I work at a local Chevron station in Sugarhouse; this is not news to many of you. It's a lovely little store, your regular little mom and pop enterprise, except our mom and pop own a yacht and six condos and it's a 3.5 million dollar store, so I suppose it's not so little... Anywho, we sell those toy cars. They make children happy. They're a novelthy, impulsive-buy item. Not rocket science. When the cars are new, we sell them for six ninety-nine. After a month or so, they move to "no longer new" status, and the price is rasied to eight ninety-nine. Yesterday, an old man came in to purchase our Breast Cancer Awareness model--it's pink. He also purchased fuel, around twenty dollars of it. He paid with a fifty, and asked for small change. He collected said change and thought about his purchase, then asked how much the car had come to. Eight ninety-nine, I replied. He proceeded to fill my ears with his bewilderment over the price of this toy, how it had gone up since October, when he had purchased two like it. I calmly explained the way new items are on sale prices while they are new, and how the prices go up when they are not. He began to rage about price gouging, said he'd worked for Chevron for 25 years and was absolutely disgusted with the way we are.  He also complained about the price of our gas, and how he can get it for two fifteen a gallon in Pheonix. He said if he went to another Checron store and found out that their toys and fuel were cheaper than ours, then so help him...I respectfully explained that we are privately owned, and the owners set their prices etc. He stormed off in a huff. Half an hour later, he came back, threw his toy car on the counter, and repeated his rage and disgust. He demanded a receipt and that I tell my owners that he is sick and tired and disgusted with their gouging. Again, stormy huff and he was gone. Half an hour later, he returned, intent on making the world right, according to him. My co-worker, Andrea, said she'd had enough and refunded his money. He was livid and then began to complain that I had not given him correct change, now over an hour ago. Andrea got my back, told him to basically bite it, and sent him away. He waved his arms and cursed Chevron and their disgusting capitalism etc.

 

Point is, sir, the year is 2006. Times have changed since 1924 when you were a little blonde boy in liederhosen and could buy penny candy for a penny. It's called INFLATION. Arby's Roast Beef specials are now five for five ninety-five. You go to the mall and have to shell out a cool hundred for a pair of your favorite jeans. We all cry at the pump as we get spanked by the price of fuel, but we fill our tanks. We are consumers who consume, and take inflation in stride. Most of us just take it as the way the world is and continue to live our lives. I'm a happy girl, usually content and willing to do my part on the beautiful earth as a member of the human race, but Mr. Jackass really got to me. Sir, if you'd like to discuss the principle of the economy, let's bring up the fact that you, in your comfortable home, where you spend much of your time melting in your recliner doing crosswords and watching gameshows (except for the days you create a nuisance of yourself in public places) and drinking your Ensure and counting your bowel movements, are draining close to fifteen percent of my and my peers' gross income with the Social Security money you receive monthly to fund your retirement. Let's talk about gouging, my bitter old friend. Step off.

 

I am not afraid.

 

 

 

 

Can anyone give me a rational, grownup-ish explanation for why there are people camping for days at Walmarts across the nation for the new Playstation 3? I realize it must be exciting and special and delightful, with new graphics or what have you, but really...! Where are there jobs? Their lives? Dignity? Minds?!

 

Can you believe it's almost Thanksgiving again, with Christmas on its heels?! I haven't even thought of shopping, adhering to my strict policy of procrastination. My future children will wake up Christmas morning to open presents from Santa consisting of whatever is left on the racks at the gas station near our home...no, I'm teasing, of course (doth I protest...?), but I just put it off so long because I suppose I'm a perfectionist of sorts, at least in gift-giving, wanting to get just the right thing for those on my list. Sigh. An english professor once told me that you shouldn't wait to write because you're afraid of putting down crap. Eventually something good will come, and the rest you can chalk up to practice. So, for anyone on the receiving end of my holiday cheer: hope you like it! I'm practicing!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Serously, take a sec and view this e-card. Tell me you don't pee your pants. Or tinkle a little.

It's snowing today! So many of us are compolaining about that, "can you believe that we have snow already?" etc., but really, it's the middle of November. Time is apparently flying for the masses.

 

Having a lovely day. It's my day off, meaning I only had to work two hours, and I have the house all to myself. I'm watching the Megan Mullaly show, checking emails, blogging, drinking hot cocoa, and just about to whip up some Shepherd's Pie for lunch tomorrow (yes, all, I CAN cook. I just don't.). I love that I can google a recipe, just like that. Julia Childs has no-thing on this domestic queen.

 

Yesterday I went to my sister's Sacrament meeting, where she was leading the primary in their music program. She did such a good job! I was happy to see her lead in the style of directing the pitch versus the pace of the songs--good call, Ang! Anyone can keep time; not all of us carry pitch so well, so having the chorister raise and lower her hand according to the way of the song is much more helpful! We were having the sacrament, and my niece Bailey wanted to show me that she could read and sing the hymn, because she's so smart and learning to read at school--big 7 year old--so she starts whisper-singing the hymn for me. Sooooo cute. Ü

 

Anyway, I'm off to the kitchen. I'll let you know how I do. Say a little prayer for me.