As I get older I feel as if I am becoming a crank. Maybe it's my patience level going lower, maybe it's the attitude of those in the service industry, or a combination of both.
Is it too much to ask for a little eye contact and, uh say, conversation when I am handing over my money at the check out counter. I may be better off asking for change on the corner. Nope, what I get is someone with more attitude than most divas. My favorite is happy saggy britches with his poo stained boxers showing talking on his cell phone while ringing up my groceries. That guy should get the employee of the month award for excellent customer service.
Ok...It's official, I am a crank.
So the other day I pulled into a small gas station with my large truck. Being a large truck it has a unique cloaking ability. Apparently my parking where I did, filling up my truck (lots of fuel by the way) had blocked the view of the clerk. After I filled up my truck I went inside to get a drink, an action that involved spending yet more money. As I got to the counter the clerk didn't say hi. Nope, she didn't welcome me, not even a “how may I help you?”. What I got was, “The next time you come here don't park there. I can't see the other pumps.”
Ok, so my truck is too big. You can't see the pumps I get that. What would that matter in the land of pre pay pumps? I just spent over $70.00 in gas and way too much for a Gatorade. No, “thank you come again”. Instead I get attitude for parking my truck in your view of the pumps.
That gas station, along with the grocery store down the street, and every other store within a 10 mile radius has made the list of stores boycotted.
I know that I may not make a dent in their revenue. I don't really care. No, if I stay within my shallow pool I can fool myself into feeling as if I am.
I may be becoming a crank......
Saturday, June 19, 2010
I'm a Crank....
As I get older I feel as if I am becoming a crank. Maybe it's my patience level going lower, maybe it's the attitude of those in the service industry, or a combination of both.
Is it too much to ask for a little eye contact and, uh say, conversation when I am handing over my money at the check out counter. I may be better off asking for change on the corner. Nope, what I get is someone with more attitude than most divas. My favorite is happy saggy britches with his poo stained boxers showing talking on his cell phone while ringing up my groceries. That guy should get the employee of the month award for excellent customer service.
Ok...It's official, I am a crank.
So the other day I pulled into a small gas station with my large truck. Being a large truck it has a unique cloaking ability. Apparently my parking where I did, filling up my truck (lots of fuel by the way) had blocked the view of the clerk. After I filled up my truck I went inside to get a drink, an action that involved spending yet more money. As I got to the counter the clerk didn't say hi. Nope, she didn't welcome me, not even a “how may I help you?”. What I got was, “The next time you come here don't park there. I can't see the other pumps.”
Ok, so my truck is too big. You can't see the pumps I get that. What would that matter in the land of pre pay pumps? I just spent over $70.00 in gas and way too much for a Gatorade. No, “thank you come again”. Instead I get attitude for parking my truck in your view of the pumps.
That gas station, along with the grocery store down the street, and every other store within a 10 mile radius has made the list of stores boycotted.
I know that I may not make a dent in their revenue. I don't really care. No, if I stay within my shallow pool I can fool myself into feeling as if I am.
I may be becoming a crank......
Is it too much to ask for a little eye contact and, uh say, conversation when I am handing over my money at the check out counter. I may be better off asking for change on the corner. Nope, what I get is someone with more attitude than most divas. My favorite is happy saggy britches with his poo stained boxers showing talking on his cell phone while ringing up my groceries. That guy should get the employee of the month award for excellent customer service.
Ok...It's official, I am a crank.
So the other day I pulled into a small gas station with my large truck. Being a large truck it has a unique cloaking ability. Apparently my parking where I did, filling up my truck (lots of fuel by the way) had blocked the view of the clerk. After I filled up my truck I went inside to get a drink, an action that involved spending yet more money. As I got to the counter the clerk didn't say hi. Nope, she didn't welcome me, not even a “how may I help you?”. What I got was, “The next time you come here don't park there. I can't see the other pumps.”
