Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: Shopping

I Am Defiant

New sign at Wesselman’s grocery–“Backpacks must be left at front of store.” Right under the “We Do Not Have Public Restrooms” sign, hallmark of the customer-unfriendly society. (I recommend the government set up truly public restrooms–they would provide jobs! Or, as Rom and I say when some policy is promoted solely for its job-creating possibilities, JOOOBBBSS…said in a zombie BRAINNSS-type way. Try it, you’ll start saying it at the TV news like we do!)

Anyway (you knew there had to be a point here somewhere), I will resist this policy strenuously. Since I only go to the grocery store when I’m on the way to work, I always have a backpack (except when Nick steals it, and he has been banished to 3rd shift, so who cares about him). My aversion to such policies dates back to when I went to the $ General, and they told me to leave it at the front of the store, which turned out to be next to the plastic-bag dispenser (and I have a backpack, so I am virtuously free of the need for plastic bags), right next to the door, where anyone could easily snatch it and dash away. And would the cashier fight them for it, or indeed even remember who was supposed to have it in the first place? And it’s $ General policy to hire as few people as possible, to keep prices low, so that person is often stocking shelves and not even there to keep an eye on my stuff, which shouldn’t be their job, anyway. So now when I go there I just take a small tote bag, which is legally classified as A Purse, and not subject to confiscation.

Although I have no plans to steal anything, I feel like I do, plotting how to sneak my backpack in. Go wide around the cash register area, keep myself between the backpack and Them, keep it on the floor out of sight when I get to the checkout line. It’s like shopping at Walgreen’s, where I so love to browse, and sniff every new bottle of body wash I see, that I’m sure they think they just haven’t managed to catch me yet. I feel like saying, “Look! I could have easily hidden these bottles of nail polish in my bag, but here I am paying for them!” And I flash my “911 Dispatchers: Behind-the-Scenes Heroes” change purse. (For the record, I do not consider myself a hero, seeing nothing particularly heroic about sitting in a chair.)


Wow, we now have scissors at each console! Now I can clip any loose threads on my sleeve, instead of it driving me mad the entire shift. (I actually just used my scissors to clip a loose thread on my 911 Dispatchers Behind The Scenes Heroes change purse, so I’m feeling especially heroic.) And I would no longer be dependent on Nick to open my soy sauce for me when he brought food from Canton Inn, except, as I said,  he has been dragged by the tail to 3rd shift, and is unwept, unhonored, and unslept.


(Maybe Irony In Action should be its own subcategory.)

A guy called in saying he just found his girlfriend cheating on him, and she spit on him. Our caller had a tattoo on his arm saying RESPECT, and one on his back saying LOYALTY. Maybe she was just never in a position to see the one on his back.


What always happens when it rains heavily? Why, people think they can drive through it, of course! The government should save the money it spends on public-service announcements saying Turn Around, Don’t Drown, and spend it on public restrooms, so the populace is no longer dependent on private businesses  allowing them to use theirs. Last night’s version of I Won’t Turn Around, I Can’t Drown occurred behind my house, and Nick had to swim them to safety on his back–always a risky proposition, since he might turn and bite if you try and grab onto his wings.

Nobody’s Fault But Mine

I left the house in a hurry today–as much of a hurry as I could muster, as my driveway has frozen into a river of glass, with a tributary extending up my front walk. But I was getting a ride, so I quickly collected my stuff, got to my destination, stuck my hand in my pocket and…discovered I forgot my phone. Not that anyone ever calls me–the phone functions mostly as a walkie-talkie between me and Rom–but not having it means that I don’t know what time it is, since I’m one of those modern tech-savvy individuals who no longer wears a watch. (I was glad to give up watch-wearing, because the feel of something rubbing against my wrists {or ankles, or cuticles} is extremely irritating.)

