Does This Kind Of Thing Happen To Anyone Else?

After a long day of working, manual labor, which as a truck driver I’m not used to, I came home looking forward to relaxing for the evening. But, having no soda pop in the house (I know, that’s like a cardinal sin) I journeyed to the grocery store. All I wanted was to get some pop and return home. But, of course, things are never quite that easy.

I put a carton of Dr. Pepper and one of Sprite in the cart. The price on the shelf said they were on sale for $4.99. Yet, at the register, both rang up for $6.99. This is nothing new, at least for me. Price discrepancy is a regular thing when I go shopping. I used to think it was due to incompetence but then one day I realized the discrepancy is hardly ever in my favor. So, the only logical explanation is that the store advertises a lower price than they charge, hoping no one will notice. But since it happens a lot, and I pay attention to these sort of things, I do notice. Usually. And I did this time. As you might imagine, I don’t really have a lot of patience in these instances, although I usually do start with at least a smidgen.

When I tactfully (I think it was tactful, but I was a little tired) pointed out that I was being overcharged, the cashier politely informed me that I needed to buy two cartons in order to get that price. Almost as politely, I said the price on the shelf didn’t say anything about buying two, just that the price was $4.99.

The cashier, with her politeness ebbing somewhat, grabbed the newspaper and flipped to the page where it showed an in-store ad for Coke and Pepsi products (a single ad listing both). The 24-packs were on sale for $4.99, and it did say, Must Buy Two but then next to that it said Mix and Match.

I’m pretty sure all the politeness was gone from my voice when I slowly pointed to the items in my cart, “One, two.”

Thinking she’d realize that one plus one does indeed equal two, I was a little surprised when she asked, “Is Sprite a Coke or Pepsi product?”

“Not that it matters, since it says mix and match,” I said, “but Sprite is a product of the Coca-Cola Company.” Then, not being able to resist, I ran my finger along the words on the top of the carton, the words that read, “a Product of the Coca-Cola Company.”

“Oh,” the lady says, as if it was the first time she’d heard of such a thing.

There was no time for feeling smug though, since I knew what was coming next.

“And is Dr. Pepper a Coke product?”

Remember how I started this post? I’d had a long day and just wanted to get something to drink and go home. Instead, there I was wasting time in the store. So as you might guess, my patience was quickly fading. With a sigh, I said, “No.” And then in an attempt to speed up this process, I said it’s not a Pepsi product either but it is distributed buy Pepsi in our area, so it qualifies as a Pepsi Product.”

Thinking that would be the end of it, or hoping anyway, I pulled out my debit card, ready to pay. But the saga continued. “So, you would need to get another Pepsi product and another Coke product in order to get the $4.99 price.”

“Mix and match,” I said dryly, thinking I was going to have to explain the concept. Then I figured out the best, and quickest, way to end the standoff. “I’ll go get the price tag from the shelf.”

I’m not sure what it was, the disgusted look on my face, the roll of my eyes, or maybe she knew what the tag said all along. Whatever it was, she suddenly relented and the total I owed instantly dropped by $4.00.

That was a lot of work for four dollars, I thought to myself—especially when I was already tired. But four dollars is four dollars. And it was my four dollars! Turning to leave, I noticed the lady in line behind me had a carton of Coke and a carton of Pepsi. Good luck, I thought. But she must have been listening in on my encounter with the cashier. “Are these on sale for $4.99?”

“Yes,” the cashier said—politely; then went on ringing up the rest of the lady’s items. And that was the end of it!

Is it just me? ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

Sure As Shooting

A couple of months ago, my wife went to visit our son while I stayed behind to man the fort at home. (Which really means I stayed home to take care of the dogs). While there, my son took his mother to a shooting range where she had the opportunity to fire an M4 fully automatic rifle. And I was jealous! Sort of. I wrote a blog post about it and said I needed to plan another trip myself. (If you missed the post, you can read it here).

Actually, I was happy she’d gotten the chance to go shooting with him but since I’d never experienced firing an automatic rifle, I was itching to schedule my next visit. That trip was this past weekend. And yes, I did get to go shooting! And yes, I shot the M4!

I know, it probably doesn’t sound all that exciting to some, but I liked it. I’d like to say that I was an instant expert but sadly, that is not the case. I did manage to fire two rounds into the ceiling though, thanks to not being able to see through the fogged up glasses. My aim improved dramatically after wiping the glasses off!

I’ve shot many different guns, rifles, handguns, big and small, but all were either single-shot or semi-automatics. Never an automatic. So, this was quite different. And fun! And now I think I need to purchase one of my own. Yes, despite the general misconception, a guy CAN buy a fully automatic rifle; all it takes is a few dollars—a few thousand dollars that is. Twenty ought to do it. That’s not too much to spend on a gun is it? After all, we spend more than that on a car that only lasts a few years, so...

