirch’s to play with … er … look at … the guns. I’ve had my pistol permit for almost two years but just haven’t really been motivated to get my own pistol.

I’m not afraid of guns. I grew up around them, my father being a cop and all. And I’ve shot guns before. But it’s different when it’s your gun, something you need to actually know how to operate and clean and store safely, not just shoot and hand back to its owner when you’re tired of playing with it.

Now that my sister is a handgun instructor, we thought we’d have some fun and go look at guns. It’s a daunting process, even when you’re with someone who knows what they’re doing.  Poor Mark at the gun shop; he was overwhelmed by one woman with too much info and one with absolutely zero (that was me!).

So today I had an hour long lesson with Dave Jenkins from Rochester Personal Defense here in Rochester. We went to the gun club and for an hour he explained how a gun works, what I should be looking for in my own gun, answered my stupid questions, and then let me shoot a couple of his guns.

I learned a lot. I always knew that shooting was more than pulling the trigger; I’ve shot rifles and pistols before. But I forgot how easy it is to pull the trigger and then turn around and say, “Hey! Wow! Did you see that?” while waving the gun around. Oops. Good thing Dave only put one bullet in at a time. (“This isn’t the first time I’ve done this,” he said with a smile.)

When my sister and I were looking at guns last week, I was unable to pull the slide on one. I mean, literally, physically unable to muscle the thing back while holding the gun. Today I learned that I also need to be able to push the safety thingy up at the same time. The thumb on my right hand doesn’t want to cooperate; there was another gun I simply couldn’t work because I couldn’t push up with my thumb and then slide the … slide thing. (I’ll learn the actual terms when I take another class, I promise.) My thumb still hurts.

Dave explained that that just helps us eliminate some guns. Other things to consider are purpose (will I carry it for protection? go target shooting? both?), the grip, how it feels in my hand, and can I operate it. Clearly, some I can’t.

I got to shoot the Glock 19 and managed to get most of the bullets in one area of the paper without hurting myself, Dave, or the guy shooting next to us. I also shot a Smith and Wesson revolver.

I’d forgotten what a powerful experience it is to actually shoot a gun. It’s not like on TV; the gun BOOMS and kicks back and sends a bullet at a gazillion miles an hour into a target. I think every elementary school kid should shoot a gun if only to show them that guns are not toys and that what they see on TV is nothing like reality. Shooting a gun – even holding a gun – is not a game.

At the same time, it was a really cathartic experience. I called it “yo-gun”, because I had to focus and steady myself and breathe and then … WHAM! Yeah, I did that. Boom!

There are a lot of rules, too. Don’t point the gun at someone, even if there aren’t any bullets in it. When the buzzer sounds, get behind the red line. Don’t point the gun at anyone. Don’t point the muzzle in the air. Don’t take your ear protection off or your ears will be ringing for a long time. (If you can’t hear with them on, pretend like you can.) Don’t point the gun at anyone.

Oh, and don’t point the gun at anyone.

It’s a lot to take in and well worth the $35 Dave charges for a consultation like this. (Thanks, Jackie!) Out of the hour, I only spent about 15 minutes shooting, but I was prepared for the experience and felt much more comfortable handling the gun. Dave explained how the gun should fit in my hand and how it actually fires a bullet. Plus, I got to try a couple of guns to see what felt good in my hand. Next time, Dave said I can shoot more and try some other guns. Since buying a gun is such a big investment, this is a great way to ease myself into shooting without making a huge investment in a gun I can’t shoot or won’t carry.

You can learn more about guns, especially programs for women (one of their main focuses), at Rochester Personal Defense’s website, www.safeinrochester.com.

And with this little outing, I think I can close out my Year of Adventure!

I go to a new magazine meeting and I don’t even break anything! (But I do use up all of my words & spill something)

I went to a meeting tonight for a new magazine starting in Rochester  – ooo, I’m so excited! It’s Rochester Animal Magazine! And I’ve been asked to do some writing!

