Dear Diary: Customers Are Assholes Because America Fetishizes Capitalism

Dear Diary,

Human beings are a mixed bag. We have the capacity for kindness and love beyond measure, but can also be angry, petulant, egotistic little shits actively disregarding the well-being of anyone but ourselves. And for some reason, we seem to occupy the latter mindset much more than the former when we are exchanging money for goods and services.

Anyone who has ever worked in retail or customer service can tell you that customers are selfish pools of garbage water come to life. Heck, anyone who has ever been in a store could tell you that. We've all been out shopping or at a restaurant and seen a fellow consumer of goods and services become unhinged at an inconsequential occurrence that they perceive as an apocalyptic setback.

Hearing "My potato wedges are not seasoned properly. I need to see a manager. I DON'T CARE IF THERE IS SALT AT THE TABLE!" or a diatribe on professionalism and keeping the entire Wiggles CD catalog in stock isn't all that shocking to the average American customer. Something happens to us, even if we don't all have public meltdowns, when shopping doesn't go exactly the way we want. You may not lash out at the Subway employee who gives you mustard instead of honey mustard, but for a split second you feel as though your sandwich is ruined.  Or your mood might a little too affected when you have to settle for your second favorite toothpaste, because Target is out of the cinnamon whitening plaque control.

Part of this is because shopping is awful. You know Amazon and UPS exist, and yet there you are like a sucker dragging your buns around Dillards looking for the lightweight, casual jacket for days that are cool but not COLD that best fits your personality. Every jacket that isn't right is an affront to your sensibilities and the physical manifestation of more time you have to spend in Dillards, while the smell of Cinnabon taunts you. But, you sift through all the chaff until you find the perfect match, and it's a bit of a punch to the gut when you realize that the store has every size except yours.

You did your job. You went to the store with your method of payment, having turned a blind eye to the concept of layering (I just need a slightly heavier fleece jacket, Brenda! LET ME LIVE MY LIFE!), ready to send numbers from your bank account into a corporation's bank account. You might feel like Dillards didn't live up to their end of the capitalist contract. Any setback is going to be amplified by the fact that you're already doing something inherently annoying. You might think, "Well, this was a waste of time." It's fine to think that and be bummed out. It's not fine to yell that at the sales clerk. For two reasons: It's not their fault that the sizes available don't fit you, and they also don't give a shit if you buy anything from that store. They don't get paid more or less depending on your purchase and they don't own the store. Unless the people where you are shopping/eating are actively being mean to you, you as an adult human need to keep your shit together, lest you sound like a child.

Here's a thing that happened to me which involves an adult man, who looked like the offspring of James Taylor and Ebeneezer Scrooge, acting exactly like a child. For a little bit of context, I work in a used bookstore. As a used bookstore, we don't accept returns or exchanges, with rare exceptions. This is pretty common to places that sell used things. The items are as is and sales are final. Yet, we still have people who bring items back (mostly CDs and DVDs, though also books) months later wanting to do an exchange. We don't do this, because that would make us a library minus the public funding.

This gentleman came in wearing a suit and looking very much like an adult man. He explained that he had bought a book several weeks ago, but he already owned it, so he needed to return it. I explained that we don't offer returns just because someone decides they don't want a book anymore. He reiterated that he already owned it. I explained that his situation was not the fault of the store's and all sales are final. The man then stomped his foot on the ground, while exhaling loudly and rolling his eyes at me. When confronted with the consequences of his own shopping mistake, this man acted like I had just told him he couldn't have any ice cream before I tucked him into bed. I understand his frustration. I also get frustrated when I bone myself out of $5, but I don't throw hissyfits at everyone who can't/won't help me unbone myself. But being out and about dropping Lincoln's doesn't make us immune to things not going our way.

Want more evidence that people don't think clearly while shopping? Here's a real conversation I had with a different adult man:

Him: I'll take these items.
Me: Okay. Your total is $8.42.
Him: (hands me his method of payment)
Me: (I enter in the cash received/swipe his credit card or whatever)
Him: (bitterly) You're welcome!
Me: What?
Him: You're welcome! Ridiculous. Where are your manners? Don't even have the courtesy to say thank you when I come in here and buy something.
Me: Thanks?

This man, who can best be described as a little shit, felt that it was the highest insult and impropriety that I didn't thank him the instant he began to pay for a transaction, which we were in the middle of. I was physically still doing the commerce. Never mind that Thanks Yous and Your Welcomes come at the end of an interaction. We aren't posh Brits here. No need to punctuate every physical movement with a My Dear Sir, How Very Kind. When we're done, a single catchall Thank You will suffice. But what the hell am I thanking him for?

