Commentary

Spanglish

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

Cuidad de Mexico

This year I’ve done quite a bit of work in Mexico City and Cancun.  And this winter we will be manufacturing, shipping and installing wall cases, racks, tables, mannequin platforms and other store fixtures for an additional 160 shops in Mexico.  Retail business is booming in Mexico.  Apparently when drug lords aren’t killing elected officials, one another or the occasional passerby they like to shop – who knew?

In addition to the work in Mexico, in early spring, I have another 120 shops scheduled for Spain. So I need to learn how to speak Spanish soon – well I would like to learn how to speak Spanish soon.  Here is my dilemma: I never got higher than a “C+” in high school Spanish and my current mastery of the language is limited to ordering a beer (una cerveza por favor) or asking for a bathroom (Donde esta el bano?)

Recently I purchased Rosetta Stone® with the hope of learning Spanish quickly.  I am learning but NOT QUICKLY.  Rosetta Stone’s whole premise is that it teaches you to speak a foreign language the way you learned how to speak your native language.  I think I was at least two years old before I could speak English, so I probably won’t be fluent in Espanol by January.

My written Spanish is poor at best and my reading ability is very limited.  But the hardest part is my understanding of native Spanish speakers!  Oh for the love of God -PLEASE SLOW DOWN!

Now I’ve been following Rosetta Stone’s lessons and I guess I’m making some progress but I have a meeting in Mexico City in about three weeks so I guess I’ll just be ordering beers and asking to use the bathroom a lot while I’m down there.

Someone suggested that I watch novelas on Univision® – they’re like soap operas but ‘las mujeres son muy sexy’!  I guess maybe you can teach an old ‘perro’ some new tricks!

Paz,

Denis

Speak My Mind(?)

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I feel like I’ve spent most of my life trying to be understood.  I am the youngest of three boys and my parents were probably just exhausted by the time I arrived on the scene.  So as long as I wasn’t crying I guess that everyone assumed I was just fine.  And the kind of attention that my brother Dean was getting (spankings and lectures) wasn’t really what I was looking for anyway.  So I learned to be quiet and ‘fly under the radar’.  Not always a bad idea.  But it’s hard to get your point across when you’re silent.

I remember raising my hand in class (until my arm was tired) at Saint Peter Elementary School, oh so many years ago, and rarely being called on.  I guess I wasn’t very good at getting the teachers’ attention either.  It really wasn’t until high school that I got much notice at school and it usually wasn’t the ‘good kind’.  It’s not that I didn’t have friends; I just wasn’t that interesting.  But when given the opportunity, I could speak articulately and most often get my point across.  I just needed (waited for) permission to speak. 

That has all changed.  And to me it seems like it was gradual but Deb thinks that I have ALWAYS spoken my mind and that I have ALWAYS made my point (I believe beat a dead horse is the expression that she uses).  But I know that it was her love and respect and approval that helped me to become the man that I am today.  She has given me confidence because she has listened to me when others didn’t (wouldn’t).  And she is the kindest of critics – gently suggesting that I might be wrong about some things (as if…).  And teaching me that you can be right and still not always be able to ‘get your point across’ if you are bombastic and obnoxious about it.  She has this innate ability to ‘win people over’.  It’s called gentle persuasion.  Unfortunately patience is required and I often lack that precious commodity.  Still I have learned from her and now I can state an opinion without alienating everyone in the room usually. Well maybe only sometimes. 

Debbie lives with the credo that “one should never discuss politics or religion” in social settings.  That doesn’t leave me much to talk about because those are my two favorite topics (after my grandchildren, of course).  So I often struggle through ‘polite conversation’ at dinner parties and such.  I’m certain that at times I appear aloof or bored but actually I’m just trying not to “speak my mind”.  I’ve literally bitten my tongue to keep from telling someone that they were completely asinine (my opinion) about something or other.  When I do try to make a point without using abusive language or questioning someone’s parentage I usually sound pretty unconvincing – so often I revert to my childhood inclination to remain silent.  I guess its enough to just know that I’m right and they’re wrong.  But at times I would like to “tell it like it is” however, trying to educate the entire world is just too much work.  And besides when someone asks for your opinion it seems to me that they really only want to hear what they believe anyway.

I’m a little anxious these days – with mid-term elections and the conservative back-lash in the Catholic Church I often feel alone in the wilderness.  Yet from time to time I need to “speak my mind”. 

