Complaint Center

I have an important ethical conundrum for you, dear readers. I've been wondering of late when it is okay to complain about someone, professionally.

Having worked in the service industry in a variety of capacities, I usually operate in the "no-complaining-about-workers-to-their-boss-no-matter-what" solidarity camp. I always try to give them the benefit of the doubt: they might be having a rough day/week/month, maybe they weren't supposed to have to work today but are filling in, or perhaps they don't usually fill in for this position and so aren't properly trained. (Having found myself in all of these positions and more, I have a deep sympathy for them.) However, recently I'm beginning to wonder if this is the best solution for everyone involved. Is it actually better to complain sometimes? If so, what is the best way to do it? (The only time I've ever complained about someone to their superior the whole situation BLEW UP into an incredibly nasty and stupid situation that left awkwardness everywhere like nuclear residue.)

Let me give you an example. A few weeks ago, I went to the salon to get my hair cut. The place was busy but not overly so. The receptionist, upon my arrival, barked "Why don't you go get a smock on?" (Issue #1 Since when do I have to put on my own smock? Issue #2 I have no idea what that means having never been to this particular location before.) I tell her I don't know where the smocks are, she says "in the bathroom". Where's the bathroom? I ask, trying to still sound pleasant. "Down there" she motions dismissively. I tell her who I'm here to see, find the smocks, and sit down to enjoy a juicy issue of Cosmo from 2005 while I wait. 45 minutes later, I am still sitting there having finished the Cosmo, 2 US Weekly's and half of a Self magazine (THIS JUST IN: If you eat less and exercise more, you can lose weight! Get me a subscription!!). Finally, my stylist comes over to me and begins profusely apologizing. The receptionist never told her that I had arrived, and when she had specifically asked if I was her client, the receptionist had said no and went back to filing her nails. (Yes, I'm just sitting here in a smock reading Cosmo because I like the atmosphere....)The stylist felt terrible, and I was more than a bit annoyed. When the stylist motioned to one of the other "junior stylists" (who are these extra people who work at a Salon?) to help shampoo my hair, the girl sighed dramatically and dragged herself over to the sink making it very clear it was extremely inconvenient and annoying for her to have to do her job at this particular moment. After this, things improved a bit. I loved the haircut and would consider going back to this woman again, except for the administrative snafus.

Now the question is, is this something to complain about? Is this sufficient enough to write an email to the manager describing my experience? Or should I post something online? (I almost feel as though that's not fair, because the place has not way to respond.) What would be the purpose of such a complaint? What would I get out of it? What would they?

Thoughts, please...

Self Check Out THIS

For a while now, I've been suspicious that much of modern, novel technology is actually categorically stupid and unhelpful. Don't get me wrong; I'm all for technology in some forms: computers that help me type (and make this blog possible), dishwashers that do the work for me saving my hands from unwanted prune-ish-ness, digital picture frames that stop every flat surface in our small house from becoming cluttered with photos. But there are new and novel items out there that I believe are actually making life (my life at least) worse rather than better.

Case in Point: Grocery Store Self Check Out.

Now, in theory, it makes sense. Avoid the long lines, skip the cashier that may or may not be helpful and pleasant today, zip through the self-check out, scan a few things, and KAZAAM, you're outta there, back to enjoying life in paradise. Unfortunately, it never, ever goes quite this way. In fact, the last time I visited the self-check out, I became engaged in a cosmic battle for control of my groceries...and barely got out alive.

