RyanHarne.com

I am working on my customer integrity-detection skills. We do not accept credit at Bollo’s, due to the insane surcharges that credit card providers ask for in return for their machines and whatnot. Thus, sometimes people come in, do not see the three separate “Cash or Check Only” signs, order drinks, discover they have no cash or checks, then promise to return with a payment. Usually, they are trustworthy enough to come back within minutes. Sometimes they run. This afternoon, a couple came in, ordered their drinks, I made them, $3.57. Oh, well, we don’t have cash, but where’s an ATM? Oh, great; yeah, we’ll be right back. As they were leaving I realized, “hey, they’re not coming back - interesting.”

Hit & Run.

Due to an amount of loud, dance-worthy music that may or may not™ have been played through my computer speakers last weekend, the left one seems to have given up the ghost. So, I am unfortunately in the market for a new set, preferably a 2.1 system (two mains and a subwoofer, with a subwoofer level). I am also not well versed in this area, since I have been absent from the audiophile scene for a while and also haven’t been to a BestBuy in X days to browse the mainstream availability. I am a fan of Logitech, but really a fan of high quality (not necessarily high output) for a respectable value. Per usual, I am willing to purchase online from nearly any reputable reseller. I appreciate recommendations.

If perhaps I am verging on a mastery of my integrity-detection skills, maybe I should move on to more advanced levels and skills. The next step should be “anime comprehension” or “personal floating habits.” Maybe both.

I do not hate Starbucks, contrary to the insinuations that may be felt by previously expressed opinions. But I do rather dislike Starbucks Corporation. Anywhere big business rears its ugly head, there is a host of bottom-level workers who are generous, kind, and likely unaware of the great evil lurking in the upper strata. So, walking into Starbucks on my Thursday afternoon walk to studio, I wasn’t anticipating dealing with money-hungry locals who sip their burnt coffee with pinkies held high. I was ready to deal with peopl nearly identical to me, in the barista sense.

My reason for stopping by: my three-ounce demitasse had cracked, not from physical contact but actually from thermal stress. However, while this does happen in extreme cases (a barista there mentioned his mug at a bar shattered when filled with beer after it had just been washed), my espresso items are used once per day, typically, and certainly are cared for no less than with meticulous attention. And, I must point out, that Starbucks has very nice and well-priced espresso equipment (tamper, demitasse, frothing pitcher) that I simply can’t pass up. Thus, my demitasse was suffering from glass impurities and finally let out a brilliant half-way spider web from top to bottom.

The people there listened to my brief story of, “Really, I take wonderful care of my espresso junk, and this absolutely did not occur from me dropping it in the sink, blah blah blah.” I had stopped by at a good time, because one of the people behind the counter was wearing a not-so-standard Starbucks shirt, that I connected with some sort of managerial role; in fact, she immediately took up the authority for responding to my request for pity. She showed me where they had there current demitasse and then we looked through them for the most precisely formed one. She said I was very much welcome to take a new one. And I did. Then I went to studio for joy.

Again, the people who work and run the stores of the greatest corporations in America are often the best side to the corporate world, simply because they are almost entirely untouched by any significant aspiration to climb all the way up the ladder. Were I to let my savage anger out on WalMart employees because I disagree with many of the corporate practices, I would be violating near as many human rights as if I had approved a new textile factory in mainland China. Those American wage workers are financially better off than Chinese factory workers, but there are many similarities in social status and cultural reputation.

So, like I said. Studio is joy, most often when teamed with some caffeination.

Items, ideas, corollaries, things I learned tonight include:

Do not leave your wallet at home. Even though it is safely tucked away, it can temporarily unsettle you and make you jitter.

I know how to change a tire. On a Prius.

Robots do a four-star job of tightening lug nuts.

Local law enforcement are friendly and have conveniently bright flashlights.

Bakers make the best bowlers. Baristas are so-so.

Dancing improves the overall bowling score - for baristas, not so much.

The glory days of our semi-youth are located on Main Street near Colony Park. They are short-lived and fleeting.

