I realize this is old, but after happening across it while cleaning out some old backups, I thought it was worth a post here.
This is an email I sent to Chevrolet in 2001 about purchasing a vehicle from Jim Reed Chevrolet in Nashville, TN, by far the worst experience I ever had at a Chevrolet Dealership.
To Whom it may Concern:
I would like to report one of the absolute worst car-buying experiences I have ever had. Two and a half months ago, my wife ordered a Chevy Impala LS from Jim Reed Chevrolet here in Nashville. They said it would be in by March 24th. About a month and a half later, she called about the car to check the status and was told it had not arrived. Later, on March 24th, she called again and found out that Jim Reed had sold the car to someone else. I was floored. However, they were able to find another car close to here and they also offered $100 worth of gas gift certificates for our trouble. My wife needed the car, so I agreed to buy it.
Three days later we arrive at the dealership to buy the car. Our salesman (we had told them we would be there around 8) had to be paged. We arrived at 8:15, and after waiting five minutes for him, he came in and told us that the car was still being prepared. At this point, he went to check on it. Twenty minutes later he returned with the car. We looked it over to ensure it matched the features of the car we ordered. It’s now 8:45.
We sit down in his office, and he starts going through some of the paperwork. At about 9 AM, he went to obtain the GMO price for the vehicle we were purchasing. The MSRP for the car we had ordered was $25,199. The MSRP on the car we were buying that day was $25,105; a $95 difference due to the fact that the sun roof was listed on the invoice at $700 instead of $795. When the salesman returned 15 minutes later, he told us that the GMO price for the car would be $23,159. The GMO price that we were quoted when we originally ordered the car was $22,851. I asked him why the GMO price for this car was higher even though the MSRP was lower. He stated that he didn’t know, and he needed to talk to his sales manager. He again left. Twenty minutes later he returned. It has now been an hour an a half since we arrived, and we hadn’t even started the financing yet, so by this time I am absolutely furious. He again stated that was the price he was given as the GMO price. I told him it was unacceptable, and that I was going to go to another dealership. I stood up to leave, but my wife managed to calm me down. He told me that he would “work” with me and asked me what I wanted. I told him I would pay the originally quoted price, minus the difference between the two MSRPs. He agreed and it was settled - two hours after we arrived.
The reason I buy Chevrolet cars is because I like them and also because of the GMO discount. If I wanted to haggle over a price, I would go to another dealership and haggle.
We then waited 40 minutes for financing, and after financing, my wife waited another 30 minutes for the car to get ready (I couldn’t stay any longer I had to get to work). Overall, it took us four hours to do something that should have taken an hour. I have bought cars in the past, and every time, I have been in and out in less than an hour. I found out later that while she was being shown the features of the car, the salesman was schmoozing her to try to get a good rating on his customer survey. This was extremely sad.
Thankfully, I thought that this would be the end of our dealings with Jim Reed Chevrolet. However, the gas card wasn’t ready, so my wife had to return to pick it up. She did so this morning. She had called ahead of time and told our salesman that she would be there between noon and 2 PM and he assured her he would be at the dealership. When she arrived, he was nowhere to be found. After waiting 30 minutes, she was finally able to get someone to help her. Around this time the salesman returned and said he had been to the bank. This is absolutely unacceptable. The salesman knew she was coming in. Why didn’t he leave the card with one of his associates in case she came in? He was so concerned about getting a good rating, yet he couldn’t do this simple little task?
I will buy Chevrolet again. I love the cars, and this is my first bad experience. However, I believe Jim Reed ripped us off, and then treated us like scum, all because they knew we were going to buy the car. Frankly I don’t appreciate this. Dealers like this one can ruin a company’s image.
I will never again step foot in Jim Reed Chevrolet. Tomorrow I plan to call the sales manager and have a few words with him. In my eyes Jim Reed failed me, my wife, AND the good Chevrolet name.
If you would like to contact me, I can be reached by email:
delphiprog@XXXXXXX.com
or by phone during the day at work:
615-XXX-XXXX
or by phone after 7 PM CST:
615-XXX-XXXX
Thanks,
Doug
Please Note: This letter was previously sent to GM Customer Relations via email. I was given the following “not our fault” response –
“Dear Mr. Beattie,
We are sorry you have experienced concerns with a Chevrolet Dealership. We realize our continued success is dependent, to a large degree, on the sales and service provided by our authorized dealerships.
Chevrolet dealerships are owned and operated independently of Chevrolet. As an independent business, each is responsible for their day to day business activities and the quality of service they provide. As a manufacturer, our authority involves the operating specifications of our vehicles and the application of the new vehicle warranty. We do realize however, that dealerships are our customers' direct link to Chevrolet.