Ok, so my truck is too big. You can't see the pumps I get that. What would that matter in the land of pre pay pumps? I just spent over $70.00 in gas and way too much for a Gatorade. No, “thank you come again”. Instead I get attitude for parking my truck in your view of the pumps.
That gas station, along with the grocery store down the street, and every other store within a 10 mile radius has made the list of stores boycotted.
I know that I may not make a dent in their revenue. I don't really care. No, if I stay within my shallow pool I can fool myself into feeling as if I am.
I may be becoming a crank......
Re: Post
The following is a repost of an old post, hence the name repost.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
We moved to California when I was eight. My mom said it was to be closer to my dad who had moved there with his new family. I wanted to think she missed my dad, and was going there to get him back. Before that we were living in Des Moines Iowa.
I liked Des Moines. It had all that I had known to that point in my life.
I liked California also. I still do. I’m not too sure about Des Moines though.
We had visited my dad earlier that year. I did a lot that year. I flew in a jet for the first time in my life (something that I still get excited about). I went to Disneyland. This was when they still had ticketed rides, I had a few left over and saved them in a shoe box of important stuff (stuff that is important to eight year old boys). My brother, Andy and I rode our wagon down a 16% grade hill (at least it looked that steep), and survived! I also got to ride in the back of a red 74 Volkswagen Bug. I think it took us four days to get from Des Moines to Orange County, California. It was a fun ride for us kids. It was fun for our Siamese cat, at least he didn’t seem to mind it. I don’t think it was fun for my mom. I don’t know why?
When we got there we had no place to live. We stayed in a motel for two weeks while my mom looked for a place. What little stuff we had moved, was sitting in the moving company storage. Mom found a place in Stanton. The first night there we slept on the floor. On the next day, our furniture was delivered. Andy and I were disappointed to see that the guys delivering our stuff were different than the guys that loaded it in Des Moines. It wasn’t that we had become attached to them, or anything like that. We just wanted to see the fat guy with the plumber’s crack. At that age seeing a fat man’s butt crack peek out from his belt line is funny.
Come to think of it, at forty, it still is. I think I’ll call Andy and see if he still thinks it’s funny.
Somehow, I did not notice that my mom had sold our beds in Des Moines. We slept on the floor for about a year. Then we got mats.
We were camping. At least that is what my mom would tell us when we got discouraged, which wasn’t often. Discouragement usually came after visiting our friend’s, and seeing their bedrooms full of all sorts of stuff, including a bed.
One friend, Patrick, had a stool in his room that was made from a elephant foot. For one brief moment I wanted that stool instead of a bed.
Life seemed a lot simpler back then, and it was. We didn’t have much. We didn’t expect much. We had a few channels to chose from, so sitting around, watching TV was not that fun. We spent most of our time outside. We would run around our neighborhood, looking for things to do. Sometimes we would play baseball, ride bikes and skateboard. Sometimes we would throw dirt clods at each other. Sometimes we would go over to Eck’s house. Eck was around eighty. His face was full of deep lines, gray stubble and chewing tobacco spittle. Eck was a good guy. We would do things that I know had to aggravate him, but he never let on. The only time that he would raise his voice was when one of us would reach down to pick up one of the many discarded chewing tobacco plugs. I guess we thought that they were dark dirt clods.
It seems that life for kids is much harder. I remember that our parents used to say that things were easier for us when we were growing up. They were right. Kids are too serious now. I had to take the Gameboy from my kids because of the intense moods the games would create. Little kids are not supposed to have high blood pressure. I overheard other kids talking about designer clothes and the latest gadget they are going to get. I am constantly shocked when Chas and I try to buy clothes for our daughter. What ever happened to cute little outfits that covered the entire body? My nine year old does not need to expose her midriff to be cool. I just want my little girl to be a little girl.
The next time you go out to a mall or store, pay attention to the conversations between parents and children. Kids are not settling for second best or nothing. Advertisers know this too. They target the minds of kids. As a result, parents will give in just to quiet their screaming kids.