The meeting tonight was to talk about the first issue, hand out story assignments, and get the ball rolling. These are professional people who know their stuff; it’s the same publisher that does Rochester Women Magazine.

I tried to be on my best behavior. Honest, I did. But as you know, I rarely go out in public when I don’t: a) hurt myself; b) embarrass myself; c) talk too much; or d) all of the above.

The meeting was held at A Barker’s Dozen, a dog barkery in Webster. Super cool place. But it’s  not a huge place; there were maybe a dozen people there so we settled in around two small tables and squeezed in some chairs. When I sat down on a bench that was in front of a bookcase, Gabriella, who owns the barkery, said, “Just don’t spill the water.”

Water? Water? What water? I thought there might be a bowl of dog water under the bench for her dog Andrea. So I watched where I put my feet and sat down.

About half hour into the meeting, someone noticed that there was a huge river of water running across the floor. Did Andrea the dog pee? Nope. Was the air conditioning leaking? Nope. When Joanne sat down she knocked over the vase of flowers that were on the bench.

Oh, that water! Me and my big butt.

At least I didn’t break anything. I’ve been on a streak this week: four glasses and a bowl. Plus Bailey broke a bowl today. Given the amount of glass (bakery cases) there was potential for some serious damage. People, this is the reason I don’t go out very often.

Well, that and my big mouth.

I read somewhere that women use about 40,000 words a day. Since I’m at home alone most of the time, I save up my words and then, when I go out in public, I use them up. That means that I have a huge store of words, so whenever I open my mouth, words fall out, usually in no particular order and without a filter. And today was no exception.

Fortunately, the meeting was wrapping up just as I was warming up, so I don’t think I embarrassed myself too much. But I still have a bank of works that I need to use. (Happy hour, anyone?)

You can learn more about Rochester Animal Magazine on their website. For the inaugural issue, I’ll be doing a cover story on a local celeb and her pets, and Bandit may even make his magazine debut! This is a super high quality magazine done by folks who are experienced professionals. If you’re interested in advertising, check out the magazine’s media kit.

A dying dog, holistic care, and the next step with Scout

Scout at Dr. Hall's office

I was sitting on the floor in the lobby of the veterinarian’s office, blowing soap bubbles for Scout while we waited for our medications after our counsultation with Dr. Hall, a holistic doctor.

A woman sitting near us was watching as Scout happily pounced on the bubbles and then stared intently into my eyes as he waited for the next wave of the bubble wand.

“He’s so smart,” the woman said. Smart, beautiful, well behaved, lovely, she said. I know this, of course, know that this dog is one in a million with his gentle spirit and simple needs. I also know that by the end of summer, he may be gone.

I didn’t know how to reply to the woman, but I also didn’t expect what came out of my mouth: “He’s dying,” I said. “He has cancer. It’s breaking my heart.”

Her eyes welled up. “Oh my God,” she said. “That’s terrible!”

We both looked at Scout, who was standing still, eyes locked on the bottle of bubble fluid in my hands.

“I’m in denial,” I said to the woman, “and he clearly has  no idea what’s going on right now. So we just act like nothing’s wrong.” We both smiled. She’d been there, too. It’s easier to just pretend like everyone is fine, because the alternative is much too difficult to think about.

* * * * *

Scout and I had been to see Dr. Hall, a veterinarian who specializes in acupunture and Chinese medicinal herbs to discuss ways to keep Scout healthy for as long as possible. I’ve never considered myself into “New Age”, but the truth is that what Dr. Hall shared with me makes perfect sense. That our bodies – and those of our dogs – are created in balance, and that our bad diets and unhealthy lifestyles and genetic mutations tip that balance. Using herbs and diet and massage and acupressure and acupunture, we can help put things back into balance.

Can you increase your risk of dying?

Reporter on local TV news report: “The study shows that people who spend the majority of their day sitting at their desk have a higher risk of death.”

Me: Considering that everyone’s risk of death is 100%, I’m not sure how much higher she thinks it can get.

The car salesman who lived up to his reputation

Darling husband David is looking for a truck. Understand that when I say “looking” I really mean obsessing about a truck.

