Adam Thomas's Blog, page 17
August 8, 2017
commercially relevant
I don’t think sign lady is ever coming back. Apparently, my ‘get well’ wishes back in April were never received. Either that or … . She retired? Hmm… . Hopefully, NOT permanently, if you know what I mean. I’ve never met her. But, I do miss her musings. Especially considering that Friends are the chocolate chips in the cookie of life is the best the establishment’s marquee replacement worker can deliver. … the cookie of life? Ugh! Fuckin’ rookie. Or would that be fuckin’ cookie?
So, I decided to look elsewhere. And, I found some suitable offerings. Granted these aren’t the best pearls of wisdom, but not everything sign lady wrote was blog worthy either. I’m a writer. I’ll make it work.
In the April post, I matched each phrase with an appropriate song. That was fun. This time around I wanted to keep it fresh. I decided to go commercial. Literally.
Be a fountain, not a drain
Unfortunately, I am surrounded by drains. Worse scenario – when a drain thinks they’re a fountain. Hmm… . Deep shit, eh? Well, I have a solution, of course. Plug the damn drain and watch it implode. Or just cut the ‘water’ supply. Either way, that fountain is fucked. Still, there are those stubborn drains where drastic measures are necessary.
when life knocks you down – do a burpee
Thank my local gym for this little ‘exercise’ in maintaining mental and physical health. While I’ve never been a burpee dude, going to the gym is crucial for my well being. Lifting weights is the ultimate stress relief. Bonus – few ‘tourists’ frequent my gym. So, that ,bitch with three addresses stays away. Though, I’m certain she’s still confused at which house she is actually at.
In the word scent, is the -s- or the -c- silent?
Late Middle English (denoting the sense of smell): from Old French sentir ’perceive, smell,’ from Latin sentire. The addition of -c- (in the 17th century) is unexplained. So the c is silent and also shouldn’t really be there.
The world according Webster has spoken. If that’s the case, how would there be a differentiation between sent (past tense of send) and this whole scent with the -c- that shouldn’t be there? Hmm … .
Wow, two deep thoughts in one post. I need to stop. Moreover, I really need to stop with that Hmm … shit.
Just so those that know me don’t think I’ve gone off the deep end, over contemplating meaningless musings. I’m fine. These marquees are strategically placed along my commute – at very long stop lights, I might add! Avoiding these messages can’t be denied. Though it’s NOT the extent of denial as that whole drain/fountain identity issue. For now, I’m just going to crack open a bottle of Liquid Plumr and Gain insight. Cheers.
Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow you may diet
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August 1, 2017
Ode to highway signs
BEGIN CONSTRUCTION
It’s that time of year for road trips. For me, seven hours or less one way is ideal. Once you get passed that, it’s no longer an extended weekend excursion. I often thought having two additional drivers on road trips made driving more manageable. Sadly, I was wrong. Those additional drivers no longer wanted to go on family outings. Work schedules complicated planning. And … .
Actually, I travel less this time of year. I live in the ultimate summer destination. Why would I want to go elsewhere? Probably to get away from everyone else coming to the ultimate summer destination. Doesn’t really matter – I get little time off during July/August. Besides, the majority of my vacation days are reserved for travel hockey the other ten months of the year.
Over five years of travel hockey, I’ve become quite the proverbial road map. Fortunately, this blog has served to highlight several of those events – MasterCard Moments. It’s been quite fun. In fact, I even decided to dedicate a post to highway travel and those signs that … guide.
So, here it is. Fasten those seat belts. I promise nothing posted here will induce car sickness. Well, not intentionally. Though, if you do get sick reading this post, that’s your own damn fault.
DETOUR
Below are a few staple items I need to ensure an uneventful trip.
bubble gum - always have a stash in the glove compartment. Hmm… . Maybe I should rephrase that. Regardless, I learned that gum chewing decreases the yawn complex. Who’d a thunk that, eh?
pbj - never go anywhere without a pbj, baby. Pitch the sandwich bag on the floor – good for another 100 miles. Unless I have to pee, of course.