We recently got rid of cable, limited the video game play and started making the kids play outside. I look out the window to check on them. I noticed that they were using things that they found around the neighborhood to play with. Mostly sticks and rocks, but they were playing. Sticks and rocks are cheap.
I wonder if I can get away with selling their beds?
Peace and God Bless,
Chuck
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
We moved to California when I was eight. My mom said it was to be closer to my dad who had moved there with his new family. I wanted to think she missed my dad, and was going there to get him back. Before that we were living in Des Moines Iowa.
I liked Des Moines. It had all that I had known to that point in my life.
I liked California also. I still do. I’m not too sure about Des Moines though.
We had visited my dad earlier that year. I did a lot that year. I flew in a jet for the first time in my life (something that I still get excited about). I went to Disneyland. This was when they still had ticketed rides, I had a few left over and saved them in a shoe box of important stuff (stuff that is important to eight year old boys). My brother, Andy and I rode our wagon down a 16% grade hill (at least it looked that steep), and survived! I also got to ride in the back of a red 74 Volkswagen Bug. I think it took us four days to get from Des Moines to Orange County, California. It was a fun ride for us kids. It was fun for our Siamese cat, at least he didn’t seem to mind it. I don’t think it was fun for my mom. I don’t know why?
When we got there we had no place to live. We stayed in a motel for two weeks while my mom looked for a place. What little stuff we had moved, was sitting in the moving company storage. Mom found a place in Stanton. The first night there we slept on the floor. On the next day, our furniture was delivered. Andy and I were disappointed to see that the guys delivering our stuff were different than the guys that loaded it in Des Moines. It wasn’t that we had become attached to them, or anything like that. We just wanted to see the fat guy with the plumber’s crack. At that age seeing a fat man’s butt crack peek out from his belt line is funny.
Come to think of it, at forty, it still is. I think I’ll call Andy and see if he still thinks it’s funny.
Somehow, I did not notice that my mom had sold our beds in Des Moines. We slept on the floor for about a year. Then we got mats.
We were camping. At least that is what my mom would tell us when we got discouraged, which wasn’t often. Discouragement usually came after visiting our friend’s, and seeing their bedrooms full of all sorts of stuff, including a bed.
One friend, Patrick, had a stool in his room that was made from a elephant foot. For one brief moment I wanted that stool instead of a bed.
Life seemed a lot simpler back then, and it was. We didn’t have much. We didn’t expect much. We had a few channels to chose from, so sitting around, watching TV was not that fun. We spent most of our time outside. We would run around our neighborhood, looking for things to do. Sometimes we would play baseball, ride bikes and skateboard. Sometimes we would throw dirt clods at each other. Sometimes we would go over to Eck’s house. Eck was around eighty. His face was full of deep lines, gray stubble and chewing tobacco spittle. Eck was a good guy. We would do things that I know had to aggravate him, but he never let on. The only time that he would raise his voice was when one of us would reach down to pick up one of the many discarded chewing tobacco plugs. I guess we thought that they were dark dirt clods.
It seems that life for kids is much harder. I remember that our parents used to say that things were easier for us when we were growing up. They were right. Kids are too serious now. I had to take the Gameboy from my kids because of the intense moods the games would create. Little kids are not supposed to have high blood pressure. I overheard other kids talking about designer clothes and the latest gadget they are going to get. I am constantly shocked when Chas and I try to buy clothes for our daughter. What ever happened to cute little outfits that covered the entire body? My nine year old does not need to expose her midriff to be cool. I just want my little girl to be a little girl.
The next time you go out to a mall or store, pay attention to the conversations between parents and children. Kids are not settling for second best or nothing. Advertisers know this too. They target the minds of kids. As a result, parents will give in just to quiet their screaming kids.
We recently got rid of cable, limited the video game play and started making the kids play outside. I look out the window to check on them. I noticed that they were using things that they found around the neighborhood to play with. Mostly sticks and rocks, but they were playing. Sticks and rocks are cheap.
I wonder if I can get away with selling their beds?
