Rewriting the English Language

In an earlier blog I made reference to the ridiculous spelling we see everywhere. In particular, I settled on companies who, in theory, ought to know better, and even if the person or persons writing their material happen to be illiterate - they have spell check and proofing. Yet huge blunders somehow make it through. Take a look at the photo in this post. How is it possible that such an obvious error made it through a very tight creative/production/printing process? I handle jobs like this every day, and we double check print projects before the client gets a chance (because no one checks a proof properly today). It boggles the mind that the designers, production people, client, prepress, proofing dept at the printer and even shipping didn't point this one out.

Or should 'Leather' be spelled 'Ltather'? Perhaps I'm the idiot here. Hm?

Nah. I finished grade 9.

No more waffles?

You may think that George W. Bush had cornered the market on bonehead stunts and unbelievably stupid behaviour, and you'd be correct in your thinking, but he has a challenger.

RTBF, the national broadcast channel in Belgium broke into regular programming late on Wednesday evening to announce that the Dutch-speaking half of the country had declared independence and the king and queen had fled. Grainy pictures from the military airport showed dark silhouettes of a royal entourage boarding a plane. The 'gotcha' came 30 minutes later when they explained it was fiction. A stunt. Prank. Someone was trying to make a point.

Until I read that it was a prank, I began to wonder what this would mean to the rest of the world. Belgium, the home of waffles and.... other things, was in the midst of a revolution. Then it struck me that the report stated that the Dutch-speaking half of the country had declared independence... only half of them speak Dutch? I was stunned. Then I thought of Canada, where a few 'French' people persistently make every effort to force the rest of the country to acknowledge their existence as a separate nation. Remember, these are people who call Flocons de Mais (Real French for Cornflakes)... 'Le Cornflakes'. My traditional French language skills are useless when talking to them. I digress. These days, the minority has the loudest voice.

back to the prank. Everyone is up in arms about this ridiculous and juvenile trick - regardless of the point being made. I'm in agreement. How much of an idiot do you have to be to pull such a foolish prank? Not much, considering the aggregious lack of commonse sense in the world today. Orson Welles tried it in 1938 with his 'War Of The Worlds' radio broadcast and never lived it down. People were technically unsophisticated in those days, and it was easy to pull a fast one. You'd think we were all a lot smarter today. Not by a long shot. It doesn't help that it was the national broadcasting company which perpetrated the yuk yuk on the people, who were more likely to believe that than something issued on the internet or through a newspaper report, neither of which has the immediacy needed to get the instant gratification of watching the population squirming in panic. Ha. Ha.

So, it made me think. If the minority has the voice today, I intend on raising mine. No smoking? Screw you. I'm in the minority now, and I say what goes. Go to church? Not a chance. I'm an atheist - you people are wrong. There is no God, and what I say carries more weight than all of you put together. In fact - let's outlaw all forms of religion until they stop condemning, attacking, and killing one another in the name of their supreme being. Criminals? Kill 'em all. Shoplifters, jaywalkers, speeders, politicians - break the law and you go to the chair. I'm in the minority - my vote counts more than yours. Rap? Ban it. Racism? Cut out the tongues of the racists. Pedophiles - hang, draw and quarter them, but not before they are forced to listen to 24 hours of Celine Dion at 120dB. They'd welcome their fate. Show any signs of stupidity at all, and you go back to school - no matter how old you are, and you'll stay there until you are healed. Get caught with crack, heroine or anything other than a little weed, and you go to jail for life. No parole. Celine Dione 24/7 for those guys too. Political correctness? To hell with it. I'm short and bald and proud of it. I'm not vertically and follically challenged.

Oh, this is so much fun. Ridiculous, but fun. The point I'm making is; it doesn't matter that common sense should prevail. These days it only matters that you have an opinion and that someone else agrees with it. You only have to push a little, and you get what you want at the expense of everyone else. What a simple but dangerous concept.

Thank goodness the Belgian situation was a bad joke. I like my waffles.

