Archive for the ‘OCD & Pet Peeves’ Category

Hiding From The UPS Store Guy

May 21, 2009 - 11:16 am No Comments

So – I was recently ripped off at the UPS store. A perfect little scam, which can easily be undetected or explained away as simple error.

I took a few pieces of oversized mail to be metered at the UPS store, the employee faithfully metered and placed them in his bin, then presented a receipt from the register. I never even thought to ask to see the mail again to compare it to the charge. The store makes the difference, and you never see the stamp, so you assume the charge for your oversized envelope is what you are asked to pay.

In this case, we are only talking about a few extra dollars per letter – $4.80 instead of the $2.35 of the meter mail. I had two larger envelopes and was charged about $5 for each.

I would not have noticed the “thumb on the scale” tactic – but for the fact that one of the letters was returned to my mailbox for lack of postage — it needed a few more cents. (!) I still had the UPS receipt, and I compared the charges. That’s when I noticed that I was ripped off.

I went back to the store and spoke to the same elderly attendant, who would not look at me in the eye, and sent the letters overnight UPS “on the house” to make me happy. As this was above and beyond the service I required, I was satisfied, and I could tell at this point he just wanted me to go away. (Why is it that I evoke this instinct in people?)

I really did not understand how an employee could benefit from such a scheme, since at the end of the day the amount collected would still match the amount received from the client. The only one that would benefit would be the owner, or indirectly, the employee because he can show higher sales and get promoted?

Who knows.

I did not frequent the store for a long time until this morning I had some items laminated and was attended by a younger man who had a name tag with the title manager under it. I told him that I wanted to relate something that happened to me in the store that made me very unhappy.

As I was speaking to him, I noticed the same older man who had scammed me come out from the back of the store. So the manager and I stepped outside to speak. I explained the situation and let him know I did not understand how anyone but the owner could benefit from this scam, one client at a time and with the right need for specific services that lend themselves to hard to detect overcharges.

“He IS the owner,” he said.

Great! So now I find myself speaking to the employee of the cheating owner. Probably lucky he has a job at all and I put him in this impossible position. I may have been righteous and unkind in my choice of words. No obscenities, but things like: “Once a cheater always a cheater…” may have come out of my mouth.

Whenever I experience a situation like this in which my judgement may be clouded by my unusual righteous tendencies, I like to check in with Tom. As I related the story, of course, he was not pleased, but was able to articulate another point of view. This is his gift.

First of all, he questioned, quite seriously about the need I have to go stir trouble, and what benefit do I personally derive from it? Second, whenever you enter into a monetary transaction, you have to be diligent, and you do have a choice to go to another store. Third, what if the guy is losing his home or his store, and doing whatever it takes to keep his people employed. So he scams the pretty lady with the nice ring a few dollars at a time. Everyone does it, right?

“So that makes it right and we should just roll over?” I cry out, grasping for any justification that comes to mind.

“No”, he said, “but you choose your battles,” he said. “Life is beautiful. Time is limited. What is the benefit?”

Tom went on to detail how people are on edge, and a client accusation to an underling that embarrasses a potential loose canon with a mental illness is all it may take to send the guy postal and have him show up at the front door to “chat”. They do, after all, have all of our personal information.

Notable previous Geri jihads included displaying righteous indignation against a Pakistani parking lot manager while I had the two kids in tow to obtain a well-advertised hotel/parking promotion; trespassing on desolate private property just to see the historic boat house we know must still exist when you are out walking alone (and no one knows where it is); breaking and entering into an apartment we owned against the advice of our attorney because the renter owed us money; the list goes on and on…

All are probably not good decisions to simply satisfy spontaneous quests for experiential knowledge.

So now I am home alone, with locked doors, and hiding from the UPS store owner…

Many people speak passionately when asked for their testimony. Mine came quietly on my kitchen floor, when I asked God to come into my life, rescue me from these sinful behaviors, guide me through whatever road I have left, and save me from myself, and the insidious impulses that drive me to make wrong decisions that sap time and beauty from life and may ultimately endanger our family …

Posted in Faith-based Initiatives, Life with Tom, OCD & Pet Peeves |

Quoting Tom

April 26, 2009 - 8:54 am No Comments

Every week or so I find myself on the other side of a pensive husband who still likes to share his wisdom nuggets. This week it was: “The frequency at which I get laid is inversely proportional to the square footage of the place in which we live.”

I am afraid there is a studio efficiency in my future…

Posted in Life with Tom, OCD & Pet Peeves |

Garage Sales and OCD

June 14, 2008 - 8:35 am 3 Comments

Again, you get into your 40’s and start realizing that many things you took for granted are just peculiar behaviors you picked up along the way.  If and when recognized, I used to blame oddities on cultural differences, comparing and contrasting my Latina heritage to American ways.  This made me feel justified, and provided an excuse not to change.  I am no longer sure that this is the case, increasingly getting the feeling that medication might just do the trick.

