Mar-A-Lago Raid

I will say this and only this: they better find something. Because if they don't, then this is very bad business. Very bad indeed.

No Yankee

One of the key things in talking to Mom these days are to ask questions which stimulate her mind, which make her think. Consequently, I try to get her to reflect on her life.

Yesterday on our usual Sunday drive we went out about 90 miles southwest of Detroit, into a heavily farmed area of Michigan. Seeing the tall corn, I asked, "Did you guys have corn on the farm?"

"Oh yes," she answered. "I shucked corn until I was sick of it. But we all had to work back then." Mom went on to talk about those childhood memories.

"Those look like bean plants," I remarked about another field.

"Them's snap beans," she said, explaining how once they were picked, you would snap the dry beans into smaller pieces to cook and can for the winter. "Mom had to can a lot of beans so we'd have food in the winter."

It's fun to hear her talk, and I genuinely like it. But after awhile I couldn't help but tease Mom a bit. "You ever thought, growing up as a young girl in North Carolina, you'd end up a Yankee?"

She paused, soon saying quietly, "No, I can't say as I ever considered that." Mom became silent. Hmm, I thought, that didn't get the reaction I expected. 

She was only working up to her real point. After a few seconds she said emphatically, "I may have lived most of my life in Yankee territory, but I ain't and never will be no Yankee!"

American by birth, Southern by the grace of God, that's me Mom.

1

I was in my senior year of high school when he made his debut. When he hung up his spikes, I was a 35 year old family man. Yesterday, twenty seven years later, I watched his number 1 retired by the Detroit Tigers. Lou Whitaker deserves it.

He deserves more. He should be in the baseball Hall of Fame. Hopefully that will be taken care of in 2023, when his selection is next possible. 

Sweet Lou. I'm happy you're finally getting the accolades you truly merit.

Cloyce on the Upsell

I have a dear old friend, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who once managed a video game store. One of the things he had to do was upsell; that is, encourage customers to buy more than they were actually looking to purchase. That's fine in my book, so far as it goes, if you don't push too hard and the buyer might have an actual need.

The company published a monthly, in house magazine which offered gameplay tips. Cloyce was supposed to ask each customer if they would like to buy a subscription, selling it on the admittedly obvious value it might have to a gamer. Again, that's all right so far as it goes.

A grandmother came in a bit before Christmas one year, a woman in her seventies, Cloyce guessed, who wanted to buy a video game for her 13 year old grandson. She told Cloyce what system the kid had, but had no idea what games there were or what they were about. Indeed, she only knew the system type because she asked the kid's parents what he had. Cloyce suggested a new game very popular with that age group, which she bought and left.

It happened that the area manager was in the store that day. "Why didn't you try to sell her a subscription to Fantastic Amazing Video Game Monthly, Cloyce?" he asked.

"She's not a gamer. She's a Grandma buying a gift," Cloyce mildly protested.

"You should have tried. It's policy," the guy demanded.

Cloyce disagreed. I'm with him. He's long quit that job, and that was one of the reasons.

Cheap Isn't Always Good

Contrary to my reputation I am not cheap. I may be frugal. Me Grandma Cosgriff's Scotness may sometimes rise within me (I can hear her saying, quietly but simply, 'I won't pay it', if she thought a price too high) and cause me not to buy something. But I don't actually mind spending more money when it's necessary.

Gas prices are bad and we ought to be upset with them, because they don't need to be what they've been lately (over $5 a gallon, as most of you know). But I have to drive for my job, so I may as well not fret it too much. There's a point at which you just have to pay and move on. You can and should express your anger in other ways and through other forums. As to the day in and day out of life, well, it is what it is and you just gotta deal with it.

Then, too, some things aren't worth a cheaper price. I will never buy dollar store razors again: all they do is scratch and pull and leave you with a styptic pencil chasing the small cuts appearing on your face as though you're trying to corral cats. If you simply want plastic tumblers for everyday use, go to the dollar store. But spend a bit extra on your shaving needs.

Don't be going too far the other way either. I have friends who believe that if they're not paying top dollar they're not getting quality products and service. They don't consider that some companies have a 'marketing plan' predicated on the upsell. Try not to fall for that.

There's my advice today on personal economics. Use this power wisely. Now excuse me as I go out to buy razor blades.

Who Needs Sleep

We are certainly in the dog days of summer, aren't we? Heat and humidity and stickiness abound, and none of it comfortable. Yet that could not keep me from falling asleep at my desk at hot, humid Shop the other day.

That has actually happened quite a bit over the years at work. When you're hot and sticky at home, you can't sleep. Add the dirt and grime which you naturally pick up while working and it just doesn't seem as though a guy could relax enough to drift off. But sure enough, my head slipped onto my chest that day and I was out. My ringing cell phone woke me about fifteen minutes later.

I remember it happening forty years ago. We'd be working and take a break and bam, me Grandpa Joe is saying let's get back at it. But we only just stopped! 

Anyway, I don't get it. Hot and sticky at home, can't sleep. Hot, sticky, and dirty at work, dozing like a baby. Life makes no sense sometimes.

Better to Vote, But...

Tomorrow is a primary election day here in Michigan, and I will dutifully cast my vote. Yet the older I get, the less certain I am of its value.

To begin with, there's a degree to which democracy is simply the tyranny of the majority. Too many people want everybody else's money, time, and effort spent on what they believe important. Those folks are all too ready to force their will on the fifty percent minus one. That's arrogance, and insults basic human dignity. 

Generally speaking, we can and should do for ourselves, and are decent enough on our own to help those who can't. We need to put clamps on government power rather than give it further release. Voting I sometimes fear merely feeds the beast while giving it legitimacy. Legitimacy to do anything it chooses. At the risk of understatement, that's fraught with peril.

Then there's all these people more than willing to 'sacrifice' for us. I am increasingly skeptical of the integrity of anyone who actually wants to be a politician. What makes you so great that you can solve all what ails us? 

At the heart of it, I can't escape the idea that the great majority of people who want to be politicians are at heart narcissists. To be sure, the depth of that will vary from person to person. Some will be better than others, but circumstance works against them all. I'm not sure it's possible for anyone to be completely selfless enough (or forceful enough) to serve the populace in full objectivity.

So I'll vote, and hope and pray for the best. It's all I've got, and it is a bit of neglecting duty to not cast a ballot. Still, it's a shame that all too often my vote is cast while holding my nose, and fearing my neighbor.