MapQuest - still don’t trust that GPS. Remember that whole Canadian map fiasco back in December? Besides, I’m totally old school. I like having a hard copy of directions to my destination.
PROCEED WITH CAUTION
Here are a few of my favorite highway signs; for various reasons. Some of those reasons are obvious. Some, … not so much.
SPEED LIMIT 75 - the speed limit in most of Michigan changed from 70 to 75 AFTER hockey season was over. Go figure.
KEEP RIGHT EXCEPT TO PASS – I hate people who camp out in the left lane. So frustrating. Get the fuck over, bitch.
BRIDGE ICES BEFORE ROAD - even in summer, this sign scares the shit out of me; some latent form of PTSD related to customer service no doubt.
NO U TURN - the Rule of the Road I break most often. Other than speeding, that is. I even banged a U-ey on an exit once. Don’t ask. Probably not my best idea, okay. But remember – a hockey road trip is not a hockey road trip until at least one ‘Rule’ is broken.
ROUGH ROAD AHEAD - Rarely did I run in to this sign while driving – thankfully. Though I think it’s a permanent fixture on that other ‘road’ . Unfortunately, there is never a WARNING designating said fucking ‘bumps’.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLm3HMG8IhM
Well, there’s my Ode. Think of it as a postal SCENIC OVERLOOK. (Pause) Sorry, that was a bit cheesy. Oh, well … . Just know, I hope all who travel in these remaining days of summer are safe and happy.
END ROAD WORK
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July 25, 2017
TMI
“Welcome to Shaw Pharmacy. What can I help with?”
I’m picking up a prescription.
What is the name?”
“Meyer, Elisabeth.”
” There are two prescriptions ready for Elisabeth Meyer. Verify the address or date of birth.”
May 11, 1955.” *
That is how the previously posted conversation should’ve transpired. But, (heavy sigh), it didn’t. Sadly, none do. If every interaction went that well, I would truly have nothing to rant about. Actually, I would, but that’s not the point. The point is that even the simplest task is complicated when too much information is provided – especially when said information is neither warranted nor welcomed.
The whole thing makes me fucking crazy. People, mostly woman, talk way too much. Once again, that whole address question … . I don’t care that you have three houses, bitch. Just answer the question and shut the fuck up. When I check out customers, I always opt to verify the date of birth – it never changes and can never be disputed. Hmm … . Let’s just leave it with – it never changes, okay?
The concept of providing too much information is older than … me. Remember that old saying about not asking a certain person the time because ‘she will tell you how the watch is made‘. Yeah, … . Much to my, and every other customer service associates, dismay, the situation has gotten totally out of control. You would think with the advances in technology this issue wouldn’t be an issue. But it is. Look at texting. The goal is to be as brief and to the point as possible. Why can’t that be adhered to in conversation?
I don’t know. Maybe people are just overcompensating. Thankfully, I don’t. After fifty-two years, my ramblings have decreased significantly. I still rant random nonsense. But, the information I provide is never … too much.
* , bitch wasn’t necessary. Hell, I don’t even think the ‘adjective’ crossed my mind. Well, that’s not true. They’re all bitches.
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July 18, 2017
simple questions – wrong answers
“Welcome to Shaw Pharmacy. What can I help with?”
“I just flew in from Florida … .”
“Were you dropping off or picking up a prescription?”
“Well, it’s complicated. The prescription was originally filled in Florida, but I requested it to be filled here. I just landed in Traverse. My flight was … .”
“So, you’re picking up a prescription. What is the last name?”
“Elisabeth Meyer. Elisabeth spelled with an -s not a -z. I was named after my great-grandmother. But I go by Beth. My really close friends call me Liza.”
“There are two prescriptions ready for Elisabeth Meyer.”
“Is it spelled with that -s? Someone tried to change it once and I got really upset. My granny… .”