We appreciate you taking the time to bring your concerns to our attention. If you have any further questions or comments, feel free to call the Chevrolet Customer Assistance Center at 1-800-222-1020 from 8:00 a.m. to 11:00 p.m. (EST) weekdays.
Sincerely,
Michael Boisvert
Customer Relationship Manager
GM Internet Response Center”
Frankly, if Chevrolet is concerned enough to send out Customer Satisfaction Surveys, why do I get a response like this?
If I had a choice, I would never, EVER buy from a dealer again. I would be more than happy to buy directly from Chevrolet. However, since Chevrolet (and all car-makers for that matter) feels that the best way to sell their cars is through unscrupulous dealers like Jim Reed, I am forced to continue to go to dealerships. I have seen good dealers and bad dealers. The problem is, the bad ones are awful and ruin Chevrolet’s great image. Jim Reed will get no more business from me.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Kowabunga
Most of the jobs I had as a teenager came and went. I spent some time at a golf course picking up range balls and cleaning golf carts for $3 an hour under the table. Later I worked for the small town I lived in mowing the cemetery and doing odd jobs for minimum wage ($4.25 an hour - which after taxes worked out to $3 an hour). Then along came Kowabunga.
Kowabunga is a job that has stayed with me my whole life. I spent the better part of my junior and senior year (1991-1992) working there, in some cases as much as 40 hours on school weeks. (I quickly realized the more I worked the more the government took from me) Anyway, Kowabunga stayed with me. To this day I have dreams about the owner suddenly re-opening it and asking me to manage it for him. I really have no idea why it had such a profound affect on me. Perhaps it was the amount of time I spent there during my transition from High School to College. Perhaps it was the fact that my first real dates came from women I met while working there. It was a major part of my life during my transition to adult hood. Anyway, I digress. Let's get on to learning more about Kowabunga!
Kowabunga was the concept of a man named Les Sloane, an old friend of my family. He had talked it up with my dad shortly before he started finding partners. According to my dad he was convinced he could make a killing on a pizza and arcade restaurant (ala Chuck e Cheeses). The games he said would make so much money that the food would be an after thought.
So Les got some partners together (If I remember right it was Les, a man named Cary Rubin, Cary's wife, and another man I only remember as Ed), and along with some investor capital he established Kowabunga Pizza and Arcade at the end of a strip mall in Englewood, Ohio. Ironically, the space had stood empty for years after the previous business - Godfather's Pizza - had gone out of business.
Thinking that they needed some sort of gimmick they decided to try to make a "kosher" pizza. A lot of the investors, and a lot of friends of the partners were Jewish, so maybe that was why they went that direction. Who knows. Anyway I had been looking for a job. I was offered a job at Kroger but turned it down for two reasons:
1. They required me to join the union, which automatically took money out of my paycheck to no benefit for me.
2. I had a chance to get hired at Kowabunga Pizza and Arcade.
So after being asked the question "are you going to WORK?" by Les to which I responded "yes". He had me in for an interview. The interview was mostly him spouting BS about how great the place was going to be. And oh, yeah, I was hired. I filled out a W2 and was told to report back for training in a week or so.
A week later, a Saturday afternoon if I remember right...
++To Be Continued++
Kowabunga is a job that has stayed with me my whole life. I spent the better part of my junior and senior year (1991-1992) working there, in some cases as much as 40 hours on school weeks. (I quickly realized the more I worked the more the government took from me) Anyway, Kowabunga stayed with me. To this day I have dreams about the owner suddenly re-opening it and asking me to manage it for him. I really have no idea why it had such a profound affect on me. Perhaps it was the amount of time I spent there during my transition from High School to College. Perhaps it was the fact that my first real dates came from women I met while working there. It was a major part of my life during my transition to adult hood. Anyway, I digress. Let's get on to learning more about Kowabunga!
Kowabunga was the concept of a man named Les Sloane, an old friend of my family. He had talked it up with my dad shortly before he started finding partners. According to my dad he was convinced he could make a killing on a pizza and arcade restaurant (ala Chuck e Cheeses). The games he said would make so much money that the food would be an after thought.
So Les got some partners together (If I remember right it was Les, a man named Cary Rubin, Cary's wife, and another man I only remember as Ed), and along with some investor capital he established Kowabunga Pizza and Arcade at the end of a strip mall in Englewood, Ohio. Ironically, the space had stood empty for years after the previous business - Godfather's Pizza - had gone out of business.
