Just Give `Em the Pickle!

In this era of progress, customer service is a lost art.  That might seem like an obscene thing to say, as you might be able to recall the sales clerk you have a tendency to ask for, or the waiter you like to have serve you, but have you ever thought to ask yourself why to prefer to have these people wait on you?  Is it due to the fact they truly are attentive, or is it that their co-workers aren't as attentive.

If a person is to succeed in customer service, they have to be willing to give `em the pickle.

Don't laugh.  I know what I'm talking about.  Or, more specifically, Bob Farrell does.  He's the founder and former owner of Farrell's Ice Cream Parlors.   He's now a motivational speaker, and he got his start as a speaker due to a letter from an irate customer.  The man was upset, as he'd always requested an extra pickle, and all of a sudden, the girl at the register wanted to charge him for it (a ridiculous fee, to boot.)  He walked out of Farrell's, swearing never to return.  Mr. Farrell not only personally answered the man's letter with an apology, he sent a good amount of coupons, imploring for the man to return.  But no one tells the story as well as Bob Farrell:

As he said, he, an extremely wealthy man, is constantly learning from those he talks to.  And Farrell has learned over the years:  One does not have to be in retail, or a restaurant business, in order to 'give `em the pickle.'  It doesn't even have to be a money-related thing a person does.  But we are all capable to handing out pickles in one form or another.

Before you crack  you don't like pickles, or  I'll probably give you dill and you only like sweet or vice versa, think - - - it not only is nice to have someone do something for you, it also never hurts to take the time to do something for someone.

So just give `em the pickle.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Can Anyone Explain?

Currently, a fan of the San Francisco Giants is in the hospital, due to being attacked by someone who was a fan of the Los Angeles Dodgers on Opening Day.  The man had texted to a friend just moments before that he was afraid.  The doctors have said the man has suffered from brain damage and faces a long road.

Here in Oklahoma, a man was wearing a University of Texas shirt in a bar.  As a result, he got into a fight, the other man tearing his private parts, and a lawsuit coming out of it.

A joke has been running around for years about a coach reminding his players about not shouting at the umps, not swearing, not fighting, etc.  When they say they remember, he tells them, "Good.  Now go in the stands and tell your parents."

What has happened to sportsmanship?  What has happened to fun among rival fans?  In 1985, I was visiting my cousin in St. Louis, wearing a Cubs t-shirt I'd purchased the day before (at Busch Stadium, nonetheless!).  The Cardinals were playing the Montreal Expos, and vendors were going throughout the stands.  I wanted something for my nephews, and purchaed an Expos cap.  The man in front of me heard me say "Expos" and turned around, saying, "Expos?  Expos?"  He then saw my shirt, and shouted, "Cubs?  Cubs!?!?!?!?"  I pointed out I was from Oklahoma, as my cousin merely shurgged, and said, "I don't know him.  He just slipped into my box."

Well, the rest of the game, the man kept giving me funny looks, but I knew it was part of his game.  I played along, and we both had fun.  When the game was over, he turned around, shook my hand, and said, "You know I was kidding."  I told him I enjoyed every minute of it, and I've rememered it for twenty-six years.

Today, I'd be put in the hospital.  Sportsmanship is looked upon as unmanly, for the weak.  In short, it's dead.  We have taught an entire generation not to get along with others, to kill them on the 'field of battle,' forgetting that all sports were originally intended to be games.  And while there are many definitions for the word 'game,' the first one is 'activity engaged in for diversion or amusement.'  We have forgotten that over the years as people fight under the stands or in bars over whose team is better.  If they're going to fight, let it be over something of more importance than a game, for pete's sake.

We need to grow up.
                                

Remember When The Audience Had Wits To Match?

A long, long time ago - - - When the top songs for the nation were being sung by The Carpenters (Please Mr. Postman), Barry Manilow (Mandy) and Frankie Valli (My Eyes Adored You) - - - When Johnny Bench was still playing baseball, and Nate Archibald still thrilled people on the basketball court - - - and John Wayne was making a film with Katharine Hepburn (finally!), I was enjoying a show that I caught each and every week.  The narrator invited us to "match wits with Ellery Queen."  I'd rush to the television without fail, and of course, never be able to guess who the killer was.  And the network did what they always did with my favorite shows . . . they cancelled it

After one season.  Not the way to endear oneself to an eleven-year-old, but I persevered.  Yet, I never forgot 'Ellery Queen,' for some odd reason.  It made me a fan of Jim Hutton, whose teaming with David Wayne seemed to be magical.  As Hutton says when he 'breaks the fourth wall' each episode, the clues are always there in front of us, so we should always be ahead of them.  Yet the episodes can be complex and hard to figure out - - - until you see how Ellery solves them. 