“Verify the address or date of birth.”
“Well, what address do you have? I have three houses you know. One here, one in Boston and I just flew … .”
“Then, verify the date of birth.”
“Silly, that’s embarrassing. You never ask a woman her age.”
“Well, you know, the address question seemed so complicated and identity needs to be verified. Fortunately, your date of birth n-e-v-e-r changes.”*
“Hmp. May 11, 1955.”
*insert: , bitch. Silently, of course.
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July 11, 2017
Frisbee + golf = frolf
Disc golf is played much like traditional golf. Instead of a ball and clubs, players use a flying disc (Frisbee®). The sport was formalized in the 1970′s. The first known instance of anyone playing golf with a flying disc occurred in Bladworth, Saskatchewan, Canada in 1926. The object is completing each hole in the fewest throws. A golf disc is thrown from a tee area to a target which is the “hole” - the most common is an elevated metal basket called a Pole Hole®. In 1975, Dan “Stork” Roddick invented the Disc Pole Hole. Then one year later, he created the DGA. He installed nearly 800 disc golf courses in 20 countries.
Disc golf provides upper and lower body conditioning, aerobic exercise, and promotes a combination of physical and mental abilities that allow very little risk of physical injury. Concentration skills increase by mastering shots and negotiating obstacles. It is designed to be enjoyed by people of all ages, male and female, regardless of economic status. A professional quality disc costs less than $15, and it only takes one for basic play.
Unfortunately, frolfing has acquired some, how should I put this, negative stereotyping over the years as well. The following of the sport has gravitated to the ‘hippie’ and/or ‘hick’ sect of the population. And, from what understand, these individuals partake in other recreational activities while frolfing. Translation – they smoke a lot of weed, okay. The reason I bring this up is because … my son does throw the occasional Frisbee now and then. BUT, he usually does so BEFORE work. So, … I’m thinking, hoping, and any other positive action word with an -ing ending that he makes good decisions. Recreational activities of the twenty something crowd have kept generations of parents and office managers saying the words – “Damn kids”.
Anyway, let’s focus on the positives. He is getting outside and exercising. He’s with friends. Granted some of those friends may NOT be as skilled an athlete as my son. Pause – dramatic sigh. Hell, who am I fooling? I went to college and I’m not that delusional. Side note: do NOT check the Urban Dictionary for the definition of the word frolf.
Be this all as it may, throwing a Frisbee is a fun summer activity. I’ve been told I should engage in such activities. I’ve also been told that I should be an empathetic customer orientated employee who’s end goal is the excellence in service.
That really doesn’t work for me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FXCLDj9tBBM
Let’s frolf!
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July 5, 2017
July 05, 2012
Adam Thomas thought he led a charmed life. Happily married with an adorable set of twins he was a member of the most trusted profession in the country. Yes, retail pharmacy had its shortcomings, but Adam handled adversity gracefully. Even though he knew ‘the customer wasn’t always right’, Adam didn’t allow the volatility of such work hazards to permeate his rational thinking and sound judgment. One day, however, everything changes. His once charmed life is turned upside down.
So begins the calamity Adam Thomas endures.
My Life As A Retail Pharmacist – A Fictionalized Memoir follows Adam as he navigates the struggles of standing up for what he believes. Tanya Stenke-Branch blatantly eavesdrops on Adam’s transaction with customer Milton R. Green. She dislikes Adam’s solution to Green’s insurance issue that arises and takes it upon herself to intervene. Adam is vocally upset with the unwelcome advice. But, according to ‘this wife of a prominent surgeon’, Tanya’s interference is in Mr. Green’s best interests. A reasonable everyday situation that Adam has handled numerous times in the past mutates into an unsalvageable disaster. Adam is ultimately terminated from Shaw Drug for his unprofessional behavior and his life begins to spiral out of control. What happens challenges Adam to question everything he once knew. When Tanya gossips to her friends at the local café about the incident, she discloses pertinent, yet confidential information, intentionally violating numerous HIPAA regulations. Fortunately for Adam, Paul Davis, Attorney at Law, just happens to overhear. Adam’s case for retribution has considerable merit.