PLEASE SCAN YOUR FISRT ITEM AND PLACE IT IN THE BAG, the machine yells at me. There is not mute option on these bohemouth machines. So I scan my first item.
BLEEEEEP.
A success. I place it in the "bagging area". (I'm going to try to use my own bags to bag my groceries, which is a giant mistake, as trying to do this can anger the self-check-out-machine-gods, as we will see, who will punish you with shame later.)
My second item, breakfast cereal, is also easy.
BLEEEEEP.
The third item is where everything starts to go south. It's a small package of spices (short digression: why are spices 1/12 the price in the hispanic foods section? I feel like I've struck a GOLD mine having figured this out.). Unfortunately, the little envelopes of spices in the hispanic section do not weigh enough for the special machine to recognize. So I scan it,
BLEEP
and put it in the "bagging area" as it declares
PLEASE PUT THE ITEM IN THE BAGGING....
I forsee that this might be a problem so I try to quickly scan the next item.
BLEEP
But it's too late.
PLEASE PLACE THE ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA.
So I try to put the spice bag on the little metal scales to no avail.
PLEASE PLACE THE ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA.
I try to take it away to replace it when
AN ITEM HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM THE BAGGING AREA. PLEASE RETURN THE ITEM TO THE BAGGING AREA. AN ITEM HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM THE BAGGGING AREA. PLEASE RETURN THE ITEM TO THE BAGGING AREA.
Like some sort of nagging spouse, the machine will continue with this monologue until you offer it something to appease its anger. I try to trick it by placing my reusable bag in the bagging area, like Indiana Jones in the beginning of that one movie where he steals the statue and replaces it with a bag of sand...big mistake.
AN ITEM HAS BEEN ADDED TO THE BAGGING AREA. PLEASE REMOVE ITEM FROM THE BAGGING AREA.
It's like trying to argue with a person who has no access to rational thought. (And is it just me or are its protestations getting louder with each command?) Now the people waiting behind me in line are starting to stare, smugly believing that they can master this process with much more grace. I dutifully, as if appeasing some unseen and moody God, remove the reusable bag from the bagging area, find the "I do not wish to bag this item" button and after a full minute of gargling and whizzing inside the machine, it returns to normal mode. (Don't even get me STARTED on trying to purchase produce with one of these things!) I gingerly scan my next few items, with an appropriate level of apprehension and fear (each time I do this I identify more and more with ancient peoples and their elaborate rituals to please the Gods and elicit Godly favor rather than wrath.)
After only a few more altercations, I manage to get most of my items scanned and stacked, albeit precariously, in "the bagging area." Because the bagging area is not big enough for very many items, and because you can't remove them, it can get very tricky.
I press "Finish and Pay" glad to finally be close to finished with this ordeal.
PLEASE SCAN YOUR REWARDS CARD.
PLEASE CHECK YOUR CART FOR OTHER ITEMS.
PLEASE SCAN ANY COUPONS.
PLEASE SELECT THE PAYMENT METHOD.
I select credit, move to the other end of the machine to scan my card, move back to the front end to enter my zip code, move back to the other end to approve the amount....
PLEASE USE PINPAD TO COMPLETE YOUR TRANSACTION.
Now I'm getting flustered with all these commands, so I do not see that Mr. Love-it-or-leav-it has decided to help by beginning to bag our items in our resulable bags. It is our downfall.
AN ITEM HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM THE BAGGING AREA. PLEASE RETURN ITEM TO THE BAGGING AREA.
AN ITEM HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM THE BAGGING AREA. PLEASE RETURN ITEM TO THE BAGGING AREA.
AN ITEM HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM THE BAGGING AREA. PLEASE RETURN ITEM TO THE BAGGING AREA.
It has become too much. We have been defeated. The annoyed customers behind us give us shaming looks, the store staff who have been loitering around the manager's station this whole time are staring at us. We replace the items, finish the transaction, then quickly try to bag our items and flee the scene, leaving in a whirlwind of anger and humiliation. I have to take a 3 hour nap later in the day to recover.



Now tell me, fair readers, is this technological advancement is a sign of development? Is it helping us live better lives or save time for other, more important an fulfilling activities? Or is it something used to punish us for our constant need to innovate? And it's not just your local Star Market: these things are everywhere, from Costco to Home Depot (can you imagine going through one of these things with a five gallon bucket of mayonnaise or a two-by-four???) For my money, I'm with staying in the stone age, my mental health, and spice envelope fully intact and headed for my nearest, potentially grumpy cashier.

Tonight we're gonna party like it's 1999!

My tenth high school reunion is taking place this weekend. It's crazy for me to think that a decade has already passed since I walked the halls of my high school, but it's true. Unfortunately, I won't be there to participate in the blessed event. My new job, as it turns out, cramps my ability to travel on the weekend.


So, instead, I wanted to project the following reflections into cyberspace on why I'm glad I'm 28 and no longer 18 in the form of the following top ten list.