Peace and God Bless,
Chuck
Re: Post
The following is a repost of an old post, hence the name repost.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
We moved to California when I was eight. My mom said it was to be closer to my dad who had moved there with his new family. I wanted to think she missed my dad, and was going there to get him back. Before that we were living in Des Moines Iowa.
I liked Des Moines. It had all that I had known to that point in my life.
I liked California also. I still do. I’m not too sure about Des Moines though.
We had visited my dad earlier that year. I did a lot that year. I flew in a jet for the first time in my life (something that I still get excited about). I went to Disneyland. This was when they still had ticketed rides, I had a few left over and saved them in a shoe box of important stuff (stuff that is important to eight year old boys). My brother, Andy and I rode our wagon down a 16% grade hill (at least it looked that steep), and survived! I also got to ride in the back of a red 74 Volkswagen Bug. I think it took us four days to get from Des Moines to Orange County, California. It was a fun ride for us kids. It was fun for our Siamese cat, at least he didn’t seem to mind it. I don’t think it was fun for my mom. I don’t know why?
When we got there we had no place to live. We stayed in a motel for two weeks while my mom looked for a place. What little stuff we had moved, was sitting in the moving company storage. Mom found a place in Stanton. The first night there we slept on the floor. On the next day, our furniture was delivered. Andy and I were disappointed to see that the guys delivering our stuff were different than the guys that loaded it in Des Moines. It wasn’t that we had become attached to them, or anything like that. We just wanted to see the fat guy with the plumber’s crack. At that age seeing a fat man’s butt crack peek out from his belt line is funny.
Come to think of it, at forty, it still is. I think I’ll call Andy and see if he still thinks it’s funny.
Somehow, I did not notice that my mom had sold our beds in Des Moines. We slept on the floor for about a year. Then we got mats.
We were camping. At least that is what my mom would tell us when we got discouraged, which wasn’t often. Discouragement usually came after visiting our friend’s, and seeing their bedrooms full of all sorts of stuff, including a bed.
One friend, Patrick, had a stool in his room that was made from a elephant foot. For one brief moment I wanted that stool instead of a bed.
Life seemed a lot simpler back then, and it was. We didn’t have much. We didn’t expect much. We had a few channels to chose from, so sitting around, watching TV was not that fun. We spent most of our time outside. We would run around our neighborhood, looking for things to do. Sometimes we would play baseball, ride bikes and skateboard. Sometimes we would throw dirt clods at each other. Sometimes we would go over to Eck’s house. Eck was around eighty. His face was full of deep lines, gray stubble and chewing tobacco spittle. Eck was a good guy. We would do things that I know had to aggravate him, but he never let on. The only time that he would raise his voice was when one of us would reach down to pick up one of the many discarded chewing tobacco plugs. I guess we thought that they were dark dirt clods.
It seems that life for kids is much harder. I remember that our parents used to say that things were easier for us when we were growing up. They were right. Kids are too serious now. I had to take the Gameboy from my kids because of the intense moods the games would create. Little kids are not supposed to have high blood pressure. I overheard other kids talking about designer clothes and the latest gadget they are going to get. I am constantly shocked when Chas and I try to buy clothes for our daughter. What ever happened to cute little outfits that covered the entire body? My nine year old does not need to expose her midriff to be cool. I just want my little girl to be a little girl.
The next time you go out to a mall or store, pay attention to the conversations between parents and children. Kids are not settling for second best or nothing. Advertisers know this too. They target the minds of kids. As a result, parents will give in just to quiet their screaming kids.
We recently got rid of cable, limited the video game play and started making the kids play outside. I look out the window to check on them. I noticed that they were using things that they found around the neighborhood to play with. Mostly sticks and rocks, but they were playing. Sticks and rocks are cheap.
I wonder if I can get away with selling their beds?
Peace and God Bless,
Chuck
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
We moved to California when I was eight. My mom said it was to be closer to my dad who had moved there with his new family. I wanted to think she missed my dad, and was going there to get him back. Before that we were living in Des Moines Iowa.