Oh well, I thought, there are clocks between here and there (“here” and “there” being, respectively, McDonald’s and the bus stop). So I finished my lunch (and there is nothing more gross than underdone McNuggets–I actually bought another sandwich to eat, without complaining, lest they ask me to define “underdone” in this context), stuck my hand in my other pocket and…discovered I’d forgotten my gloves, which I’d left on the table at home to dry after being out yesterday. And it was 29 degrees out, and decidedly raw.

Well, I thought, I will just get more at Walgreen’s, since the thought of being out all afternoon without was disheartening, to say the least.

I cornered a manager and inquired where gloves were to be found. “If we still have any, they’re in the clearance section.” Oh no! What if there aren’t any? Luckily, there were many. I devoted as much time to my final selection as if it didn’t involve a piece of cheap crap I’d probably only wear once before forgetting I owned them.

After picking up many other items (yet more decisions to be carefully made–Could I pull off crimson lip gloss? Would pale pink nail polish go on streaky? Hey, live dangerously! They have a generous return policy!), I paid for said items and headed for Thornton’s. I was overheated from being in the store so long and making such momentous decisions, so I didn’t bother with gloves until after I’d bought my fountain drink. I reached into my bag and pulled out my new gloves…and discovered that THEY WERE ATTACHED TOGETHER BY ONE OF THOSE UNBREAKABLE PLASTIC THINGIES, AND I HAD NOTHING TO CUT IT WITH. I could just imagine Nick laughing at this point. (And at this point, I’d remind him of the quart of water spilled on the floor of the squad car, not to mention the Case of the Missing Handcuffs.)

I trudged back to Walgreen’s, cursing quietly. I figured I’d say, “I just bought these gloves–look, I have the receipt!–and do you have a scissors?” But there was a long-ass line, and one of the people ahead of me wanted to argue about an expired coupon, and the other one was getting ready to pay with a check that he hadn’t filled out yet, and a woman in the other line glared at me like “Don’t even think about cutting in here,” and time was a wastin’ before the bus got here.

So I trudged to the bus stop in the hellish cold, cursing all the way. The woman already waiting at the stop didn’t even feel she needed a winter coat, for some reason. One can only assume that drugs were involved. I set my stuff down so I could stuff  my hands in my pockets, and wondered where was a squad car when I needed one. Trust me, if Nick & Sam had pulled up, I would not have mentioned my desperately glove-less state, or who knows what he might have done. Because he’s just That Way.

I stopped off at the $ General, there being a crying need of toilet paper at my establishment. Got home, pondered how best to approach the house–see River of Glass notation above–decided my arms were too full for the degree of balance one wants to have in situations such as this, decided to chuck the package of toilet paper up on the porch. Missed by a mile, it landed in the middle of the ice floe, and I had to lean dangerously over the slicker-than-snot guard rail (ironically, more dangerous at this point than not using a guard rail at all) to retrieve it. I considered leaving it there until the next thaw.

So I’m stuck with a pair of cheap gloves I’ll probably never wear–but hey! Generous return policy!

I hope today is the last really cold day.

Scratchy Glitter–writing more about less than anyone who’s not being paid by the word!

Splendid Isolation

Why have I not posted? If I got nothing to say, my lips are sealed, as David Byrne so wisely tells us in “Psycho Killer.”


–I am implacably opposed to this weather. I prefer not to worry about slipping and getting killed every time I venture out the door. Every day is an adventure, and you know how I feel about those.

–I overheard a guy on the bus saying, “I’m going to decorate my bathroom all in Packers. I already ordered my toilet seat cover and night light.” Sports Teams–Helping People Decide On Decorating Schemes For…oh, I don’t know know how long. I’m just tickled there’s a night light available.

–I was at Walgreen’s, getting Rom’s Valentine’s Day presents (the theme this year is A Bunch of Cheap Crap–but carefully-chosen cheap crap!), and overheard a song that said, “My hands are bleeding and my knees are raw, ’cause I never met a girl like you!” Sounds like just another day of me dispatching, right, Nick? It does what it’s told, as the old saying goes.

Speaking of police officers and what they must endure, Nick & Sam dealt with a crazy guy who kept saying he was a six-star general in the Russian army. They must be running out of stars over there.

