A few months back, I published The List – my unabashed, profanity-laced diatribe on all things irritating. It was a fantastically satisfying exercise – an anger-releasing orgasm that left me with a month-long afterglow of self-satisfaction and general sense of rightness in the world. It felt so good, that by the time I wrote my closing, I was fairly certain there’d be more volumes. The many visitors who grokked what I put to page only fed my certainty, and I immediately started a new cache of hastily scribbled post-it notes detailing my daily frustrations. So, even though there are plenty of real issues I could devote my fingers to typing, I’m taking a detour back to The List with hopes of another teeth-rattling release. So here we are, with the second volume of things that really tick me off; a proverbial beatdown of minor irritants which, when added together, make my life suck more than it should.

And another disclaimer:

Warning: (Really) Adult Language Ahead

In my last post, I issued a semi-adult language warning. Then I used the f-word about 900 times, often accounting (in some form) for 40-50% of any sentence’s content. So, clearly, there was nothing semi there. With that in mind, I amend my warning: I intend to swear at least as much in this volume. My profanity will be in noun, verb, adverb, and adjective forms, and will spew unapologetically across the page. If you don’t like that kind of harsh language, stop at the end of this paragraph and go look at my Goulash Recipe. The rest of you: welcome back, and I hope you enjoy. And I hope you’ll add more of your own world gripes. Misery likes company, and my blog LOVES comments.

See you on the other side.

The List (continued, and in no particular order)

Who/What: The Cancel Button on any Printer
Why: Oh, my fucking God! When I press cancel, don't print another thing. Don’t print the whole document, don’t print half a page and then stop, and for the love of God and all that is holy, don’t print 400 one-line-of-garbage-at-the-top-of-each-page pages. Stop immediately! That means right fucking now! Whoever designed this button should be strapped to the paddle wheel on a river boat and churned from New Orleans to Japan.

Who/What: Ronald D. Moore (Warning: Spoilers ahead!)
Why: Battlestar Galactica’s last episode. Are you kidding me with this shit? That was your idea for a good ending? The bad guy gives up and shoots himself, the main character vanishes without any explanation of what the fuck she was, and the last remnants of the human race discard their technology and wander off to mate with cavemen? Forget the freakin’ plot holes you never closed – some of which were big enough to drive the Galactica itself through – this was just bad writing. I wanted to drive to your house and slap you. Seriously. I’m glad your next pilot flopped. I bet you pissed off the network executives as much as you did me.

Who/What: The Folks Who Loved and/or Defended the Aforementioned Finale.
Why: Well, you’re either stupid suck-ups or pretentious pricks, or both. Line up behind Moore, assholes, the slaps are coming your way next.

Who/What: Bands that Release CDs Without Lyrics in the Liner Notes
Why: It’s 2009! How do you not get this? People want to know what you’re saying. So much so that there are entire web sites devoted to translating your drunken, mushmouthed ramblings into readable text. Save us the hassle, and the embarrassment that comes when we sing the wrong lyrics around someone who knows the right ones. I’m giving you $15 for 15 songs. Spend the 1/10 of a cent on ink and print the freakin' words.

Who/What: Ron Livingston (Actor – Band of Brothers, Office Space)
Why: Put your fucking eyebrow down, jerkwad. Jeez.

Who/What: RoadRunner Web Mail
Why: Where is the Goddammed Empty Trash button? Are you telling me that nobody has mentioned that it’s missing from your interface? I shouldn’t have to delete messages from a folder, then go to the Deleted Items folder and delete them again. Every other fucking mail client on the planet has an Empty Trash feature. Get with the freakin' program, jerkholes!

Who/What: Joss Whedon, Screenwriter of Alien 4
Why: I know Ripley was being kind putting all of those other half-formed/mutant clones out of their interminable misery, but shooting them with a flamethrower is not the best or most humane way to do it. Yeah, it’ll end their suffering...with excruciating pain (a proverbial cherry on top!). "Hey, mutants! You thought you were in agony before, and it couldn’t be any worse? How about bathing in 1400 degree napalm for a few minutes as you die?" Writing a flamethrower-based mercy killing is just plain wrong. Shame on you, Joss.

Who/What: People my Pants Size
Why: You fuckers have been thwarting me for 25 years now, and I’m tired of having to shop for two fucking weeks in 17 freakin' stores to find one pair of jeans in my size. I mean come on – when I was a 30/30, I could only find 28/30 or 32/30. When I was 32/30, all I could find are the 30/30s I always needed. It’s like you’re following me through my exact nutrition/exercise/weight gain pattern, but just happen to leave the house five minutes before me. Stop it, Goddamn it! I need some freakin' pants!

