14 February 2010
Have you ever seen those signs near cash registers that read: “Your order is free if we fail to offer you a receipt”? They usually have this addendum, too: “Good at time of sale only.”
I’ve seen these quite often, and I’m not sure what the point is. See, if I pay with cash, I usually don’t care to have a receipt. If I pay with a check card, or if it’s a major purchase (>$100), then I ask for a receipt myself, without having to be prompted by the salesman. And even if no receipt is offered, so what? It’s not like I judge to quality of my purchase based on if I am offered a receipt.
I’m also baffled as to how this ‘guarantee’ is upheld. If I walk out of the store without receiving a receipt, and then return and say: “Hey, I didn’t get a receipt!” what proof do I have? Maybe I just stuffed it in my pocket. And how do the employees know how much to refund me? After all, I don’t have a receipt. I think that’s why the sign usually says “good at time of sale only.” But again, how do I prove this? I could stare at the cashier for a half hour and then, finally, declare: “Okay, well it’s obvious you’re not giving me a receipt. I want me money back.” But then the cashier can declare: “No, honest, I was just going to give it to you. Look – here it is!”
Well, today, I challenged this ‘guarantee.’ At the Mall of America, at Asian Chao today, my son desired a big plate of rice and noodles. I ordered that for him, and it immediately flustered the employees since it wasn’t one of their nice and easy meal numbers. The manager even had to make up a price to charge me. The cashier had no idea what to do, at one point even attempting to charge me over $300. Finally, I paid, and the cashier then offered me…water. So I accepted his offer. As he was getting me water, however, an earlier customer walked up to the counter and requested a refill on his beverage. This caused the cashier to absent-mindedly hand me the water and then move on to other customers. I stood their for about 10 seconds, then was squeezed out of the way by more customers.
Owen and I sat down to eat our food, but when we finished, I walked up with my empty tray and said: “I didn’t get a receipt, so I need my money back.”
“That is only good at time of purchase, sir.”
“Yeah, I know. At the time of purchase, you didn’t give me a receipt.”
“But I am only in training.”
“So? The sign doesn’t say it’s only applicable if I I’m being helped by experienced employees…”
So he fetched the manager, and the manager said: “Oh no, you walked away.”
“Yeah,” I argued, “But how long should I stand here? I paid, then he offered me water, then he even went on to helping other people. He had no intention of giving me a reciept.”
Seeing the waiting line of customers, who were whispering about my predicament, the manger relented and opened the cash register drawer, further confusing the new emlpoyee who was holding a $10 bill from another customer who was awaiting change.
Yes, I know, it’s not a big deal, but it only took me about 2 minutes of arguing to get my $3.20 back. So, unless you make over $3.20 every 2 minutes at your job (that equals $96/hour), then don’t get on my case – you routinely work for less.

15 February 2010
The three of us headed over to the local Goodwill today. I picked out five pairs of jeans, tried them on, and ended up buying four pairs of them. My son, meanwhile, found a bingo cage he insisted we buy. Yep, it’s exactly what you think it is: all these little numbered balls are in a cage, and you spin it to mix them, then spin it the other way to get one ball to come out. So far it’s netted us an hour of peace and quiet at home (apart from the sound of the balls mixing), so I think, ultimately, it was a good investment.
My mom called this yesterday to tell me she had to hole up for the night in York. That’s a city. In Nebraska. I’m not sure if she and her husband forgot to check the weather forecast, or if the conditions just unexpectedly changed in Nebraska today, but my mom planned to drive straight through from her home in Colorado to my sister’s home in southern Minnesota. But she got stuck in a white-out. She said her knuckles were white, and she couldn’t see anything but snow. At one point, she had to make a u-turn on the interstate, and the cop behind her closed the freeway. A phone call to her husband assisted her in finding the correct off ramp to York, where she obtained a simple motel room. The clerk told her Pizza Hut was across the street, but the visibility is so low, my mom’s not sure if she should brave the trek over there to get dinner. I told her to see if they deliver.
Anyway, she just called again to say the roads are cleared and she’s back in the car on her way to the Land of 10,000 Lakes.
I should’ve asked her if she got a receipt from Pizza Hut.