If I have learned anything this week, it's that there are no lengths to which some people will go to demonstrate their stupidity. Let's try to put it into perspective; Imagine the worst blizzard possible, with raging, 80mph freezing winds, and picture yourself making the decision to go on a hike or take part in some other recreational activity in such extreme conditions. Yes, you're shaking your head in disbelief. No sane person would willingly leave the comfort of their home to play for a few days in potentially lethal weather. Or would they?

I have never been to Washington State or Oregon, but I do know that they experience some incredible weather. I heard reports of 18 feet of snow in one day, for example. James Kim died of exposure a week or so ago. You don't have to visit places like that or be an expert meteorologist to know that you would be taking your life in your hands by ignoring the potential dangers.

And so we come to the three (experienced) climbers who recently threw all caution aside and decided to go for a jaunt up Mount Hood. In Winter. With minimal gear, on 50 to 60 degree slopes and sheer sections. Despite being ordered off the mountain due to the dangerous conditions, they pressed on, almost to the peak of the 11,239 ft. mountain. If they are still alive, they are being buffeted by 80mph winds to name just one of the threats. Perhaps the army of rescuers will be able to retrieve the climbers safely, but at this writing, the teams can't get any closer than 8,500 ft. That ought to give you some idea of the situation these three fools put themselves in. Not to mention the fact they have put the lives of more than 60 people at risk.

Apparently around 10,000 people attempt to climb Mount Hood each year. Around 25 have to be rescued. Call me a party pooper, but if there isn't some sort of law that requires the rescued 'climbers' to pay the costs of the rescue, there ought to be. Every penny. The fact that you are willing to put your life on the line should not automatically require others to do the same when you get your sorry ass stuck at the top of a snowbound mountain. But if these brave people do come to your aid due to an incident of your making... you should bear the costs of the expedition, and then some.

I hasten to add that we can't compare the stupidity of these three mountain climbing morons with the tragic death of James Kim recently. Kim was lost, stranded and made an heroic effort to save his family. The trio on Mount Hood knew the risks, accepted them and now have to come to terms with nature's method of culling fools from the gene pool.

I feel for the families who may have to deal with the death of their loved ones over a an extremely foolish act. I have no sympathy for Larry, Curly and Moe sitting in a cave at the top of a very angry mountain.

Update: To date, one of the climbers was found, dead a few days ago. Rescuers are still trying to locate the remaining two lost men, but it is generally assumed that with all the commotion around the mountain, anyone able to attract the attention of the searchers would have done so by now. It doesn't look good for the two missing climbers. What a horrible situation for the families. At the risk of sounding cold, it's a shame these men ignored everyone else in favour of a personal challenge. The families wouldn't be comforted by the thought that the trio apparently cared little about the trauma their little adventure could cause everyone. Had they considered their loved ones (and the reports of the nasty weather) they would have stayed home.

Raging Road Bull

I had an escort on my drive to work this morning. It was dark, but I could make out the form of a man sitting behind the wheel of a huge land yacht. Crown Victoria, perhaps. It was difficult to tell, as he was a mere six inches from my bumper. What amazing demonstration of driving skills. I was travelling at just a hair over the posted speed, and about one and a half car lengths from the car in front, and my escort was driving as though I didn't exist. Every now and then I could see his animated arm movements. He was obviously annoyed that his right to drive any speed he damned well liked had been revoked by some idiot who had the brazen audacity to be in front of him. That would be me.

No, I didn't speed up. I didn't slow down either. I didn't modify my driving one iota. This was his problem, not mine. Judging by his temperament though, it could easily have become everyone's problem. This bonehead was trying to make me pay for his inability or unwillingness to keep a timely routine. In his world, I am the idiot.

In fact, we careful, law abiding drivers are all guilty. We get in the way of the dimwits with the heavy right foot. We take care to follow the rules of the road, which is really irritating to these highway halfwits. We watch out for other motorists and try very hard to keep from hitting them or running them off the road and killing them. The imbeciles with the speed fetish could care less. They already know that the potential for an accident is considerably higher when they speed. They have accepted that, and are willing to take the risk. Unfortunately, we figure into that equation, because every accident requires a victim.