Who/What: Unclear Windows System Messages (No matter what software makes them pop up)
Why: Here's another Oh, My Fucking God! I don’t know what SVCHOST or RUNDLL32 are, so how the fuck do I know whether they should have access to the internet through my firewall, or whether I should force quit them when they stop responding? How about telling me something useful, like which program is using those things? I’m not sure who to blame for this one, but who ever you are: fuck you, and your grandchildren, pets, neighbors, and anyone who serves you spit-free food in a restaurant.

Who/What: Elevator "Close Door" Buttons
Why: What the fuck? There weren’t any more jobs in the printer cancel button business, so you moved on to elevators? Don’t give me a button that doesn’t work, dickwads, or that only works in some elevators. Go back to every elevator you ever designed and make them work. In fact, just to pay me back, I want an additional Turbo Close button that will bisect a 700 pound man in less than a second, and get me to my floor before the bloody torso stops twitching.

Who/What: Kellogg's Frosted Mini Wheats (also good for any other flavor-coated foods or snacks)
Why: Listen to me very carefully, brain trust: if the wheat biscuit comes through without frosting, it isn’t a fucking Frosted Mini-Wheat. Send it back and spray it again. That includes the ones that were on their side, or went under the clogged nozzle. If you didn’t know, eating an un-frosted Mini Wheat is akin to eating a fucking Brillo pad. It’s called quality control, jerkwads. Do some.

Who/What: The Fucking NY State Lottery/Mega Millions
Why: Pay attention, stingy lottery gods: I’m tired of going to work, missing every sunny day, and never having enough cash to rent a fucking DVD. And I’m especially tired of seeing other people win. It’s my turn. No more “I never play the lottery, but I grabbed a ticket when I went to buy myself some Skoal and a Diet Mountain Dew on the way back to my mobile home” winners. In fact, no more fucking wins for other people at all until I win – they’re probably all pedophiles and atheists, and should never, never have access to big money.

Who/What: Democrats Who Know How to Comment on the Internet
Why: What a whiny bunch of know-it-all childish pukes you are. You make us all look bad. So just shut the fuck up. And when you do have something to say, try using good grammar, proper spelling, the correct fucking words, and some punctuation. The only thing worse than an obnoxious computer-savvy Dem, is one who writes like a retarded 5th grader. In fact, I bet it was you who designed all those cancel and close buttons. Fuckers...

Who/What: Sam’s Club
Why: What kind of sadistic mother fuckers sell me something for six months, get me hooked on it, and then NEVER FUCKING SELL IT AGAIN? Oh, there’s a special place in Hell for you, my friends – and I guarantee you it will be a place where the close and cancel buttons don’t work, and every Windows message is too obscure to be of any use.

Who/What: Television Stations
Why: Stop putting extraneous promotional shit on the screen when I’m watching a show. I want to see the entirety of the image, not clever graphics for other shit I’m never going to watch. And I already know what show I’m watching, and what channel it’s on. Stop telling me, “You’re watching 24 on Fox.” Really? I thought I was watching fucking Madagascar on PLEX! And another thing: let me see the fucking credits. I waited 45 minutes to find out who played that hot freakin' waitress or who sang that great song – don’t scrunch up the screen, run the credits at turbo speed, or tilt the whole thing to one side. And don’t fucking talk over the music/end jokes/epilogues/previews. Wow, that’s annoying.

Who/What: Town/County Tax Assessors
Why: $189,000? For my house? In 2009? Are you fucking kidding me? Did you pull that number out of your ass while you were sucking down martinis in Boca? Have you ever actually seen my house? Have you read about the economy? Are you fucking blind, deaf, and stupid? And don’t tell me I have to prove my house value is down. Is my house in some kind of magical fucking bubble where it’s unaffected by everything else that’s happening in the world? Of course it’s down, you prick. Pick up the paper, turn on the TV or the radio, or talk to any person in earshot. Know what they’ll tell you? Housing values are down, you pig-headed moron! Start cutting people’s assessments.

Who/What: Cottonwood Trees (and the people who own them)
Why: Holy fucking Christ! Does my entire ½ acre have dandruff? Why does anyone even have these freakin' trees? And I’m not just talking about my neighbor who has a forty foot tall cottonwood that hangs over my yard and craps so much white fluffy shit that it looks like ten flocks of birds got sucked into a jet engine 30 feet above my house (Karma will get you one day, my friend; if not karma, then Ripley with her flamethrower). No! In fact, it snowed cotton for a month in my town. Rise up, comrades! Burn those fucking trees down! Every one of them! I don’t care if the species goes extinct. It’s time to take back our lawns!