12 February 2010
My friend Jeremy and I volunteered as judges at the Twin Cities Regional Science Fair this evening. This was my fourth time serving as such a judge, and the second time that Jeremy has joined me.
A few years ago, I judged projects at a high school science fair and I decided I didn’t want to do that again. The problem with walking into a high school and assessing the merit of the students’ projects is this: since every student has to create a science project as part of their grade for the semester, there is quite a range in quality. Some of the students had obviously not spent more than an hour on their project. Some didn’t even care to discuss their project. One girl even accept a phone call from one of her friends while I was asking her about her project.
So that’s why I like the regional fair better: every student there scored high enough in the first round (at their high school) to make it to the next round. All of them take it seriously.
This evening, I judged a project that merited 100%. I believe this is the first time I’ve ever given a project a perfect score, but he deserved it. He was testing the effect of various beverages on tooth enamel which, admittedly, isn’t stunningly original, but he did the best job of this of any project I’ve seen. Since he had no tooth enamel readily available, he used chicken eggshells. He had to devise a way to submerge eggshells in soft drinks without destroying the shells in the process. He also had to thoroughly dry these shells and then weigh them accurately. He actually brought his tiny little balance with him to show me how he did it. He also had a display case showing the actual eggshells. He repeated each experiment with each drink FIVE TIMES with different eggshells and averaged out the results. The cool thing was, his hypothesis was only partly confirmed – sometimes the shells gained weight (an indication that the soft drink was not eating away at the shell). But even in this, he had ready hypothesis to explain these aberrant results: the sugar from the colas was binding to the shells. Wow.
He also had a thorough bibliography (not just various Wikipedia pages, like some students) including an interview with a dentist. And his poster board was color coded because, as he put it, “In my research I’ve found that people prefer to look at smaller pieces of documentation instead of a big wall of text.” Again: wow.
Did I mention this kid was only 12 years old?
I hope that kid won something for his efforts (my score was averaged in with three other judges’ scores, so it’s tough to know what he ultimately scored).

13 February 2010
I would just like to take this opportunity to complain. This has been the most depressing, difficult, frustrating, obnoxious first two weeks of any college semester.
And it has nothing to do with my class. (Well, maybe a little, we are reading a very boring book of poetry).
Here’s a rambling synopsis of the last two weeks:
Nope, we’re not getting a house. Our baby-sitter canceled on us. Four times. I was sick, and missed a day of work. Then Owen had pink eye so I had to come home from work to watch him. Then Jennifer got sick. Our Jetta wasn’t starting properly, so I had to fix it. Jenifer’s level of homework is as ridiculous as it was last semester. I found out I did our Federal income taxes wrong…after sending them it. Jennifer got so sick that we trekked to urgent care and, for two nights now, I’ve slept in Owen’s room on the floor so that Jennifer’s coughing does not wake up me or Owen. She had to cancel plans to hang out with a friend she hasn’t seen in month. And my computer stopped working (I’m typing this on my wife’s computer).
Today we were going to go to one of Owen’s classmate’s birthday parties. But Jennifer was too sick, so I took Owen, even though he and I are also sick and I am tired from five nights of fitful sleep.
Even though It was exhausting, I’m glad I took Owen there. He wore himself out at the play area. The little boy and his parents were happy that 2/3 of us still made it to the party. Owen, I think, had the best time he’s ever had at any birthday party.

10 February 2010
I guess I just don’t quite grok Craig’s List ettiquette sometimes. I put my wife’s old cell phone up for sale on Craig’s List a few days ago and have since recieved several emails from interested parties. One guy wanted to know why we were getting rid of the phone; a lady wrote to ask if the phone came with an adaptor plug. Another lady wrote to me several times: does the phone work, how old is the phone, am I firm on the price, would I be willing to mail it to her…stuff like that.
Then, just yesterday, another woman emailed and said she would like to buy the phone. She asked if I’d be willing to meet her at such-and-such a location the next day. So that’s what I did.
The next time I checked my email, this message was waiting:

i guess u sold the phone too huh?