Take, for instance, disposable items.  I cannot seem to only use things once.  I really did not see anything wrong with this until recently.  My mother used to find new uses for many things growing up.  Aluminum foil; the little trays that hold ground beef; disposable cups, plates and silverware; all kinds of boxes; clothing; sheets; wrapping paper; pieces of wood…  throwing anything out was severely frowned upon — a sign of a poor imagination. 

After college I moved to suburban Chicago, where my Argentinian uncles used to visit me once a year.  A great city indeed, with museums, great beaches, fabulous shopping, an incredible variety of restaurants – a tourist’s dream.  Not for Juan Carlos and Ruben.  Their favorite activity was going to garage sales.  That’s right — we found our kicks sifting through other peoples’ “junk”!  

A garage sale, also called a “yard sale”, “rummage sale”, “tag sale”, “attic sale”, “moving sale”, or “junk sale”, is an informal, irregularly scheduled event for the sale of used goods by private individuals, in which “block sales” are allowed, so that sellers are not required to obtain business licenses or collect sales tax. (from Wikipedia)

I would add that garage sales are uniquely American.  Everyone understands what this term means in our country, but travel around the world and you really have to spend some time defining it.  I have not been able to find much research on this phenomenon: how it originated, how it has evolved over the years, and how it reflects American society.  

I do not know if Americans can understand the extreme fascination that garage sales hold to us Latin people.  For a culture that is used to holding on to everything, the thought of not only getting rid of it all at the same time but also advertising so strangers can come to your home and give you money for your junk is unthinkable.  

So many things come into play here.  Perhaps the most prescient being the fact that opportunistic crimes are a way of life in our countries.  So, to add insult to injury, someone might steal your discards, or worse, stake out your house and rob you later.  We live always on the lookout for these behaviors.  It’s not the exception — you get used to it and incorporate it into daily life.

Second, the “que diran” is very pronounced in our culture.  “Que diran” is a very old expression that means, literally translated, “What will they say”.  This is yet another fact of life that is always on the back of our minds.  Appearances are very important in Latin culture, which creates a lot of confusion and is the main reason our “telenovelas”, short soap operas, are so popular, from Mexico all the way south to Argentina, as a reflection of all the trouble messing with the truth creates.

Ruben and Juan Carlos did not stop at garage sales.  Another thing we do not have in Latin countries are alleys.  Our homes have the garage, or car ports, in the front.  Alleys are a novelty. When we were done exploring sales, we would drive around suburban alleys looking for more stuff.  This time — free.  I remember their amazement at all the things that were thrown out. From furniture to small electronics, they would have taken it all if I had a bigger car!

Then came the best part.  They would set up shop in my own garage and start fixing everything.  Ruben would restore any old chair or frame into a work of art.  A $1 bathroom mat would become upholstery and a little sodering would fix the mixer.

I kept visiting garage sales after they left.  I later discovered estate sales.  These were even better.  Usually a whole life was on display here, and I found it hard to leave without buying something, making up stories about how the little bowl in my possession may have brought happiness to the deceased.  

Estate sales also give you the opportunity to explore strangers’ homes and examine how they lived, what they wore, and what appeared important them.  I particularly loved looking at their books and magazines.  The best estate sales belonged to dead people that were pack rats like me.  I couldn’t help thinking what a great sale they would have when I pass, with all the endless amount of crap stored up in all those boxes…

I don’t go to garage sales anymore.  I have replaced that with open houses.  The kids and I love nothing more than to stop at other peoples’ houses on Sunday afternoons.  We do this, of course, when daddy is out of town.  He does not partake of many of our forms of entertainment.

I am trying to break the habit of keeping everything, especially items that can be hazardous to your health.  I have been made aware of the fact that you should not reuse ziploc bags or straws.  No matter how much you wash them, apparently they can make you sick.  I still have a very hard time throwing out the kid’s leftover cereal milk, or any food they leave on their plate.  Chocolate boxes, old t-shirts, old toys, kid books, any books, especially books — everything has a story, a memory…

My habits have been found to strain a marriage, especially coming home from vacation.  I pack my suitcase with every bit of leftover food and hope my hubby does not notice.  He already thinks a lot of these quirks are a little obsessive.  The Department of Homeland Security agrees with him and has made my life more difficult.  One of the agents stopped me and found the port wine cheese I was smuggling in my carry on.  I tried to argue that it was under 3 ounces, to no avail.  No matter how much I pleaded, apparently it posed some great danger to our well-being…

Posted in OCD & Pet Peeves |