So here goes: 

  • I think that our country is better off today with President Obama than we were with President Bush.  And I will work for his re-election in 2012. 
  • I believe that the policy of “Don’t Ask – Don’t Tell” is wrong and should be repealed. 
  • I support marriage for gays and lesbians. 
  • I am pro-life BUT that means ALL LIFE: not just unborn babies – capital punishment should be abolished. 
  • I am in favor of women’s ordination in the Catholic Church. 
  • I believe that the Catholic Church should have a married clergy as well – this is what I pray for when asked to pray for vocations. 
  • Oh, and those Tea Party Candidates scare the beejeezus out of me! 

But the next time I’m at a dinner party I’ll likely stick to talking about sports and the weather and my grandkids.  After that I’ll probably just look bored…

Peace,

Denis

Clarksville (Revisited)

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My sister Kay and I took Dad and Mom to Clarksville, Missouri yesterday.  It’s only about an hour north of where we live but it might as well have been on another planet – it was just not anyplace we ever visited.  My grandmother grew up in Clarksville.  And her parents. And her grandparents.  So for our Dad this place has significance but for me I only remember a sky-lift that operated there years ago that as a kid that I was too scared to ride.  My great-grandfather died long before I was born and my great-grandmother died when I was only seven.  As a child I only traveled to Clarksville once and I don’t know why; it was after Great-Grandmother Jenkins had died.  Maybe we went to visit her grave – I’m not sure, I only remember being scared of the sky-lift.  The sky-lift now sits still and rusted like some ghost from the past.  It hasn’t operated in years.  All that’s left in Clarksville for us are ghosts of the past. 

But for a long time Dad’s been talking about Clarksville and his visits there as a boy – Dad’s 84 years old now.  His memories are clear of his time spent in Clarksville and he loved his grandparents and they must have loved him, too.  All of his memories of Clarksville as a boy are happy and he cherishes the time he spent there.

Dad (and I) favor his granddad (my great-granddad) in appearance.  It’s strange to see photos of someone who you never knew but with whom you share a remarkable resemblance.  Here’s what I know about him:  Clarence Crockett Jenkins was the Post Master for Clarksville around 1910.  He was also the Town Constable or Sheriff for a while. He and his wife Augusta (Gussie) had two children: Kyra Kathleen (our grandmother) and Clarence Jr.  For some time they lived in a home that was at the base of ‘The Pinnacle’ – a mound of earth that enables spectacular views of the Mississippi River from its top.  Later the (now defunct) Clarksville Sky-lift was built on that site and their house was razed. 

Much has happened since the 1930’s when Dad spent time in Clarksville as a boy.  But  yesterday we got a chance to ‘walk back in time’ with him.  Clarksville today has some antique shops and there’s an art glass studio and a great little coffee-house but not much else.  We found the local cemetery but Dad couldn’t find the family plot.  We encountered another family at the cemetery and Dad (who has never met a stranger) explained that he was trying to find his grandparents’ graves.  Frances, the lady at the cemetery (she and Dad became fast friends) suggested we go back into town, hunt down the mayor and ask her to help us.  We did.  Or I should say, Dad did. 

He talked to every person in town he could find and while Mom and Kay and I were looking through some antique shops Dad had managed to locate Mayor Jo Anne Smiley who not only found the Jenkins/Gauding/Fielder Family plot on an old map but copied it for us and gave us directions.  This was on a Saturday.  City Hall was officially closed AND the Mayor’s position is voluntary – NO PAY.  Mayor Smiley you are my new hero! 

Needless to say, after visiting the few blocks of Clarksville that still exist we made our way back to the cemetery, found the gravesites and made Dad’s day.  Watching while Dad honored his grandparents and great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents, I imagined a little boy in the 1930’s holding his granddad’s hand and walking proudly through the small town of Clarksville.  I thought about the visits to the ‘Flower Show’ with his grandmother that earlier in the day Dad had told us about.  He claims he hated being dragged to those ‘Flower Shows’ as a boy but I suspect he traveled back there yesterday, too. 

Things have changed a lot in Clarksville in 80 years but much seems to have remained the same:  the kindness of strangers; the friendliness of folks on the street; the pride of community.  I’d like to think that my great-grandfather would have extended the same kindness to strangers as Mayor Smiley did.  Dad seems to believe he would have.  The stories he tells indicate that Great-Granddad Jenkins was a very honorable man.

I wonder if Mayor Smiley knows that she’s walking in the footsteps of former Post Master Clarence Crockett Jenkins? 

Walk proud Mayor, walk proud!

