Category Archives: Dear Tim

My trials and travails of experiences in retail. You may file these under #firstworldproblems

Talk to the Machine

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Dear Tim:

Now you keep asking me if what I ordered is on the screen. I wasn’t looking at the screen. I was having a conversation with a person. With you. The last bastion of personal contact is counter service. Next will I have to punch in my own order? I hope not. Tim,  keep talking to me. Please.

March 18, 2014

off grid

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Dear Tim:

I’ve figured out what it is about those one-off places.  Those coffee shops, restaurants, stores, those places that are unique and special and yet get passed over by so many of us.  At first it seems like it’s because they are unfamiliar, and then it seems like it’s because they are too familiar, but now I know it’s none of that.

We don’t like the boutiques because we don’t like being off-grid.  There is a national consciousness, and even a global consciousness that comes with knowing we all drank coffee from the same cup and ate a sandwich from the same kitchen.  And when we tell our friends where we were they will understand because they were there too.

It’s not that we don’t like the unique places, it’s just that we don’t like being unplugged from the collective consciousness for too long.

rc

 

March 1, 2014

The Plow Bullies

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Dear Tim:

Have you seen them out there?  Gangs of snowplow operators, 4 abreast on a 4 lane street, after dark, intimidating motorists who are unfortunate enough to be out and about in the wrong place at the wrong time?

It’s not pretty.  They have no regard for the flow of traffic, courtesy, or the comfort of smaller vehicles.  There is no way to tell if they will yield even a little to let you by.  They stand broad shouldered, yellow muscles rippling under the twinkle of snow in streetlights, kicked up by their frolic.

I hope the city founders do something about this soon.

rc

February 14, 2014

I already know what I want

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Dear Tim:

I went to the drive though this morning.  As has been their habit of late, the operator of the microphone asked me if I wanted something particular before I ordered.  She was guessing, I think.  Of course it was not the thing I wanted, I wanted something else.  My usual in fact, I suppose.  But really, why are these people guessing what I want? I miss the part where they would say “Good morning.”  I didn’t answer her.  I just ordered.  It seemed to go ok for all concerned.

rc

February 13, 2014