Also speaking of officers and what they have to put up with, I saw a sentiment on Facebook to the effect that, “If you followed a police officer for one day {first off, stop following them, it’s very annoying!}, you would be amazed by the depressing and upsetting things they see. You probably wouldn’t want to follow them for a second day {especially since  they’d start getting suspicious by that point}.” Certainly this is often true (although there are also days when the most depressing and upsetting thing they see all day is the interior of the squad car and their partner’s face), but the strange thing is, there are all kinds of people (scratch that–there’s only one kind of person, namely, adrenaline junkies) who volunteer to ride along with them. How crazy is that?

Also speaking of officers and poking them with a sharp stick…


LET’S GET SERIOUS! (cue the stampede for the exits)

The police chief recently wrote an article in the department’s in-house newsletter, concerning the body cameras that officers will shortly be wearing. He pointed out that officers tend to complain about innovations, but eventually adjust, and then can’t imagine doing the job without said innovations. I have noticed that when the computer goes down. I have also noticed it among my own co-workers. When we first got computers, the people who complained about them most bitterly eventually became the ones who complained most bitterly if they had to work without them. (For the record, Your Humble Narrator was one of the complainers, but I wasn’t in the “most bitterly” category. I had other topics to complain about, like how having to wear a uniform would impede my right to express my individuality through fashion.) And, now that I think about it, you can see this about people in general. When Lloyd Expressway has to be closed for some reason, people whine and cry as if they’ve forgotten any other way to get across town. And speaking of highways we once did without, I would like to personally remove 164. Its only function, as far as I can determine, is to provide an opportunity for people to slide off when the weather is bad.

Have I gone on long enough yet? I was planning to finish off strong with something amusing, but nothing more comes to mind, so you’re on your own.



Who Can Take a Nothing Day…

Cover of "Losing My Religion"

Cover of Losing My Religion

….and suddenly (very suddenly) make it all seem worthwhile? Why, it’s me! I must point out that I only know those lyrics because of the Joan Jett cover version. Speaking of music, “Losing My Religion” is playing on the radio. “Oh no, I’ve said too much, I haven’t said enough…”


–Every job has its problems, and training is always a pain, proven at McDonald’s today:

“I think Amanda screwed up this order.”

“Well, Casey was back there telling her the cheese goes on the bottom!”

Manager: “They actually tested this, and people said putting the cheese on the top makes it taste better. Not that I care one way or the other…”

–Everyone then weighs in with their personal opinions on cheese location, with most concluding that they don’t care, either. Or maybe they were just sucking up.

–On to Walgreen’s:

Walking by the Halloween display, had to turn back because I thought a sign said “Possible Skeleton.” No, it either is a skeleton or it isn’t, I thought. Turned out it was “Posable.”

Another sign promised “Your Ultimate Tampon Experience!” To which I can only say, Wow.

–And on to Thornton’s!

Actually, the news here is on the way from Thornton’s, because I ended up being chased by a hornet. I wanted to say, “No! MY SOFT DRINK IS SUGAR-FREE, YOU DON’T WANT IT!” And in return it would say (in a high buzzing voice), “YOU KILLED MY SISTER WHEN YOU THREW YOUR MCDONALD’S CUP IN THAT TRASH CAN, BITCH!” I flailed at it, until I remembered that only makes them angrier (kind of like police officers). So I broke into a run (in case anyone saw someone break into a run on St Joe for seemingly no reason), but then it started raining, which apparently curbed its enthusiasm.


They put “Rider Alert” signs in the front of the bus (in this case, the Festival route changes) in order that one might read them. So do not irritably say, “Take a seat, please.” K. THX. BYE.


May it be generally known that Nick’s ride-along last night, in the course of  impersonating him, obligated him to come in to Dispatch in the future and give me a shoulder massage, which is the most perfect example of the punishment fitting the crime that I’ve encountered in a long time. Sure, his hands may stray to my throat, but live dangerously, that’s what I always say!

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