Thinking that they needed some sort of gimmick they decided to try to make a "kosher" pizza. A lot of the investors, and a lot of friends of the partners were Jewish, so maybe that was why they went that direction. Who knows. Anyway I had been looking for a job. I was offered a job at Kroger but turned it down for two reasons:
1. They required me to join the union, which automatically took money out of my paycheck to no benefit for me.
2. I had a chance to get hired at Kowabunga Pizza and Arcade.
So after being asked the question "are you going to WORK?" by Les to which I responded "yes". He had me in for an interview. The interview was mostly him spouting BS about how great the place was going to be. And oh, yeah, I was hired. I filled out a W2 and was told to report back for training in a week or so.
A week later, a Saturday afternoon if I remember right...
++To Be Continued++
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Religion - Part 3
I don't get it.
I was raised in a religious family. As far back as I can remember I was made to attend church with my mother and father every Sunday. Early on, you never asked why, you just went. I have a few early memories of our first church. One is a memory of everyone standing and shouting praises. I remember thinking that Jesus himself was there though when I later asked my mother about it this was not the case. Another memory was of a time in what may have been a Sunday School for small children, I was maybe 5 or 6. My brother who was 18 months old or so was there as well. And older boy (he seemed big to me then, but was probably only 10 or so) who realized we were brothers came up to me and asked me "Is that your brother over there?". When I responded in the affirmative he told me "OK, I'm going to beat his brains in". Of course I was scared and on the verge of tears before I realized the boy had no intention of following through on his threat. It still had an effect on me - I still remember it and it's one of the few memories I have of my early days in church.
As I got older my dislike of the church grew. My parents divorce in 1980, and my mother started attending a new church. I don't have much in the way of memories between 1980 and 1985. There was bible school in my grandmother's church in Waco Texas that I enjoyed during that period, but not much else. In 1986-87 I was in confirmation class where I started to note distinct cliques forming in Sunday School and UMYF (United Methodist Youth Fellowship). Those who weren't in the cliques tended to be excluded. I attended lock-ins in the church that seemed to go well and drove down the walls between us. But then there was the Church Summer Camp in 1987 or 88. By this time I had been attending Summer camp at YMCA Camp Kern for 3 years or so, and Boy scout Camp at least once. Both of these represent some of my fondest memories from my childhood. At the time I thought it might be a great bonding opportunity.
It was exactly the opposite.
It started off well. They had ping pong tables there and I loved ping pong. As it turned out that was about the only thing I liked about that week. First was the "warm fuzzies" necklaces. These were necklaces that were supposed to be given to people you cared about; along with an affirmation of that person and why you cared. Until you received one you could not give one, and once received you were supposed to give them away ASAP. I don't quite recall how they were started, but it took until Wednesday of a Sunday to Friday camp for me to finally receive one from one of the camp counselors.
Of course, I cherished it, and had no intention of giving it away. I mean most people had more than one at any given time, and many people had 10-15 of them. Of course, by the next day other campers started noticing that I had not yet given it away to anyone. They started to tear me apart for still having it. Finally, Thursday night I threw it in the trash. I had no one there that I felt comfortable giving it to at that point, for obvious reasons which will follow.
Speaking of Thursday night. That was the night of the "dance".
I was an awkward teenager. Well, maybe more so. I was a dweeb, I guess you could say. With rare exceptions I never had the courage to talk to girls, much less ask them to dance. I didn't obtain that ability until after I graduated from high school - I was a late bloomer so to speak. That might explain why I only attended one homecoming and never went to either of my high school proms. However, this "dance" at least at first wasn't about girls. It was about camaraderie and it was supposed to be fun and inclusive.
Each night all the campers gathered for a presentation or sermon if you will. It generally included a run down of the day and what was going on the next day. Thursday's was different in that when we came in all the chairs were in a big circle. Everyone knew the dance was directly after the presentation, so obviously, my stomach was churning. I was nervous as hell. When the presentation was done the speaker said that this year's dance would be different. To dance, he said, you must first be asked. Guy or girl it didn't matter, you were just supposed to be asked, but until you were asked you couldn't get up. Well, this was good news for me. I was safe, I could ask the guy sitting next to me as soon as I was asked. So the speaker asked one person to dance, and they got up and danced for a few seconds then the two of them asked two more people, and so on.