…It was a message from the woman who had asked me all those questions, above. She had emailed me last night asking if I could supply a picture of the phone (wasn’t the picture on Craig’s List sufficient?). I didn’t respond to that email, as I was waiting to see if the phone would sell to the other woman, but once it did, I didn’t see any reason to keep responding to this lady’s endless questioning.
I wrote:

Oh, yes, sorry, I should’ve said something. Someone emailed me yesterday and asked if she could just come pick it up. Thanks.

Then she wrote:

thanks alot!!!!!!!!! i asked u 1st and then u go sell the f phone on me!!! how rude!!!!!!!!!

So I wrote:

Sorry, I can understand the frustration. You were not the first person to express interest in the phone, however, and you had not committed to purchasing it yet, so I was still responding to other people, too.

Which prompted this response:

i thought i asked u about shipping it to me

So I said:

Yes, you asked about shipping, but other people asked about things, too…does it come with a charger, am I willing to go down in price, why am I getting rid of it…stuff like that. None of that means the person is definitely going to buy it, it just means the person would like more info before deciding on the purchase.
Again, I’m sorry for the confusion, and next time I will immediately send out an email to all who had previously shown any sort of interest in the item to inform them the item is no longer available.

She hasn’t written back. Yet.
Yes, yes, I know…I could’ve just deleted her emails, but I didn’t want to just avoid her simply because I didn’t like the questions she was asking. If I wanted to shun people for asking questions, I’d be one of…

11 Febraury 2010
Jehovah’s Witnesses. Is there no limit to their hypocrisy?
I spoke to my friend Ryan today, and he told me another tale of religious woe.
See, his younger brother & sister are in a band – a band with a measure of local popularity. They’re releasing a new album soon. This kind of thing really excites Ryan because, well, he loves music and he’s the one who drew his younger siblings into the craft of making music. Ryan has only good things to say about their band, called “The Akai.” He’s a big fan.
But the thing is, his siblings (and everyone else in the band) are Witnesses. That means that they shun Ryan because Ryan is a former Witness.
So what does that have to do with their music? Well, it shouldn’t have anything to do with their music. When the Akai plays in public venues, Ryan should be free to attend, just as Muslims, ex-convicts, Catholics, drug-users, homosexuals, and people who have had blood transfusions, abortions, and birthday parties are also allowed to attend. And, in fact, Ryan has attended their concerts, even bringing others with him to assist in growing a fanbase for the Akai.
But the last time Ryan went to one of their concerts, his brother Reed sent him an email requesting that Ryan not show up. Reed said that seeing his brother in the audience “ruined the night” for him. That’s right, an independent, local, struggling band – that has courted fans online and on the radio – specifically requested that one person not be their fan. And today, Ryan went to their website (this one) and tried to sign up to get email updates as to when and where the band is playing. But guess what, Reed had specifically preempted Ryan’s loyalty by setting up the website to specifically block Ryan as a user.
Ryan blogged about it HERE
Beyond the obvious craziness of we-shun-you-if-you-leave cult mentality, this is insane for three reasons:
1. The band obviously wants fans. I mean, if they didn’t want fans, they wouldn’t play on stage, or sell albums, or appear in local papers and on local radio shows to advertize. The idea of excluding a fan – one that is blood-related – is stupid. Besides, Ryan loves the Akai so much, he could be a great catalyst for generating more fans (e.g., had his blog discussed his excitement for attending the upcoming show, that would attract other people to go to the show, too).
2. The Witness policy is to not ‘associate’ with ex-Witnesses. Okay, fine. But Reed, and the rest of the Akai are not associating with Ryan by having him in their audience. Does Reed plan to check everyone who attends their shows: “Are you a former member of the Watchtower Society? Yes? Okay, then you’ll have to turn around right now.” And why does it matter if Ryan is included on mass emails regarding upcoming shows and album releases? Does Reed think his god will smite him if Ryan buys an album? For that matter, how many Witness waiters have served food to ex-Witnesses? How many ex-Witnesses did I sell eyeglass to when I worked in the optical industry?
3. Finally, Witnesses assert that one of the key factors in identifying themselves as the One True Religion is that they are loving.
Oops. Maybe…not so much.

