As I lay decaffeinating
 I don't know if I am getting away with something or if what I am doing is really a victimless crime:
Dear Starbucks Customer Relations,
Please tell me what governs my use of Starbucks couches and chairs in its common areas. If I want to sit and read a book for two hours, must I 1.) have purchased in that visit a Starbucks product that is visible 2.) have proof that at one time I purchased a Starbucks product or 3.) none of these? May I read a book at your facility if I am drinking from a non-Starbucks vessel?
Yours,
Martin Barrett (dec.)
You don't care about my life and you don't deserve to know about it, but suffice to say for reasons of delivering an offspring to school and not wanting to drive to my office 15.1 miles away and then back three hours later to pick aforementioned offspring up, I once holed up in a public library with an excellent Internet connection and a thermos of coffee to do some work on school days.
But no longer.
Budget cuts have forced the library to shorten its hours and have driven me, along with my car, which I also drive, to a Starbuck's in a mini-mall. For the past couple of weeks I have brought my truckstop thermos of imported Dunkin' Donuts coffee to this Starbucks and have sat and worked for several hours in its shaded patio (this is California) filled with comfortable frat house furniture.
I keep expecting a barista to approach and ask to sniff my thermos. The conversation would go like this.
BARISTA
Sir, I -
ME
What the hell do you want?
BARISTA
I just -
ME
You just what? Some people have to work. Are you working now?
BARISTA
Yes, actually, I wanted to check if -
ME
You're saying you're working right now? Do I look like a bowl of milk that needs air blown through me?
BARISTA
What? I -
ME
Do I look like a goddamn bowl of milk that needs air blown through me?
BARISTA
I -
ME
Say it!
BARISTA
I -
ME
Say it or so help me I'll choke you with these Diana Krall and Jack Johnson CDs. Jack Johnson I can understand, but Diana Krall - what was she thinking?
BARISTA
I WANT TO SNIFF YOUR THERMOS.
ME
You mean Edward James Thermos, the name I've given my thermos?
BARISTA
Yes
ME
For what reason do you want to sniff my thermos?
BARISTA
There's a mandate from Seattle that I smell-check any vessels I can't get a visual confirmation on
ME
And you like this part of your job?
BARISTA
Well Yes. Yes, I love it.
ME
Well, for every time you've subjected me to post-"Blue" Joni Mitchell, I'm going to deny you the privilege of sniffing my thermos. It's Dunkin' Donuts coffee.
BARISTA
Can I still sniff it?
Not enough that I used their comfy furniture I also, after downing my thermos, needed to use their bathroom. On the wall was a poster that read: "Behind every cup of coffee is a barista and a good story."
At this point I remembered the words of my friend Michelle, a former Starbuck's manager, who said that the whole transaction of ordering a coffee through receiving it had to take less than three minutes and, since the majority of those three minutes is spent after one has paid for the coffee and the line has moved on, there really is no time for the story.
So is the story allegedly possessed by each barista one that the customer has to take on faith, because there is no way he/she has time to bend my ear with personal anecdotes and even if he/she could could not guarantee that the story is good by my exacting standards, as an internationally recognized poet, filmmaker, commentator, thespian, playwright, musician, and aphakic lens wearer?
What I'm saying is that, if challenged, I will say that I'll believe the 17-year-old thermos-sniffing barista has a good story if she will believe my thermos has Starbucks coffee in it.
Previously: The war on poverty from four frontsLabels: commerce, geekery, los angeles
The War on the Poor from four fronts
 Yesterday I needed to get to the Corman Federal Building in Van Nuys, the San Fernando Valley counterpart to the federal centers in Los Angeles proper. I decided to take public transportation because gas prices make it almost convenient.
I bought an MTA day pass for five bucks, which would cover the bus to the subway station, the subway to the articulated busway, and the articulated bus to Van Nuys, and back. I loaded my bike to the front of the bus, locked my bike at the train station, and arrived in Van Nuys unfettered 90 minutes from when I left home.
In my five years attempting to squeeze value and enjoyment out of riding subways in L.A. (which includes the articulated bus, or Orange Line, for purposes of fares), I have had my ticket checked maybe three times.
When one descends into the subway in L.A. one buys a ticket, which must be shown to any MTA employee on demand. There are no turnstiles or gates, but if a rider is caught without a ticket he may be fined $250.
