OK, its been about two weeks since I posted. First off, I am not dead. I have just been rather busy with various things. Secondly, I am working on a big project that I plan to post about, but to do a proper write up, I need to be completed, and I am waiting on a couple of parts to come in. I can assure you it will be informative and entertaining, and worth the wait. The other things I have been working are either not post worthy, or perhaps things I have already posted on before. I have not even experienced any wackiness in a couple weeks that merit postal effort.

I feel bad for making this post with virtually no substance so I will squeeze in one observation I made last night. We went to the grocery store to buy groceries. We usually go on Saturday afternoons, but this week is our annual crawfish boil, so we went on a Friday night instead. We also went to a different grocery store than we usually go to, to mix it up a bit. Anyway, we bought some ice cream sandwiches. Our normal store usually only has our favorite brand in vanilla flavor. The new store had a combo of chocolate and vanilla in the same box, so we went for it. We got home and decided to sample the sandwiches. I opened the box and the sandwiches were flat. It almost appeared as if they had been squished. I inspected the box and did not see any signs of stress whatsoever. upon further inspection, I noticed that some of the ice cream in a couple of the sandwiches had melted to the point where the water content of the ice cream had separated from it, and refroze. So it looked rather disgusting. Apparently, these sandwiches had melted almost completely, then got stuck back in the freezer. This is unacceptable. Luckily, they were on sale, so I got two boxes. I dive head first all off into the other box. Wha...? These are melted too!! Son of a whore! Now what the fuck am I gunna do.

I debated for about 10 minutes on the correct course of action. It would cost maybe a buck, 2 at the most, in gas money to go back to the store. It would easily be 2 more bucks worth of pain in my ass. So that's maybe 4 bucks. The 2 boxes if sandwiches were only 6 bucks total. so I would damn near break even if I just said fuck it, and went back the next day to get some more. I decided instead, to return the sandwiches immediately. I really wanted to eat one, and I didn't want to let "the man" get the upper hand with his oppression this time. We decided to take my gal's more fuel efficient vehicle to return them.

We entered the store and marched right up tot he service desk. no one was behind the counter. I looked around for one of those old school ding bells that you ring for service. No such luck. There was a young man in a store uniform doing something along side the counter on the same side of it as I was. He says "Uh... the service desk is actually closed, it closes at like 8". This immediately made me think two bizarre thoughts. 1. He did not need to use the word 'actually' in that sentence, he could have just said that the service desk "was closed", and 2. he said 'like' 8. Well, maybe to me, 4 is like 8, or 11 is like 8. I glanced at my watch and it was around 10:30. I raised the sack up to his eye level and said "What about my bad ice cream?".

He went on to say that if I just wanted to switch them out, that he approved of the switch out, and that it would be no problem whatsoever, I could just go grab them, and everything would be cool. Wow, he didn't even want to see the receipt. OK, Cool. So I go back and grab two more boxes. This time, I grab two from way at the back. I carry them back to where I left the other ones laying. While approaching the other sandwiches, I see the guy walk out the door. Hmm.

Well, now what? As much as I am a non conformist, I don't want to be accused of shoplifting or anything. Maybe he will be back in a minute. So I commence to popping open the new boxes of sandwiches to make certain that they are not bunk like the last ones. They are 100% primo. Perfect specimens. I stand around for all of 30 seconds waiting for anyone to take take notice, or for the guy to return and I get neither. Fuck it. So I walk out with my sandwiches. We get int he car and start to back out of the spot, and there goes the guy, in his truck, leaving. I guess his shift was over.

Now, in my head, I think about my former sandwiches laying on the service desk melting. The only employee having any idea of why they were there had just left. So tomorrow morning perhaps someone see a large pile of nasty goo on the service desk. They wonder why they are there. I know its unrealistic, but in my head at this point, they review some sort of magic security tape to see how they got there. They see me walk in and set them down, bring up two more boxes, open them, pour them out on the counter, stuff them back in the box, then leave, and they are mystified for weeks.

OK, so whats the point? None, really, I told you I didn't have anything solid to post on. I guess the point of the amazingly boring anecdote is just that customer service isn't what it used be. These young kids don't give a shit about anything except beer and poontang. But can you blame them? I can't. I used to be them. Now I am still them, but beer and poontang are a hell of a lot easier to come by, so I have time to ponder customer service.

VAGINA