Books, Buses, & Bozos

Books, Buses, & Bozos

It makes me wonder when I run across, not typos, but errors in a book. One recently, can’t recall exactly which, had the hero pecking away on a typewriter on the left–hand page and saving the file on his computer on the right hand page. A reference to a wooden ATLAS in the corner of the office, a holdover from the previous occupant’s days, had me scratching my head. Gee, do you think he meant GLOBE?

Today’s book has the intruder CLAMOR through the window. He then gets shot. Seems pretty harsh for someone just making a din outside the window. Perhaps the word should be CLAMBER? Later in the same book it is “like summer LIGHTING igniting a fire.” Okay, that could be a typo, but how could it slip by the editors or proofreaders and not be replaced with LIGHTNING?

Craftsmanship is certainly a lost art in many areas; that it has come to book publishing is sad. I understand the language is dynamic; that where I was taught that a FLOUNDER is a fish, and that people FOUNDER is no longer the case. Constant misuse, even by skilled writers, has resulted in ‘flounder’ getting another definition, the same as that of ‘founder’. Do something wrong enough times, pile up hundreds of citations, and it becomes right. It is now acceptable in our language. I can live with that. One of my favorites is NAUSEOUS vs. NAUSEATED. ‘Nauseous’ is that substance which makes you feel ‘nauseated’. The simple way to remember it was to think of ‘poisonous’ and ‘poisoned’. You would not ask someone, “Do you feel poisonous?” when what you are attempting to convey is, “Have you been poisoned?” But, with nurses countrywide asking patients if they felt ‘nauseous’ the distinction was erased and ‘nauseous’ is redefined. I would still query, “Do you feel nauseated?” But that is simply because I am old school. Which is not a bad thing. School was much easier when I was young. We had one less subject to worry about since there was no history.

The biggest decline I see is in the service sector. “The customer is always right.” no longer applies. The horrendous treatment of customers, and I suffered it once, at Target^® when trying to return something, is appalling. I bought an air mattress, took it home, blew it up, settled down, and the air leaked out in a couple hours. So I brought it back the next morning. I was told they couldn’t accept it because it wasn’t in new condition. There were marks on the bottom. Of course there were; I tried it out. What was I supposed to do? Inflate it, lean it against a wall making sure the floor was spotless, and come back hours later? I succeeded, managed to make them see my point, but it was a struggle. When I was in high school I worked at G. Fox & Co., a huge department store in Hartford, CT during the summer. ‘Training day’ had us hearing the story of the customer who entered the shoe department and wanted her money back for shoes that did not fit. They had been purchased two years earlier, had holes in the soles, and the heels were worn down to nothing. She got a full refund. The goodwill generated from that transaction could never be purchased for the cost of hundreds of pairs of shoes. Management knew that; they also knew that one in ten thousand would have the unmitigated gall to attempt such a stunt, while hundreds, perhaps thousands, would hear the story—one like this just had to get told and retold—and where would they then shop for shoes? A win–win situation; the best kind. ‘Customer Service’ is too often a disservice.

Common courtesy has vanished. Today I got the Deluxe Breakfast at McDonald’s. After sitting down and placing the eggs on the top half of the Styrofoam container (which they should not use because it takes forever to decompose) to separate them from the pancakes (never did like pepper on my pancakes or syrup on my eggs) I noticed I didn’t have the potato patty. I took the tray back up, pointed this out, and the girl went over, got the potato thingy (it has some special name) and dropped it on my tray. She then walked away. Without a word! No, “I’m sorry.” No, “Here you are.” Absolutely nothing. At least I didn’t get hassled about it. I was not accused of already eating it and trying to get another. That would not have surprised me. A couple days earlier, same McDonald’s, same breakfast, I went back to refill my ‘senior coke’. This is one of the few fast–food places that still have the soda dispensers behind the serving counter. You can still get all the refills you want, you just have to wait for someone to come over, take your cup, ask what you want, and they do it for you. No big deal, they’re very attentive to people seeking refills; no danger of standing there and being ignored for some length of time. I handed over my cup, which still had a little coke in the bottom, and the fellow told me, “This is a water cup. I can’t put soda in it.” Sure enough, the darn thing said WATER in big letters on both sides (Well, a round cup doesn’t have ‘sides’, but it said WATER twice, 180º apart.). Still, there was coke in the bottom, it could only have come from behind the counter (unless I was accused of bringing in my own, running out, etc.), and when I insisted that was the cup I received with my order it was refilled. It was refilled again, I told the girl I knew it was a water cup, etc., and there was no problem. Only thing was, I had a couple inches of soda and melted ice in the bottom. Did she dump that before refilling? Probably never occurred to her. Mama never taught her, or she wasn’t paying attention, and it sure isn’t part of the training. Or she didn’t pay attention there either. I’ll vote for ignorance. The fourth refill (I got talking with a friend who showed up just as I was going to leave and wound up chatting for hours) the counter–person called the manager over. I explained, and she tossed the water cup and gave me a soda cup. Same look, same size, just one says WATER. Used to be the water cup was much smaller, actually tiny, but no longer. Must have been too many people who looked at the amount of water they were handed and asked for a couple more. I always did. At any rate, I went back up with my breakfast receipt to the manager and said, “See. I ordered and paid for a soda. Just don’t want you to think I’m trying to put one over on you.” She looked, nodded, and walked away without a word. If this was a diner, or some local restaurant, I’d never go there again. But how do you penalize McDonald’s?

It’s a couple days later now and I took the bus into Glendale center, poked, and then decided to go to Burbank to sell some CDs. On the way there, as the bus traversed a short block from Brand Blvd. to Central Ave., a woman walked across the road, causing the driver to slow a bit. He honked at her, and then when she was clear he leaned on the horn as he stepped on the gas to go another fifty feet before he had to stop. Those horns are loud. And annoying. I’ve concluded that if drivers were surveyed and given a choice between a horn and brakes, the horn vote would total 98% or more. If they gave an intelligence test as part of the driver’s exam the roads would be empty. By the way, if you drive a bus, and your best friend’s name is Beavis, you can find a job with L.A. Metro. On the way back from Burbank, waiting for the Route 92, a Route 183 bus pulled up. I’ve noticed them turning the corner from Pacific Ave. onto Glenoaks Blvd. lately, a departure from the route they’ve traveled for years, and I asked the driver if he stopped near Pacific and Glenoaks. He pointed ahead, and then at me, as he said, “Glenoaks is up there and Pacific is down that way. Take the 92.” He then shut the door in my face and pulled away. I hope the bus drivers where you live are at least civil; out here they all flunked out of Charm School. That’s today’s tirade and, as always, this is all off–the–record, on the Q.T., and very hush–hush. Kindly stay tuned.