07 February 2010
I found myself very bored on this, my least-favorite holiday of the year (Super Bowl Sunday). In the past, I’d been invited to Super Bowl parties at people’s homes, but I think everyone finally got the hint that I really don’t care about football. Actually, there were a few times that people would say things like: “Oh, I don’t care about the Super Bowl either. We’ll just watch the commercials.” I’m sure their intentions were good, but here’s a rule-of-thumb: when people invite you over on Super Bowl Sunday and claim they’re just gonna watch the commercials, they’re lying. See, they don’t actually watch the commercials. They do what they do whenever commercials are on: they talk to each other, get up and refill their beverage or empty their bladder. More importantly however, is that a good commercial is kind of like a good cup of coffee: it’s still tastes like dirt to me.
So with my wife and son sick, and my homework done for the week, I got very bored. My friend Ryan emailed me with some updated footage for a filmlet we’d been working on called Flattened. He then called to see if I liked the footage. I said I did, and then he said the only thing remaining would be for us to get all the audio and video together onto one computer. He said I was welcome to go to his place. To Jennifer, this was great news, as she hates having a bored, antsy husband around the house.

08 February 2010
Today, I uploaded the completed version of Flattened onto YouTube. YouTube is one of the least intuitive, most frustrating sites I visit, but since that’s where everyone puts their videos, that where I have to put my videos if I want people to see them. I actually uploaded the filmlet yesterday, but then discovered that there was a glitch. So, I immediately removed the video and corrected the problem. I was going to re-export the filmlet, but this takes about a half hour and I was too tired. So I did it today.
And, in fact, I had to do it twice today. I successfully uploaded it once, this morning, only to have one of my co-workers point out that I had two audio tracks slightly out of sync with each other. The reasons why this happened are really boring, so I won’t go into it here, but at least I knew how to fix it. I promptly opened up my laptop, corrected the problem, and set the filmlet to export for a third time.
But my laptop ran out of battery power.
And, no, I can’t just plug it in because, you see, my wife and I only have one functioning plug between our two laptops, and the plug was at home with her. I even pulled out the defective cord and stripped the insulation and retwist the wires in an effort to get my old cord to work again. This worked for about 15 seconds, during which time my computer went from 0% to, well, still 0% power, and then the wire short-circuited and my cube smelled like ozone for a while.
So I finally got the video up on the web tonight. Here it is:

FLATTENED

09 February 2010
I never would have expected to discuss a trip to the gas station here on this blog, but that’s what’s about to happen:
As I drove into the Super America lot this afternoon, I noticed a pick-up truck pulling in ahead of me. The truck’s license plate read “Jimmy Z.” I laughed, thinking to myself, ‘hey, that’s what my license plate should say!’
The truck pulled up to a gas pump on the opposite side of the island, and it was then that I noticed the wood chipper they were towing. On the sides, it read: “Zimmerman’s Tree Service.” So then I thought: “Wow, that guy’s name is probably James Zimmerman. That’s my name, too!”
A minute passed, and he and I were standing about ten feet apart, each waiting for our vehicle’s tank to fill. He looked to be about 60 years old, about my height, wearing a camo jacket and a baeball cap. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days.
I walked over to him and said: “Is your name James Zimmerman?” Admittedly, this was a long shot. I mean, just because someone works for Zimmerman Tree Service does not mean that they themselves are the namesake.
“Yes,” he said, sounding as proud of it as he damn well should.
“That’s my name, too,” I said, and he smiled real big and stuck out his hand to shake mine.
We talked for a couple of minutes, instant kin due to our names. He mentioned there are a lot of Zimmermans in Minnesota, and I agreed. He explained that he and his partner (the guy sitting in the passenger side of the truck, presumably wondering how it is we made such fast friends) had just gotten back into town from Oklahoma. They volunteered their services to go help with the large branches that had fallen onto homes due to a recent snow storm. “There’s a lot of poor people in Oklahoma,” he noted, sounding somber.
The conversation returned to our names, and he mentioned – get this – that he named his son James, too.
“Oh, hey,” I said, “My Dad and I are both named James.”
“Yeah,” he continued, “But my son and I have different middle initials. I’m a ‘D’ and he’s a ‘P’.
“No way,” I said, sounding way too astonished. “My Dad’s middle initial is P, and mine is D!”
The old guy laughed. There he and I were, two James D. Zimmermans, who were father and son, respectively, to two James P. Zimmermans, just contemplating the coincidence. I was going to shake his hand again, but I was afraid we’d cancel each other out and open a wormhole, or something like that.