I liked Des Moines. It had all that I had known to that point in my life.
I liked California also. I still do. I’m not too sure about Des Moines though.
We had visited my dad earlier that year. I did a lot that year. I flew in a jet for the first time in my life (something that I still get excited about). I went to Disneyland. This was when they still had ticketed rides, I had a few left over and saved them in a shoe box of important stuff (stuff that is important to eight year old boys). My brother, Andy and I rode our wagon down a 16% grade hill (at least it looked that steep), and survived! I also got to ride in the back of a red 74 Volkswagen Bug. I think it took us four days to get from Des Moines to Orange County, California. It was a fun ride for us kids. It was fun for our Siamese cat, at least he didn’t seem to mind it. I don’t think it was fun for my mom. I don’t know why?
When we got there we had no place to live. We stayed in a motel for two weeks while my mom looked for a place. What little stuff we had moved, was sitting in the moving company storage. Mom found a place in Stanton. The first night there we slept on the floor. On the next day, our furniture was delivered. Andy and I were disappointed to see that the guys delivering our stuff were different than the guys that loaded it in Des Moines. It wasn’t that we had become attached to them, or anything like that. We just wanted to see the fat guy with the plumber’s crack. At that age seeing a fat man’s butt crack peek out from his belt line is funny.
Come to think of it, at forty, it still is. I think I’ll call Andy and see if he still thinks it’s funny.
Somehow, I did not notice that my mom had sold our beds in Des Moines. We slept on the floor for about a year. Then we got mats.
We were camping. At least that is what my mom would tell us when we got discouraged, which wasn’t often. Discouragement usually came after visiting our friend’s, and seeing their bedrooms full of all sorts of stuff, including a bed.
One friend, Patrick, had a stool in his room that was made from a elephant foot. For one brief moment I wanted that stool instead of a bed.
Life seemed a lot simpler back then, and it was. We didn’t have much. We didn’t expect much. We had a few channels to chose from, so sitting around, watching TV was not that fun. We spent most of our time outside. We would run around our neighborhood, looking for things to do. Sometimes we would play baseball, ride bikes and skateboard. Sometimes we would throw dirt clods at each other. Sometimes we would go over to Eck’s house. Eck was around eighty. His face was full of deep lines, gray stubble and chewing tobacco spittle. Eck was a good guy. We would do things that I know had to aggravate him, but he never let on. The only time that he would raise his voice was when one of us would reach down to pick up one of the many discarded chewing tobacco plugs. I guess we thought that they were dark dirt clods.
It seems that life for kids is much harder. I remember that our parents used to say that things were easier for us when we were growing up. They were right. Kids are too serious now. I had to take the Gameboy from my kids because of the intense moods the games would create. Little kids are not supposed to have high blood pressure. I overheard other kids talking about designer clothes and the latest gadget they are going to get. I am constantly shocked when Chas and I try to buy clothes for our daughter. What ever happened to cute little outfits that covered the entire body? My nine year old does not need to expose her midriff to be cool. I just want my little girl to be a little girl.
The next time you go out to a mall or store, pay attention to the conversations between parents and children. Kids are not settling for second best or nothing. Advertisers know this too. They target the minds of kids. As a result, parents will give in just to quiet their screaming kids.
We recently got rid of cable, limited the video game play and started making the kids play outside. I look out the window to check on them. I noticed that they were using things that they found around the neighborhood to play with. Mostly sticks and rocks, but they were playing. Sticks and rocks are cheap.
I wonder if I can get away with selling their beds?
Peace and God Bless,
Chuck
Saturday, April 03, 2010
Thoughts While in the McDonald's Drive Thru
The other day I was hungry. It was around noon so this was not too odd. What was odd was that I found myself in a rather long line at a McDonald's drive thru. I had time....lots of time. I did my usual playing with the phone routine, checking email and Facebook updates that remarkably hadn't changed in five minutes.. I looked in my rear view mirror and caught the guy behind me with his index finger two joints deep into his nose. “Must have a deviated septum.” I thought. This continued car length after car length until I finally reached the menu board.