In short, the show was brilliant.  It was also tasteful, and something you could watch with the children.

We don't have anything like that on television anymore.  Or in the movies. 



The show wasn't above anyone's head.  Like I said, I was eleven, and loved the show.  When the one season came out on DVD earlier this year, I discovered a good amount of people who enjoyed it as well. (If that's true, why was it cancelled?)  It was entertaining, with a good amount of humor, yet made you think without tackling your brain too much.  All you had to do was watch.

And the guest stars was literally a Who's Who:  Anyone who's interested in film history needs to watch this show.  Watching the guest stars makes a film buff wish they'd been on the set with an autograph book. 

The gentlemen in charge of the show created 'Columbo,' and 'Murder, She Wrote,' among other TV staples.  But 'Ellery Queen' will always be their crowning achievement as far as I'm concerned.

The entertainment world needs 'Ellery Queen' today.
                               

The Worst Ever Four Letter Word

My family is trying to kill me.  As a matter of fact, my lifelong doctor is in on it.  For the life (Pardon the unintended pun.) of me, I can't figure out why.  I don't know any family secrets.  That's the folks' job.  I don't have any money.  I guess they want my room and are too shy to ask.

Anyway, they've decided to do it with not the lead pipe, the rope, or the revolver.  Professor Plum isn't going to do it in the study.  No, it's far worse that that.  I can't even say the word.  It's too horrible.  I'll have to spell it out.  The first letter is D.  The second is I.  The third is E.  And the last is T.  (Notice what the first three spell by themselves?  Hmmmmmmm?)

This is what I call The Refusal Diet.  It starts as Sis keeps faxing Mom all these recipes.  You know, the ol' diet (Sorry.  I used the evil word.) standards.  Things like soybean steak covered with alfalfa bean sprout juice.  If you look at it, that's half your points for the day.  If you take a sniff, that's three-fourths.  If you do the latter, you get sick to your stomach and can't eat anyway.  Thus, it's The Refusal Diet, and you lose weight. 

So far I've lost ten pounds in two weeks.  (I really have.)  I knew I was losing weight when a pair of pajamas started to fit.  But now all my slacks are starting to slip on me.  Well, that's just great!  I'd best stay away from the malls, as I don't want to wind up like Dez Bryant.

My weight is like a yo-yo.  It goes up and down. I've been told - - - no, ordered - - - to lose fifteen pounds.  (And I've always liked Dr. Warner up to now.  After forty-one years, what's happened to him?)  I was told to lose 1-2 pounds a month, but I've found a place in town that serves calf fries, and people, I'm losing 30 so I can gorge!

In the meantime, if you see me, hide your ice cream or you might lose your hand.  And if our dog disappears, it really wasn't me.  Although Lilly is starting to look tasty . . . . .

                                                                                                

Make Your Words Be Sweet . . . .

When I was in college a long, long, long time ago - you know - before Al Gore had invented the Internet and a phone was something you had to walk to, not carry around - I had an interesting friend in the dorm named Frank.  He loved sleeping in, and on the way to our history class, he had me rap on his door, as that meant he had ten minutes to be there.  As a result, Frank was never late to class.  In return, if I had to miss a class, he would copy his notes for me.  I have to admit, I censored Frank's notes, as he actually wrote them faster than Dr. Peters gave them out, and put in a good deal of profanities.  Needless to say, Frank's notes were . . . well, interesting.

My favorite memory of Frank was the day Dr. Peters had a test for us.  Being the history whiz he was, Frank of course was going to ace it.  This was one of those computerized tests, with the cards that required a number two pencil.  Dr. Peters had extra pencils for anyone who had forgotten theirs.  Close to half the class went up to borrow one as Frank muttered about the irresponsibility of these people.  I pointed out they were your typical college students, and he replied, "Not in my book." 

Frank then started burrowing into his briefcase and going deeper . . . and deeper . . . and deeper.  You guessed it.  He was the last person to go up and borrow a pencil from Dr. Peters.  As he came back, not saying a word, he looked at me, as I had the giggles by now.  Sitting down, he simply muttered under his breath, "Shut up." 