As the lawsuit begins, the messy repercussions from such sensationalist trash that is so abundant in today’s world surface. Adam’s grasp on his charmed life continues to slip. The legal proceeding strains his familial interactions. His wife, Val, tries desperately to maintain balance, but Tanya and her lawyers just don’t play fair. Could such a random chance encounter ruin Adam’s professional and personal existence?
My Life As A Retail Pharmacist – A Fictionalized Memoir is current and hip and different. A cathartic read for anyone who has ever worked retail.
July 05,2012 my book went live on Kindle. Five years. That’s crazy. But good. Be even better if people actually read it. Yeah, things didn’t go exactly as …projected with book sales. Translation: I’m still working that damn day job. Fiction is so hard to sell. Everybody has a story. Now, it’s easier than ever to get that story published.
I’m quite proud of what I’ve accomplished, though. I truly believe my time will come. A random click or prestigious bookshelf placement might help that cause. My ‘shit’ will go viral and My Life ... . Well, that my friends, will be the ultimate - Memo … ry.
Until that time, I will continue to blog. And, I hope you continue to read. Thank you!
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June 28, 2017
my blog bookshelf
Well, it’s officially summer. However, I started my ‘beach’ reading a few month back. My daughter recommends the majority of the books I read. She knows what I would like and primarily, what I would tolerate in a story. CAUTION: she has specific criteria for loaning a book. In fact, I’m not allowed to borrow her hard covers. She insists I manhandle books, dog earring pages and creasing spines – even if it is ever so slightly. Gasp! Yes, I’ve even spilled a few drops of coffee on a page … or two. Bigger gasp! That’s how I roll, man. In this case, that’s how I read. Anyway, I respect her nuances. She cares for her books, enjoying everything about the reading process. What more could an author father want?
Geekerella by Ashley Poston
A retelling of the classic Cinderella story right down to a food truck named the Magic Pumpkin. Geekerella is a modern day version where the characters are enthralled in the magic of fandom. Elle is a second generation geek who grew up watching Starfield, the classic sci-fi series, with her late father. When Darien Freeman, a teen super-star who is really a closet fandom geek himself, gets cast as the male lead in the blockbuster movie, fandom, led by none other than blogger Elle, is in an uproar. As fairy tale luck would have it, the two accidentally connect via texting. Their relationship flourishes as does the pratfalls that complicate both their lives.
My daughter definitely liked this story more than myself. But, it was fun and enjoyable.
Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie
This was a collaborative want-to-read. Entertainment Weekly showcased a ‘first look’ at the movie of the same name opening in November. My daughter read the book first, as always. Since it was available in paperback, and the library version was checked out, she allowed me to read the copy I purchased for her. Yes, I totally manhandled it, okay? Unintentionally, of course. I often fall asleep when reading. The book drops out of my hand, I drool … . It ain’t pretty.
Express is a classic read still able to hold it’s own in today’s tech savvy world. The best part, we now have a father daughter date for the movie come November.
Camino Island by John Grisham
This choice was all me. Contrary to popular belief, I AM capable of such decisions. I haven’t read a Grisham book in a while. The story lines he has chosen for his last several novels weren’t of interest to me. Don’t get me wrong, this dude can write a great tale. But, … wasn’t feelin’ the last few books. I’m certain this read won’t disappoint me though. A priceless book is stolen from the Princeton library vault. The insurance company, government, AND whomever else want it found before it is sold on the black market underground and never seen again. There’s probably a love story weaved in there somewhere. Since he IS Grisham and NOT Nicholas Sparks, I can totally deal.
Well, that’s it for the recap on my summer bookings. The only other thing that would make my summer complete is My Life on a few Kindle bookshelves as well.