That said, the honor system can't be working too well, as the MTA announced it will be adding high-tech turnstiles soon, and the occasional MTA officer assigned to ticket detail must feel abashed doing a job that might better be assigned to a basket (I feel the same way about toll booth operators).
Anyway, the complex in which the Corman Federal Building stands also houses the Van Nuys Division of Los Angeles Superior Court as well as the offices of probation officers and a radiating web of bail bond companies. So I was riding on the Orange Line with a bunch of ex-cons going to see their parole officers and families going to see their relatives on trial.
The bus was met at Van Nuys Station by four uniformed police who checked everyone's ticket (I just flashed mine, but there was no way for the officer to really see it. He didn't follow me) and apprehended at least five people and let one family go with a warning.
That the cops were out in force at the Courthouse but where one might not be seen for months elsewhere on the route seemed unbalanced, but I guess if there's a quota to fill of scofflaws who will be stuck with $250 fines because they can't afford five bucks, it's a smarter move to go where the poor people are.
Filled with rightewous indignation at the end of the day and carrying no currency but my day pass in my pocket, I made the long journey back to Hollywood where my bike was, and pulled a book from my pocket, waiting for the bus that would take me home.
As you know, I am a vagrant magnet. In 2009 I will have my own entry indicating this in the Periodic Table of the Elements. In a crowd of people I will be the person a vagrant asks for money, and they never believe me when I say I don't have any change.
As I was reading my book in the group of four people, I heard a strange honking coming toward me and knew, without looking up, that it was the voice of someone coming to ask me for money. I figured the guy deserved at least the courtesy of my looking up, plus I wanted to see the type of person who honked, so I looked up.
"Honk honk honk," said a guy holding a ragged piece of paper reading I AM A DEAF MUTE.
He was signing something to me, so I made the American Sign Language signs for NO and MONEY. He then pointed to ".50" on the other side of his paper, and I signed NO MONEY again.
Then he started signing fast and furious. I wasn't even sure it was real ASL. He was pointing up, as if to God, and at that point I said the word "No." He kept honking at me and gesturing, the gist of which was, "You have to give me something." Finally I signed STOP and said, "Go away." I wish I knew the ASL for GOD DOESN'T EXIST.
(Having watched Evan Almighty recently, I am more sure than ever.)
A friend of mine used to manage a Starbucks and I recounted something that recently happened to me at a Starbucks near the Kodak Theatre in Hollywood, where the Oscars are awarded.
We had the following e-mail conversation:
Dear Michelle, I know this part of your life is behind you, but I am curious about the Starbucks policy on vagrants.
The other day I was at a Starbucks at the corner of Highland and Franklin, just north of Hollywood/Highland, and a homeless guy came in and started terrorizing the place.
I was in a suit and tie and had my computer bag and a camera, and he saw me before I saw him, so there was no time to put on my Fuck You face, which I certainly would have, because he was drunk.
I admit that my willingness to give people money goes way down when they're drunk, unless they're hookers.
So he comes to my table and the first I saw of him was him kneeling down next to me.
"Bro I beg you bro I just need a cup of coffee bro you're a handsome guy bro - ..."
And I just didn't like him, so I said, "I'm not giving you any money."
He said, "I didn't ask you for money Bro I said I wanted a cup of coffee."
I hadn't though of this tactic before. What I should have said, of course, was Get Away from Me, because that's what I meant. So instead I said, "You can have some of my coffee."
He goes and gets a cup from somewhere, comes back, and pours like a third of my coffee cup into his before I look up again and said, "I said you can have SOME of mine."
Then he heads off to bother other patrons, then he goes outside to harass people coming in, then he leaves. Meanwhile, I'm staring at his coffee mug, thinking, "Whose coffee is this now?"
Then he comes back and starts telling this girl to my right that I'm rich and I wouldn't give him any money.
So very nicely I turn and say, "Shut the fuck up, you fucking piece of shit, and drink the fucking coffee I gave you."
Then he gets up and says (and I don't know what this means), "You're all Shit Ass," and he leaves.
From beginning to end, this journey took about 40 minutes, during which time the employees knew the guy was there and, I got the impression, were familiar with him already.