Don't get me wrong. When a customer says "Thank you," I usually respond with a "Thank you." But really, "Your welcome" would be fine. I have nothing to thank them for. I am working in a store providing the goods and service. They thank me, because I am doing something for them. This angry, little man did not see it that way. In his mind, he was the one doing for me, by paying for something. I understand that businesses without customers don't last long, but let's not lose sight of the fact that the business is the one doing something for the customer. The grocery store sells butter so we don't have to churn our own. Restaurants prepare and serve food so we don't have to make a sandwich (with ham we didn't have to butcher on bread we didn't have to bake). Taxi drivers take us places so we don't have to drive or even own a car. Businesses and customer service providers are there so customers can avoid doing something, be it harvest our own oranges or die of boredom.

What American capitalism has done to this cranky man who snapped at me, and many other people, is condition them into thinking they are the heroes for spending money. The mindset is "I have to blow my fat paycheck somewhere, who deserves it." This guy wanted to be thanked for letting me even feel his supple currency in my sweaty, hourly wage fingers. He's a shopper. The end all be all. Humans are here to earn money, and he has afforded me that opportunity. I must show the proper reverence.

What he failed to realize is that, one, the single purchase he made isn't going to make or break the store, and two, I don't own the fucking store. I get paid the same whether I have one hundred customers or zero. Yes, zero customers will eventually result in the store closing and a new career path for me, but his purchase didn't get me an extra round at the bar this weekend. I could not care less if he had bought nothing. And the same goes for any big box store employee. Yelp and Facebook is littered with complaints about slights customers feel they suffered at the hands of a cashier, an employee to who didn't respect the fact that someone was spending money. The phrase "I spend good money here" comes to mind. I've had it directed at myself. The hourly employee's paycheck is not affected by one person's purchase (or years of purchases). And one person spending a lot of money doesn't trickle down to me.  The person who does make money off of your loyal patronage probably makes too much money to give a shit about one person's spending habits.

But, we've all been told that, as long as we are spending money, we are always right. We are infallible. We're the goddamned Pope once we enter a store with legal tender. And we aren't. We're just people born into a currency-based economy. The customer is no more right than the hunter-gatherer was. I'm not saying that you shouldn't be treated with respect while you're out shopping, but you don't deserve more respect because you are shopping.

love,

Dennis

Best result from Capitalism Google image search

Dear Diary: A Douche By Any Other Name

Dear Diary,

I've noticed something about people's names. Any dude who has a hoity-toity sounding name is someone I instantly judge. I'm talking about guy whose name makes them sound like the antagonist of an 80's teen comedy. Hunter Chillingsworth. Brooks Haverford. Bryce Harper. Preston Michael Ellsworth. When I hear a name like that, my brain instantly thinks, "Ugh. Really?" As though it's that guy's fault for picking a name that makes him sound like a prep school asshole. It's dumb. It's his parents' fault. I should be thinking, "Ugh. Your parents make poor decisions."

Stan Gable shortened his name from Stanley Gable
in an attempt to correct his parents' poor decision.

It's the whole name that creates the effect. Preston, Bradford, and Ellis on their own do not ooze Pretentious Douchebag. The last name tips the scale. Add Du Pont, Montgomery, or Wattsley after those names and you've got yourself a lacrosse loving, ascot wearing punk. For example, Ellis Jackson sounds like a dude I would want to hang out with. Ellis Du Pont sounds like a seventeen-year-old with strong opinions on unions.

I believe that parents have a responsibility to their children to scrutinize any potential name choice. Adopt the mentality of cruel school children and run that name through the ringer. Game out all potentials insults that could derive from it. Are you a heavy-set person considering naming your son Matthew? He might be called Fat Matt. Thinking of the name Ronald? Your son will be accused of being a fast food clown from the ages of 8 to 16. You can still use these names, but you need to be aware of what's coming down the pike and raise a mentally strong child. And definitely don't hang your kid out to dry by making their name sound like a joke to begin with. If you're last name is Candle, then you shouldn't be naming your son Randall. If your last name is Finger, then the name Amanda is not an option. Kids will always go for the low-hanging fruit. Don't hand it to them.

Which brings us back to names that belong to people who are 27th in line for the British crown. These people's parents either didn't realize that putting a ritzy sounding first name with a ritzy sounding last name would make them sound like stuffy assholes or their parents didn't care. But for some reason my instinct is to be wary of Rutherford Farthington and not his parents. It's not his fault. Maybe that instinct comes from the idea that people are shaped by their names. I don't know how true that is, but would-be insightful internet listicles certainly claim that it's true. I do agree that anyone with a unique name is more likely to have a sarcastic sense of humor due to years of hearing people try and be clever about butchering their name. But are people with pretentious sounding names more likely to be pretentious assbags? Maybe. But we still need to resist the urge to judge the name holder. They didn't make the choice. Their only recourse is shortening the name to something better or trying to force a nickname, which as we all know rarely works.

