Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Staple diet

A $5 voucher from Staples represents a powerful inducement to shop. At least it does at this stage of my writing career. Three reporters note pads, a whole pack of pens, five blank CD’s, the possibilities are endless. Couple this with another voucher, delivered courtesy of an email inducement, for a free 5 pack of multi-colored gel pens and I made it a point to shop at the Mall, which has a new Staples store.
My mission was simple. Come out with the pens, $5’s worth of other goods and not be tempted into buying anything else.
Within two minutes of entering this Aladdin’s cave of the business, art and school worlds I was sucked in by the video presentation of a Lexmark five-in-one printer, scanner, fax copier, pictbridge (print direct from a compatible digital camera), color, black and white, multi-sheet feeder block of solid grey plastic; only $99.98 after easy rebates of $50. Mmm… multi-sheet scanning, just what my wife needs for all her MBA notes, currently stacked and taking up valuable mystery novel space on the bookshelf. Yeah, I could sell that. A fax too; just what I need to deal with all those highly anticipated book contracts that will need signing urgently to prevent a logjam in cyberspace. Wait. A danger sign. It doesn’t say it uses the feeder for scanning and there’s a big pile of inkjet cartridges on sale at two for $39.99, yielding 200 pages each.
Ok, peace. I have four perfectly fine not-in-ones; laser printer (toner cartridge $59 for 2500 pages), photo printer, scanner (which doubles as a copier) and I can always leave the mystery books piled up on the floor as they have been since January, waiting for some loving attention.
But I could use a new memory card for my camera. It would save me taking my laptop on the plane for downloading the hundreds of pictures I will take of Lake Tahoe, Yosemite, Kings Canyon and Sierra Nevada National Parks. $49 for a gigabyte is a bargain, but that’s for the slow speed version. Ah, this one. $69 for a high speed version. Okay, discipline is required in taking pictures and in spending, find the pens, find something for a $5 and get out.
Pens. Pens, so many pens, but none of the free ones. What a con. What else can I buy? Oh, there they are; $3.99 a pack. The advert said $5.99, but Ok, free is free. Just add some special pens for marking backup DVD's and CD’s for $4.99 and we’re off to the cash desk.
“How is it you are doing?” says the woman behind the desk.
"Fine, thanks and you?"
She scans the first item, my free pens and bags them and then the second item. I hand her the free pens coupon and she starts to read it.
“For what is this?”
“Pens, gel pens.”
She picks up the CD marking pens, rescans them and scans the coupon. The scanner does not work.
“Oh is not working,” she says eying the line of six people behind me.
“No for the gel pens,” I explain. “Here, look, sonix gel pens.”
“Is out of date”
“No, it says that the offer is good until 31/8/2006.”
She picks up the gel pens.
“Ah, these.”
The scanner is not working. Eight people shuffle their feet like a centipede whose Valium is wearing off. I imagine I hear a sigh.
“I type number,” the woman says and proceeds to laboriously read and finger tap the 13 digits. The register blinks, beeps and spits out a receipt for $0.
“No. No. Is not good,” the cashier says, looking at the receipt before realizing that that is exactly what it should say.
She repeats the digit entry from my $5 coupon. Nothing happens.
“Manager, front desk, manager front desk,” she says into a handset. The conga line of 12 people moves their shoulder as well as their feet, no doubt pondering giving up their purchase and searching for an escape route.
“I think it’s this number you need to type in,” I offer, pointing to the one under the bar code. She does and the register repeats its performance and spits out a second receipt, this one demanding 25 cents. The tax, I’d forgotten the tax. Mission failed. I offer her a $20 bill.
She looks at me and across to the line of 15 puzzled people who are now making huffing sorts noises. “I have no change, something smaller please?” she said.
I breathe deeply and shake my head as she reached into a drawer below the counter searching for pennies. I realize that there is still a chance to declare 'mission accomplished'. She finds only 15 cents.
“Ten,” she says and then again, louder “dime.” I wait for an offer from the line behind me, but another checkout has opened up and is moving fast and instead the remaining customers in it move to the new line, unwilling to pay 10 cents to end the ordeal. We look at each other, waiting to see who cracks first. It’s me.
“I have it the car,” I said reaching for the plastic bag. Her hand beat me to it.
“OK, I wait,” she said, now clasping the bag and its contents to her bosom.
By the time I return the new register is closed and all customers dealt with. It is just me and her and I hold out one of the 25 cents I keep in the car for feeding parking meters.
She picks up the handset again and speaks into it.
“Cancel manager front desk. Cancel manager,” booms around the store.
“Have nice day,” she says exchanging the bag for my quarter.