Peace,

Denis

Hurry Up and Wait

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Poolside in Cancun

Ever have one of those days (weeks) where everything required “hurrying” and then “waiting”?  I’m (sort of) stuck in Mexico right now on a jobsite – Cancun, actually.  We were supposed to deliver store fixtures and begin installation yesterday morning but…  Well, this is Mexico and every time I work here I’m reminded that we Americans do not rule the world, regardless of what we might have been taught to believe. Something about flooded roads and trucks not being allowed to pass through certain areas have caused delays.  My contact Ernesto keeps telling me everything is OKAY.  But somehow I’m starting to lose confidence in his assurances.  Actually it’s kind of refreshing to know that we Americans (by the way Mexicans are Americans, too) are NOT the grand imperialists that some people would have you believe, but that’s another story.

Anyway my Spanish is very limited and my patience is even less so, but I’m trying to “chill out”.  This might all be a test.  How much can I really relax and “let go”?  Am I really able to “unwind” and just wait for things to work themselves out?  NO SÉ? 

Now before you start feeling too sorry for me let me tell you that the weather is better than predicted (70% chance of rain), the food is wonderful (shrimp tacos), the hotel is fabulous (pool bar) and the beach is just outside my door.  But still I want to get my work done and get home – WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? Most people would kill to be “stuck” in a place like this but I just want to go home.  I’m told my granddaughter Anna prayed for “Pawpaw in Mexico” last night and that she misses me – “I miss you too, Anna!”  Plus I feel guilty – guilty for not working, guilty for enjoying the beach and the pool without Deb, guilty for spending company pesos on food and (maybe alcohol) while no real work is happening.  And guilty for being looked upon as an IMPORTANT AMERICAN BUSINESSMAN by these nice Mexican folks that have been waiting on me ‘hand and foot’ and are just are trying to eke out a decent living wage. 

In the meantime, I guess  I’ll go back to the beach or pool and try to tip as generously as possible to ease some of my guilt.  Also it seems that the occasional Corona seems to ease my conscience as well.  “Uno cerveza por favor”!  My high school Spanish teacher, Sister Madeline, would be so proud!

Paz,

Denis

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!

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Hey Little Man, welcome to the world! 
Noah Wilhelm Kleckner
Born 9-20-10 ~ 7:06PM
7 lbs. 15 oz.
19-3/4“
Noah Wilhelm Kleckner

Last night before you were born I didn’t think I could love anyone as much as your sister and your cousin but then I met you and now you have my heart, too.  I can’t wait to start our journey together.

Love,

Pawpaw

Jerks and Killers

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

Years ago my wife told me that all people were either basically good or basically bad.  In her explanation she gave the following examples:  Good = saints and various kind people.  Bad = jerks and killers.  It’s an understatement to say that those are pretty broad categories.  My kids and I have laughed at this pronouncement ever since but I’ve been married to Deborah for over 35 years now and I understand that to her it makes perfect sense.  I suppose that if humans and pigs share 99% of the same DNA then it’s not unreasonable to believe that saints and kind people and jerks and killers belong in the same behavioral categories.  I just hope Deb includes me in the “good” category.

Today I would like to focus on the jerks and killers. 

Lately at work someone has been brewing very weak coffee.  We have a ‘state of the art’ brewing system that a trained chimp could operate and yet EVERY morning I pour a cup of weak-ass coffee because some jerk can’t follow the simple instructions.  Hey stupid – you might as well drink hot water!  I’ve yet to discover who the jerk that can’t make coffee is.  But I have my suspicions.

There is a traffic merge near my office where EVERY night some jerks feel the need to stop.  YOU DON’T NEED TO STOP – IT’S A MERGE!  All these jerks are doing is holding up traffic. This is a daily annoyance.  For the love of God – read the sign.  Keep the traffic moving!  Of course my honking and yelling never seems to positively influence the offenders. 

My next door neighbor’s lawn looks like a cross between a mole farm and a prairie grass preserve.  Hey hillbilly – if you don’t want to take care of your lawn then don’t have one!  Move to an apartment or condo development where they take care of that sort of thing for you.  Look around jerk neighbor – you’re the only one whose lawn looks like a toxic waste dump. 

At the gym I attend there are several jerks but the one that is most offensive is the crazy guy that jumps from machine to machine and then becomes noticeably irritated, muttering curse words under his breath, when someone else decides to use the equipment that he had planned on “jumping to” next.  This guy might be slightly unstable (his appearance would tend to make you think so) but regardless he’s a jerk supreme. 