Who/What: Smokers
Why: Hey, assholes! The can is right there! It’s less then three feet away. What kind of lazy motherfucker are you that you can’t walk three feet to the can? Stop throwing your still-smoldering butts on the ground. And for those of you who smoke in your car: first, close your fucking windows – you wanted smoke, why are you letting it out? And second, there’s a place in your car to throw your ash and butts, dicklicks - use it! What’s that? You don’t want it in you car? Oh, I see. Then what the fuck makes you think I want it on my lawn, or bouncing off my car while I drive behind you? I’m a non-smoker for a reason, dipshits. And a special shout out for those bonus-sized assholes who bury their butts in the sand in the beach. You are absolute gems among human beings – I’m gonna tell Ripley to use a lower heat setting when she puts you down with her flamethrower.

Who/What: Advocates of Pretty Much Anything that isn’t Yet Mainstream or Legal
Why: What a self-important, self-serving, blind bunch of assholes you are. I know I speak for the majority when I say, "Oh, my God, shut the fuck up!" We don’t agree with you, and we don’t want to hear it. And what’s more, even if we don’t have strong feelings about your cause, I guarantee that your obnoxiousness will turn us against you. So to be clear: shut up and go fuck yourselves sideways in whichever holes make you most uncomfortable and have the highest risk of bruising.

Epilogue

Well, that’s it. I burned like 10,000 calories worth of angst and anger there; and yes, the language was pretty strong, and awfully harsh. I’m not usually an “in for a penny, in for a pound” guy, but this is a pretty faithful example of that. I’ll be writing a serious post at some point in the near future, so look for it.

Peace out, y’all.

If you read The List in February, you’ll know I take issue with bad retail practices (among many other things!). As I consider our failing economy – and specifically, the frothing nightmare that is now the retail industry – I can’t help but make one obvious observation:

American retail sucks.

Now I know that last word is kind of harsh, and unsophisticated, but every other word I typed at the end of that sentence couldn’t capture the overall “suckiness” I’m here to describe. So, I stand by it, and ask your indulgence as I write on...

So far this year, I've read more than two dozen stories (and countless more headlines) about the state of the retail industry and its effect on the flagging economy. Retail businesses are failing at an alarming rate, and consumer confidence is at a near-historic low. Economists know that a healthy retail industry is a key component in any kind of national economic recovery, but they rarely address issues in the industry itself. Instead, they talk about broad economic and employment trends that only factor slightly into the health of the industry: rising unemployment and gas prices, failing lenders and credit card companies, sudden inflation, and people saving for rainy days (or downright hoarding). They never – well, I should probably say, almost never – fix the blame where it belongs: on the shoulders of the many retailers and manufacturers who just don’t “get it.” You know – the businesses that suck. If you want to understand why consumer confidence is so low, perhaps it's time to look more closely at them. That's what I'm doing here.

To make it easy, I’m going to focus on three personal retail nightmares: replacing a worn-out cell phone battery; buying replacement supplies for two of my daughter’s toys; and trying to buy some strawberry ice cream. I have hundreds that I could write about, but I thought I’d start with a small, recent cross-section. As you can probably tell from the title, I expect this to be the first in a series of retail-critical posts. Not only do I have a huge backlog of nightmares to share, but I’m still shopping, which means plenty of new opportunities for retail suckiness and future posts.

Oh, and if you’re wondering what the heck a SpotShot is, it’s something I’ve been toying with for a while. It’s a play on “pot shot” that I've decided to use whenever I want to rant about a minor (or semi-minor) thing, and want to do it in a not-completely-serious way. The health and well-being of the retail industry isn’t exactly minor, but my concerns don’t necessarily speak to some greater purpose or philosophical truth. It’s gears-grinding with a message. So let’s get to it!

LG Electronics: The Cell Phone Battery Debacle

Let’s talk cell phone batteries. Back in summer 2007 – just under 2 years ago – I renewed my family's Cingular contract, and bought three brand new cell phones. It was time to upgrade phones, and since I was already planning to keep my existing service provider, it seemed a minor inconvenience to sign a new three-year contract – especially since it would secure three below-retail-price cell phones (one for me, one for my wife, and one for my mom). I shopped hard, and finally settled on the LG CU500. It’s an amazing phone: does lots of cool stuff, sounds good, looks mod, easy to use. Overall, a pleasing purchase. And with the signup discount, they cost me about $50 apiece, much lower than the $350 price for a non-contract-upgrade-related purchase. I walked away quite satisfied.

