The Green Thing

Checking out at the store, the young cashier suggested to the older woman, that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment.

The woman apologized and explained, "We didn't have this green thing back in my earlier days."

The clerk responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment for future generations."

She was right -- our generation didn't have the green thing in its day.

Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really were recycled. But we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

We walked up stairs because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks. But she was right. We didn't have the green thing in our day.

Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine -- wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing. But that young lady is right: we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

Back then, we had one TV or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief, not a screen the size of the state of Montana . In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. Back then we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.  But she's right: we didn't have the green thing back then.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull. But we didn't have the green thing back then.

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service.

We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.

But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the green thing back then?

Remember: Don't make old People mad.  We don't like being old in the first place, so it doesn't take much to tick us off.

The C Word

I awoke this morning ticked off.  The grieving process takes on many different phases, as we all learned in Psych. 101, and today I'm mad. 

In the last few months, two long-time dear friends were diagnosed with Cancer.  What the hell?  The good news is that both of them caught it early and are taking steps to stomp on it with all the vengeance needed to do so, and both are remaining as positive as I could ever imagine.  Then I learned last week of another new friend who is way too young (over a decade younger than I) who was diagnosed with lymphoma. 

And I'm mad.

What I didn't tell too many people is that I recently had that scare.  My annual squishing the Friday before Christmas resulted in a same-day call, saying that the radiologist saw an "area of concern" and needed to see me back "as soon as possible" for more pictures.  We returned the day after Christmas and were told that if ultra-sound would be needed, Dave could be there since no radiation was involved.  So in I went and they took 5 more pictures of a very specific part of my left breast.  I was told to wait comfortably in the lounge and the lab assistant would meet me to either invite me to get dressed or to escort me to the ultra-sound room.  As promised, in she came, immediately followed by calling Dave's name.  My heart flew to my throat and I was certain I had just joined the Club. 

I saw on the screen the area of concern and it was huge.  Two big black dots touching to form a disfigured Figure 8.  Ugly.  The ultra-sound tech took what seemed to be dozens of images and said it looked to her to be merely a cyst, nothing to worry about, that the fact it was Black indicated water, not mass.  Tears of relief, followed by more fear when in a few minutes, the radiologist came in to take another dozen or so images, and it hurt so much that I was certain something was wrong. 

The good news is, they diagnosed it as a pair of cysts that they want to leave as a base for future images.

But I'm still mad.  For my young and vibrant friends who have to deal with the mental anguish of cancer treatment.  For their spouses and children who can't understand what they are dealing with.  For their parents who never expect their kids to go through that.  For their friends who wish, so much, they could be there to hold their hands and too, that they could understand, fully, to help.  I'm so helpless.  And mad.

Gonna do my best to have a stellar day.

Empowerment and Heart

Umpqua Bank, my employer, has an extremely unique culture and I've thought of it as a perfect fit since I began working here in July 2010.  One of the amazing attributes of the bank is its encouragement towards empowerment by everyone who works here and some of the most incredible stories come from this empowerment, both related and unrelated to work:

- during one of my trips to Seattle around Christmas 2010, I learned of a story wherein a customer and his buddy (not a customer) were waiting in line at their branch (but we call them stores) and the manager overheard the buddy telling the customer that he was concerned he'd not be able to afford much of a Christmas for his kids, in fact, he wasn't sure a tree was in the cards that year.  Well, the manager found out the buddy's address from the customer and that night purchased and delivered a Christmas tree to his house.

- my building in Hillsboro adopted a family this last Christmas but the story is that at Thanksgiving, one of my co-workers decided that the family might just need some assistance for dinner.  He dug in and learned that indeed, a turkey dinner wasn't in the cards.  So he and his family (including two small kids) purchased a full traditional Thanksgiving dinner, the pots and pans in which to cook it and delivered it the day before.  While there, he noted a few things missing so after conferring with the Mom, he went to the store and came back with bags and bags of things that were needed (TP, diapers, condiments, milk, etc.)  On his own, and in lieu of his own Thanksgiving dinner.

I could go on and on ... these two stories will stick with me for a long time, and they are part of what I tell people when they ask why Umpqua considers itself the World's Greatest Bank. 

Tipping

Having worked in the service industry before, I completely understand and respect the practice of tipping.  But service providers need to get back to the original concept of "To Insure Prompt Service" rather than to consider it an obligation on the part of the tippers. 

The other night, some friends and I were out for Chris' birthday dinner.  We split the bill, with two of paying by credit card and two of us paying cash.  We always make it easy on our servers, providing amounts to be charged on post-it notes and this evening was no different.  The annoyance (is that a word?  It is now.) came when no change was provided to the cash givers, both of whom had given more (one considerably) than the amount due per the attached post-it notes.

Okay, really?  What made her think the extras were a tip, especially when the amount to be paid was clearly writen on the top of each pile?  She didn't ask, no one said "keep the change" and it was just weird - and she didn't come back for us to ask about the change.  Unfortunately for her, then, she received way less than she would have if she had done the right thing and brought change back.

The other thing that gets my goat and always, always either results in a smaller tip or, if otherwise the service was great, a short coaching of sorts, is when the server asks "do you need any change back?"  My coaching opportunity is always to say, instead, "I'll be right back with your change" and the customer will either say "thank you", meaning they expect it back, that they left more than what the tip would be, or "no, thanks, the rest is yours."

Tipping, in general, has become an American obligation and many servers (certainly not all, don't get me wrong) don't feel the need to go above and beyond, much less perform the minimum well.  It used to be that I, as a former server, would over-tip simply because the IRS took it out (that's a whole other issue) - but lately, it seems as if more and more just don't care.  I find that odd, especially in this economy where dozens are waiting to step in.

Rant over.  Make it a stellar day!

Channeling Paul

Welcome to my musings.  I hope to channel Paul Harvey, with a little Andy Rooney thrown in, no doubt. It's all in good fun and I hope we all enjoy it as we go.  A few years ago, I wrote what I called My Column and frankly, I've missed the creative outlet.  Let's see where this one takes us.  See you soon.