The real moral is, if you name your son Ambrose he's either going to be in an art rock band or really into investment banking.

love,

Dennis

Dear Diary: Nudism is the True Message of the Creation Myth in Genesis

Dear Diary,

There are a lot of things about religion that don't quite make sense or are just silly. Like heaven being a place where God gives you 72 inexperienced lovers to slay, or God causing earthquakes but getting offended when we don't thank him for killing someone besides us in those earthquakes. When I think of religion it's usually Christianity, because I live in the USA and that's the religion that's constantly up in my grill. If another faith were the dominant denomination my examples and ire would come from it. Judaism keeps a low profile in the states, so it isn't the burden that Christianity can be. There's a reason you don't hear about Torah Thumpers. Still, when I see a person wearing yarmulke I'm reminded that Jews aren't above reproach either. A god overly concerned with fashion is not one I'm slaughtering my lambs for. If you're significant other demanded that you wear a special, tiny hat at all times your friends would ridicule you for complying, and eventually encourage you in earnest to dump this person. Your hypothetical partner has severe issues.

But Jewish Americans aren't making up lies claiming that Ben Franklin intended for our bifocals to be based on Abrahamic tradition, so they aren't the focus of my hot take. That focus is American Christianity. What irks me about Christians is how the interpretations and applications of the Bible seem so easily debunked, while more obvious take-aways are missed. I'm not talking about the contentious verses debated over, such as those concerning homosexuality, where one side argues that Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed because of butt stuff and the other side argues "nu uh, it was because they were bad hosts." This is where I lose the thread of that debate. It is my understanding that gay people throw exceptional dinner parties, and you want me to believe they were inhospitable? Nonetheless, that story seems to have multiple valid interpretations. Making the connection between God bombing a city and the forced anal entry (no one seems to think it might be the rape God is upset with) isn't difficult to understand.

What I am not willing to hear is whatever wrong headed notions you have about the story of Adam and Eve being anything other than an endorsement of the nudist lifestyle. I've read the story a few times thanks to being raised Catholic and having to retake Western Civ. II in college, so I can give you the Spark Notes version of it (because that's the version I read). God created the earth and filled with luscious plants, super cool animals like vegetarian tigers, and two humans. These humans were nude. Their stuff was hanging out in the breeze but they didn't care, because God made them to not care and he made all animals vegetarian, so no awkward mosquito bites. Though, if mosquitoes aren't sucking blood what exactly is the point of mosquitoes? The only other thing they do is fly into ears which helps no one. So, Adam and Eve and every other living animal are lounging around in the Garden of Eden. God says to Adam and Eve, "This is exactly as I had envisioned this project in my mind's eye. You two and the animals living carefree lives, eating all of the plants except for that one. Don't eat the fruit from the tree in middle of the garden."

This is seems like a terrible plan on the surface. Why put the forbidden thing in a central location and not off to the side or some weird corner no one walks past? You wouldn't put a hot stove in the middle of a Chuck. E. Cheese and give a five minute lecture to all the kids about why they should cut loose but definitely don't touch the stove. You're asking for trouble. Kids are dumb. There will be tears and burnt skin. However, God endowed Eve and Adam not only with supreme body positivity but also free will, and since this was his first attempt he wanted to see how well it worked. That's why he puts the pear tree of forbidden enlightenment in the middle of the garden and watched things play out. What good is free will without conflict or temptation? Do you think God was on pins and needles over which stream Adam and Eve were going swimming in today? No. You gotta see that fee will in action.

So, God lays out the grounds rules and leaves them to it. Then the serpent talks to Eve while she's by herself (It's nice that she and Adam weren't smothering each other. You need outside interests.) and persuades her to eat from the forbidden tree. Crazy, right? Apparently God gave free will to the serpent, too. What about the otters in the Garden, did they get free will? I want an otter-centric Bible. If the serpent doesn't have free will, then guess what? God made the serpent tempt Eve and set the serpent up as a fall guy.

 Which is it, biblical scholars? Did God give free will to reptiles or did he make Adam and Eve just to have someone to yell at?

Anyway, Eve is on board with the serpent's plan and eats the fruit. She suddenly realizes that she is naked and is embarrassed that a talking snake with legs has seen her bush. She makes a bikini out of some leaves then goes to Adam to tell him to eat the fruit. Adam has the same "Oh no, my butt's just out there" moment and also makes some leafy briefs.

If I told you to go to your nearest botanical garden and make a pair of shorts, how long would you need? I don't think I could do it in less than 4 hours. There's going to be a lot of trial and error. I don't have experience constructing clothes, but at least I know of the concepts of pants and belts. Adam and Eve had no frame of reference. They didn't just whip up those outfits.

God sees that they're covering their bits and he is shocked. Shocked! at this development. Adam and Eve explain that they are ashamed of their nakedness and wanted to not be so casual. God knows what's up (probably because he made the serpent sabotage them) and dishes out all sorts of horrible punishments before banishing them from the Garden of Eden. The punishments include painful childbirth and death, which implies that painless childbirth and eternal life were on the table.