Fast forward fifteen months:

My phone battery started losing its charge. Or, more precisely, it started burning through its charge in an unusually short period of time. When it was new, the phone would stay charged for three or four days with moderate call volume, a few picture snaps, and a couple hours of MP3 playback. Pretty good performance, and one that was duplicated on my wife’s and mother’s sibling phones. (And remember, these are three identical phones – so the comparisons in performance and expectation is appropriate.) I thought it was odd, but I wasn’t that concerned. Batteries age, and manufacturing differences can affect the life of any specific battery. But when the problem got to be – well, problematic – I decided it was time to buy a new battery. (This is a key point of my story – I wasn’t looking for warranty replacement, or reimbursement, or any kind of compensation. I just wanted to buy a new battery.) So, I went to Best Buy, where I bought the phone, and learned that since the phone was fifteen months old, replacement batteries weren’t going to be an off-the-shelf thing. Apparently cell phones turn over quickly, and it doesn’t make a lot of sense to stock them, or their parts, for very long. Not a big deal, especially when the salesman told me that batteries usually outlasted their phones. Fine. So I went to Radio Shack, then the Cingular store. Still, nothing – same set of reasons too. But again, I was okay with it. The Cingular rep suggested going online to buy one, so I headed home and fired up my browser. My first stops? My favorite shopping sites: Amazon, NewEgg, Buy.com, Overstock. These four sites came up blank. No such thing as a replacement battery for this phone. Curious… Next stop: the Cingular site. Again, nothing. Also odd. Final stop: LG. They’ll obviously have one, right? They make and sell the darn phone. But the result was surprising: a stunning, inexplicable nothing! What’s this? The folks who make the phone don’t have replacement batteries for sale? Huh? Headsets…cases…solar chargers? But no batteries? How can that be? Where’s that “contact us” link?

Even after all this, I still wasn’t annoyed. I was baffled that I could buy a solar charger for my existing battery, but not a new battery. So I wrote a quick note to customer service (fully expecting some marginally helpful, if broken-English, reply) and waited for them to send me a link to the correct product page. I got a response in 36 hours. Wow, talk about service! Except...the response told me to go the LG web site to buy a battery – the same website I used to click the contact us link. Okay, fine. I wrote back and explained that it wasn’t there, and asked for some real help. The next response: "Sorry, we don’t have a replacement battery for that phone." Chagrined and confused, I wrote back for clarification: were they out of batteries, or didn’t they offer one? I couldn’t get a straight answer. And that finally did it; I was peeved, and more than a little.

What followed was a confounding string of emails with "David G" at LG. He was about as unhelpful as any person I’ve ever dealt with. Not only didn't he ever answer any of my questions with clear, definitive language, he couldn’t even grok the fact that I wanted to buy a new battery for my expensive, not-so-old phone. Again, let’s revisit the proposed transaction: I (customer) wished to pay money to them (vendor) to purchase a product (battery) for a currently produced and sold phone. Simple right? Nope. And there was no information on why my proposed transaction was un-completable. I confirmed that they do still make the battery – although getting to that fact took months, especially because it was obscured behind David’s poor language skills and obvious mental deficiencies – they just didn’t have one to sell me.

(I took a little side trip just then, back to my favorite online shopping sites. Suddenly, Buy.com had an “OEM” replacement battery through one of their “marketplace” vendors. I was saved! I paid and waited, and I finally received…a cheap Korean knock off that didn’t fit my phone, and clearly wasn’t made by LG. A few emails later, the marketplace vendor assured me it had been an honest mistake, and offered me a full refund if I returned the product. I did so, and still haven’t received an acknowledgment or refund…but that’s another story. Back to LG…)

Finally angry (no longer just peeved) I contact David G one last time, and reminded him of the entire four-month odyssey. His otherworldly response was perfectly in line with all his previous responses, and it was undeniably clear that he still didn’t understand the purpose of our long and unfortunate correspondence, or the transaction I was proposing. My next message to him would likely look something like this.

David –

You are idiot. Me want give you money. You sell me battery.

Signed: Dissatisfied Customer You Not Helped in MONTHS and MONTHS

Of course, this little LG experience wouldn’t be enough to spawn a whole blog post on its own, even though it scored the top spot here. But, it was one of a large patchwork of similarly fruitless and vexing retail experiences. Thus, the first SpotShot was born.