Friday, August 18, 2006

A trick question?

Here's a few more of examples of the defensive nature of some people you meet here on the east coast.

Hard(ware) times.

"How you doing?"
People ask me that all the time, often not listening to the answer, but friendly enough. So I thought I'd do the same at an aging hardware store in Acton, about 20 miles northwest of Boston. The place serviced garden equipment, mowers, ‘weed wackers’, chainsaws, and refilled propane bottles out back in a shed so rickety and full of holes that the wind or a heavy snowfall was more likely to flatten it than a propane explosion.
"How are you doing?" I said to the fit looking man who was tanned, 50-something, dressed in working boots, kaki shorts and a faded blue tee.
"What?"
"How ya doowin?" I asked again broadening my accent in a lame attempt at a 'Bawstn' drawl.
"That's a trick question," the gasman said, taking the container from me.
"No. No tricks here," I said. "I don't ask trick questions." He didn't look up or say a word as he went about filling my 20lb bottle, gauging how full they were by opening the release valve until liquid gas squirted out, hitting his bare leg and evaporating. Fumes filled the shed pushing me further back and re-enforcing his invisible 'no-go' zone.
He took a deep breath, handed me the bottle and oozed, "Mmmm. That's a full one."

Checking out.

"Phew, it's really warm outside," I offered in casual conversation.
"Must be nice to get out there?" the woman cashier in a red Hawaiian shirt replied as if it was my fault our roles were not reversed.
"Yeah, but a bit too hot to do much," I said in an attempt to convey it was better to be packing groceries in an air conditioned shop.
"I went for a bike ride this morning," she said squashing three bananas under a can of organic tomatoes.
"Really, that must've been great." I fiddled with my wallet, extracting an ATM card to pay and paused while I swiped my card. "So where's a good place to bike around here?"
She looked at me with eyes narrowed, as if considering an invitation for a date from the Boston Strangler.
"On bike paths," she said turning to serve the next customer.
"Oh. Thanks," I said and went outside to eat a banana.

I'd be interested to know what you find different from where you're from.

Monday, August 07, 2006

A place to work and play


Rockery Pond at the Ipswich River Wildlife Sanctuary

Today I want to work for the Massachusetts Audubon Society. The idea started with my membership renewal coming due and the realization that I had to find at least $50 to pay for it. At least save a stamp I thought, and renew on line. A five minute task done the pen and snail mail way turned into a two hour perusal of their website at http://www.massaudubon.org/ and for the first time I understood its not all for the birds, although they do provide the main theme for conservation and advocacy. Indeed, it was two women, Minna Hall and Harriet Hemenway, who founded Mass Audubon in 1896 and did so to stop the large-scale slaughter of herons and egrets in the South. Hunters killed the birds solely to provide feathers for women's hats. Hall and Hemenway successfully pressured their contemporaries to shun feathers, reducing demand, and Mass Audubon later advocated for the passage of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918.
If not birds then, what is the focus? Well, land (approximately 31,000 acres of it) plays a very large part in what the Audubon Society seeks to protect which in turn conserves the flora and fauna that thrives on it, including the birds.
So what exactly could I do for them? Full time jobs range from Director of Legislative Affairs located on Beacon Hill to Apprentice Livestock Manager (well for a 1-year period). In between are office jobs, educationalist, camp leaders and travel tour planning, with many roles located at Lincoln's lovely Drumlin Farm.
The Audubon Society appears to be the perfect vehicle for a journey back to the land, a stepping off point to conservation and wilderness work. It would be strange to start the journey of protecting goldfinches on the cultured highbrow slopes of Beacon Hill with its gold-domed State House. I'll mull it for a day, which is what I do with most fancies, and then get back to making a living as a writer.