I got to work on time this morning. I had given myself plenty of time - as I always do. My escort was no doubt on time too...barely, but frazzled, frustrated and angry at being 'delayed'. He probably never questions why his brakes don't last as long as those of his colleagues, or why he uses far more gas, or why it costs him much more to run his vehicle. He's not that bright. He's the guy who races past you and zooms into the distance. "Wow, I'll bet that guy gets where he's going in a hurry", you might think... but no... there he is, waiting for you at the lights. Zooom! He's off on the green. Never to be seen again. Until the next set of lights (insert the Homer Simpson "Doh!" here). It would be funny if it wasn't so damned dangerous.

So. Give me the one finger salute. Wave your arms like you are trying to fly. Yell and curse at me. Bump me, thump me or tailgate me. I've never had a speeding ticket or caused an accident since I started driving 32 years ago, and I'm not about to start now. Go around me and go find someone else to harrass or kill. Hopefully it's another dweeb like yourself - that would be sweet justice. Now go away, tiny-minded one, you bore me.

Stick a fork in me Jerry...I'm done

November 17, 2006. A night that will live in infamy. Michael Richards, A.K.A. 'Kramer', was out on stage going through his schtick, when someone in the audience spoke up. A heckler. I've seen the video, and I couldn't quite make out what the man said to Richards, but what was said isn't really important.

Let me rephrase that. What the heckler said was of little importance. However, Richards' response was over the top.

He launched into a venomous tirade of racist comments and insults. If Richards considered this display of ignorance as humor, he was operating under a serious misconception. His angry and abusive diatribe escalated. It was disturbing to watch this grown man obliterate a lengthy career in a few short minutes. Granted, "Seinfeld" is the only work worthy of mention, but that represents 9 years out of a career which stretched from 1980 to... November 17, 2006.

His tearful apology seemed feeble, oozing vapidity. It was too little, too late. Thousands of comedians have handled hecklers over the years without degrading them with racist insults. Hecklers go with the territory. A quick wit, professionalism and maturity usually results in entertainment for the audience and a lesson to the nudnick who opened his/her mouth. I saw no quick wit, professionalism or maturity in Richards' outburst. I saw bitterness and anger.

If we are honest with ourselves, we would all admit to allowing a racist thought to cross our minds or a comment to slip from our lips, regardless of our ethnic background. There's no excuse for it. It happens nonetheless and most of us would be ashamed when it happens. Mr. Richards appeared to revel in it. He continued to revel in it until he saw that the audience was dwindling as disgusted patrons left the building. Good for them.

Kramer dropped the microphone and walked off the stage, out of the glare of the spotlights. Perhaps for ever.

"Stick a fork in me Jerry...I'm done"

Never a truer word was spoken.

What if I cared?

I don't have an opinion on the O.J. Simpleton situation 12 years ago. I couldn't make up my mind then. I can't make up my mind today. Perhaps he did it. Maybe he didn't. The jury, media and the public are at odds over the outcome and always will be.

I do, however, think he's an ass.

Whatever the truth, he would have been well advised to step back from the spotlight and consider himself very, very lucky. But O.J. encouraged that spotlight, eagerly calling attention to his seedy, slimy and inappropriate behaviour. He's a media jaywalker, jumping in and out of the traffic, daring anyone to hit him.

And now he's standing in the headlights of an oncoming garbage truck. A truck filled with his book "What if I did it, here's how it happened". The sad, disillusioned idiot looks like he might not be able to dodge this one. It'll be the splat heard around the world, and we can all sigh with relief.

I've made a conscious effort to ignore this drawn out drama since it began over a decade ago. It doesn't affect me. I doesn't concern me or enhance my life in any way. CNN et al and the news-hungry junkies with their polarized opinions won't let it go, as if their very existence is connected to this story. Well, here's some news; it isn't.