I am very conflicted about whom I give money, and decide on a case by case basis, and as I said am prejudiced against people who appear under the influence, but I'm wondering what the Starbucks policy is about people who create disruptions, because that guy had the run of the place. She wrote me back immediately:
ok - so Starbucks policy. simple answer? there isn't one. they don't have any official policy on how to handle vagrants because in Starbucks Corporate La La Land vagrants don't exist. they have this pristine image of creating a neighborhood environment wherever they plink down a store and that is really what they want you to build: a neighborhood feeling where all are welcome. you know, you walk into a store and your friendly barista Joe starts making your favorite beverage, asking you how the kids are and what you thought of the game last night - the whole transaction taking place in under 3 minutes, the alloted amount of time that you are given to service a customer from start to finish. ideally - it is a great vision. realistically - it is total bullshit.
in my experience working for starbucks - especially starbucks in a heavily populated area like LA - you deal with things that the every day corporate suit couldn't even imagine. and because of that, and the pressure they put on you to MAKE IT WORK, you start creating your own policies regarding vagrants, thieves, drunks and assholes. and MY policy in MY stores was ZERO TOLERANCE. period. i became a cunt. seriously. i was the "heavy" that - whenever someone came in and behaved like the situation you described - would immediately jump over the counter while yelling to my assistant to call the cops, and i would tell them to get out. get out NOW. and if they didn't i would very politely start pushing them out the door. one time, i had a vagrant who was such a nuissance and insisted on getting in my customers face that several of us pushed him out the door and locked it until the police arrived and he went away. i HATED the whole scene - and by the end of my Starbucks career, after bullying and pushing around countless vagrants and drunks; after being yelled at, pushed, shoved, threatened, had stuff thrown at me and even being SPIT on, i had had enough. getting no support to behave this way took its toll on me and i just became a miserable person. and essentially that was why i left. there was nothing 'happy' about my job at all and i just wanted OUT.
it would be my recommmendation to you to let corporate headquarters know of the experience you had in that location. i do know the store you are talking about - and it is plagued with homeless in that area - but someone should have done SOMETHING. my guess is that the partners in that store were either pussies or just didn't care. and either choice is unacceptable, imho. if you call or write Starbucks and let them know, at the very least you will get a free beverage or two out of it. at the most someone will get a talking to - and they really should get a talking to for not having done ANYTHING.
i am so damn glad to be out of that world. it just was a horrible experience to have to deal with that wild card factor on a daily basis. and no matter how many people i told in the upper eschalon, there really was nothing to be done. we actually had a meeting with the SM police dept once to discuss how to handle vagrants and it was determined that we were not allowed to do anything like ask them to leave or call the cops because "they had rights too" and we were infringing upon them by treating them any differently than any other customer. that even though they might be shitting all over our restroom floors or screaming at another customer that they are all 'shit ass' it was wrong to treat them in a manner that could be deemed PREJUDICE. when i heard that, i thought Fuck you all - i'm gonna do what i want and sue the company for hiring me if you don't like it. i mean, honestly: until we actually handle the homeless situation at large, it will continue to interupt the lives of those of us who are working for a living. but my personal credo? NEVER give money. never ever ever. it's like feeding a stray cat - they will keep returning because they know that there are suckers like you who will take care of them, enabling them to live another day on the streets and drink themselves to oblivion.
Finally, a little while ago I was approached by a vagrant near my office on Wilshire Blvd.
"Mumble mumble mumble," he said.
"I'm sorry?" I said, leaning my head down.
"Spare some change," he declared.
"I don't have any change on me," I said. I rarely have actual cash on me unless it's a bunch of quarters for the bus I'm waiting for.
"Oh, so you're sorry?" he said, turning away from me.
"I said 'I'm sorry' because I didn't hear you," I said.
"Oh well," he said, "I'm sorry."
There is no through line here other than, I think, that the police have no reservations about the prejudices we share.
See also: Ear mites; Magical thinking Labels: commerce, culture, food, los angeles, money, transportation, travel
Honorable Honda at 31,000
 Today is a big day for my car, seen here when I bought it in April of 2006. Then it had 35 miles on it. Today it has 31,160 more.
The name of my representative at the Honda dealership is Charlie Chan.
I am typing on my ancient PowerBook in the dealership's Internet Lounge when he walks in to tell me that the cost of my 30,000-mile tuneup will be $713.
"Wow," I said. "We just had a child for that much money."
"Ha ha ha," said Charlie Chan.
He explains why everything is necessary and I know that everything is necessary. I put 30,000 miles on that car in 18 months. Still...