(And for those of you wondering, I did lots of at-home troubleshooting, including changing batteries and chargers between the three phones. The performance issue always followed the battery. That said, let’s move on to the next one...)

Toys R Us, Crayola, and Imaginarium

My daughter is 4. This past Christmas, we bought her some cool new toys from our local Toys R Us: a sidewalk paint sprayer, and a spin art toy. Fantastic toys, simply fantastic. Spin art was the first one opened – it was winter, and sidewalk painting is more of a summer thing. So spin we did, and the splattered toddler art flowed beautifully. I was quite happy. She was quite happy. All was right with the world. But – the replacement demons were waiting just out of sight! After one particularly spin-ful February day, we were suddenly out of supplies. No more fancy spinnable paper, no more glitter paint. No big deal, right? We packed up and took a trip to Toys R Us for supplies. They sold the thing, so they should have the refills, right? Wrong! (And to make matters worse, the shelves were a lot more bare than you’d expect for a major retailer – but more on that in my closing…) Since I’m sure you can divine what happened next from the cell phone story, I’ll just say this: it’s June, and we still haven’t found replacement supplies. Not from the retailer, or the manufacturer, or the countless online stores that sell knockoffs and universal refills.

Luckily, it got warm/dry early this year, and it was time to spray paint on the front walk and driveway. Another great toy. Effective, easy, creative, and my daughter loved it. Twice! Why twice? Because the supplies run out fast for creative kids, and my daughter has creativity in abundance. But I was fine with it: of course the supplies run out fast – they want to sell you frequent replacements to keep your money flowing. I get it. I’m good with it. Retail 101. Except – can you guess it? NO replacement supplies at Toys R Us. None online. None directly from the manufacturer. A favorite toy, basically dead because nobody wants to make or stock replacement supplies. Ugh, I say. Ugh!

(For the curious: local craft stores are going to be our last hope for both of these toys, but I’m not betting on a positive outcome. Let’s hope my daughter forgets both these toys before she needs therapy…)

Next Up: Wegman’s – the Store that Shuns Strawberry Ice Cream

This past Saturday, I wanted ice cream. It’s summer, it’s hot, I like sweet stuff…kinda makes sense, right? But Wegman’s, our local mega-supermarket chain, threw a wobbly curve ball at me. Seven major brands of ice cream, one store brand, and not one half gallon of Strawberry, That’s right. Two full coolers – probably 1000 gallons of ice cream – and no Strawberry. Now I know what you’re thinking: not everyone likes Strawberry…what’s the big deal? You could be right. Except, Strawberry is one of the ruling class flavors of ice cream – a member of the original ice cream triumvirate of Vanilla-Chocolate-Strawberry. A flavor that’s pretty much as old as ice cream. And yet it’s not part of Wegman’s plan-o-gram. (And yes, if you’re wondering, I confirmed with a department manager that they were no longer carrying the flavor…) Let me draw an analogy: you just bought your first box of crayons, the one that has the original seven colors (Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet), and Crayola decided that it didn’t need to include Green. That would make me nuts. I wouldn’t be upset if burnt sienna or pumpkin was missing – those are more on the cusp of specialty colors – but green is a standard. Just like Strawberry. So the weekend math looks like this:

Wegman’s – strawberry ice cream = unhappy and hot consumer { frank }

Fix It! (Or: Fix it, Dammit!)

Now what’s the consequence here, and in fact with all these stories? Simple: I have money; in my wallet; that I’m actively trying to give to several different retailers; and I can’t. Get it? I can't buy four things that I want and can afford, because every company I deal with doesn’t have them to sell me. And it’s not because they’re hot sellers and hard to keep in stock. It’s a deliberate decision of the manufacturers and retailers not to have them for me to buy. That’s key mistake, and a boldface knock of the folks who make the manufacturing/stocking decisions. I’m no economist, but I’m pretty sure that having a product for me to buy is a crucial element of retail success. When I do the math, it looks something like this:

Their product + my money = their profit + my consumer happiness

And the best part of this equation is that it leaves a remainder of healthy economy. It's a simple lesson: it doesn’t matter if it’s ice cream, a replacement battery, sparkly paint, or winter gloves and hats in January (again, see The List). If you don’t have the product, I won’t give you my money. And let me add a stern warning to the “marketing genius” who thinks, “well, they’ll just buy something else if they can’t find what they’re looking for.” You need to go back to school, buddy! Not only won’t I buy something else from your store/company – because I still intend to buy exactly what I’m looking for, and I need my money to do it – but I’ll be angry. And petty. I’ll visit your competitor, and tell everyone I know why I think you suck. And I’ll post stories like this in my blog.