If that proverbial garbage truck plows headlong into O.J. Simpleton, you will still have to go to work tomorrow at Wendy's. If the story is never mentioned again, you will still need to keep that appointment with your therapist. Oprah will air as usual, and Target will still have sales. I have my own little dramas to deal with, so I will welcome the absence of one more example of meaningless and pointless drivel. Of course, I'd willingly retract my statements if you can prove to me that your life, as you know it, will be over if you don't get your O.J. fix.

My next book will be titled; "What if I cared?"

Student body shocked...

Another quick post and a piece of sage advice. Never backtalk a cop, but if your idiot self takes over and you just can't help it - at least try to stop when you're threatened with a Taser. Oh, and always do what you're told - especially when there's the promise of 50,000 volts coming your way for non compliance. You can figure out who's right and who's wrong later. Or you can squirm around squawking on the floor like an injured crow. Your choice.
Do you smell something cooking?

No smoke without a fire?

Hey world...
how are those smoking bans working out?
It's so much healthier without all that nasty cigarette smoke
...isn't it?

Let the games begin

The anouncement was made the other day, and Playstation 3 shoppers descended like proverbial flies on a fresh field pie. They scrambled here, they fought there, and everywhere the lineups grew. Now then, let's put some things into perspective; we're talking about a piece of plastic and metal which makes noises when you push buttons. In much the same way a crib toy might entertain an infant. I don't mean to suggest that Playstation 3 is rubbish - it's probably a lot of fun. It'll be fun 2, 4 or 6 months from now, when the inflated prices have become a dark memory. It'll be fun when someone buys one at a yard sale for $50 two years from now.

So it's beyond comprehension that grown adults would go to such lengths to have one...today... regardless of price. I bought a copy of the 'DaVinci Code' last night. I could have paid through the nose to see it at the cinema, but I wasn't interested in standing in huge lineups to satisfy that urge. I chose to wait for the DVD. Frankly, I should have waited until it was in a delete bin for $5 somewhere - it would have been better value. My point is simple; that movie would have been as disappointing had I paid a fortune to watch it on the big screen. A little patience didn't change the entertainment value.

What is it that makes people lose all common sense and throw themselves at a product or marketing concept with all the abandon of a naked three year-old in a wading pool? Perhaps it's the "I got there first" syndrome, where people take great pleasure in flaunting their purchase to those losers who didn't have the cash or the time to spend to jump on the insanity bandwagon. Remember the 'Cabbage Patch Doll" and "Elmo" fiascos? What a ridiculous display of lack of self-respect.

However, there is a silver lining for those of us who simply don't understand this total rejection of common sense. Technology and society as a whole is moving forward at an alarming rate. What is new today, is obsolete tomorrow. What is hip or popular right now, will be boring before you get it out of the box or get used to owning it. You could save yourself some money and frustration by simply allowing a product to settle in and buy it for a reasonable price. You could. But you won't. You'll pay street people $100 day to keep your place in line in order that you may lay your hands on that elusive prize; a piece of plastic and metal that makes noises when you push buttons.

ooh. The excitement is overwhelming.

You see, I'd love to own a nice sporty car. Exciting new models arrive every year, but they are always priced out of reach for me. However, if I wait - I can have that car for a greatly reduced price. It's used, but if the object is to own one, what's the difference? Besides, it would be broken in. You won't catch me hiring a bum to sit at the dealership to make sure I get one, and you won't see me offering 3 times market value either. In a world where virtually every sane person tries to save a dollar or two by paying less for a product, who, in his or her right mind would stand in line for days to pay...more?

There's the answer. "In his or her right mind".

I rest my case.

Update:
Shortly after I posted this item, CNN had the following article on their site;

"HARTFORD, Connecticut (AP) -- Two armed thugs tried to rob a line of people waiting for the new PlayStation 3 game system to go on sale early Friday and shot one man who refused to give up his money, authorities said."