Five minutes into the test, it was a killer.  I couldn't help it.  I started snickering.  Frank very loudly muttered, "Shut up!"  No one could figure out why I was laughing during the test, and Dr. Peters thought I'd lost it.  Well, this went on throughout the test, and Frank never forgave me.  From then on, every time I'd knock on his door, I'd shout, "Remember your pencil!"  I almost gave him a pack of a dozen pencils for Christmas, but I honestly thought he'd stab me with them.  As a matter of fact, he almost forgot his pencil for his next test.  (I did, and Frank had to loan me one.  He couldn't give me a hard time, as I didn't give the others a hard time.  I was merely serving as Frank's conscience.)

It's just like the line about us observing the splinter in a person's eye when we have a two by four in our own.  Poor Frank went through an awful lot due to one little pencil and a few choice comments.  I don't know if he remembers that story, but if he does, I like to think he's a history teacher, and lets his students know when they take a computerized test, "If you ever want to criticize anyone for forgetting anything, don't.  You'll be in their shoes soon enough."


Frank learned something that day, and so did I.  I got a good laugh as well.

I'm Confused

I worked in retail for seventeen years, and with each hiring, I was told, "You pull a no-call, no-show, we will assume you've quit." 
That always made sense to me, and the two times I've done that, it's been due to a mix-up on my schedule.  Thankfully, my bosses had a feeling something was awry, especially when the following day, I showed up for work . . . on my day off.  Each time, they laughed, then sent me home, telling me they hoped I enjoyed the extra day off.  In short, they knew I wasn't the type person to pull that stunt.

The politicians of today, I have to admit, are a different matter.  You see, I was the person who followed the rules.  These are the people who set the rules.  While at two differing jobs, I pulled a no-call, no show one time, these people have done it over the space of two weeks.  Were that me or you, we'd be fired.  I guess being an elected official has its advantages.  Remind me next election to run for an office.  I don't care what it is!  I want to see what it's like to be paid to not show up.

Some time ago, one of our state legislators was asked - on television - "Why did you run?"  His answer?  "I couldn't find a job."  Now, at first thought, that's disgusting.  At closer examination, you have to admire his honesty.  He didn't give any bushwah about wanting to serve his constituents, or thinking he was better than the person who was in office.  No, he wanted the pay.  I don't blame him, but those who voted for him.

If we want to avoid the fiascoes that are going on in the states that have runaway legislators who are shouting "You aren't playing my way, so I'm running to Mommy!," then we need to start researching now.  I know . . . the nest elections aren't until November of next year.  But we plan trips longer than we research candidates, and the impact they leave on us is longer than the memories of the trips.

Start researching those whom you think are potential candidates.  Otherwise, be quiet about not liking those in office.  Your ballot is a God-given right that many have fought and died for.  Use it or lose it, but know who you're casting it for.

It's Been One of Those . . .

Whenever you ask someone how their day is, and they reply, "Oh, it's been one of those days," sometimes I just want to sock them.  You see, I've been having one of those years.  (Last year was the same.  I didn't even send out a Christmas letter!)  One of my favorites films is 1975's The Wind and the Lion. 

In the film, Sean Connery's Raisuli says, "This has been a bad year.  The next one will probably be worse."  When things get in a blah way, we start quoting that line, and laughing about it.  (Of course, we never do say it as well as Connery did.)

Times like this make me want to take the calendar, and mark the days that have stunk off.  You know, that way they never happened.  Then it reminds me of a comic book I had as a child.  The Ghostly Trio was tired of Casper's goodness, and purchased a magic calendar. They could mark off any day they wanted to get rid of.  Sounds great, right?  Well, they marked off the year they met Casper.  In doing so, they also marked off the year they found their house, learned to fly, etc.  In short, they messed up their lives.  In getting rid of those memories, the trio also got rid of some good stuff, and they learned their lessons the hard way.

But isn't that what the 'bad stuff' is, anyway?  Learning our lessons the hard way?  We don't realize it at the time, and it will take us a long time to admit it - - - if we ever do - - - but every day is a lesson.  (We just think we get out of school.  The difference is that we don't get graded now.)  It's up to us if we pass life's lessons.

Having a stinky day?  Chin up, buck up, and proceed.  If you've seen The Wind and the Lion, you know the Raisuli did just that, losing everything, yet loving every minute of it.