Over the years I have noticed the ever changing appearance of the American drive thru. Especially McDonald's. McDonald's hires the best marketing geniuses to bring us such culinary delights like the Chicken McNugget, Double Quarter Pounder, the Dollar Menu and the Mc DLT. That last one came from the the same guys who brought us “New Coke”. What they brought to the table after being fired from Coke was an innate ability to be out of touch with just about every living person on the planet. They were last seen walking out of Microsoft headquarters carrying pink slips for bringing the world Vista. Apparently they make rounds through corporate America forcing their marketing blunders where ever they go.
My first suspicion came when I finally reached the speaker and was greeted, not by a human voice, but by a pre-recorded message asking if I would be interested in whatever the deal of the day was followed by, “Order when ready.”
What the heck was that? I thought, as I proceeded to order.
“I'll have a number three meal with a Coke, and that's all.”
I must say that it was pure genius for McDonald's to steal the Chinese menu method. This must shave at least three seconds off a typical drive thru order. They lose that advantage with what happened next.
The voice on the other end, a human one this time, repeated my order, and then asked if I would be interested in a McFlurry or apple pie. Note that I ended my order with, “...and that's all.” I do this deliberately. You see, I am trying to speed this up as much as they are. I figure if I use little cues like that then maybe they will pick up on that and save me from telling them no when they ask if I would like something else. Really, I had plenty of time to decide what I wanted to order, if I wanted something else I would have ordered it before I said, “...and that's all.” Unfortunately they still ask and each time that is three seconds I will never get back....So it goes..
There used to be a day when you would pull up to the speaker at the drive thru and you were greeted by a sometimes friendly voice. You would then place your order. They would repeat it back to you with your total and you were done. What was missing was the impersonal automated recorded sales pitch for something you never gave any thought to, and the feeling that one gets when approached by a used car salesman.
I think what bothered me most about the whole experience was that my first encounter was with a machine. It was the same frustration I feel when I try to call any business these days. Rarely are we greeted by a human voice anymore. Usually we are picked up at the third ring by an automated voice answering system that runs us through a list of options to get us to yet another automated voice with it's own set of options, and so on, and so on, etc, yada yada hey.
Over the years we have lost a connectedness that, at times, I think, we will never get back. Texting has replaced phone calls. Most social interaction can be done from the comfort of our home through social networks like Facebook and Myspace. These tools are great. I use them like everyone else and have caught up with people that I lost contact with over twenty years ago. They are great ways to keep in touch, but we need real connections as well. You can't share a meal with someone on Myspace. You can't receive a hug on Facebook, though they do have that poke feature that creeps me out. C'mon, why would something that would get you punched in the real world be acceptable in the cyber world?
I left that McDonald's drive thru with a number three and a Coke, and a whole lot of unresolved issues with the direction society is going.
Maybe I would have been better if I just watched the guy pick his nose a little longer.
It is what it is......
Thoughts While in the McDonald's Drive Thru
The other day I was hungry. It was around noon so this was not too odd. What was odd was that I found myself in a rather long line at a McDonald's drive thru. I had time....lots of time. I did my usual playing with the phone routine, checking email and Facebook updates that remarkably hadn't changed in five minutes.. I looked in my rear view mirror and caught the guy behind me with his index finger two joints deep into his nose. “Must have a deviated septum.” I thought. This continued car length after car length until I finally reached the menu board.
Over the years I have noticed the ever changing appearance of the American drive thru. Especially McDonald's. McDonald's hires the best marketing geniuses to bring us such culinary delights like the Chicken McNugget, Double Quarter Pounder, the Dollar Menu and the Mc DLT. That last one came from the the same guys who brought us “New Coke”. What they brought to the table after being fired from Coke was an innate ability to be out of touch with just about every living person on the planet. They were last seen walking out of Microsoft headquarters carrying pink slips for bringing the world Vista. Apparently they make rounds through corporate America forcing their marketing blunders where ever they go.