That's the story. Or the part that I'm concerned with. Big Christianity wants you to think that the moral of the story is humans are inherently bad and prone to go against God's wishes. And maybe we are. I won't argue that that isn't an aspect of the story. But what Big Christianity doesn't want you to think about is how God's original plan was for all of us to be pantsless. Adam and Eve are created feeling no shame at being naked in front of each other or in front of God or the hippos. He left the shame feature out of humans and put it in a fruit bearing tree. Since he's all mighty and all knowing we can assume he didn't forget to put it in Adam and Eve (though he did forget that the serpent was a scheming little so-and-so). The dress code is 100% nudity. After Adam and Eve have eaten the forbidden fruit, the way God knows something is amiss is that they are no longer nude. I'll repeat that: the humans wearing clothes is God's first clue that something bad has happened. In God's perfect world no one is wearing anything.

What's more is that God wasn't thinking there would be only two mature, consenting(?) adult living in the buff. Remember, as punishment he took away painless childbirth and eternal life. If Adam and Eve had toed the line it would have been them and their offspring living in the buff for eternity. Basically, God was founding the first hippie commune. 

Any self-proclaimed Christian who doesn't acknowledge and accept the holy father's freeballing intention for humanity has either never actually read Genesis or only wants to use the Bible to justify his own opinions. Shockingly, almost none do acknowledge this. Quite the opposite in fact. Think of the puritans who sought to cover the human body from neck to toe. They tought God's creation was shameful. They focused on the feeling created by people eating the forbidden fruit. They thought showing your body was shameful, when really it's the opposie. 

Christians also think that Adam and Eve's disobedience marked all of humanity causing us all to be born with Original Sin.This is why babies are baptized, to clear them of the original sin. And when a baby is baptized, what does he have on? A special white outfit. Why not just spit in God's face? The entire reason you have to wash the dirty souls of babies is also what lead to history's first custom fitting (does Adam dress left or right?) and all clothing. And we cover babies in bright, white garments for the ceremony just so God can see that we aren't letting go of the whole body shaming thing. He must love that. The babies should be nude for their baptisms as a sign of capitulation to God's original intent. 

We should all be nude. There's no way around the fact that it was part of the Lord's plan for us all along. And any good Christian will tell you the same. Any Christian not professing the nudist/naturist lifestyle hates God. 

Love,

Dennis

Dear Diary: Wanna Be Your Super Hero

Dear Diary,

I was thinking about the television program Entourage, as I frequently do, while pining for someone to hug it out with. Or someone with whom out I might hug it, if you're a stickler for grammar. One of the fun things that would happen on that show was celebrities would appear as themselves. During the end credits you would see: Guest starring Kanye West as Kanye West, Jessica Alba as Jessica Alba, Gary Busey as Gary Busey, Brooke Shields as Brook Shields. It was a fun treat for the viewers, to be sure, but it also added to the show's already impeccable realism of the Neo-Golden Age Hollywood we currently live in (or near). "Hey, there's Chuck Lidell," you'd think, "appearing as himself, the MMA fighter. Chuck Lidell is an MMA fighter in my universe AND in Vinny, E, Turtle, and Drama's universe. It's like they're gallivanting in the same world in which I'm a corporate cog." It allowed you to become even more absorbed in the gang's hijinks, knowing that they too had a Bob Saget fucking prostitutes with money earned from your Friday night family time.


But there was a twist to this. Entourage would also have well-known actors and actresses playing characters other than themselves. Val Kilmer appeared as The Sherpa, a weed growing hippie guru type. Leighton Meester portrayed Justine Chapin, a pop star who trades in virginal sexuality. In Entourage: The Movie, Billy Bob Thorton and Haley Joel Osment play a father and son duo named Larsen and Travis McCredle. This begs the very obvious question: Do all of the celebrities playing other roles still exist for Vince and the Boys?If Brooke Shields exists in Entourage Land, does Val Kilmer? Does Terrance McQueuwick's existence preclude that of Malcolm McDowell? If so, who was in Clockwork Orange and Caligula in the Entourageverse? When Turtle watches Bad Santa, who is the titular ill-mannered Kris Kringle? Jim Carrey? In Entourage: The Movie, does Vince leave his meeting with Larsen McCredle thinking "Man, he looks just like Billy Bob!"

Does Entourage exist in a universe where some of the celebrities we know don't exist but most of them do? Or in the Entrouageverse is every character played by a real celebrity the identical twin of that celebrity? That's going to be my headcannon. In Entourage Dan Castellaneta's twin brother is the principal at a Hollywood private school.

These are the thoughts that plague me late at night as the minutes slip from my future and my past piles up behind me.

love,
Dennis

p.s. Oh YEAAAAAH! Oh YEAAAAAAAH!

Dear Diary: TV Show climates

Dear Diary,

Look at this shit.

These photos are of the DVD case for a TV series called Brothers & Sisters starring Sally Field, Rob Lowe and Calista Flockhart that aired for - oh my god - FIVE SEASONS! I guess even the poor man's Parenthood can have a good run.

That's not the point. The point is, look at that second picture. Look at that shit. Pops has on a knit sweater over a collared shirt. Peter Parker has on a T-shirt an a faux-army heavy shirt or light jacket. Meanwhile, Long Tall Sally's hooters are peaking over the top of her negligee. That picture exemplifies a problem I have with many glossy TV dramas. What fucking climate are these people in? Someone in that picture is not dressed appropriately. If it's cold enough for a sweater with a shirt underneath, then it's too cold for the pink babydoll dress. If it's warm enough for the dress, then the two guys are too hot. I get that the pretty blonde lady has to show 1/3rd of her breasts to draw in the crowds. But then put the guys in T-shirts.