He asks me what I do for a living and I tell him I am a writer.
"Did you hear about that writer from New York that Yahoo paid a million dollars to if he could spend it in one day?" he asked.
"No," I said, "but he could probably have spent it all here."
"Ha ha ha," said Charlie Chan.
"Ha ha Ha," I said.
There are not enough free creamers at the coffee station to make me feel better.Labels: commerce, vehicle
In praise of ancient technology: The iPAL
 I purchased Tivoli's iPAL Radio in June, 2004 for about $119 at an Apple Store. According to the International Organization of Archaeologists without Whips, this makes my iPAL the oldest piece of technology in the world, older even than my computer, which now requires regular catheterization and frequently attacks its nurse.
The iPAL is an excellent radio with a full sound belying its size. It has a rechargeable battery pack capable of delivering about ten hours of operation on a three-hour charge, in addition to a DC adapter that allows it to be a perfect speaker for TAARG's computer.
Easily portable but having a pleasing weight of about two pounds, the iPAL is a perfect object to hurl at enemies, and ours has been known to withstand serious impact from terrestrial bipeds and extradimensional Beings.
The same 1/8" jack that provides a computer connection port can also be used for iPods and portable CD players. Our iPAL was integral to the births of our two children; doubtless they would have chosen to remain in utero had there not been music in the room.
A large analog AM/FM tuner keeps precise frequency, aided by a telescoping FM antenna.
Because I am an American Pioneer, I have glued a coaster to the top of the iPAL for my beverages. Another idea might be to glue a striking surface for wooden matches, or a salt lick for deer.
I see that the same iPAL I have is now $199. Friends who have purchased them notice that the price has incrementally increased since I bought mine.
I don't know why this is. I mean, I like it, but this piece of crap isn't worth 200 bucks.
Previously: Airport Extreme Makeover
See also: iPAL pageLabels: apple, commerce, faulty technology
Time machine
 Whenever I buy something at Costco, it is a pleasant reminder that there is so much left to do. "This product will see me through a lot of changes," I think solemnly.
That is how I felt when I bought a 40-oz. bottle of Kirkland Signature Shampoo recently, which I began using today. How long will it last me? I can guarantee that the Fetus to Be Named Later will have arrived by the time the last coconut/petroleum squirt has been dispensed from the bottle's black pump nozzle.
It is not lost on me that that is also the way babies are born.
As Tot #2 will transform from an inboard to an outboard, magma to lava neonate, so too does each depression of the shampoo pump bring forth something heretofore only supposed, hinted at.
The world around the bottle of Kirkland Signature Shampoo will change, and so will I. I may cut my hair or grow my beard. The amount of shampoo I use daily could change, too. Luckily, the convenient pump dispenser is well-suited to potential changes in my mane's needs.
It pleases me to know that this weapons-grade bottle of hair product is proof of the existence of Time, and undeniable evidence that I control my own mortality.
Previously: Costco 1975; Walt Churro
Labels: abstractions, commerce
Airport Extreme Makeover
 I felt the need to contribute to the growing collection of Airport Extreme reviews, because what if those other 30,000 websites get busted for sodomy?
On a given day I might have seven computers running in my office, each of which needs an Internet connection. I've got a mixed network of wired and wireless PCs and Macs, all used for constant web-surfing and shared music and video files.
I've got a DSL connection with SBC/Yahoo/AT&T/PacBell/Halliburton. It's clocking at about 2.2 MBps for downloads because I am about 3,000 feet away from a trunk. It is what it is, and I console myself with the other benefits the location offers.
My first wireless hub was Apple's graphite Airport base station, which I bought in 2001 and which is still in use in my sister's house in Washington. I bought the faster Airport Express for my home and hooked it up to a Linksys router. My wife's PC is connected by ethernet to the router, but she uses the Airport Express to play music on the stereo via AirTunes. Meanwhile, I use the Express to connect to the Internet when I bring my computer home.
Because of my satisfaction with Linksys products in the past (I bought them for every company I was the IT Director for), I decided to get the Linksys WRT54GS V. 6 for my office.
This model was like the one I had at home with one difference: it also broadcast wirelessly. So I could connect four wired computers to it and also get on the Internet wirelessly with my laptops. I wouldn't have to buy another Airport Express or another Airport Extreme base station, both of which were more expensive, though cooler looking.