Keep cool and read on!
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June 21, 2017
cycling idiots
Traverse City encourages bicycle riding. Oryana, a local co-op grocery store, gives a discount to patrons who walk or ride their bike to the establishment. The surrounding counties offer countless roads that continue for miles, inviting even the most novice cyclist. In both cases, these enthusiasts are conscious riders who know what they are doing – OBEYING the Rules and SHARING the Road.
Unfortunately, this post is NOT dedicated to them. Instead, I direct my words to the casual assholes that neglect every law, swerving between cars and trucks that could easily make them roadkill. What’s worse – they don’t care. Moreover, these cydiots* are not the ‘goodwill ambassadors’ avid cyclists encourage. Oh, don’t even get me started on those fat fuck tourists that rent bikes at their hotel.
Breathe.
Rather than continuing on a tyrannical rant, I decided to offer guidance to these ‘compromised’ individuals. I realize it’s probably pointless. These morons can’t even read traffic signals. So, a post about cycling ‘Do’s and Don’ts‘ is mute. But I promise it will be fun. At their expense, of course.
FOLLOW THE LAW
Cyclists have the same rights and responsibilities as drivers. Obey traffic signals and stop signs. Ride with traffic; use the rightmost lane headed in the direction you are going. Bicyclists can be held liable in traffic mishaps. The long arm of the law will clothesline these cydiot fuck ups. Justice prevails.
BE PREDICTABLE
Make intentions clear to everyone on the road. Ride in a straight line and don’t swerve between parked cars. Signal turns, and check behind you well before turning or changing lanes. Here in the primary reason there is rage against cyclists.
BE CONSPICUOUS
Ride where people can see you and wear bright clothing. Use a front white light, red rear light and reflectors when visibility is poor. Make eye contact with others and don’t ride on sidewalks. Normally, I avoid eye contact. It’s a work hazard. Once eye contact is established, you’re committed. For me, that’s never a good thing.
THINK AHEAD
Anticipate what drivers, pedestrians, and other people on bikes will do next. Watch for turning vehicles and ride outside the door zone of parked cars. Look out for debris, potholes, and other road hazards. Cross railroad tracks at right angles. You have to have AND use a brain to ‘think ahead’. The majority of these riders lack both.
RIDE READY
Check your tires, brakes, chain, and that quick release levers are closed. Carry tools and supplies that are appropriate for your ride. Wear a helmet. A helmet is also necessary in road side altercations as well. Sucks for them – I aim for the balls. Hell, those things are probably numb anyway.
I have never been a big bike rider. Those seats really don’t work for me. It’s a good thing, though. I’m an angry driver. Could you imagine what kind of cyclist I’d be? Hmm … . Scary. Furthermore, My Life is so loved in the Retail Pharmacy community, a ‘rage’ fueled altercation against me would never occur. (sarcasm intended)
*cydiots – cycling idiots
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June 14, 2017
Guttorade
the pre-pee
Six months back, I introduced my blog to Mead and decided to highlight other beverages throughout the year. Traverse City and the surrounding area love to ferment, brew, and stomp on anything and everything they can to produce spirited libations to make people ‘hoppy’. Then I realized the vast amount of information and varieties of beer and wine. Mead was easy to present. Beer and wine – not so much.
Because I am a pretty basic dude, I wanted to showcase beer in a similar fashion. Otherwise, anyone who read this post would be reaching for a cold brewski just to get through it. That is not my intention. So, here is beer, presented in simplistic glory.
the big pitcher
All beers are either lagers or ales, and that’s determined by the type of yeast used during the fermentation process. Lagers are made with yeast that ferments at the bottom of the beer mixture (Saccharomyces uvarum), and ales are made with yeast that ferments at the top (Saccharomyces cerevisiae). There are also spontaneously fermenting yeasts, which make wild or sour ales.