This happens in a lot shows with vaguely defined settings that reduce the amount of thinking the writers have to do when they're in a pinch. We need to be able to use the LL Bean fall line, so they're definitely in a place that has fall. But not too cold, we don't want to hide everyone in bulky winter coats. Oh, but there should be snow for the winter episodes. It should be small and quaint enough that the town has some kind of festival every season. But it has to have three high schools, so we can have big rivalry football games. I started watching Pretty Little Liars from the beginning, and the main group of girls are extremely concerned with getting a bad reputations. One of their mothers even says "you know how quickly gossip spreads in this town," implying that everyone knows everyone business. Something that only happens in smaller towns. But wherever they are has a mall. Which is it, Pretty Little Liars? Are you in an adorable small town where everyone's up in your shit, or are you in a city that can sustain a Sunglass Hut? You don't get to be both. Same for you Brothers & Sisters. In what climate are those three people wearing those outfits simultaneously? Tell Grandpa and Jimmy Olsen to lose a layer.

love,

Dennis

Dear Diary: Toupee or Not Toupee

Dear Diary,

I have a hairpiece problem. Not my hairpiece. I'm still sporting a full head of hair, but a few years ago, as I my days as a person in his 20s dwindled, I began mentally preparing to go bald. I have a widow's peak hairline, which in middle school got me teased for going bald. But I do kind of look like my hair is receding. It isn't (I swear!), but from time to time I will remind myself that it will. I will be bald. There are old wive's tales that indicate I won't go bald because my mother's father wasn't bald. My dad still has a good head of hair, but his dad was bald for all the parts of my life that I can remember. The point is, that even though the future is a mystery I am bracing for the probable, because I don't want to be mentally unprepared to face the insecurity that physical aging can bring. I'm learning to accept my fate now so I don't freak out and buy a bad rug.

The Donald knows if you're gonna grow old you gotta be tough.

My problem is other people's bad rugs. I don't know the protocol. Do I have to pretend like I'm fooled? What is my responsibility in maintaining the follicle ruse someone else has chosen to perpetrate? Obviously staring is rude and unnecessary. But if it's crooked or out of place do I have to say "Your hair is messed up?" Can I refer to as a hairpiece? I don't see why I should have to play dumb. If I'm able to determine that their hair isn't lying in the manner they probably would not like for it to be, why wouldn't I also be able to discern that it is not growing out of their head.

James Traficant. More like TrafiCan't even!

There was a man I used to see at large, extended-family functions (We were related, or so my mother claimed, I just don't know how) and, in addition to constantly arranging different configurations of family photos, he had an unconvincing, frequently askew wig. (Is there a difference between a wig and a hairpiece?) I always wondered how we, as his family, the people who are supposed to show him love and support even if it's in the form of hard truths, weren't telling him to straighten his 'do. Or better yet take it off and embrace his hairless head. If I'd been wearing a crooked hat or my fly was down someone would have told me. If I'd been wearing one of those radical faux-tattoo arm stockings no one would pretend that I had real tattoos. They would say "what made you decide to wear that?" because I'm from a family of non-confrontational Midwesterners who are too reserved to bust my balls for such a strange fashion choice.

Will he or won't he accept his smooth dome?


I know that everyone should wear what makes them feel comfortable and what allows them to be themselves. But I'm not playing dumb anymore. Wear your wig. If me referring to it as anything other than the luxurious locks nature bestowed upon you is disheartening then you need to work on why losing your hair upsets you and deal with that, or get a better hairpiece. I'm not going to put on a stunned face and tell you it looks so natural. It doesn't. You're fake hair looks weird and I saw it a mile away.

You're clearly trying to fool me with that mess, and it isn't working. Do you know who we pretend to be fooled by? Children. And I don't think I should treat you like a child.

That's cool, right?

Coach Bill Self doing it right. Can't even tell. 

Dear Diary: What Hath I Wrought: My Claim To Fame

Dear Diary,

I've done it! I've finally done it! I've discovered what my lasting contribution to society will be. What Kathy Lee will say about me when she announces my death, right before fumbling through a Waldorf Salad recipe with Jamie Oliver.

I have come up with a new punctuation mark!

Mover over, Interrobang, and make way for the Confidence Modulator(tm).

This handy dandy symbol indicates the sharp rise in pitch that comes when a speaker lacks confidence in the veracity of a statement he or she is making and wishes to indicate as such. The Confidence Modulator is a combination of a question mark (?), representing the questioning nature of the statement, and a caret (^), indicating change in vocal pitch. It can be type on a standard keyboard as ^?. However, the proper symbol is a question mark with a caret replacing the period under the shepherd's cane, as indicated in the picture on the left. I'm no computer graphic font-a-magician, so the digital representation is still pending. However, I think you'll find that the Confidence Modulator is quite useful.



