31 July 2006

Sometimes it IS just too loud.

I live an exciting life. I woke up this morning, showered, shaved, and got myself ready to liberate the Dunkin’ Donuts on the way to Hell and return it to the rightful owners, Noor & Sanjay, when outside I hear the dogs downstairs whining and barking. After a few minutes, I realize that those aren’t dogs, but people. It turns out that it’s one person. A young Asian lady is standing in the middle of the street, screaming at her boyfriend/husband, at the top of her lungs, in Chinese (or what I assume is Chinese; like I can tell the difference) about something that has upset her greatly. I am going to go out on a limb and say it was infidelity, because that is always fun when it happens to another couple. Her hand gestures had a certain Lorena Bobbit motion to them, and I am thinking, “Yep, he’s gonna lose his pecker.”
The argument ended, and lacking any further entertainment, left for work. I get to DD, and Noor and Sanjay are back! I get my Coollata, just the way I like it, with a plain donut, and all is right with the world. I’m so happy that I say, “Hello,” and “Good morning” to people as I pass them. Less than half say anything back. I can’t think of anything ruder than to ignore someone. At least when they’re screaming obscenities at you, they acknowledge you exist. But if someone looks at you and wishes you a good morning, the least you could do is smile, or nod.
It reminds me of this conversation I had with a co-worker named Lee. He was talking about this time he was in line at the bank, and a white woman walked up beside him. He said hello to her, and she just ignored him. They were in line together for five minutes and she couldn’t spare a hello to him. He tells me that any black woman would say hello back, and maybe even talk to you. But white women are so full of themselves that they think that every man that talks to them wants to have sex with them. It was a white woman, after all, who proclaimed that “every man is a potential rapist.” So he tells her that she’s very rude and, coincidentally, if she offered him sex, he would have turned her down, as he is married happily.
All of the white women I said hello and good morning to ignored me. All the guys I saw said something back, or raised their coffee cups. And the sistas all wished me a lovely morning.
Sometimes, I really hate white people.

Work had mad amounts of intrigue. Let’s just say that ol’ Zeepdoggie is deaf, or nearly so. And he wants to preserve his hearing, which means that he doesn’t listen to his music super-loud, is saving up for his noise-canceling headphones, and on the occasions he goes to concerts, he always wears earplugs. Still, I get the ringies in my ears near continuously, but it’s really bad three times during my day: when I get off the train to work, when I get off the train for home, and when I leave work. See, the music is too loud at work (and it’s total crap as well, but let’s leave it alone for now), and it makes my ears ring. There is no quiet place at work; the music is even going on upstairs, which is extra torturous and poopy. So today, I ask one of my fave managers, E, if he could turn it down. He has said no in the past, but I was hoping for some pity here. So he says, “No.” And I say, “Why not? I’m trying to preserve my hearing.” E knows how deaf I am; if you work with me and my back is to you, you learn how deaf I am since you have to run up beside me to get my attention. Midway through the day, my ears are ringing so badly that I have a hard time differentiating the numbers 33 and 36, 35 and 39, and thirty from forty. When you work in a retail-clothing store that fits men from the very teeny to the ursine this can be a very big problem.
So E says, “I can’t.” I reply, “Do I have to call HR about this?” It’s not meant as a threat. I understand that, for some fucked up reason that I will get into later, he has to keep the music at a certain volume. I figure if I call HR, they can change the policy for this store, and I can go home hearing a little better. Because it is all about me.
So he gets pissed, but I have to greet a customer, who cannot hear me over the music thankyouverymuch, and he leaves before we can discuss it. Lord K, who has requested to be known as Gringo from now on (if you met him, it would make some sense, sorta), goes and turns down the music. E loses his mind, yells at Gringo, and disappears.
A little while later, another manager comes and talks to me about what happened. I tell her. She asks how I got to this stage of hearing loss. I tell her through large amounts of head trauma, a wasp stinging my ear when I was five, and continuous exposure to low-level noise while onboard a submarine. I ask why it is such a massive deal that they turn the music down to a dull roar. She says that a study has shown that when the music is at a certain volume, people buy more stuff. What a preposterous hypothesis is that? What did the study consist of? Where was it conducted? What were the conditions, the controls? Did they get a proper sample size for the experiment? Did they do a demographic study before conducting their test? Was there an influx of individuals to the area of the study before or during? Was there a sale going on? How many levels of volume did they test? What are the confidence levels of the findings?
Any study that is supposed to prove human behavior is bullshit. Christ, most folks have no idea of what they themselves are going to do next! The greatest joke ever pulled on one person by another is predictive behavioral analysis. Actually, that’s the second best. If you can get someone to fall for “There’s something on your shirt…zzzzziiippp!” more than twice in an hour, that is the best! But for money, if you can get someone to pay you to conduct a predictive behavioral study on a situation with as many variables as shopping for clothes, then you can sell ice to an Eskimo.
So mad drama ensues. Gringo might get fired. I might get written up. The sky is falling. Again, those full-timers in retail need to chill out. You’re not curing cancer, you’re not saving the world; you’re selling an image that is impossible and bad for the world. Either stop taking it seriously, or stop doing it and do something worth taking seriously. It’s clothes!
Eventually, E and I have a talk, and things are smoothed out. We hug, I rub his bald little head with the el grosso mole and peace is restored in the valley.