Once you’ve figured out if your beer is a lager or an ale, there is further differentiation determined by the flavor, color, and aroma of the beer. These determine what style family a given beer falls into. Within that style family, there are varieties, which have even more distinct characteristics.
It all began in the Middle Ages when Bavarian brewers discovered that their beer continued to ferment while being stored in cold ice-caves during the winter. The result was a greatly improved, very smooth, mellow tasting brew. They would brew in late fall and store the beer, covered with ice harvested from nearby lakes and rivers, until early spring. They called it lager beer because of the long storage period. After a few wars and prohibitions, lite beer, dry beer and ice beer became popular due to the decreased alcohol content. The lager beer revolution had reached its ultimate end-point. Beer drinkers were NOT hoppy enough. Ale was revisited and microbreweries found just what beer drinkers needed: beer with flavor and character. They had come a full circle.
the draft difference
both are fermented from grain
cerevisiae is the most common type of yeast that has been around since Babylonian time
main difference is the temperature of the fermentation – chemical reactions happen more slowly at lower temps which slowed the fermentation process yielding ‘aged’ product
ale – greater tolerance to alcohol = stronger beer; hoppy and heavy
lager – ability to ferment sugar melibose = more sugar remnant; lighter, crisp flavor
http://allaboutbeer.com/article/lager-beer-vs-ale-beer%E2does-it-matter/
my final call
I AM a lager dude – Stella Artois to be exact. Stella was my grandmother’s name, so it kinda stuck. And, Stella is light and refreshing, so that kinda stuck, too. I’m really not a beer drinker, though. Thus another reason I hesitated with this post. Once the information is broken down to the basics, it’s not that overwhelming. Now the only real question is where the hell did CollegeHumor come up with some of those beer slang words. Pre-pee? Guttorade?
I decided to close this post by raising my glass with Cheers to a famous beer lover.
bottoms up!
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June 7, 2017
creature comfort concerns
Originally, I was going to incorporate this ‘thought’ into the previous musing. Then realized it was too cumbersome of an idea. It deserved its own post. Besides, the underlining tone would’ve totally offset the humor of my ‘hoody moment. For this read is about everyone else in the neighborhood who’s NOT having an exchange student leaving sale. You know, those neighbors who truly do have the manicured lawns with every creature comfort the Joneses own. And, one more, of course.
The song Pleasant Valley Sunday came to mind the other day. Unfortunately, the damn tune just wouldn’t go away. Carole King wrote the music and the version of which I am familiar. The Monkees made it famous. The song is a salute, so to speak, to suburbia. And, the illusion of what that living is ‘about’ in all of its misconstrued satirical grandeur. Some people really need the assurance that every Sunday will be … pleasant. And, the answer to inquiries about personal business is a cliched salutation of well being.
The facade that everything in a perfectly manicured lawn is perfect isn’t necessarily the case. If it is, good for them. More often than not, imperfections are hidden in various closets around the house. Go to the local pharmacy and see who’s walking out with an arsenal of prescription medications. Then we’ll really have something to talk about, eh? I’m not saying my neighbor with the stove is perfect by any means. Let’s not even go there. But, he … tries. Even if those efforts are a bit misguided.
A few posts back I promised that everything would be hoppy. And it will be – very soon. I got distracted. A stove appeared in front of my neighbor’s garage…. . What is a blogger to do? Quality material is sometimes hard to come by. A stove covered in an ugly as fuck brown tarp AND Carole King are inspirational to random nonsensical writers like myself.
Since this illusion is way bigger than I could ever address in a single post. I created my MasterCard moment. Poking fun at that fucking Jeep is so much more fun than psychoanalyzing the functionality of suburbia. Nowadays, there is no ‘normal’. And those Joneses have no fucking clue what they are doing. Hell, they probably have more debt than I do. Hmm... , probably not.
Well, I’m unsure whether this rambling was philosophical or just phil o shit. Regardless, I’m done. I need to … cut the grass.
Creature comforts can be … pleasant?
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