Folks, this is not rocket science. This is basic supply and demand. I mentioned above that Toys R Us was remarkably empty. They aren’t the only ones. Store after store – in my town, at least – have empty shelves: signs and shelf tags for products they don’t stock, with unrelated products faced out in bulk – mainly, I suspect, to try and hide the basic lack of product variety which is the actual meat of a successful retail strategy. Like selling products that practically guarantee repeat business (in the parents who file in dutifully to resupply their child’s beloved toys), and actually selling the refills. Or selling common, expected products, like basic ice cream flavors, popular deodorant scents, potato chip varieties, or national brands! Otherwise, my consumer mind boils over with slews of uncomplimentary words and phrases, including a favorite that my daughter is starting to pick up: “Hellooooo? Duh!”

Want to fix the economy, or at least the retail portion of it? Here’s The FrankSpot recipe (the main ingredients, anyway):

Recipe for Better Retail

2 Cups Stock Your Shelves (Empty shelves mean empty cash registers.)
2 Cups Sell Replacement Parts/Supplies (If you sell me a product that needs replacement stuff, but don’t sell the replacement stuff, I won’t be back. I’ll shop at a competitor, and say bad things about you in the church bulletin.)
1 Cup Provide Good Customer Service (Good customer service means fast, efficient, and productive. I don’t want you to commiserate with me, I want you to help me in a material way. And if you can manage it, speak my native language as well as I do…)
1 Tbsp Let Me Give you Some Money (Of course, this is really more of a serving suggestion than ingredient, but the point is solid.)

I’d say it’s a pretty simple recipe, but stay tuned, FrankSpot readers. Since I have no real pull in the world, I expect that exactly nobody will cook this meal. In fact, I’d be surprised if, even after a forced feeding of this essay, any retailer could even see the problems I’ve described. I'd expect the typical follow-up thought to be: “I bet people will buy Worcestershire Sauce Ice Cream – let’s stop selling Chocolate.” Thus, there will be more volumes in my war against retail. David Horowitz, meet your successor.

See you soon.

It's been a while since I blogged for real. Yes, I posted a good recipe last month, but that was a little bit of a cop-out on my part. The truth is that I've just been too busy to blog in earnest. I recently transitioned from one consulting gig to another, and have been neatly sidelined – almost blighted – by a month of terrible luck. You've heard about life throwing you curve balls? My life has been holding my head underwater and waiting for the bubbles to stop. And in the meantime, lots of hot, timely, blog-able topics have slipped through my fingers: bailout fever; gay marriage; the new president; unemployment. I had plenty to write about, but no time. Pretty irritating, even without the emotional torpedoing I've suffered at the hands of 2009.

Luckily, I've been keeping tabs on the things that have gone wrong for me recently. Well...actually...I've been keeping track for most of my life. I know it's probably a bad idea: people who do that with too much diligence usually end up on the same rocky path: ulcers, depression, unemployment, divorce, and a dark final day on a clock tower with a high powered rifle. But, all that notwithstanding, my bad times have inspired my next real post. But first, a disclaimer:

(Semi-) Adult Language Warning

I like to swear. I don't do it very often anymore – I have a daughter who's at a highly impressionable age – and until now, I haven't felt a need to do it here. That changes with this post. As I contemplated what to write here, I realized that I needed to unleash some colorful (read: immature and vulgar) language to fully convey my irritation with the those things and people that made the list. That said, you're probably still wondering what The List even is. Read on... (even if you've already figured it out.)

The List...of things that really piss me off

Over the years, I've developed a strong set of opinions on things that diminish the quality of my life: things that make me want to rage against the world, and turn away from the open-minded, even-keeled philosophy I try to live by. Things that make me want to cry out in astonishment, or take my toys and go home.

Things that make me want to slap the shit out of somebody.

So what is The List? It's my darker side put to words. It's a telling of things that – as Peter Griffin would say – "really grind my gears." Why is it called "The List?" Because I couldn't come up with anything better. And because this way, if someone pisses me off, I can say "You just made the list!" and have it mean something. If I like how it comes out, maybe I'll make this a regular feature.

