2009-18 GEORGETOWN

Call me cruel and heartless, but I am disturbed by the magnitude and breadth of the grief expressed over the untimely passing of Michael Jackson. While any such unfortunate event should be met with solemnity and condolence, the event was not in my mind of the cataclysmic proportions to which media, Congress with its moment of silence, The White House, the clogged Internet, and various social organizations propelled it. I can well imagine MTV in mourning, but when CNBC suspended reporting on the global economic crisis to run full-time helicopter coverage of crowds gathered outside the UCLA Medical Center, I sensed a cosmic imbalance.

This was a man who proclaimed on worldwide TV that sharing his bed with young boys was “an act of love,” (I bet it was!), and who avoided jail time by offering multi-million dollar settlements to the parents of children in his care. His claims to fame included dangling his infant child off the balcony of a German hotel and cosmetic surgery that even his own mother once commented was “strange.” Yes, he could dance backwards, and perhaps that tells us something about the culture we have become.

He was labeled the “king of pop.” In my day that appellation fell to Dr. Pepper.

Poor Farah Fawcett’s departure was scheduled for the same day, and as such her considerable talent, including a seminal performance as an abused wife in The Burning Bed was sorely eclipsed in news reporting. For the limited coverage she did receive, the media, always with a sharp eye to the relative importance of events, focused almost entirely on her pinup and Charlie’s Angles days, while her dramatic achievements were left nearly unmentioned.

#####

It has been remarked with some justification that I can claim no natural affinity to the merchant trade, for reasons among others that I do not believe that anyone, least of all the customer, is always right. When the visiting attorney (I knew he was before he so announced for all to hear) whose credit card was declined while attempting to buy train tickets, demanded an immediate audience with our corporate attorney and our “software engineer,” then grabbed a telephone from the hands of my young associate, I was ready to call 911, but dutiful employee that I am I referred him to my manager. There ensued nearly 15 minutes of harangue during which he refused to move from the head of the ticket line, rendering all subsequent sales impossible.

At one point a bearded mountain man several steps back in line offered to “take him out” in return for a free train ride, then relenting said, “aw hell, I’ll pay for the train, just let me take him out.” Temptation was never so compelling as when in 4th grade Sandy Smith offered to “show me hers,” if I would “show her mine.”

Turns out his card was invalid as the night before his credit card company had been sold and a new card expressed to his home in Pennsylvania. My revenge came in the form of a delightful phone conversation (sad that I could hear only his side) with a third-world citizen explaining the new rules of the game. The counselor must have uttered (with increasing volume) a dozen times “I’m in Colorado for crisssakes, what good is a card mailed to my Pennsylvania home going to do me here?” Clearly the Indian sub-continent customer service rep on the other end was not well schooled in North American geography. Salvaged my day.

It is abundantly true that 1% of customers deliver 99% of all grief, and while I am highly motivated to return the favor several fold, my employee handbook instructs, contrary to biblical teaching, that I must suffer fools gladly.

#####

There are myriad locations on the planet where the locals are fond of saying “if you don’t like the weather, wait 5 minutes.” Out my window in the Paris Marais I once witnessed brilliant sunshine, ominous threatening black clouds, sun, snow showers, then a return to brilliant sun, all within the course of une demi-heure.

It is certainly that way in Clear Creek County, Colorado. Yesterday as dark clouds rolled down the valley and the skies opened with fury, a customer was outraged that I was required to levy a cancellation fee for the train ride 40 minutes hence to which he would in no way subject his fragile family unit. Parroting the official company policy that we “operate rain or shine,” I tried to ease the tension by commenting that “by departure time the sun will probably re-emerge.” Face contorted with self-righteous rage he flung back “that’s bull****, I bet you $100 there won’t be any sun for the rest of the day.” I mumbled something about having my gambling problem under control, then beat a hasty retreat from his wrath.

Sure enough by boarding time sun glasses covered the eyes of one and all, and I positioned myself strategically as passengers alighted at the end of the ride, but I couldn’t make eye contact with the gambler as his attention was suddenly focused elsewhere.

It’s what one does to derive simple percs while working for modest wages. As when delivering phone books last year, on occasion I remarked to those inclined to refuse the free book, that buried in its pages was a “secret passage” which, if discovered, qualified the finder for entrance into a drawing for a free ride on the Space Shuttle. Believe it or don’t, it was the tipping point for several acceptances. And in truth my manager did once comment on a bizarre phone inquiry she received as to the exact page in the book containing the coupon for the free space ride.

#####

Well, an entire Post devoid of reference to politics! Disappointment for a few perhaps, but relief I suspect to the many. You get what you pay for. The Adventure ambles along the plains even as the anticipation of a mountainous storm season emerges…..
.
.