I go to the Apple Store to get my iPod fixed, as it has shit the bed (sorry, didn’t mean to get technical there) yet again. I have an appointment with the Genius Bar in thirty minutes, so I decide to go and get a bottle of water from the Walgreen’s just down the street. When it comes my time to pay, some bum decides to buy the shirt he didn’t want before I got to the register. He starts cursing the little lady behind the counter out.
“Hey,” I say, “you’re talking to a lady!” He mumbles some shit at me, then tells me to mind my own business. “You don’t apologize to her right now, I’m calling security!” He tells me to fuck myself, and that’s when the security guy comes over and asks what the trouble is. The cashier tells him, and Mr. Security asks Mr. stinky-Britches if it’s true. He says, “Naw, man! All these Oriental bitches hate black people! This fuckin’ bitch won’t take my fuckin’ money! And this motherfucker here fuckin’ threatened me! If you dint come over, I’d a hit him with my cane!”
I’ve had enough. I push him to the door, the security dude right behind me, trying to stop me. I tell him that I will be right out, and if he wants to hit me with his cane, it will be the last thing he does with the few teeth left in his mouth. As he runs down Michigan, I ask him where he’ll be so I can meet him there. He doesn’t say anything back.
I go back inside the Wal, and tell the security guard that he absolutely sucks at his job. The girl at the register gives me my water and a candy bar for free.
I was looking for Big Daddy Cane all the way back to the Apple Store, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.
Then I get pissed at myself for acting like that. One of these days, a guy is going to pull a knife or a gun, and I am going to get seriously fucked up for trying to be a hero. But what the hell am I supposed to do? Just watch that happen? It goes back to my point of ignorance being the standard response to things. I think that human evil wouldn’t exist if we just chose to pay attention to the world around us. You would have to do something if you actually saw the wrongness of everyday life on this planet. I am the wrong guy for a crusade; I ignore shit too, until it’s string me right in the face. And if I turn away, I feel like shit for the rest of the day. No one person can save the world; but the world can probably save itself, if it paid attention every once in a while.
Back to the Genius Bar. It turns out that, since this is my fourth iPod they’ve had to replace due to manufacturer’s defect, they are going to give me a complimentary upgrade to a 60GB iPod Video! How awesome is that! That is 15,000 songs! And I get to renew my AppleCare plan, should that one shit the bed anytime in the next three years! I am ecstatic! The heroism is rewarded!
I get home, and the Princess is waiting with the ball, ready to go outside. No messiness to clean inside, I sit down to a delicious bowl of ice cream, take a cold shower, and write this little adventure.
Do you think today was good or bad?

3 comments:

The Big Man said...

Over all it was a good day for you. BTW can you fill a 60GB iPod or will there be a lot of space?

Zeepdoggie & GringO said...

Oh, I can fill a 60GB iPod; I was near full on my 40GB. I'll have some room to get creative with my selections, and that is what I am looking forward to!

Anonymous said...

They would not dare fire me. I'm a fixture now, the mossy boulder that supports house of cards...yeah. I bow in reverence to your 16GB.