We’ve talked about him buying  a new vehicle for a few months. Our original plan was, after the first of the year, to trade in the Xterra and either my car or the dogmobile, but the truth is I love the dogmobile and Cassie needed a car, and neither the car or Jeep ended up being worth as much as we thought they would be. So I keep the dogmobile and we gave Cassie the car.

Not that we can afford a car payment. But then again, who really can afford a car payment in this economy. But his Xterra isn’t serving his hunting needs well anymore and he wants a truck.

He really wants a truck.

So after more than a month with every spare  moment spent looking online and visiting dealers, he found one at a dealership in Webster that seems like a great deal. (Should I say the name?  Probably not, because it was a horrible experience.)

The truck is a 2007 Dodge Ram with low mileage, all the bells and whistles you can think of. Darling husband has been to the dealer several times already, and asked me to go with him last night to talk to the salesman because it seems like they might have been able to work out a deal and he might be buying a truck.

And David really wants this truck.

Going in last night, David had an offer from the salesman for $18,995 for the truck and $2500 for his trade in. David countered with $17,995 for the truck with the $2500 trade in. They left it a few days ago that they couldn’t do that deal. But the salesman called David yesterday and said he thought they could work something out.

So we skipped dinner and went out in the frigid cold for the dog and pony show that is car buying.

Mike the salesman started the negotiating with $18,995 for the truck and $1,000 for the trade. Wait, that’s not the deal David thought he was being offered two days earlier. Somehow, we went backwards.

All we wanted to know was if he could take another $1000 off the figures he’d given David a few days ago; if so, we’d have a deal and we’d buy the truck.  If not, we totally understood and would keep looking.

But that’s too easy. Instead, the salesman has to move numbers around and pretend like he’s making a new deal. Less for the trade, more off the truck, less off the truck, more for the trade.

And on and on, for an hour. All the time, he’s making it seem like he’s making some great sacrifices, when really he’s just playing with numbers.

And then the salesman came to the offer of $18995 for the truck and $2500 for the trade - the original offer he’d made to David two days earlier. And no, he wasn’t going to budge on the price of the truck, considering that he’d made all of those sacrifices already.

You get what’s happening here, right?

When we said, Thanks but it just isn’t going to work, then Mike the salesman decided that since we were only $1000 apart we could split the difference – $18,495 for the truck, $2500 for the trade in. We needed to play this game for an hour? He could have started with that, we would have agreed, and we would have bought the truck. Done and over in 10 minutes and signing the papers.

But after an hour of the baloney and manipulation to come to the same place we started two days ago, neither David or I felt comfortable with the salesman anymore. After the line of bull he’d been spewing, I wouldn’t trust him to buy a pack of gum.

We said we’d have to think about it and got up to leave, and he gave us the “Well, if you’re not willing to work with me …” speech.

At which point I just wanted out of there. Even if he’d given David the deal of the century, I wouldn’t feel right giving them my business. The guy was totally untrustworthy and lived up to every stereotype of the used car salesman you can think of.

Fortunately, David has other options – his cousin Mike Clemons is a salesman at Doan and we love our salesman Mike Holbein at Hoselton. All honest, reliable, completely not the stereotypical car salespeople. It’s just that no one has the perfect truck on the lot right now. But they’re looking. David’s also connected with the guy who buys the vehicles at auction for our mechanic, and he also just found out his other cousin’s husband, Tim Wearkley, is sales manager at Wentworth.

Truth be told, David is so picky about what he wants it will have to be a miracle truck and deal for it all to work.  But with so many other options from reliable salespeople, chances are he’ll find exactly what he wants. It just might take some time.

As for me, I’m staying out of it. I don’t care what kind of truck he buys or  how much he pays for it. As long as I don’t have to be there when the deal is made.

Don’t reporters check for errors before they hit “publish”?

There has been some discussion among some of my writing pals this week about the protests in Egypt and journalists, how reporters insert themselves into stories and where the line is between reporting and making the news. Case in point: NBC’s Lester Holt and his camera crew trying to battle an unruly crowd in Egypt to make their way to the apartment of 76 year old Mary Thornberry and save her from certain doom.