"What I've Learned Since High School":
10. Most of what I learned in High School I've now forgotten.
9. Caring what people I don't care about think about me is not a good use of my mental energy.
8. Tighter clothing is not necessarily better clothing.
7. Uncomfortable shoes can cause nothing but blisters and heartache.
6. Subtle, well-thought-out rebellion is much more effective than momentary idiocy.
5. Never tell God what you'll never do.
4. I don't actually know everything.
3. Friendship is never like it is in the movies: it's better and worse in unexpected ways.
2. I actually really like my parents, value their opinion and want to spend time with them.
1. I'm actually pretty great, and unfortunately, I'll never get back all the hours I spent worrying about my flaws.

Perhaps I'll put my 20 year reunion on my calendar now. I can't even fathom how much more attractive and comfortable with myself I'll be by then. They probably won't even recognize me.

Better late than....the first one at the party?

As a (usually) punctual person, I have been recently challenged by the developing trend of tardiness that seems to be overtaking the social landscape. The last three parties I have been to, I've appeared relatively on time to find out that myself and my partner-in-crime are the first to arrive...by about 30 minutes! This combined with being the first (and for a while, only) one at half a dozen meetings this month has left me wondering:

If you know everyone else will be late, is it okay to be late yourself? When a party is at 7:30, when should I arrive? If I'm the only one at the meeting, should I start it myself?

As of now, I'm feeling as though I either need to adjust my internal social clock or move to Switzerland.

It's not a maze, but it is amazing!

It is not usually the purview of this blog to give advice to its (limited) readership, but I hope you have all had a chance to experience the wonder of a labyrinth and that if you have not you will go out and experiment with them immediately.

A labyrinth is an ancient symbol, a unicursal design used for prayer and meditation. Though many sources associate a labyrinth with a maze (a misconception not helped by the 1986 film Labyrinth starring David Bowie*), there is a distinct difference: a labyrinth has a single path in and out. Whereas a maze is a complicated series of paths in which it is easy to become lost, a labyrinth requires no choices and involves no confusion. One must simply journey in and out.

The pattern can be quite simple:

Or quite complicated:

The most well-known pattern is this one

which is the same pattern of the 13th century labyrinth inlaid into the floor of the cathedral in Chartes, France, perhaps one of the beautiful and most famous:



I had loved labyrinths for a long while and have appreciated their metaphorical and spiritual significance. But I was prompted to remind you about them when I had an opportunity recently to participate in a guided labyrinth walk accompanied by an incredibly talented music thanatologist or harpist who accompanies patients at the end of life. (If you have never heard this type of harp music, I suggest you do! It is the most soothing, peaceful, and beautiful sound you could imagine. In fact, if I am ever near death, I hope my loved ones will call just such a person.)

Anyhow, just a suggestion for your journey, something I've found quite helpful. Enjoy!

p.s. For those of you in the Cambridge, MA area, there is a beautiful outdoor labyrinth on the campus of Harvard Divinity School. Check it out!

p.p.s. Some people get so into labyrinths that they get tattoos of them! Can you believe that?




* Did anyone know that Labyrinth the movie was directed by Jim Henson? Strange...

Don't Take the Bait

On a recent weekend trip to Minneapolis, I was trapped and reeled in by an unforeseen yet dangerous beast of the travel world: the talkative-airline-seat-mate.

Now, as a particularly egregious extrovert, I have to be very careful not to be sucked in by enemies such as the talkative seat mate because I lack a particular enzyme that allows me to end a conversation (for example, it takes me approximately 1.5 hours* to pick up our dog from the dogsitter, while it takes my husband 10 minutes....I just cannot stop talking!). So once the airline chat has commenced, I am committed to talking for the rest of the flight even if it is excruciating.

But this seat-mate was employing advanced, guerilla-warfare-like tactics of conversational entrapment, such as

• Upon arriving, over-enthusiastically announcing that this was her row.
  
• Sitting down and immediately asking me if it was better for me to have the seat arm up or down (and other questions that precluded "yes" or "no" answers). Inserting that she didn't care either way.
  
• Commenting on the number of babies surrounding us in the aisles and how cute they were. When I responded, "mmmhmmm", asking if I had ever seen so many babies on a plane.
  
