Not much different going on around here. As I’ve said, I’m a half inch better every day. At this point, I’d say I have 3 feet to go. Considerably better though.
I notice it in the little things. I realized my tailbone was healing because I can now lean back in a chair, rather than sitting stock straight upright like a schoolmarm on alert. I’ve been making my own food. Meds have been lessened. I can sit on the bed pretty much however I like (because it’s squishy).
Speaking of, Jonathan had the thought and is leading the charge redoing the master bedroom. Big changes actually — we are taking out a large section of the built-in closet/king bed/shelves. It’s a big room, so we’re going with the old-fashioned “bed in the middle of the room” thing. Of all styles, we arrived at Scandinavian. Simple and cozy.
The new bed, lamps, and rug (on my blue wood plank floor =)
O
I’m excited to be going back to work in a few weeks — to both the church and teaching. I’ve pulled out some fancy organ music. You all know very well I wouldn’t play my first Sunday back without some pomp and circumstance! Although, not the actual song that title. That would be weird.
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Hope everyone is well, and as always, thanks for your comments and kind notes. They’re very much appreciated!
I tend to argue both sides of a problem. I’m interested in the “why.” I’ve no argument to win. On that, I humbly step aside. So, we’ll call this series “The Devil’s Abnegate.” I argue, but I concede.
Posit: Customer service sucks.
O
Let’s first look at the “back in my day” element.
Society has changed, the way we interact has changed, the way people treat strangers has changed. We’ve turned inward (and to our screens) to a large degree. We mind ourselves more, and everybody else less.
Was customer service really that much better thirty or forty years ago? Was walking up to the counter of a McDonald’s, Publix, Walden Books or Chess King in 1982 really that much more pleasant than the 2023 experience?
O
Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it was. (And the uniforms were more fun too.) We can argue about why the customer experience has slipped, but there is no doubt. It has slipped. Because of us. (And khakis with polo shirts.)
“Well, no wonder! People no longer even know their next-door neighbors!” That’s what I hear, and it’s probably true. Yardless apartments, condos, and “maintenance free” townhouses are being built at a dizzying rate and are more popular than ever — many less places to congregate outside, and those damn kids won’t look away from their screens anyway. Or so I hear.
I’m usually guilty when it comes to grumpy social stuff, but not in this case. We live on a short, friendly street with only eight houses. I know six of the eight families plus people around the corners, and most of us at least say hello or have a short conversation each day.
There are no houses across the street. It’s a park and the Community Farm. All of us know the people that volunteer there as well. We are indeed lucky … It’s very Sesame Street come to life. Days that I don’t see and talk to a at least a few neighbors are very rare. Unless it’s raining.
O
With next-day delivery, on-demand services, and platforms on which we can make ourselves known to potentially whole world, our desire for attention and immediacy has surpassed our desire to simply act in a civilized manner. We’ve become performative — seeking attention, adulation, monetary tips, and wealth through simply being noticed.
“Look at me! Awesome! Let’s gooooo! GOAT! That is so meta. YouTube is literally amazing! Squad goals, ultimate. You should automatic debit me ten bucks a month.”
With this, standards and expectations of quality, artistry, study, and expertise have fallen as well.
Shops no longer carry what we need or want, especially if those items involve higher quality and cost. Shops don’t employ people with specific knowledge or expertise because it is more expensive to do so. So, we stop shopping there. The shop loses money, and then carries even less (and lower quality) merchandise, and employs even fewer people (never-mind knowledgeable people).
We end up with a store that we view as an exercise in frustration and potential unpleasantness. So, we order online, taking business away from the store, which makes it even more difficult to keep happy employees and stock quality things that people like and would repeatedly return for.
O
In the present day and the longer-term, we now have not-even-twenty-year-old half-empty strip malls and shopping centers (which they bulldozed trees and wetlands to build) that are barely rented to stores that have a just a few surly employees at two of the ten registers and no one on the floor.
Well, now we’re grumpy. Of course we are. We complain.
The “I’d like to speak to a manager” people make me giggle. I want to be clear though. I don’t think “I’d like to speak to the manager” is ridiculous because of a personality thing — Everyone is permitted to be Angry Queen Bee once in a while. I think it’s ridiculous because it’s absolutely futile and not even close to worth the energy expended. I once heard an employee in a mall store reply, “I am the manager. And I’m also the only employee in the building.” Not worth the breath it would take to bother.
But then, I’m not somebody who optimistically buys a purple size small to see if I like it and then tries to return it without the tag or receipt after I wore it to dinner and Sheila said it looked “comfortable.”
O
The other day, I couldn’t buy a fountain pen in a large arts & crafts store. A few months ago, I’d stopped in the same store to buy some 100% wool yarn. I didn’t have to have fancy alpaca. I’d even take sheep. Nope. All acrylic. In the case of the fountain pen, I asked a clerk. She didn’t understand what I meant by “fountain pen,” and sent me to the things you dip strawberries in at a wedding.
One department in this store has continued to expand into the spaces stolen from useful, quality merchandise — Photos and Framing. With items advertised as “great for selfies.”
Needless to say, I don’t even bother anymore. I just order online and it arrives at my house the next day without the frustration.
O
If they still carried what I wanted or needed (or even understood what I was talking about) just once in a while, I’d perhaps feel differently.
But at some point, one must decide in favor of one’s own blood pressure.
Sit Still Phill 