So when do jerks cross the line and become killers?  Do all jerks have the capacity for murder?  And should I be concerned about the jerk at the gym “snapping” and killing me for using a piece of equipment that he planned on using next?

If the shirt fits - wear it!

Unfortunately Debbie doesn’t have any answers for those questions.  So rather than worry about being killed by some jerk.  I’ve decided to work hard on not becoming a jerk myself and eventually a killer.  I suppose the whole jerk/killer thing could be a slippery slope. 

And now I’m wondering if I am considered a jerk by others?  Someone might be writing about me at this precise moment. 

I’m the jerk that bitches about the coffee EVERY morning.  I’m the jerk that honks at drivers EVERY night.  I’m the jerk that gives my neighbor the ‘cold shoulder’ because of his inferior lawn care ability.  And I’m the jerk at the gym that jumps on a piece of equipment right before someone else was planning on using it.    

Oh no!  I may not be a good person after all.  Don’t tell Debbie.  But please help me before I kill someone!  Your prayers will be appreciated.

Peace,

Denis

Bill, Silent Guy, and Dumb-Dumb

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Last week I was at a Macy’s Store in Milwaukee for a Designer Accessories Shop installation.  That’s what I do or I should say that’s what the company that I work for does.  We manufacture and install custom retail store fixtures.  As the V.P. of Operations I have project managers that are working all over the country (and sometimes internationally) setting up new stores or handling remodels.  Often our customers’ shops are inside a department store – we call those ‘shop in shops’ (don’t blame me – I didn’t make up that name).  Occasionally when my project management teams are spread too thin I will go to installations to meet with a customer rep or just to make certain everything is completed correctly. 

That’s what I was doing this past week.  I usually don’t announce to the installation crew that I’m a V.P. because it tends to make people nervous.  I’m just Denis.  Last week the crew that was at the Macy’s store was ‘contracted out’ – meaning that are not employees but instead they are hired for a specific location.  We may or may not ever work together again. 

I was told by the Installation Company that Mike would be the supervisor of the crew.  When I arrived and asked for Mike I was greeted by Bill who explained that Mike was not there.  Bill seemed okay so I wasn’t too concerned.  His ‘crew’ consisted of two others that I nicknamed ‘Silent Guy’ and ‘Dumb-Dumb’.  Let me explain:  First of all, I know that it’s not nice to call people names but for the record I only called them names in my head (or behind their backs – I have manners).  Secondly, ‘Silent Guy’ never spoke – he only sort of grunted.  And thirdly, well – we’ll get to ‘Dumb-Dumb’ later.

Initially things went well.  Our truck was on time.  The dock was available.  The store personnel were friendly and cooperative.  But as the morning progressed it became painfully obvious that Bill and his crew were  S   L   O   W !  I couldn’t have lit a fire under their asses with a blowtorch.  And time was slipping away!  Plus I discovered Dumb-Dumb down in the stockroom arguing with the ‘Trash Lady’ about why he should have to “breakdown” cardboard boxes!  Really Dumb-Dumb, you’re going to argue with the 80 year old lady who is kind enough to help you?  Taking care of your trash is not her job!  The store was scheduled to open at 10:00AM and after 2-1/2 hours of slowly dragging stuff to the sales floor, unpacking fixtures and wiping things down “at a snail’s pace” I finally (kind of) lost my cool.  We had 30 minutes to clear the aisles, remove all the debris, and make the space ready for the store opening.  Concerned that the store managers as well as my customer contact would “flip out” because everything was in complete disarray – I yelled at Bill and crew.  I told them to stop what they were doing (whatever that was) and to get EVERYTHING cleaned up, cleared out, and ready for merchandise.  Bill explained that they didn’t usually do things that way and I responded that “today is a new day – we’re doing it MY WAY”.  I went into full V.P. mode!

Within a few minutes the space was much more to my liking.  Lots of clearing, cleaning and straightening was happening.  The merchandise specialist arrived and began arranging handbags.  While Bill and his ‘crew’ were still sulking, I was strutting around quite pleased with my command of the situation.  Then it happened…

The Operations Manager for Macy’s came by to ask if everything would be ready to go by 10:00AM.  I was certain I was ready for a verbal “beat down” because of my installation crew’s lack of efficiency and orderliness.  Instead her reply was:  SUPER-DEE-DUPER!  And then she proceeded to tell me how much she enjoyed working with Bill and “The Boys” – what great guys they were; how they made each install easy because they were so relaxed in their approach. That it was ALWAYS a stress-free experience for all involved.  That all the store personnel LOVED working with them, etc. etc.  And that I was really smart to have hired them because she wouldn’t want anyone else working in her store.  I sheepishly thanked her knowing full well that Bill and his ‘crew’ heard every word she had said.