The List (in no particular order)

Who: Retail Buyers (and/or whoever decides what to stock, and when to stock it...)
Why: It's January, fuckers! Why can't I buy a pair of gloves and a nice fucking hat? I don't need a bathing suit yet: I need to stave off frostbite while I'm running the snowblower. (Okay, it's February right now, but this happened around January 15th, and every time I look at my suddenly hole-peppered gloves, it pisses me off anew. So dates be dammed! And anyway, don't some of our worst winter storms come in MARCH! Get with the program!)

Who: Time Warner (Roadrunner)
Why: I know you fuckers throttled down regular RoadRunner service when you decided to start selling your TURBO service. And I also know that that your modem speed test gives phony results. You should be ashamed of yourselves.

Who: The City of Rochester
Why: We need more parking downtown, not less. Stop closing garages! (And I KNOW you followed it up by putting on more parking enforcement officers. Don't lie about it...)

Who: Wegman's
Why: Stop littering the ice cream aisles with knock-off brands! Perry's and Breyers are better than Blue Bunny and Turkey Hill, and every time you steal freezer space from them, I end up having to make an extra trip to Tops.

Who: RG&E (Rochester Gas and Electric)
Why: Our power lines are brand new and underground: why can't you idiots keep the power on for more than three consecutive weeks? And why don't your customer service folks ever know what the fuck happened or how long it's going to take to fix it?

Who: Parking Garages (the ones that are still open)
Why? $6.75 a day, and you're STILL not responsible if anything happens to my car?
Are you kidding me? And sell more goddamned monthly passes!

What: The Wind on the Night Before Garbage Pickup
Why: Oh my fucking God! Stop blowing my recycle bins into the woods across the street! I don't live in Chicago or on some wind-swept delta. And why do you only blow so much on THAT PARTICULAR NIGHT? There are six other nights when my garbage wouldn't be involved!

Who: The Local News
Why: Where is the story on the huge fucking accident that made me an hour late to work?

Who: Wegman's (again, and still on ice cream)
Why: What idiot told you to stop carrying Strawberry ice cream in ANY of the brands you sell? It's one of the most important flavors, and I shouldn't have to buy Neapolitan to get it!

Who: Highway Advisory Radio/Radio Traffic Reporters
Why: Aren't you supposed to actually tell us something? What exactly has to happen before you broadcast it? And why is it that if I'm in the car for an hour, I still can't catch a report that tells me anything about what I see in front of me? Do you idiots ever actually go outside and look at the roads? Where are your damn traffic copters?

Who: Time Warner (again!)
Why: How fucking stupid is this DVR? Why do I have to manually add time to the end of my scheduled recordings every week? When I set a time, freakin' keep it! I'm tired of missing the ends of shit.

Who: Rover (the morning DJ)
Why: Dude, breathe through your nose; don't talk through it. You sound like an idiot.

Who: Cops
Why: Why did you pull ME over for a lapsed inspection sticker when there were people buzzing by you at 30 miles an hour over the speed limit? Who did you think I was? John fucking Dillinger? You made me late for my doctor's appointment...

Who: The Makers of Levaquin
Why: My arms hurt, you jerks. Both of them, in the same place. For five months now. Don't sell bad medicine!

What: Glasses with Anti-Glare Coating
Why: Could these things BE any harder to keep clean? (Thanks, Chandler!) And that "cleaning solution" I got for free from Cohen? What kind of bullshit nonsense is that? I'd be better off licking them.

Who: People who Comment on CNN's Political Ticker
Why: You people are a bunch of fucking idiots. Learn to type, spell, and format, and figure out what the site is for. Stop telling CNN what they should and shouldn't post there, and stop mentioning how ashamed you are of them. What are you, their mother? It's not your site. When it's your site, you can post whatever you like. Otherwise, shut the fuck up.

What: My Prostate
Why: You brought me in here to pee. Now fucking let me pee, goddamn it!

Who: Loud Coworkers on Long In-cube Conference Calls
Why: Wow! Really? You're lucky it's bad form to hock a stapler at someone, because mine would be over the wall nine minutes into your three hour call. Your laugh is shrill and obnoxious, and you're awfully confident for someone who sounds like such an incompetent moron. Go find a conference room, dumbass!

Who: Doctors' Offices
Why: Why aren't you open in the evening? Or on weekends? What the fuck?

And finally:

Who: Greedy, Corrupt Companies Who Think Laying Off Employees is a Remedy (So, pretty much, every company in America)
Why: This helps, how? You can suck your bailout money out of my ass.