... think of it as a sort of Playstation Serengeti. Whenever the herd gathers, the lions are always waiting on the perimeter, ready to pounce. If the herd had any sense, they'd chase the lions away, since thery outnumber the carnivores..but they're not that bright. So remember this next time you go bouncing off with a pocket ful of money to the local big box to purchase that "I'll die if I don't get it right now" item. You might go from customer to prey in a few short steps. And never forget that the predators aren't to be found in parking lots alone. They lurk in places like the corporate H.Q. for Sony, Microsoft, and other such companies. And they're always looking for fresh meat.

The Bride of Leninstein

I'm single. I'm not so sure I like it, but it does have some benefits. I won't try to cover them all here because most single people know what they are. Many of us have tried online dating, and if you're like me, you find it frustrating and fruitless most of the time. One of the unfortunate side effects of having an online profile on a dating site is that you're vulnerable to approaches from people from virtually anywhere. From any planet, some might argue - but I digress.

I quite frequently receive emails from women in Russia. Most of them are young, absolutely beautiful and begging for me to whisk them away to a life of happiness and security. I'm flattered. For about 2 seconds. There is no valid reason on this good earth that a lithe, sexy young woman would want to marry someone like me, a man who is 20 to 30 years her senior.

Unless...

You see, it costs a lot of Rubles to travel from Russia to North America, the land of Milk and Money. These women have very little, and when you compare their lives to ours, we live in virtual luxury. You can't blame them for trying to better themselves. All I would have to do is fork out the cash and go through several years of legal stuff to bring my future bride over here, and we would live in happiness until death do us part. What an attractive concept. I'd love to have a gorgeous young woman to parade around town.

"Look what I bought!"

Reality is a bitch in heat, and my common sense kicked in like the passing gear on a Corvette. These women don't want me. They don't want to spend their lives with me. They want a meal ticket, and I'm a four course meal to them. What are the chances that the lovely blonde 25 year-old is actually a 40 year-old transvestite using a substitute photo? What if this beauty who finds me so appealing is a Vodka-swilling criminal on the lam from the authorities? These are things that need to be considered. Besides, what if I jumped through all the legal and financial hoops only to find that my bride-to-be is some swarthy, hairy, one-eyebrowed neanderthal-looking Mesomorph? What then?

What's in it for me?

Well, I'd have the dubious privilege of shelling out thousands of dollars to help a stranger relocate. If I was really lucky, I might get laid once or twice out of sympathy or guilt, but the outcome would be inevitable. My bank account would be thinner, my self-esteem would be lower, and I'd have used up all my Viagra on some flaky bimbo who used me like a Kleenex. I can get that at home. It's cheaper.

Here's your sign...

(Thinking of buying an RCA product? Read the last entry in this post before you do.)

I've regularly berated those adults who seem intent on proclaiming their ignorance on signs, posters, ads, etc., knowing that it will make little difference. I do it because someone somewhere has to stand up, point the finger and yell "J'accuse!". You're an illiterate cretin, and I don't need it rubbed in my face. I prefer to go about my day pretending people like you are a rarity rather than the norm. Sadly, you're not that much of a rarity.

New cash registers were installed at the donut/restaurant/soup kitchen recently, and some clever unit decided to take advantage of the digital technology by having a standby message display when the register wasn't in use. By trying to cram a marketing statement along with a status message into a small window, we get what we see here. "Always Fresh. Always Station Closed." That explains the lineups.

Then, as I went to my car, I noticed a small sign in the window of a Domino's Pizza. I moved closer to read it, and found one of the most atrocious examples of adult illiteracy I have encountered in a very long time. The person who made this sign obviously writes with an accent. We all make typos, but this is no typo. The individual who crafted this masterpiece had no fear of demonstrating their abysmal spelling skills. I doubt very much a grade 7 student would make this kind of error, yet here we have an adult who makes two huge gaffs in one small poster. The second error is right beside the phone number (blurred for obvious reasons)... "Call as 000-000-0000".

"Call as"? Surely you meant to write "Call US".

and then there's the one you might miss...right at the very top... "Looking for job".

Check the Bible.

Oh, they meant to say "Looking for A job". Got it. It takes me a little longer to understand dribblish. Not to put too fine a point on it, but that statement really needs a question mark.