In my uptight and reactionary way, I had forgotten where I was.  This was Wisconsin not New York.  Not L.A.  These folks at this Macy’s loved ‘shooting the breeze’ with the installers.  They were more interested in knowing about the fish that Bill had caught at his cabin up north than whether or not everything was perfect in the shop at 10:00AM.  The Packers upcoming football season took precedence over the placement of fixtures.  In Wisconsin Aaron Rodgers is way more important than Michael Kors.

I had forgotten the most important rule of customer service – Don’t treat people the way you want to be treated – Treat them the way they want to be treated.  Bill and his ‘crew’ remembered that.

So who’s the Dumb-Dumb now? 

Peace,

Denis

Don’t Worry – Be Happy!

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

I’m a natural-born worrier. My mom is a worrier. My grandpa (her dad) was a worrier. So I come from a long line of worriers. I’m sometimes frustrated that others (Deborah) don’t seem to worry at all. I actually worry that she’s not worrying enough! Okay so I’m a little neurotic – and I’m worried about that, too.  So you see worry ‘breeds’ more worry.

Don’t confuse my worrisome nature with fear. I’m not really afraid of much (except that some people don’t worry enough). But fear is different. I know that I will face heartache and disappointment in my life. I know that there will be great sadness at times. I realize that I can’t control ANYTHING except my response/reaction/acceptance of the shitty stuff that life sometimes deals. And I’m (mostly) okay with that. Prayer helps. So do loved ones. And the knowledge that we are basically equipped to handle most of life’s challenges.

But I worry about stupid stuff that doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. AND I know that my worrying won’t help anyway. So why worry? Or as Deb suggests, “don’t worry so much”. I wish it were that easy – to “let go and let God'”. To “not sweat the small stuff”. To “relax”. It’s easier said than done. And of course, as I’ve said, I worry about worrying. Am I taking years off my life? Am I sapping the fun out of life’s little joyful moments because I’m worried about some foolish things? Probably.

I’m trying – really trying to be more relaxed. Starting today I’m going to not let inconsenquential stuff drive me so crazy. As God is my witness – I AM GOING TO BECOME CAREFREE. I’ll let others do the worrying for a change (maybe even for good?)

Of course right now I’m sitting in an airport terminal and a baby is crawling on the floor – YES, the filthy floor at the gate and the mother is oblivious to the harm she may be doing to this child. Did I mention that said baby is also putting her hands in her mouth? Fat little hands on filthy floor – fat little hands in mouth! Geez! I want to go ‘Purell’ myself after witnessing this. Hey lady, why not just lay your baby down on the public restroom floor? Plus there’s a guy with his shoes off! Big, gross, hairy feet – crawling baby. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit!

Holy crap – this not worrying thing is going to be harder than I thought.

Peace,

Denis

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-diB65scQU&ob=av2e

Self-inflicted Pain

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Last year I decided to “get in shape”. Now for the record I wasn’t actually out of shape because technically I had never been in shape. I liked being kind of soft and mushy and my solution to my ever-expanding waistline was brilliant: buy new clothes. But after a high blood pressure reading, some aches and pains and a general feeling of fatigue; I decided that I didn’t want to be fat, frumpy and fiftyish anymore.

So I embarked on my odyssey of self-improvement or as I prefer to call it – self-inflicted pain. I know that diet and exercise is more appealing when we refer to it as “a lifestyle change” but let’s not kid ourselves – it’s still DIET and EXERCISE. What’s particularly frustrating (to me anyway) is that it works. I wanted to take a magic pill or buy some fancy machine that would transform me into my vision of health and fitness. The infomercials on T.V. make it look so easy – hmmm, could it be that those ads are deceptive? What really helped me get kick-started was a “Biggest Loser” competition we had at work – I love to win stuff! So I started counting calories, making healthier food choices and began the dreaded exercise regime.

Turns out exercise isn’t that much fun. But I’ve learned to adjust my way of thinking and I usually start my day out on the treadmill. I have an hour of quiet time – sometimes I pray; often I listen to music via my iPod; and sometimes I just enjoy the peaceful silence (although my panting and gasping initially was a distraction). I give myself the morning for me – the fact that I’m walking has become incidental – I have reserved that time just for me. And that’s the beauty – it feels a little selfish and indulgent – and I like that!