I am guessing there were other learning experiences tonight (maybe that assignments can sometimes be displaced with random fun); however, I have a lamp electrical assembly to assemble, and I am eager to get my hands on some wire cutters.

Many moons have passed since I was granted an opportunity to contemplate while in Bollo’s. Usually, I catapult into workity-work-work-work mode around here and then bolt when I am done. I hope my usual semester attitude towards Bollo’s returns when the Fall arrives, best described as being a residence. But working here has not, in the least, turned me off from the place. I still love the Math Emporium, even though, at times, it was a chore to drain my mental capacity on endless questions about implicit differentiation. Very likely, the only difference in me after my mega-Math Emporium time is that I notice that the lights buzz.

And someone actually had to tell that the lights buzzed. It was a brief conversation, in which an epiphany occurred between my ears. Someone said, “This place isn’t so bad, except for the buzzing lights.” I became quizzical, and asked what she was talking about. She told me to be quiet and listen. I did so. And the lights were buzzing, very much so. Who knew? Well, everyone but me, apparently.

Being at Bollo’s so frequently has only made me further appreciate the unique quirks of this particular shop. The regular customer dynamics, the employee dynamics, the community dynamics; everything is worth noting. But that could be my inner sociologist tearing through the skin, maybe so. So it goes. Yet, I need to get some soup, so off I go.

When I shuffle my chair at studio, my force pushes me in a direction I often don’t want to go. Two of the casters are frozen in their positions and refuse almost all movement not in their current alignment. Granted, I just found this chair at an abandoned corner of Cowgill Hall, so I can’t really complain, and frankly I am not complaining because the irregular motion gives the chair more character. I mean, it’s already a lime green, rectangular office chair, likely from the 1980s. But it is worth noting that it doesn’t appreciate the greater portion of my shuffling about. My chair would rather dance (and I would, too).

The second studio project is done, or at least done enough. Done enough to feel fresh while starting the third project. The second project was writing instrument design; the third project: lamp design. The second project I obviously learned how to solder and use torches and how fun molten metal is to mess around with. (Hint: really fun). This next project will introduce me to a few more intricate shop techniques, likely wood-related. How do I know this? Because I had one of those unexplainable inspiration moments when thinking about lights; and, as far as I am capable of manufacturing what I currently envision in my head (minus the injection-molding plastic pieces), I will adamantly pursue it. Among the various hardware manufacturing capabilities I have in the shop, wood seems the best fit.

But, first thing’s first. And today is Friday.

At my Kroger stop this evening, I was alarmed that they had no Cinnamon Sugar. I stood at the spice racks for about 10 minutes checking everything five or six times and also getting a few other people to help me out. No Cinnamon Sugar. Feeling as if my hope had vanished (frankly, it was the only reason I went to Kroger, and this was the nice Kroger), I found a Kroger person who quickly whisked me to the spice aisle. He, too, could not locate the Cinnamon Sugar.

Then he took me to the international foods section because sometimes they have “the weird stuff here”. I politely pointed out that Cinnamon Sugar is not an uncommon attendant in the general spice area. I also talked to him about how much I love Cinnamon Sugar. Anyways, we then proceeded to Customer Service.

At Customer Service, he asked something like, “Do we have any cinnamon sugar here?” (I’m sure he doesn’t have the same religious approach to Cinnamon Sugar as I do). The girl at the counter said that it should be in the spice aisle beside the cinnamon. Really?! I must not have looked.

We told her that it was not there, not from any brand at all. She told me that I could buy some cinnamon and sugar and then mix them. (Oh, thanks).

While I sometimes appreciate the hardy approach to living (hey, I walked my groceries back from Kroger, that’s a fair mile+ of walking with 30 extra pounds), I will not dare purchase two spices and mix them when any respectful grocer should have them in stock. Particularly a chain grocery store.

Until I can acquire some Cinnamon Sugar, legally or illegally, I will just put aside my consumption of toast. Really. Toast & bananas is nothing without the frosting.