I don't know about you, but I'm beginning to see a disturbing pattern in the retail/service industry. You can't expect people who are unapologetic about their language skills, grammar and spelling to understand the concept of quality customer service. It's too complicated for them. Someone who places no value or importance on such a basic skill surely can't be expected to wrap their head around something so difficult. A more frightening component of this growing problem is the fact that for every one of the illiterati, there is a management counterpart; the person(s) who did the hiring. So you can clearly see that the issue extends far beyond the poor fool who thinks "Wedges" is the proper spelling for the word "Wages".

Of course, they could have avoided 'Wedges' completely.

They could have used 'Celery'.

Sorry. 'Salary'.
(Update:
The "Wedges" sign was removed. Perhaps a concerned customer drew it to the attention to someone in the store, but what if they found their driver and had to take it down to avoid being overwhelmed by inquiries? If the latter is true, we can expect more of the same tragic ignorance. Ah, more fodder for the Schadenfreude Cafe.)

One last item:
I purchased an RCA DVD recorder recently, and after my first recording, I was astonished to see an outstanding demonstration of idiocy (see below); a menu screen with a glaring typo. How can a major manufacturer allow an item to make it all the way to the customer in such a state? It boggles the mind. Shame on you RCA. "finzlizing"? How did no one see that error at some point in the process? I'm reminded of their ignorance each time I make a recording. Can you imagine how irritating that iz? I mean... is...

Update:
I received feeble form letter from RCA in response to my complaint.

"...We regret you are not pleased with your product. We invest substantial resources in market research to develop products that meet consumer needs and expectations. We are continually finding ways to improve reliability, designs, product quality, and professional service. Your comments are appreciated, and we thank you for taking your valuable time to contact us."

Apparently they didn't appreciate my comments enough to have a human being reply. And if this piece of equipment is the result of their substantial resources, it begs the question, "but how much do you spend on quality control?" Very little, it seems. I'm taking RCA off my shopping list. Permanently. Not so much because of the typo - although it is a significant issue - but because of the weak, insincere form letter which addressed neither my complaint or the error in question. It would seem that RCA has cleverly reduced customer service to the bare minimum. Two steps. Select appropriate form letter and hit 'send'. Problem solved. I agree. In my case, my problem of which HD TV and home theatre system to purchase this week has been resolved. I have one less manufacturer to consider. Thank you RCA.

The emergence of convergence

Tim Horton's just announced their breakfast sandwich. Basically, it's another Egg McMuffin clone. There's no real difference. However, as Tim Horton's continues with their brand extension, the lineups grow. No longer a coffee shop, Tim's has become a restaurant, where we stand and wait for our coffee behind someone ordering a three course meal for a family of five. I'm having trouble defining which particular level of convenience that represents. I watched as Tim Horton's revised their check-in, check-out system a few years ago, and it worked like a charm. You would walk up, place your order and move to the next station where it would be prepared for you by another server. It was slick and quick, but required 2 staff members. Management determined this to be an inefficient use of manpower, and slowly reverted to the old system... with a little of the new. We're back to waiting in line again, while one person tries to field orders that border on the insane; I've seen people being handed boxes containing what has to be more than 20 coffees. As a result, the accuracy rate appears to have reached an impressive 4 wrong coffees for every 2 correct ones. But you can buy a precooked sausage thingy or some chili, and they are usually served without incident, so I'm told.

I cringe when I see these companies hungrily trying to carve off their piece of an ever-shrinking market in the name of better service, improved product or a higher level of convenience. They aren't the slightest bit interested in you. Just the money that travels with you. The object of the exercise is to coax that money from your pockets to their tills. They might ply you with visions of delicious precooked mass produced breakfast thingies, faster checkouts - they want you to leave quickly once they have your money, so they can get to the next pocket, or they create bigger stores - which translates into boxes populated by teens and dead-enders who never know which department they'll be in tomorrow. Do I hear a collective sigh?