It’s not just reporters trying to make news. Another thing that I’ve also noticed is that in the attempt to get the news out before anyone else, online writing has gotten bad. Really bad.

I’m not talking about casual bloggers. I’m taking reporters for actual news organizations who seem to forget that online writing is still writing. Take this story from 13 WHAm TV:

Rochester, N.Y.–Children Awaiting Parents is a locally based non-profit trying to find homes for older children in need of families.
This past Wednesday, the group received a big boost from Hollywood.
Roughly 200 celebrities such as Hilary Swank held raise funds for adoption.
“We’re a national organization. We’ve been talking about this for 38 years, but to have someone
like Hilary Swank and Leigh Anne Tuohy host this event for us, it made all the difference. People are talking about it and that’s the key,” said CAP Executive Director Mark Soule.
Tuohy and her family adopted an African American teenager named Michael Oher and became the inspiration for
the Michael Lewis book, and later movie called “The Blind Side.”
Roughly $10,000 was raised at Wednesday’s gala according to Soule.

That’s the actual story, typos, paragraphs and all, just so you don’t think I’m eliminating anything. What event? Where was it?  How did Hillary Swank become connected to Children Awaiting Parents? Who else was there?

And what about proofing? I know I was in college a million years ago, but after “Children Awaiting Parents” shouldn’t there be (CAP) so that when it’s referenced that way later readers understand? And there’s a quirky typo an edior should have caught: “Hilary Swank held raise funds for adoption”.

Understand that I’m not knocking the reporter. He’s actually a great reporter. And I’m notorious for leaving out words and paragraphs when I write. That’s why I have an editor for my paid writing. On this blog? It’s just me and the cat on the keyboard. If I haven’t had enough tea, I might make the same mistakes.

But we’re not talking about some blogger in her pajamas. This is an actual, legitimate news outlet, one of the top in Rochester, one that in another story said about an accident: “It happened around 8:30 p.m. Firday”.

Firday? I forget. Does that come after Thrusday?

The problem is that news outlets are in such a hurry to get the news out there that they forget about details, clarity, editing, as if the facts matter less than the speed with which those facts go out around the world.

Or in Lester Holt’s case, making sure the cameras are there to record his journalistic heroics – or not.

The power goes out but the lights go on

I woke up this morning to a lovely winter surprise: no power.

I had been up around 4:00 am to let the dogs out, so when I got up at 7:45 am I knew the power had only been out a few hours. The temperature in the house was 58 degrees. Outside? Nine degrees.

My first thought when I realized there was no power: I NEED A CUP OF TEA. Thank goodness for camping equipment. I keep the small propane camp stove handy in the basement for just such occasions. I also found the emergency radio, which operates on batteries and also one of those wind up charging things. So I could tune in to WHAM and hear the news.

My second thought: when was the power coming back on? I called RGE’s automated outage line; expected outage to be fixed at 6:30 am. That was an hour before I got up, so I knew the power could come back on any time.

Or not. We have random outages in our neighborhood all the time. The transformer on Marsh Rd blows. Someone drives into a lightpole. The wind changes direction. Never really any good explanation. Sometimes the outage lasts all day. Sometimes a few hours. Sometimes they say it’ll be back on in an hour, and it’s half a day later when they’ve finally figured out the problem.

My third thought: it’s amazing how much we rely on electricity. No lights, no heat, no stove. I had my telephone and some battery left on my laptop, but no internet service. (Conversely, if I had cable internet and phone, I’d have internet access but no telephone.) I could shower (gas hot water heater) but not dry my hair. Even during daylight, there are places in the house where I needed a flashlight to see.

You need a power outage once in a while to remind you how lucky we are to live in America. Despite the political divide, America is still the greatest place on earth, a bounty of comforts. There are millions of people around the world who don’t have the luxury of electricity and fresh water or telephones or books or laptops or even tea bags. Those may not sound like big deals, but try living without them for a while.