• Taking out her phone to listen to her voicemail and then exclaiming "OH MY GOD" quite loudly and then looking at me.
  
• Engaging in verbal outbursts as she was reading including "WOW" and several machine-gun bursts of laughter.
  

I proudly managed to avoid her advances almost the entire flight through curt answers, exaggeratedly un-welcoming body language, repeated attempts to engage Mr.Love-it-or-leav-it in hushed conversation (although unfortuantely as an introvert he easily rebuffed my interjections) and pretending to sleep.

But, alas, in the final hour, she outwitted me with the one simple question that is impossible to avoid and which releases a torrent of other possible questions: are you going home or going on a trip? Depleted of my powers, I gave in, telling her we were on our way to Minneapolis for a wedding, at which point she talked my ear off the rest of our journey about her children, their academic and athletic careers and personality quirks, her life as a teacher at a boarding school, her childhood, the health of her parents, their recent home remodel, her recent vacation schedule, and her personal opinions on everything from traffic in Boston to American culture to why Dartmouth is inbred.

I left the flight exhausted and irritated, feeling defeated by having given in to the beast in 22C and fully committed to investing in some sound-canceling head-phones and an eye mask.



*Note for MP: This is ACTUALLY, LITERALLY how long it takes me, and therefore NOT an exaggeration of any kind.

Gridlock Traffic, Racism and Idiocy

A story on NPR the other day (listen to it here) combined with an experience I had while driving in Harvard Square prompted me to reflect a bit on the idea of racism and its implications for various generations of Americans.*

First, the story: the Talk of the Nation segment was discussing recent media hype over comments made by Supreme Court Justice Nominee Sonia Sotomayor and whether or not those comments could be classified as "racist". Most of the callers on the show were older Americans who had lived through the civil rights movement, and many asserted that the worst thing in the world anyone could call someone else was "a racist."

Now, the experience: I was driving through gridlock traffic right in the heart of Harvard Square. When I finally got the much needed opportunity to make a left turn, just at the critical moment, a man stepped out into the crosswalk (against the light) right in front of me, causing me to slam on my breaks at which point the light turned red, the walk signal began to chirp and I was stuck in the middle of the intersection swarmed by annoyed pedestrians. Now I must confess that in my frustration I made a face and gesture at this young man (made more awkward by the fact that it was beautiful out and all my windows were down). But in the midst of my gesturing, I realized that this man was Arab. I was immediately filled with guilt and shame, and the first thought that popped into my head was "oh my gosh, I'm so........racist!" I seriously considered trying to reconcile with this man (and would have were I not stuck in the middle of an intersection surrounded by commuters on foot), to shout something about how I wasn't thinking, or to confess to some neutral, non-culturally oppressive deity.

This incident came flooding back to me when I listened to the NPR story, and caused me to wonder about the differences in the way my generation and that of, say, my parents' views race and racism. I see that my generation (or at least my sub-cultural section of my generation) has grown up with the idea that political-correctness is to be valued about all else. As a child, I learned never to judge, to believe that all viewpoints were valid, and to understand that everyone was different and to be valued. But I wonder where this trajectory has led us? What have we lost in advocating the religion of political-correctness? How ridiculous is it that I feel racist for being upset with someone who annoyed me just because that person also happened to be part of an ethnic minority?

A quick survey of friends my age revealed similar issues: one friend felt racist because she didn't like salsa music. Another had been called racist because he didn't like hummus. I wonder if this type of self-reflection is really helping anyone at all. I would be willing to wager that it isn't. Of course not all viewpoints are valid: knowing that is what allows us to say no to violence and oppression, to real racism when we see it.

Several callers on the NPR show wondered whether or not racism had to be connected with power or judgment. Did you have to exercise power to be racist, they mused? I'm not sure whether or not I agree, but I do appreciate the sentiment that we need a deeper investigation in this country about what racism is before we can confront it and understand the real ways it still works.

I didn't think that the man crossed the street against the light because he was Arab, I thought he crossed the street against the light because he was an idiot. And idiocy, fortunately, can be found in every race. So maybe I'm not too racist after all.

If you're concerned at all about you're own racism, watch this youtube video to know you're not alone.




* This subject matter might seem strangely heavy compared to the normal WUJ content. But don't fret, more hilarity is coming soon!