Examples of Use

Jeffery: What time does the motion picture viewing commence?
Rutherford: Seven^?

Congress: And you are confident that Saddam Hussein poses an imminent threat to the United States of America?
Donald R: Yes^?

Miriam: You've been tested, right?
Claudette: Of course.
Miriam: When?
Claudette: Two months ago^?

As you can see, the Confidence Modulator fills a need that has existed for decades, maybe even centuries^?

So, that's my new life's legacy, Diary. Now we just need to spread the word. Or the mark, as it were. People need to know about this. Especially the part where I am the one who invented it. Then I can monetize that notoriety. Big changes are coming for us, Diary.

Yours truly,

Dennis

P.S.

Coming this fall: The Ellipsis of Unfortunate Realization. Perfect for when you wish to express that you have realized, mid-sentence, that what you are saying is either wrong, false, stupid, or going to blow up in your face. Represented by two periods, a colon and an open parentheses   . . : ( the Ellipsis of Unfortunate Realization perfectly indicates a tone that the speaker has just realized that he or she has had a momentary lapse into idiocy.

Example of Use
Judith: Where is Fido?
Benjamin: I let him out in the backyard.
Judith: Oh, I didn't realize you already fixed the gate.
Benjamin: No, the hardware store was closed, ..:( so I haven't yet.

THE ELLIPSIS OF UNFORTUNATE REALIZATION!
FALL 2015!

Dear Diary: Get a Load of This Guy

Dear Diary,

Today, I found a douchebag on the internet. I know, I'm a regular love child of Dora the Explorer and Steve from Blue's Clues. (once Dora is legal. Don't be gross, Diary.)

And before you get judgey about me being so judgey allow me to say that I am trying to be less judgey. A person can't be discerned to be a douchebag from one thing put up on the internet. Everyone should get the benefit of the doubt, and rather than being called a douchebag we should be labelled as a stranger who said/wrote a douchebag thing. It may be a momentary lapse or a comment requiring further context. That's what I would want for myself.

But this guy was a douche. I looked into it after I saw this tweet.

One thing that bugs the crap out of me is when someone telling people that they are using social media incorrectly. This gentleman is telling Metro Rail Info that they shouldn't send promotional tweets onto their own account. STOP USING YOUR TWITTER ACCOUNT IN A MANNER THAT YOU SEE FIT! I WILL TELL YOU HOW TO TWITTER! I assume his brain must be typing on the brain keyboard like I assume they have in the upcoming Disney/Pixar film Herman's Head Except for Kids and It Will Probably Have You Sniveling With Emotion As You Exit the Theater. I hate to go to bat for a metropolitan mass transit social media coordinator, but mind your goddamn business. Is having one in six tweets not be specifically about train functionality affecting your commute in a meaningful way that you feel you should scold the organization for not providing the content you expect from them? (I dunno, Dennis, is reading his tweet worth spending 45 minutes of your evening anxiously typing at a keyboard when you could be doing something productive? Yes, Diary, it is.) 

It would be like if the 49ers sent a congratulatory tweet to the Giants on winning the World Series and I responded, "Please, keep it football related. I don't follow you to hear about baseball." I like the "please" too. You aren't being polite. You're being bossy and nosy. (I called a man bossy. Score one for feminism.)

You see this crap on Tumblr too. (Don't roll your eyes at me, Diary). People calling out others for not following their own moral code for reblogging stuff. Do not reblog my stuff if you're X type of blog. You have to keep my original tags. Do I? Is that in the terms of service? I didn't realize this was nerd baseball* and that I had to follow all of your unwritten rules. I'm pretty sure that if the program I'm using allows me to do something, then it's okay if I do it. If you don't like it then...well, nothing. You just have to deal with your feelings. 

Okay, but how do I know this guy IS a douchebag and didn't just send the tweet OF a douchebag? Allow me to present his twitter bio.

Before, I dig into this assemblage of semicolons and random phrases, one more word about Twitter Comptrollers staying on message:
I want to harass this guy every time he tweets about something that isn't beer and Iceland.

"Just saw The Avett Brothers in concert. So much fun."
"@toolbag. Please don't tweet about concerts unless it is to say what beer you drank at a Sigur Rós show."

The moment I knew that I could never be friends with this person was the moment after I looked up the definition of bon vivant. I had a general idea that it meant foppish nancy-boy. At least that's who I thought used it. You know, people like Oscar Wilde and people he mocked.

Well I was wrong. It means a person who enjoys a sociable and luxurious lifestyle. What a stupid term. Who doesn't enjoy luxury and being social? Ted Kaczynski is who. Do you have to be currently living a sociable and luxurious lifestyle to qualify as a bon vivant? And if you aren't then you're just an aspiring bon vivant. This is the same as saying "I enjoy the finer things in live." No shit? Who doesn't like nicer things? It's an empty self-description. Really? You wouldn't rather have a shittier couch?