Restaurant convergence has resulted in the need to minimize the the interaction between customer and server - this ostensibly makes up for the time lost waiting while people place their huge and varied orders. I rarely visit the golden arches. Most of the time I'd rather eat three day old dirt, but there are times (perhaps 5 in the past 20 years) when it appears to be the more convenient option. However, here is an almost verbatim exachange between me a gum-chewing burger dispenser:

Me: " I'd like a PLAIN (pause for emphasis)... double quarter pounder meal, WITH CHEESE, and coke... to go.

Server: (Head droops to one side) Do you want cheese?

Me: (Politely pointing to big sign behind her) yes...I'd like a PLAIN (pause for emphasis)... double quarter pounder meal, WITH CHEESE, and coke... and that's to go.

Server: What would you like to drink with that?

Me: (pause as I look into her vacant eyes)..Uhm..coke.

Server: (head droops to other side) So... that's a double quarter pounder meal, with cheese, and coke.

Me: Plain

Server: Yes..uhm..it..is plain. Yes. Is that for here or to go?

Me: (I could have been at home, eating this crap by now)... It's to go. (I force a smile)

Then there is what seems like a long time before my server shows up with fries, and sits them to cool on a red tray. Once they have cooled sufficiently, she returns with my burger and places it beside the cold fries then turns to pour some syrup over 10 oz of ice and water. Finally, she places the concoction on the tray and slides it a few inches towards me.

Me: (forcing a polite smile again)...uhm..it's to go.

Server: (not the slightest bit embarrassed) Oh.
She takes the cold fries and luke warm burger and drops them into a bag.

I walk to the condiments counter, open up the cardboard burger container and gently peel back the flat bun, which had been mashed by countless fingers - I could see the impressions. There, nestled amidst an oozing, stinking blob of green, yellow and red - I suspect it might have been relish, mustard and ketchup - was a soggy pickle. Okie dokie then. It's back to the counter with my PLAIN (pause for emphasis)... double quarter pounder meal, WITH CHEESE, and coke.

Me: Uhm... this was supposed to be plain.

Server: (Double checks to make sure I'm not scamming her)..OK.

She returns, without an apology, with another offering - which passes my inspection - and I leave with my melted ice drink, cold fries and gooey, soggy grey lukewarm burger. The red, yellow and green paste they slather on these things serves a dual purpose... mainly it's to disguise the appearance of the grey 'meat', and perhaps it lends something to the taste. It hides the bland cardboard flavour. Otherwise it might be impossible to tell whether you were eating the burger or the container is came in.

It was a valuable experience. It reminded me of why I decided never to eat at these burger factories and it also drove home my point that customer service means nothing today- at least, not to those charged with providing it. Perceived customer service is everything. This single visit to a fast food restaurant easily demonstrates what you and me represent to these 'get-em-in, get-'em-out' businesses. Order what they want you to order, or suffer the conseqences.

NB: I should point out that I do get superior customer service from some of the Tim Horton's girls, like Heather, Cheryl and crew in St. Thomas, Ontario; I don't want you to think that I'm served by idiots everywhere I go... just most places.

A quickie for the thinkers

This is just a quick post. I read about the mass kidnapping and related events the other day, and I came across a comment made by Gen. Abizaid, Commander of CENTCOM. Apparently, he met with Iraqi Prime Minister Maliki on Monday, and later said violence had eased since August; he warned of civil war. It was too early to say Iraq had "turned the corner," however, and bloodshed was still at "unacceptably high" levels, he said.

So, Gen. Abizaid, if the current bloodshed is unacceptably high, at which level would you consider it to be acceptable? Bloodshed doesn't fall into areas of acceptability. It's unacceptable. Period. Don't get me wrong - I'm no pacifist - but soldiers must wonder when they are sent off to support the U.S. action in Iraq, "Is my injury or death going to fall above or below that acceptable level?".

Methinks Abizaid has been reading the George W. Bush of public speaking. Why isn't it OK to think before you open your mouth? As G.W. would put it... "Ya use ta could..."