BEFORE

As far as the DIET, I have just increased the good stuff and decreased the bad stuff. Again, pretty simple concept. I was fortunate enough to meet with a dietician and get some sound advice: DON’T DRINK YOUR CALORIES – FIBER IS YOUR FRIEND – EAT SMALLER PORTIONS – BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. And I love my new foods and I’ve learned that water really is God’s perfect beverage. So I guess it is “a life-style change” and it works. But I hate to admit that sometimes I have ‘doughnut dreams’.

I also joined a gym and I had a few sessions with a trainer named Jake (but after the first session I had another name for that little sadist). We worked on ‘my core’. Which was startling to me because I didn’t know that I possessed a core and I didn’t’ realize that ‘working’ on it would make me want to cry like a little girl and then throw up. Did I mention that I HATE Jake? Now I go to the gym a few days each week and I continue to work on my core and well as cardio and other stuff. I still give Jake the ‘stink-eye’ whenever I see him – that little jerk! But each day at the gym is a day that I’m not sitting on my bottom. So I guess it’s true – that you can either use it or lose it. I’m not power lifting or anything like that; I’m just hoping to hang on to what I’ve got – it seems that after 50 what doesn’t fall off – falls apart. I’m just trying to slow that natural progression.

AFTER

The good news: Diet and exercise works! I’ve lost 50 pounds. My blood pressure is great. My cholesterol is low. And I feel better than I have in years. So it seems that my self-inflicted pain has paid off. And my reward is that I can (maybe) look forward to a longer life.

Now I had better start thinking about making some changes on the inside – that’s where the real work is needed. More acceptance – less judgment. More tolerance – less prejudice. More joy – less regret. More love – less hate. This change won’t require self-inflicted pain. It should be the opposite. Surrendering to God’s love won’t be easy (for me) but the only painful part will be letting go of my need to be in control. This past year I transformed my body; it might take a little while longer to transform my soul but I’ve got an excellent trainer in Jesus…

My soul, be at rest in God alone, from whom comes my hope. Psalms 62:6

Peace,

Denis

“The Customer’s Always Right” – right?

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There’s an old adage that says, “The Customer’s Always Right”.  I grew up believing that.  And in retail stores, as in most businesses, customers ultimately pay the employees salaries. Without customers, there is no business!

Working from that premise I decided to take my complaint to The Store Manager.  The Store Manager is one of those lofty individuals that can say YES after other store employees, that have been programmed to do so, say NO.  So when I ask to “speak to the Store Manager” I’ve come to expect that my concern/complaint/issue will be given the proper solemn important attention that it deserves.  After all, MY PROBLEM is of the utmost significance to me, and therefore should be to The Store Manager as well.

Well that’s where I was wrong!  Let me give you a little background:  At issue is the fact that while still under warranty our television lost video and audio reception.  It was wrongly diagnosed twice by The BIG BOX STORE’s repair dude and the manufacturer’s Support Team and finally after more than 6 months of on-again off-again T.V. it was determined that the panel is bad (whatever that means?).  Of course now our television is no longer under warranty.  Had the correct problem been identified back in February, parts and repairs would have been covered.  Now we are looking at a $1,280.00 part plus labor costs of several hundred dollars!   

So I went to speak to The Store Manager to see what she could do to help me.  After waiting the better part of an hour (several other assistant managers and such tried to intercede on her behalf but I knew that my problem was likely out of their authority to resolve – so I waited) the Store Manager finally arrived clearly annoyed that I had insisted on speaking with only her.  Immediately her demeanor was combative and extremely rude.  When I asked her why she had kept me waiting so long, her response was, “You are not my boss and I don’t have to explain myself to you!” 

Wow!  I worked in retail years ago and that would have been cause for immediate termination ‘back in the day’ but this was THE STORE MANAGER – I guess things have changed.  Wowzer!  Needless to say, she did not appreciate my “rightness” and I am now dealing with her supervisor, and The Better Business Bureau, and The CEO of BIG BOX STORE and God only knows who else.

I’ve been assured, by a VP of BIG BOX Something or other, that EVERYTHING will be repaired at no cost to us, but I’m still waiting.  And I’m still waiting for my letter of apology from The Store Manager.  Hope hell doesn’t freeze over the day that arrives!

Is it so wrong to be right?

Peace,

Denis