You don't learn anything about a person when they tell you that they like sheets with high thread counts and driving sports cars. Everyone enjoys that stuff. You aren't special or interesting. You know who is interesting? A person who says they really like a Sam Adams six-pack while watching their neighbors shoot off fireworks on the Fourth of July. That says something about their personality. It says that person is chill as hell, and I'd rather hang out with them instead someone breaking down where the best caviar comes from. (Is it Iceland?) Because I assume everyone I meet would get a kick out of the high roller's suite at Caesar's Palace and a bottle of Dom.

Identifying as a bon vivant is just a way of admitting that you're fussy and high maintenance. Also, you're doing Twitter wrong.

* I realize that fantasy baseball is the real nerd baseball.

Dear Diary: Ron Grossman's Crankiness Makes Me Cranky

Dear Diary,

I read a stupid thing by an old guy. I'm going to complain about it now.

Ron Grossman penned an article about Starbucks' recent (it's now been a few weeks, but when I wrote the draft of this it was recent. I swear.) point of sale system and how it highlighted Kids These Days' general lack of gumption and boot straps to pull themselves up by. Ron wants you know that it's a damn shame and it shows a lack of moxie. You can read the article here, but all you need to know is that straight up accuses Starbucks baristas of not having moxie. I know. Strong words. This is some old man, get off my lawn bloviation.

The background is that Starbucks suffered a widespread crash of its POS system (what a POS, amirite?), and, as a result, some stores gave away drinks for free while others closed. Ron Grossman wants you to know that isn't how things were done back in his day, which experts estimate to be at least 5 decades ago. Ron used to work at a deli, and once, he couldn't change the receipt paper fast enough and  probably for fear of being beaten with cured meat, his frustrated boss started doing math by hand. Not on regular paper either, but a brown paper sack. Xtra Folksy. Grossman later tells a wistful tale of his boss smacking him with a stick of cured meat.

"When frustrated by me, Mr. Gertzkin would reach for a hard salami hanging over the deli case, holding it like a night stick."

I'd have trouble using fine motor skills to thread a spool of paper into a cash register too if the fear of violence were looming in the back of my mind. But Grossman still blames himself, because he was a young, low-level employee, and the young and low-level are inherently dumb and incompetent. The abusive deli owner is just trying to run a business.

Ron goes on to recount a tale of woe at his local RadioShack. Ron's TV was on the fritz and, seeking an aspiring electrical technician learning the ways of servos and transistors, headed to RadioShack, a business patronized by people who find Best Buy too advanced. But Ron found no whiz kid to fix his rabbit ears. Instead he was met with a clerk as clueless as he. He eventually found a helpful hand at a different RadioShack.

"[M]y interlocutor wasn't an employee but the father of the store's youthful manager. An electronics buff in his youth, he happened to be visiting his daughter."

Ho, ho, ho, what a twist ending.

Ron Grossman's point is that whippersnappers aren't helpful, and yet, nowadays, only whippersnappers are employed at the chain stores that muscled out the Mom and Pop shops. It was those small, locally owned businesses where you found knowledgeable employees who cared about the business. The loss of those places as the norm is a fine thing to lament. But the employees of Starbucks and other chains aren't responsible for that. Consumers, people like you, me and Ron, are. We get what we pay for, and we pay for lower prices and convenience that stand alone stores can't offer. The youthful RadioShack manager didn't hire herself. If you're mad at someone for grabbing the brass ring of RadioShack store manager, then you probably think Monty Burns and the Grinch are misunderstood champions of self-reliance.

So, why is Ron focusing his tongue clicking at baristas forced to wear black and green? He's probably an old crank. And he's probably never had a low-level customer service job for a giant corporation. I've got news for Ron Grossman. The reason that RadioShack employee couldn't offer real help, and the reason the Starbucks employees gave away free drinks, is because they don't give a shit about their employers. Nor should they. They probably aren't paid enough to care that much. National chains run on low-wage employees. One of the reasons Ron cared about that deli he worked in is because he saw and worked along side the owner every day. Do you know who owns the Starbucks currently nearest to you? Of course not. Neither do I. And I'll bet you a sixer of frappuchinos that if you went to that Starbucks every day for a month you'd never see them, because it's someone (or a group of someones) who have never been there. To expect the same level of investment from the bottom rung employees at a Starbucks as employees in a neighborhood deli from yesteryear is idiotic. You know when politicians use that brain dead Main Street/Wall Street analogy? Ron Grossman is the kind of blockhead slapping his armchair saying "It's about damn time!"

Another important factor in the Starbucks Free Drink Fiasco is the fact that the POS system was down. They couldn't take credit cards, which probably account for well over half of transactions. They may even not have been able to open the registers for people who were paying cash. A lot of computerized cash registers are dumb that way. They may have been unable make change. When employees feel like nameless cogs in a machine the odds of them saying "fuck this" when the going gets tough are very high. If anything, this is great publicity for Starbucks. Giving away product when they couldn't take payment and being okay with that (or seeming to be cool with it) makes Starbucks look like a cool company. And they can afford it. If they couldn't then I wouldn't be within walking distance of four of their stores. If they came out and said "Our baristas screwed up and it cost us a lot of money" they would look like a dickbag robber baron from the 1800s, or member of the Walton Family.

