Wednesday, June 14, 2006

If ya 'aint Dutch, ya 'aint much, ja?

They fight the establishment, they fight for honesty, and most of all, they fight for every last penny that the local grocery stores try to sneak past them by way of inept cashiers. Their life is one of clipping coupons and poring over advertisements which they use to keep a running talley of prices at competing stores. They fill out rebates, demand rainchecks, and make sure that each slip of paper end up among the redeemed. These people enter a grocery store with list in hand, eyes scanning the aisles like a radar- ready at any minute to launch an assault upon a hapless "Buy One Get One Free" special or a fat, juicy clearance rack. They will not be tempted by shiny new products or spiffy packaging, and it is beneath them to glance at any sale less than 50%. Unless, of course, they have to buy the sale item regardless- then it turns into a double bonus, advance three spaces. Add a coupon and you get to roll again. These people are Dutch. No, they are not from the "fatherland"- some may not even have Dutch ancestors. But Dutch they are, and the preceding description details only their strategy and tactics. Even the best laid plans of coupons and sales can go awry when they come up against a courteous-if-distant cashier and his/her deadly scanner gun.
Yes, folks, this is when the action really starts. As they approach the checkout lane, they pause for a moment in consideration of what they are about to do. From here on out, it is all improv. There is no way of knowing what sale isn't going to ring up, what coupon will end up being expired- all one can do is brace oneself and put on a brave front. They carefully shape their mouths into a pleasant, bland, "I'm just your average supermarket customer" expression. (No need to tip the cashier off about their true identities as heroes of the underpaid and overcharged.) When their turn in line comes, they smile blandly at the cashier, who smiles just as blandly back at them, and makes some trite statement, usually "Hello, do you have our charge card yet?" or "Hello, have you found everything you need?" There are varying answers to these questions, but a "Yes" usually ends up being the safest. As the cashier begins to process their purchases, our heroes tune with all five senses, hoping to score with the early-detection tecnique. It is the mark of a well-trained and discliplined person to notice errors on the scanner screen while still keeping a polite conversation going with the cashier, and it happens rarely. Usually the errors are only detected after they have been printed out on sales slips. This is when the Dutch blood of these people begins to boil in their veins, and the blood of their non-Dutch friends starts to run cold in embarassment.
Case in point:
During the last Olympics, the Coca-Cola Company ran a promotion where they made a code for each event, then stuck these codes onto their products and gave out three free codes per day. You entered the code, and if the U.S. won a medal of any kind in that event, you won 5 free 2-Liters. My Accounting teacher tipped us off one day in class, and my family was, of course, interested. We ended up with 75 free 2-Liters of any Coke product. Not bad, eh? So just recently the coupons came trickling in, proving once and for all that it wasn't a scam. I, along with a Dutch aquaintance, went to the store to get come Coke for my grad party. You can only use one coupon at a time, so the Dutch had us split up going through the checkout. This was a mistake, as I am quite inexperienced at haggling with cashiers, and the cashier, in her turn, had never before encountered one of the coupons. She stared at it, called over an associate to verify its validity, then tentitively punched it in. It took off $1.75 off. "Okaaaaay- but the coupon says it should be free." She stared some more, then got an idea. She punched it in again. Another $1.75 off. She continued punching while I shuffled my feet and whistled an innocent tune. When she finished, she asked me for $1.75 plus tax. This was unexpected as I had bought were the 5 "free" 2-Liters, and here is where my inexperience shone through. Instead of arguing the "free" point, I handed over the money, grabbed my bags, and rejoined the Dutch. Upon learning of my story, she was incensed. She thrust her purchases at me, grabbed my reciept, and led me to customer service where I stood sheepishly while she worked out a solution to the $1.75 (apparently my cashier hadn't punched the coupon 5 times), and put in her complaint about the Produce people not cutting open watermelons for customers. Lesson learned and money reclaimed, we headed for home.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

Commencement

I just graduated. Like, oh, 3 hours ago. It is strange to have graduated- strange because I do not feel strange. Just like I've been to a party, stayed out late, gorged, and am crashing at home. There was no tingling, no earthquake- just bright lights and royal blue gowns. It had much the same feeling as the Christmas Programs of old. Except the stage was much more state-of-the-art. It made one feel like he was participating in some choice piece of drama or somesuch. We even had a rehearsal, which was really a rather discouraging session. However, the actual ceremony went well, except for the attempt to combine the graduates, band and audience in a rendition of America the Beautiful. Each party had different ideas on the timing of the song. It got so bad, we were almost singing it as a round. Such is the curse of the school band though. Music has become stagnant in the old hallowed halls of the PC. Which I will never be in again as a student. Which, given a shade more contemplation, will probably get me sniffly. Although the school has done little to deserve a claim on my affections, it does. I imagine that the feeling is the same as that which people feel for their old junker cars- they miss them a little, even though they broke down every 3 miles, didn't have AC, and could only get the Spanish radio station. It's not about the defects- which are legion- but about the people, and the memories, and those wonderful old books in the school library. Funny how that works- how you can hate something so much while you have it, and then miss it when you don't. Defies logic. But now- BRING ON SUMMER!!!!!!!

Saturday, June 03, 2006

More "footage"...

Mis primas bonitas...
This shot depicts a favorite activity at Banquet- forming organized gangs and going around shooting at people.

I put this picture up because it is a picture that none of the Yearbook students could get- Herb and Skeet, well dressed and with pleasant expressions. Note that one them is even looking at the camera. Truely this is an image to be prized.


Walms always has a poofy dress... look at the wingspan!!!

And again...

Awwwwwwwwww... The light was just perfect while we took the outdoors pics. I was able to catch the elusive "sweetlight."

The brains behind many successful operations at PCHS, posing with a former blogger that I got to meet for the first time, bringing the total count of bloggers I know to 3.

And Blogger once again refused to upload any more pictures... But it did better than last time, so perhaps we'll have worked up to a complete cure by the time I get back to the Washington pictures.