I'd purchased a TV several years ago from Best Buy that had a tracking problem. Best Buy wouldn't take it back, but insisted that I take it to several local repair services, each of which claimed to have fixed it, but didn't. I finally got Sharp to fix it, and they did it quickly and well. I resolved to never buy anything at Best Buy again.
 So I got the Linksys WRT54GS at the Best Buy in Los Feliz, took it to the office, and proceeded to hook it up. Linksys tends to provide documentation for its products as if no one uses Macintoshes. This is usually easy to get around, but in this case I was finding that I could not keep two computers on the Internet simultaneously for more than five minutes at a time.
So I called a Linksys operator in the Phillipines and we changed some settings and he was very friendly and we talked about how Magellan brought Christianity to his country and my computers were on the Internet for ten minutes and I was very happy and he said that he hoped Jesus would continue to bless me.
I hung up, wrote a nice letter to Linksys Support about my customer service experience, sent the letter, and then my computers went offline.
I had work to do, so I just plugged my computer back into the DSL modem.
I called Linksys the next day, again was routed to Manila (because I wasn't being routed here), changed a few settings, explained that I was worried I would only be online for another ten minutes after I hung up the phone, upgraded the firmware, and hung up. Once again I lost connectivity after about ten minutes.
I plugged my computer back into the DSL modem and worked that way for a week, then I found my Best Buy receipt and decided I'd give Linksys one more try. This time I got India.
In the past week there was yet another firmware upgrade, so we tried that.
I have been trained to keep my expectations low in most consumer areas, but I was frustrated.
I was calmed, however, by the fact that each support technician already knew my case and didn't waste time going through procedures I'd already tried. Each one tried something different.
The end result was the same, however: the Linksys WRT54GS didn't work. "Your unit is defective," the Linksys representative said.
"No, your unit is defective," I replied.
I went back to Best Buy expecting the worst. I'd already thrown out the box. I didn't bring the supplied ethernet cord or the software back. I know it didn't matter, but I still anticipated a hard time.
"Do you want to exchange this for another one?" the bored kid at the busy Returns desk asked.
"Hells no," I said. He said OK and gave me cash.
The lesson I learned was that I probably should have have demanded to bring my TV back to the store a few years ago and just picked up a replacement or got a refund. I probably didn't do it because the TV (which I still have) weighs 105 lbs. and I had a two-door Saturn at the time.
Anyway, unless it's a DVD or a Monster cable or something - something under $50 - I'm not shopping at Best Buy again. Every larger-ticket item I get there ends up sucking.
 So it was the end of February and the new Airport Extreme was out. The big difference between this one and its predecessors is that the new version has three ethernet ports as well as its 802.11n (backwards-compatible to 802.11g) wireless broadcast capability. It also has a USB port into which you can plug a printer or a hard drive and share them across a network.
(I'm wondering if you can plug a powered USB hub into the AE and share both a hard disk and a printer.)
Setup was quick and painless. Wireless speed is slightly slower than wired speed, but even seven machines accessing the web at the same time and sharing files do not amount to a significant slowdown. I'm very satisfied (though it wouldn't have killed Apple to incorporate AirTunes into this new base station; at $180, they could have).
I am feeling a little itchy to get a new computer. I am noticing my 2004 PowerBook slowing down, and that people are attracted to tripping over its power cord. The new MacBook is much faster and has that excellent magnetic Cremaster function with its power cord.
So my router is the newest piece of technology I have in a gently aging network (I also have a pre-video iPod and a 450 MHZ iMac G3). It's like putting a GPS and DVD player in my 1973 Mercury Montego.
See also: Here is a much more comprehensive and objective report from a colleague (but hey, he got paid to write it) with comments that address AE's lack of gigabit ethernet (gizmodo.com)Labels: apple, commerce, faulty technology
Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust
 A Google search for "Yoko hatred" returned with 133,000 results ("Linda hatred" resulted in three, with none of those referring to Linda McCartney. Both "Linda Eastman hatred" and "Linda McCartney hatred" netted zero, which surprised me).
If anti-Yoko sentiment took hold shortly after John Lennon met her in November, 1966, reached a fever pitch when the Beatles broke up in 1970, and tapered off to the tune of 133,000 Google hits today, what would 1FABFAN make of the fact that gas prices have gone up over 700 percent since their November, 1966 average of .32?
Probably nothing, because it was Paul's fault.Labels: commerce, los angeles, pop
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