To be clear, I've never worked at Starbucks, but I've worked at places where protocol and rules were determined by people I'd never met. Rules about hours and overtime (don't work too much or we'll fire you), training videos with accompanying worksheets, systems to determine what grade of toilet paper can be ordered for employee bathrooms. It's not the same as being taken under the wing of a kindly shop owner.

I don't even know why Ron is taking up for Starbucks. Is he upset that Starbucks lost money because its employees couldn't keep a cool head in a crisis? Or is this just as reason to bemoan kids these days? Either way, Ron needs to get off my lawn.

love,

Dennis

Dear Diary: That Damn Scarf

Dear Diary,

Something I've noticed since being fully immersed in public transportation in a city with people who feel the need to appear hoity toity is that everyone has the same stupid scarf. The tan one with black, white, and red stripes. 

You know the scarf. 

Yeah. This stupid thing. Everyone has it. Men. Women. Animals. I don't understand why so much of the population wants to have the same scarf as everyone else. 

But Dennis, It's April. Spring is elbowing Old Man Winter back into his celestial nursing home until next years doddering ambulations. Soon leaves will be sprouting from trees like hair from the armpits of junior high students. What concern is a scarf to you now, in the time of Day Light Savings? Besides it's from Burberry.

To that I say, shut up, Diary. It's not even a good looking scarf, and I just looked it up and it costs $300. Tell me that isn't the stupidest thing you've ever heard. You can't, because it is. 

That pattern is unattractive. It looks like couch upholstery from the 70s. I'm not willing to debate this. It's objective fact. Which makes it even more confusing that every third person I see on the subway would be wearing this overpriced piece of neckwear that doesn't even look that warm. Are we really so easily influenced by what everyone else buys that we have made a scarf a status symbol? 

Seriously, it's the color of diarrhea.

Love, 

Dennis

Dear Diary: Old People Are Weird About Money

Dear Diary,

Why are old people so weird about money? Not spending or saving it, but physical bills and coins. They have an unhealthy preoccupation with, if given the choice, keeping the currency in the best physical condition and spending that with the most wear and tear. When making a purchase with a full wallet that is always the main concern.

You might think I'm unfairly stereotyping. But I have years of retail experience to back up this claim. I've seen an elderly woman, who owed $4.85, rifle past fives and tens, explaining that, "I'm sure I have a ratty twenty in here. I'll give that to you."  I marked each note she thumbed past mentally, thinking to myself, "give me that one give me that one give me that one give me that one."
I questioned whether this pursuit was the best use of both of our time. It's annoying enough as a cashier to have someone ruin your drawer by breaking a large bill, but to do it for a reason as trivial as the aesthetic appeal of that large bill is especially galling. The twenty she gave me wasn't really even damaged. It was simply wrinkled, weathered and worn from age. Like the woman's own face. Was it's presence in her wallet an affront to the other crisp bills? Does it's appearance remind her that she herself is not what she once was?

A man once dug into his pocket twice in search of a discolored, barely recognizable nickel even though he'd snagged a clean one on the first attempt. Who are these people trying to impress? Do they think Lucius Malfoy is going to see them at the muggle bookstore and accuse them of being a Weasley?

Tatty Dollars?

Even if they are able to curate a crisp and shiny stack of cash it won't last long. The money in our wallets is inherently transient. It's there for us to get rid of. Will they tell their friend or spouse, "You couldn't tell by looking now, but before I went to the dry cleaners my cash was beautiful. It looked like I'd ironed it. Oh, you should have seen it." 

Keep in mind I'm not talking about a five with a rip down the middle. Obviously if you have a bill with legitimate damage then you spend that first. You don't want to be the person who finally tears Abraham asunder. Then you've got two halves of a bill. And sure, you can go to a bank to get a new one, but that's a hassle. The only time I go to the bank is when the bank makes me go for some transaction or bit of business I can't do online or over the phone. It's always a special trip. I'm never near my bank when it's convenient. The only people who still go to the bank are old people. So really, they should be forced to keep the disintegrated bills and muck encrusted coins.

I'm sorry, Ethel, but you know the deal. You go the bank every week anyway because of your distrust of direct deposit and inability to use online account transfers. While you're there just swap out the grungy cash. Now, Ethel, I know you think all of these flimsy bills have been on strippers' behinds and you're probably right, but this is your generations penance for ruing social security by screwing too much after the war. Eisenhower did not tell you to screw like bunnies.

These people are old and need to live with more urgency. Younger people can reasonably expect to be alive for many more decades. It might not play out that way, but the odds are good. But these people are in crunch time. How many minutes a day are you willing to sacrifice to cling to nice looking money? It's all worth the same. Grab some and move on with your day. Don't you have a dying light to rage against?

love,

Dennis