In Closing

Well, that's it: The List. It was more of a catharsis for me than I expected. In fact, I feel lightheaded, giddy, and a tad winded. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. While I contemplate both my next post and the possible next edition of The List, I hope you'll take a few minutes to share some of your own little irritants with other Frank Spot readers – if for no other reason than the good feeling you might get from doing so. Or blog about them on your own site. Who knows: if enough people starting calling out this stuff, maybe some of it will actually change for the better.

Wouldn't that be a hoot? Ah well...

See you next time.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the land,
The shoppers were rushing to make their last stand.
They’d waited ‘til now, so the presents weren’t bought,
The stores’ walls were bulging, the folks overwrought.

They were stricken with panic, would there be enough time?
It was so hard to tell from the end of a line.
And out in the aisle, the people did shove,
For the last-ever Bratz toys (lead-painted with love).
For Hannah Montana, and HSM2,
For Apples to Apples, and Panda (Kung Fu!).

There were tramplings, and fistfights, gift cards on the floor,
And the Salvation ringers, outside every door.
The parking was horrid, the lots underplowed,
And not one good word from the folks in the crowd.

It had been a bad season, a bad year I’d call it,
Where layoffs and rip-offs had cleaned every wallet.
Four dollar gas, foreclosures galore,
And most of the folks were all newly poor.

For so many people, that was the rub:
Without any money, it was presents or grub.
So it wasn’t “last minute” that this madness capped,
It was the fact that the shoppers were desperately strapped

Their bank accounts vanish’d, their 401’s locked,
Their faith in the system was tragically rocked.
As they fought with each other, they wondered aloud,
How did we get here? How were we cowed?

What was it that brought us to this sorry state?
Where DID we go wrong? Was it just some cruel fate?
So they clutched so forlorn to a bargain or three,
And remembered what fortunes had kicked off this spree.

It started with pundits, and bytes from the Fed.
Then early last spring, Bear Stearns woke up dead.
Like dominoes falling, the sickness, it spread,
Our entire economy fractured and bled.

The banks began failing, their mortgages bust,
Oil speculators stole away with our trust.
There was Fannie, and Freddie, then rich AIG,
And let’s not forget the big auto three.

They went before Congress, their hats in their hands,
Having cheated and squandered their way ‘cross the land.
They’d swindled, then dwindled their ranks as a cure,
They sucked down huge payoffs, and screwed us for sure.

And then came the galling, most horrible part,
The bailouts that punctured a hole through our hearts.
“It’s for you that we do this,” the CEO’s claimed,
“Without us, the U.S. will surely be maimed.”

“Just think about Christmas, the happiest season.
The shelves will stay full. Not to help us is treason!
Unemployment will surge, and prices will too!
And who will be blamed? It’s not us. It’s you!”

“But help us,” they claimed, “and the States will rebound.
You’ll save countless jobs, and praise will resound!”
The argument stuck: unemployment is bad,
What little girl would want that for her dad?
Who in the country could stand and let fall,
Those huge corporate giants who employed one and all?

So elected officials, their consciences clear,
Happ’ly unlocked our coffers, and toasted good cheer.
They’d save our big business (their own portfolios too).
But shamefully, sadly, there’d be nothing for you.
No protection, no structure, no oversight sought,
No accounting, no refund, no voiced second thought.

Cuz’ as you’d expect, the “cure” wasn’t real.
The banks took your money, but they still wouldn’t deal.
“Pay your big bloated mortgage on time,” they still bleat,
“Or come New Years Day you’ll be out on the street.”

And in every business, the cry was the same,
“Hey, look, those dumb sheep gave us money! How lame!
Let’s play in the cash, and make big money forts!
Then come two-thousand-nine, more layoffs – like sport!”

Which brings us right back to the scene at the mall,
Where poor vanquished shoppers lay right where they fall.
‘Til just before midnight – St. Nick’s op’ning bell –
When the shoppers filed out of their bargain-hunt hell.

The wrapping was wrapped, all the boxes were filled,
And in all the commotion, sixteen were killed.
But it wasn’t the Grinch that killed off the season,
It wasn’t E. Scrooge you can use as a reason.

It was greedy big business, and government fools,
Who tanked capitalism, and made up new rules.
It was DC and Wall Street, and our friends at the Fed,
Who gave us all pause, and a winter of dread.

And now in the silence of this one sacred eve,
We struggle to find anything left to believe.
Investment, or business, a work ethic that pays,
Something to bank in the lean coming days.

‘Twas the night before Christmas in two-thousand-eight,
When Santa Claus comes, it might just be too late.