Since the blogosphere and the media are working themselves into a frenzy heralding the emerging Moral Values Revolution, I’d like to relate a tale of my own, of when I recently rose up in defense of my Values© and struck out at the corporate behemoth that had offended them.
I was at my weekend job, sleeping on some chairs and footstools that I’d managed to line up comfortably enough for the all-day nap that passes as work. At one point, when I came out of my slumber, I thought that if I was going to work so hard, I should go and get some water. You know, stay hydrated.
So I rolled off of the chairs and stumbled out of the room. I went down the hall and into the breakroom, my shoeless feet sliding across its shiny tile floor. I glided to a stop in front of the drink machine.
(It bears mentioning at this point that the greedy evil vendor company that runs those machines raised the prices not too long ago. Not only does a 50-cent pie cost 90 cents in the snack machine, but the bottled water in the drink machine costs $1.25. It used to be a dollar. At the time, I wasn’t willing to pay that much for “Maine Spring Water” that was probably bottled from a tap in North Philly, but I ultimately decided it was better than drinking on-site tap water that smelled like it came directly from the building’s septic system.)
So as I began digging into my back pocket for change, feeding the machine one coin at a time, the thought occured to me that I might not have $1.25 on me. No problem, I thought — I’d just leave and scrounge up some more change if I came up short. It might’ve taken another round trip, but it wasn’t like the machine was going to erase the $1.10 I’d already inserted. I mean, why would it do that?
Still scrounging, the scenario played out in my mind: A customer inserts three quarters and then walks away. Logically, the machine should allow the next person to complete the purchase. There wouldn’t — shouldn’t — be a timeout. Why should there be one? The company loses nothing if a different person adds the additional 50 cents. Nah, they wouldn’t just take the money. Why would they do that?
Sure enough, I was down to pennies. Chagrined, I walked back out of the room and down the hall. Of course, I could have put my shoes on and walked to my car, which was parked probably 20 feet away. But, nah. It was cold out. So instead I walked around the office, scanning the desks of the 9-to-5 employees, looking for that spare change I always see when I never need it.
After looking closely at every desk, I was still empty-handed. Incredulous, I then peered into a few top drawers. Still nothing. Vexed, I slapped on my shoes, clunked my way out to the car, snatched two quarters and headed back inside.
As I entered the breakroom again, I looked at the vending machine’s display for a sign that the manufacturer had some sense. What I saw made my blood pressure jump by 20%: the “—” on the display meant no money was currently inserted.
“Okay, no problem,” I thought. “If I just push the ‘COIN RETURN’ button, it will return my money and I’ll reinsert the coins.” So I pushed the “Coin Return” button. Pressed it hard. Punched it. My coins were not returned.
As the realization washed over me that my hard-earned money was, in fact, gone, my mind flashed to the reaction that my old college roommate would’ve had. The trademark swish of his hips and three-finger-snap in “Z” formation would’ve said it all: Oh No…You…Di’int!
So I did something so dastardly, I hesitate to mention it on this site. Did I break the glass display? Well, no. Did I topple the fucker? Nah. I thought about that, but then I remembered those diagrams on the side of the machine that show people being crushed by vending machines because people tried to shake them to get the goods they’d been cheated out of. The companies had clearly anticipated such activity, and used the predictable shaking as a means to crush the irate customer to death and keep their money. I wasn’t going to let them win so easily.
Instead, I went to the back of the machine and unplugged the fucker. In exchange for my 75 cents, the company would lose all commerce from the weekend staff and the Monday morning rush.
Yeah, yeah, I know: The goods were bottled, which means they didn’t spoil. And besides, I could’ve kept the machine out of commission for a longer period by placing an “OUT OF ORDER” sign on it.
But I wasn’t trying to spoil goods — just make sure the company lost more in potential sales that it gained from taking my money. And as for the possibility that the next employee would just re-plug the machine? Well, no. Trust me, I work there. Tech staff or not, 99% of them would walk over to the machine and watch their money fall down to the coin return slot five times before walking away bewildered.
Satisfied by my disabling of the machine, I walked triumphantly out of the breakroom and quenched my thirst at a water fountain. Yeah, I had to drink septic water, but that was a small price to pay for a victory that smelled oh, so sweet.
Ralph Nader would’ve been proud.
You state:
“I’d like to relate a tale of my own, of when I recently rose up in defense of my Values© and struck out at the corporate behemoth that had offended them.”
Wow, well I would like to read these “Values©” you mention, as you later mention:
“So instead I walked around the office, scanning the desks of the 9-to-5 employees, looking for that spare change I always see when I never need it.
After looking closely at every desk, I was still empty-handed. Incredulous, I then peered into a few top drawers. Still nothing.”