My first suspicion came when I finally reached the speaker and was greeted, not by a human voice, but by a pre-recorded message asking if I would be interested in whatever the deal of the day was followed by, “Order when ready.”
What the heck was that? I thought, as I proceeded to order.
“I'll have a number three meal with a Coke, and that's all.”
I must say that it was pure genius for McDonald's to steal the Chinese menu method. This must shave at least three seconds off a typical drive thru order. They lose that advantage with what happened next.
The voice on the other end, a human one this time, repeated my order, and then asked if I would be interested in a McFlurry or apple pie. Note that I ended my order with, “...and that's all.” I do this deliberately. You see, I am trying to speed this up as much as they are. I figure if I use little cues like that then maybe they will pick up on that and save me from telling them no when they ask if I would like something else. Really, I had plenty of time to decide what I wanted to order, if I wanted something else I would have ordered it before I said, “...and that's all.” Unfortunately they still ask and each time that is three seconds I will never get back....So it goes..
There used to be a day when you would pull up to the speaker at the drive thru and you were greeted by a sometimes friendly voice. You would then place your order. They would repeat it back to you with your total and you were done. What was missing was the impersonal automated recorded sales pitch for something you never gave any thought to, and the feeling that one gets when approached by a used car salesman.
I think what bothered me most about the whole experience was that my first encounter was with a machine. It was the same frustration I feel when I try to call any business these days. Rarely are we greeted by a human voice anymore. Usually we are picked up at the third ring by an automated voice answering system that runs us through a list of options to get us to yet another automated voice with it's own set of options, and so on, and so on, etc, yada yada hey.
Over the years we have lost a connectedness that, at times, I think, we will never get back. Texting has replaced phone calls. Most social interaction can be done from the comfort of our home through social networks like Facebook and Myspace. These tools are great. I use them like everyone else and have caught up with people that I lost contact with over twenty years ago. They are great ways to keep in touch, but we need real connections as well. You can't share a meal with someone on Myspace. You can't receive a hug on Facebook, though they do have that poke feature that creeps me out. C'mon, why would something that would get you punched in the real world be acceptable in the cyber world?
I left that McDonald's drive thru with a number three and a Coke, and a whole lot of unresolved issues with the direction society is going.
Maybe I would have been better if I just watched the guy pick his nose a little longer.
It is what it is......
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Things to think about while I ponder about things.....Mental Multi-Tasking
O.K. I am not too sure that I can go with this one. I am all for napping on long flights. I'm not too sure that it's a good idea for pilots...read here.
That's what I say...read here
Do we really want this kind of technology in the hands of some guy wanting to power his huntin' cabin? read here
These are fom Guatemala City. The side that rarely makes the news here. pictures here
I am writing more and will post more soon. These are things that I have been thinking about as a result of surfing the web.
That's what I say...read here
Do we really want this kind of technology in the hands of some guy wanting to power his huntin' cabin? read here
These are fom Guatemala City. The side that rarely makes the news here. pictures here
I am writing more and will post more soon. These are things that I have been thinking about as a result of surfing the web.
Things to think about while I ponder about things.....Mental Multi-Tasking
O.K. I am not too sure that I can go with this one. I am all for napping on long flights. I'm not too sure that it's a good idea for pilots...read here.
That's what I say...read here
Do we really want this kind of technology in the hands of some guy wanting to power his huntin' cabin? read here
These are fom Guatemala City. The side that rarely makes the news here. pictures here
I am writing more and will post more soon. These are things that I have been thinking about as a result of surfing the web.
That's what I say...read here
Do we really want this kind of technology in the hands of some guy wanting to power his huntin' cabin? read here
These are fom Guatemala City. The side that rarely makes the news here. pictures here
I am writing more and will post more soon. These are things that I have been thinking about as a result of surfing the web.
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