On second thought, I could just make another trip to see my son and we could perhaps go shooting again. Probably a smarter choice since that wouldn’t cost anywhere near twenty thousand dollars! But then, it’s just money. It’s not like I’m going to need it for anything else. Well, maybe to pay my bills... and buy food... and gas... and—it looks like I’ll be headed to my son’s house again. ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. 

Melancholy

Sad times at my house. We had to have our dog, Ricochet, put down this week. And after ten years of owning this collie, we were quite attached. As you may know, I LOVE dogs, but at times like this I tend to think it’d be better if I didn’t like them so much.

I’ve had other dogs, even other collies, but this one was the most gentle and nicest dog I’ve ever known—by far. She was great with the grandkids, even when they mistook her for a pony or thought she was their personal pillow, or anything else they could dream up for her to do. Whatever they did, she didn’t mind, I think she just loved the attention.

Although the last year was very hard on her, she never complained—other than moaning in her sleep—just went along with things the best she could. Her ailments were many, she couldn’t digest food very well, had trouble getting up, lying down, walking, and lately, even breathing. She was going blind and losing her hearing, as well as her sense of smell. And then few weeks ago, she started having seizures. It seemed like each week she was developing more issues. So, it was definitely time—but that doesn’t make it any easier. We’d put it off for quite a while, probably longer than we should have, but then we realized that was more for our benefit and not hers.

This wasn’t the first time I’ve lost a pet and it won’t be the last because we still have two dogs keeping us company. I think it gets harder with each one. Part of the reason, I think, is because not only is there a sense of loss from the one dog but it dredges up memories and feelings from the past and we get to feel the sadness of losing the other dogs all over again. Or maybe it’s due to my age, I don’t know. Whatever the reason, my wife and I have agreed, no more dogs. We just don’t want to go through that any more—and yes, we are acutely aware there will be two more to deal with at some point. A LONG time in the future, hopefully.

Note: I hope it’s all right that I took a break from my normally humorous posts to share some of my mournful sorrows from the past week. R.I.P. Ricochet. ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

Not-So-Green Energy

About twenty years ago, the landscape in north central Oregon began to be decorated with windmills. Not the traditional type of windmill that you see at an old farm but giant industrial windmills with turbines around 100 feet in length. These windmills were supposed to be the new age of electricity production, replacing the “outdated” methods of generating electricity: hydroelectric dams, coal plants, and nuclear facilities.

At the time, I was rather unimpressed. They looked kind of ugly and with as many as they were putting up, you couldn’t look any direction without seeing several of them detracting from the majestic scenery Oregon is known for. Back then, I read an article, which stated that such windmills were nothing more than a feelgood attempt to cajole people’s ecological tendencies. The highly visible eyesores drove home the point that our generation was being more responsible by going with clean energy.

But, with the cost of production, transportation, installation, and routine maintenance, (not to mention the amount paid to the landowner) it could take approximately twenty-five years for a windmill to break even. Trouble is, the life expectancy of the windmill is also about twenty-five years. So, the entire effort is a wash, and that’s a best-case scenario.

There are other inherent problems as well: sometimes it’s too windy to operate the windmills, they do not produce enough to power—unless you have a hundred or so of them running, which is why we have more windmills than trees, and since that type of electricity can’t be stored, the windmills do not operate on a continuous basis—only when the power they generate can be immediately used.

They do have one redeeming feature, namely, as previously mentioned, landowners are paid very well to host the windmill. So, people in the area, as long as they are landowners, have done fairly well since the big white monsters have taken over. And of course, that has translated to a boost to the local economy. As a result, most people have a favorable view of the windmills, or at least not a drastic negative view. However, that may change soon.

The other day, we had a fire that began along the road to my job. That’s nothing new; we have fires a lot. But this particular fire, which burned out a mile and a half of railroad tracks, including a couple of trestle bridges, was caused by, you guessed it, a windmill.

According to eyewitness accounts, a windmill began to spark, and then started throwing a shower of fiery sparks. These descended to the ground where the dried weeds were waiting to catch fire. Thankfully, the fire was extinguished with nothing besides the railroad property being lost.

While the railroad is already busy repairing the rail line, and trains should only be down a few days, the bigger issue that people are starting to realize is, we have thousands of these windmills, all aged roughly the same, which now apparently seem to pose a fire hazard—in a very dry climate. That’s not a good combination.

Okay, I know this post missing my usual lighthearted humor with a slight twist of irony. Let me try to remedy that. Although I hate to revel in anyone's misery, there is a certain satisfaction derived from the recent events. See, normally, in the course of my job, I can expect to wait on a train once or twice a day—sometimes ten minutes, sometimes half an hour or more. They pull back and forth, changing cars, sometimes stopping only a few feet from clearing the crossing, then going the other way before again stopping a few feet short—all with no regard for traffic. It's very annoying, especially when they could go a few more feet, and sometimes literally inches, to let traffic pass while they are hooking or unhooking. It wouldn’t even cost them any more time. So, as I said, although I hate to revel in anyone's misery, and although I’ve always held the view that the windmills were a rather useless endeavor, I haven't had to wait on a train for a few days! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.