I, for one, and apparently the only one willing to comment, am dismayed at your lack of integrity, specifically freedom from corrupting influence or motive, honesty. What would you have done if you had found the needed change at a coworkers desk? Left an IOU, or make some snide comment on the stupidity of people to have an expectation of privacy and safety at work?
Perhaps you could disclose some tales from your day job, or would the fact your reader base includes your boss, his manager, and the director detract from the story?
Actually, John, you’re not the only one “willing” to comment on this post. Most people who read this site know me personally, and as such they usually address their comments to me directly rather than publicly on the blog.
You see, since most of them are thinking people, they know how to reconcile the tinge of snark in my writing with the broader truth of who I am as a person. They also know that, should they consider one of my comments serious enough to impugn my character, there is a right way and a wrong way to go about doing so.
The right way, of course, is to shoot me a quick IM or e-mail to get the broader context (i.e. “all the facts”) before deciding to impugn my integrity. Things like:
– How many people work in that office, anyway? Thirty people? Three?
– Just how well do you know these people?
– I noticed there wasn’t any indication of secrecy or malicious intent. Is borrowing change something that’s a common and accepted practice in the office?
– You say you didn’t feel like going out to your car for change. But once you did go out to your car, say, at the end of the day, you would’ve replaced any change you used, right?
The wrong way, of course, is to place themselves in the position of your garden variety weblog comment troll, posting knee-jerk reactions rife with false assumptions and snide insinuations. That’s not something mature people do, but these days anyone can get an internet connection.
To quote the rest of your comment:
“What would you have done if you had found the needed change at a coworkers desk? Left an IOU, or make some snide comment on the stupidity of people to have an expectation of privacy and safety at work?”
Actually, any combination of the questions I typed above would have provided a quick answer. As for their safety being compromised, well, I wonder why anyone would make that comment, but since in this case it fits a pre-existing pattern of ugly insinuations of that sort, I’ll ignore it.
And to answer your question: Had I found some change, I probably would have two-wayed the person to inform them that I was commandeering a portion of their personal wealth to ensure my continued hydration. These are people I’ve known for years, people whose houses I’ve visited, people I knew before I became an employee there, people whose good word got me the damn job. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. I’ve already IM’d one of them a link to your comment, and unlike me, he found it howlingly funny.
“Perhaps you could disclose some tales from your day job, or would the fact your reader base includes your boss, his manager, and the director detract from the story?”
You would do well to remember how they found out about the site: from me. You see, I did post comments about my day job for quite some time in the beginning. Once a non-disclosure agreement was announced, I specifically asked if certain posts were too company-specific. And when I signed that non-disclosure agreement, the posting stopped. I think they call that integrity.
Heck, if I did post about my day job, I might mention the fact that I’ve treated my supervisor to lunch on more than one occasion when he was a few dollars short. He never questions my integrity in doing so, nor does he question whether the money was honestly earned. And he certainly has never wondered aloud if interacting with me over money was a safe thing to do.
I also think the readership would be quite entertained by the things my supervisor regularly says about the manager and director mentioned in your comment. But to do so would be to sink to a similar level of unprofessionality. Besides, I don’t post anything paranoid or embittered here, unless it comes from me personally.
But anyway, I digress. The bottom line is that I don’t care who reads this site; I only care why they read it. And as far as I can tell, people visit this site and come back because they know I’m unflinchingly honest about life as I see and experience it.
That the occasional demagogue drops by is no longer a surprise. We live in a judgment era now, when the self-righteousness have license to foist their moral absolutisms on others and point an accusing finger without the vaguest idea of the truth.
Still, it amazes me that those people can sit there, already weighed down by their own personal baggage, and set aside the time to search the Internet for something to be offended about. That’s a sorry sight, and it says a lot more about them than it does me.
Nice cover explanation. Ever consider editing yourself before someone like me comes and shoots off his mouth?
Knowing you, as little as I apparently do, I decided to utilize this forum, where you lay bare your soul, your stories, your experiences. Why would I, apparently baggage ridden, want to censor myself when you do not.
Well, that was a disappointing response. Why so timid, after falling all over yourself to post such a damning indictment in the first place?
I’m not sure why you call my response a “cover explanation.” What’s there to cover? What are you going to do?
It’s also interesting that while you’re clearly in the wrong here, you state that I should “edit” myself, so as to prevent you from making similar misinformed rants in the future. Accountability, apparently, is as foreign a concept as integrity.
This is my web site. I built it. I pay the hosting bill each month. And I write and publish my own missives to it every so often.
Since you choose to come here of your own accord, I will not alter my writing to provide you with mental training wheels. If you cannot comprehend what is stated here, or recognize your limited point of view as a reader, then I suggest you go someplace else.