In other news: Ryan sent the link to our filmlet to PZ Myers, a noted evolutionary biologist and proprietor of one of the most popular science blogs on the web. Dr. Myers was impressed, evidently, or maybe just amused, because he saw fit to post it on his blog, which is RIGHT HERE. Thank you, PZ! Our little film has garnered over 2,000 views in the 28 hours it has been on the internet.

04 February 2010
The semester has gotten off to a rocky start this time. On Tuesday, our baby-sitter cancelled, and today, Owen had pink-eye. Jennifer called me this morning (I was already at work) wondering what we should do. I decided to come home and be with Owen while Jennifer went off to her classes.
Jennifer called Owen’s pediatrician and he was kind enough to simply call in a prescription to the pharmacy for Owen’s eyes. Around 1:00, Owen and I went to pick up the prescription. The technician who assisted us said she had no record of our insurance or prescription coverage. She asked me a bunch of questions (date of birth, social security number, etc.) and entered it all into her computer. She took our insurance cards and said: “I’ll have to call in to your provider and get some information, so can you just have a seat and wait for a while?”
I told her that, instead, that we would go take care of another errand and then come back.
When we returned, I pulled up to their drive-thru window and was assisted by a different person. He knew nothing of our story and had to keep walking away to speak with his co-worker. Eventually, he said they couldn’t find any information on our prescription coverage. He just kind of left the conversation hanging, so I asked: “Well, can I just pay for the prescription out of pocket?” I figured that if he said anything less than $50, then I would just pay for it and forget all the hassle that comes with insurance companies. He said: “Sure, but that will cost you $14.99.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, “here’s my check card.” As he was ringing up the bill, he kept telling me I was welcome to return with the correct provider information and that he would then credit my account. I just nodded politely but, really, what a waste that would be. I’m sure the co-pay for the medicine would be $10, so I only spent an extra five bucks. And since I can submit it for reimbursement through pre-tax dollars…I don’t think it’s worth the hassle of returning to Walgreen’s.
Is going to Walgreen’s ever worth the hassle?

05 February 2010
Today was a good day. First, it was payday, which always makes for a bittersweet occasion, but I also got reimbursed for last semester’s college class. Wow, it’s hard to believe. I took a class at Hamline University, and my employer paid for it. Wow. Just wow. Jennifer also received a check in the mail for some of the work she’s done for the Mama Campaign and she got a letter in the mail congratulating her for being on the Dean’s list at her college.
We celebrated by going out to dinner at Macaroni Grill, where we both opted for the “create your own pasta” meal and Owen entertained us by using practically the entire table cloth as a canvas for his crayon drawings. Then we went to Target and bought a pop-corn machine.

06 February 2010
This morning I spent about an hour and a half sending out fifteen emails. I was trying to clean-up my in-box and take care of all sorts of stuff. I sent out emails regarding troubles with the photo quality in the MN Atheist newsletter, my membership with the Minnesota Home-Brewers Association, a short film that my friend Ryan and I began about two years ago that I’m finally trying to wrap up, the possibility of taking a class on documentary film-making, the possibility of getting a minor in history, some boring stuff relating to book-publishing, and even correspondence with my cousin commiserating on my grandfather’s rudeness towards his non-cult-member grandchildren.
Later, we went to Cub Foods. Cub has got to be one of my least favorite stores that I actually go to. I mean, I pretty much hate shopping anyway, but I can usually avoid the stores I really hate: Wal-Mart, Best Buy, Sears…these are stores that I have been to three or four times in the past decade. But Cub (and Walgreen’s – see above), is one of those stores that keeps calling me back. But it’s dirty, crowded, smelly, the customer service is, well, nothing that even qualifies as “service,” and there’s nothing particularly note-worthy about the store itself. We only go there because it has everything. Well, not everything, but some of everything, I should say.
When it comes to buying groceries, I much prefer Trader Joe’s, Mississippi Market, and Valley Natural Foods.