A power outage also makes you think about how you’d function – or even survive – if for some reason things took a turn in America and electricity, fuel, food, heat and other comforts were suddenly not available. What if transportation systems were interrupted and food couldn’t get from California to New  York, or vice versa, or from Chile or Mexico or China or any of the other places from which we import food? No fresh vegetables or fruit? No meat, in some cases? What if gas was rationed or too expensive to purchase? When the power goes out, could you run a generator? How would you heat your home? Keep food fresh? See in the dark? Dry your hair?

It doesn’t take political unrest or economic collapse to make those things possible. The weather we’ve had this winter is enough to show us that floods, earthquakes, forest fires and other environmental emergencies could interrupt transportation, affect farming, impact prices.

I’m not trying to be an alarmist. It’s just that when the power goes out you start to think about those things – or at least think about them more than usual. Because we deal with an outage at least once a winter and once a summer, we’ve prepared a few back ups. Emergency radio, camp stove and small propane canisters, flashlights, chickens with eggs.

But most important to have: a compassion for people who live without those amenities every day.

Men come to aid of stabbing victim – just another way to love your neighbor

Last night, a Henrietta teen stabbed his girlfriend in the frozen food section of the Wegmans on Calkins Rd. It sounds like a scene from some crime TV show.

But apparently 18-year-old Kevin Minemier and his girlfriend, 17-year-old Nicole Bean, were shopping when Minemier took out a knife and started stabbing Bean. Right away, shoppers Mustafa Said, 19, and Christopher Patino, 16 came to Bean’s aid, fighting Minemier to the ground; Said was stabbed in the hand in the process. Other shoppers helped hold Minemier until police arrived.

I wonder what I’d do in that situation.

I once stopped at Burger King on my way to a writers’ meeting. Outside of the restaurant a guy and a girl were having an argument. It seemed a little heated, and I kept my eye on the situation as I got my food. The girl looked like she might already have a black eye, but it was dark out and hard to see for sure. The guy tried to wrestle her car keys away as I walked out of the restaurant.

I looked at the girl and asked if everything was OK, and she said she was fine, to just leave them alone. The guy took a step toward me and glared. Then he threw her car keys onto the  Burger King roof. I walked to my car, trying not to make eye contact with the guy for fear of escalating his temper. I didn’t know what to do. I was no match for him, and I didn’t want to make things worse for her. But I didn’t want to leave her, either. 

As I walked back to my car, I saw the guy pull the girl into a car and they sped away. I called the police from my cell phone to give them a description of the car and … well, then I went to my meeting. I didn’t know what else to do.

That’s why it’s so impressive that Mustafa Said and Christopher Patino stepped in last night. They didn’t care about what happened to them; they saw a girl in desperate need and rushed to her aid. Said ended up in the hospital for treatment for the serious knife wound to his hand, but both men could have been seriously injured or killed.

I think that’s what Jesus means when talks about loving your neighbor. It means stepping in where there’s a need without regard for yourself. It’s not something most of us could do; obviously, I couldn’t.

A little puppy love looking for a home

Puppy love

This weekend, we took in a foster puppy. You can read the whole story on the Bark Around Town blog, but trust me. It’s one snuggly, barking, peeing bundle of fun.

Bailey is a 6 wk. old Pit Bull/German Shepherd mix who was brought to the shelter because her owner was trying to dump … er, find homes … for two pups left from a litter. That the pups shouldn’t have been leaving their mother at 6 wks. goes without saying. For responsible dog owners.

One volunteer took a pup for her brother, who wanted a Pit Bull pup. I took the other to foster while Pitty Love looks for a home.

She’s a beautiful dog, and my hope is that Scout and Bandit can help her learn how to be a good dog. Well, Scout can anyway. Hopefully Bandit doesn’t teach her how to eat from the fridge or lick dishes from the kitchen sink.

If you’re looking for a pup, maybe Bailey is waiting for you! Here are more pics:

Bailey and Bandit, snuggled on the couch

 

Look how little Bailey is next to Scout!

Bailey is one snuggly puppy