Slowly the people around me were asked. One by one everyone was standing. Except for me. No one asked me to dance. Not one person. Minute by minute I watched as the people sitting dwindled and the people dancing increased. At some point I was the only person sitting down. I continued to sit for a few minutes in disbelief. This "inclusive" activity had managed to exclude me. At some point I got up and exited through a side door. This was the point at which I threw my "warm fuzzy" into the trash. I walked far enough away from the building to where I could be sure my inevitable crying would not be heard, sat down and started to sob quietly. Apparently one of the counselors had seen me leaving and I soon felt someone touch my shoulder. I don't remember who it was, but it wasn't anyone associated with my group or me. Of course he wanted to know why I was upset.
"No one would dance with me" was about all I could push out.
"Oh, come now, we can find someone to dance with you, come on back with me." the person replied.
"No, I'm done. No one ever asked me to dance to begin with," I said matter of factly, "and I have enough pride that I'm not going to be led into a sympathy dance with someone who's only doing it because they pity me."
"Fair enough" was the answer, and the person left me alone to feel sorry for myself.
Clearly it's not the religion's fault that I was a shy teenager and no one at the camp really attempted to reach out to me. The thing that opened my eyes the most however, was how completely opposite this religious camp was from all the other camps I had attended. Specifically speaking, I spent many years at Camp Kern. I never felt like an outcast. One year I was given the "Most Flirtatious" award. Another year I actually met a girl and spent the King's Island Saturday with her. At Camp Kern, everyone was included in everything. There were no cliques, no competition, no feelings of not measuring up.
The religious camp was the exact opposite. If you didn't express certain feelings or beliefs you were automatically excluded. On a nightly basis people were "overcome" by the spirit and spent an hour crying for their past "sins" and swearing they were born again. They would get up and witness about the bad things they'd done and how because of the camp, their life was renewed and they felt closer to Jesus than ever. I can honestly say if I ever in my life felt "close to Jesus" that religious summer camp would have been the last place it could have been.
I was raised in a religious family. As far back as I can remember I was made to attend church with my mother and father every Sunday. Early on, you never asked why, you just went. I have a few early memories of our first church. One is a memory of everyone standing and shouting praises. I remember thinking that Jesus himself was there though when I later asked my mother about it this was not the case. Another memory was of a time in what may have been a Sunday School for small children, I was maybe 5 or 6. My brother who was 18 months old or so was there as well. And older boy (he seemed big to me then, but was probably only 10 or so) who realized we were brothers came up to me and asked me "Is that your brother over there?". When I responded in the affirmative he told me "OK, I'm going to beat his brains in". Of course I was scared and on the verge of tears before I realized the boy had no intention of following through on his threat. It still had an effect on me - I still remember it and it's one of the few memories I have of my early days in church.
As I got older my dislike of the church grew. My parents divorce in 1980, and my mother started attending a new church. I don't have much in the way of memories between 1980 and 1985. There was bible school in my grandmother's church in Waco Texas that I enjoyed during that period, but not much else. In 1986-87 I was in confirmation class where I started to note distinct cliques forming in Sunday School and UMYF (United Methodist Youth Fellowship). Those who weren't in the cliques tended to be excluded. I attended lock-ins in the church that seemed to go well and drove down the walls between us. But then there was the Church Summer Camp in 1987 or 88. By this time I had been attending Summer camp at YMCA Camp Kern for 3 years or so, and Boy scout Camp at least once. Both of these represent some of my fondest memories from my childhood. At the time I thought it might be a great bonding opportunity.
It was exactly the opposite.
It started off well. They had ping pong tables there and I loved ping pong. As it turned out that was about the only thing I liked about that week. First was the "warm fuzzies" necklaces. These were necklaces that were supposed to be given to people you cared about; along with an affirmation of that person and why you cared. Until you received one you could not give one, and once received you were supposed to give them away ASAP. I don't quite recall how they were started, but it took until Wednesday of a Sunday to Friday camp for me to finally receive one from one of the camp counselors.
Of course, I cherished it, and had no intention of giving it away. I mean most people had more than one at any given time, and many people had 10-15 of them. Of course, by the next day other campers started noticing that I had not yet given it away to anyone. They started to tear me apart for still having it. Finally, Thursday night I threw it in the trash. I had no one there that I felt comfortable giving it to at that point, for obvious reasons which will follow.
Speaking of Thursday night. That was the night of the "dance".
I was an awkward teenager. Well, maybe more so. I was a dweeb, I guess you could say. With rare exceptions I never had the courage to talk to girls, much less ask them to dance. I didn't obtain that ability until after I graduated from high school - I was a late bloomer so to speak. That might explain why I only attended one homecoming and never went to either of my high school proms. However, this "dance" at least at first wasn't about girls. It was about camaraderie and it was supposed to be fun and inclusive.
Each night all the campers gathered for a presentation or sermon if you will. It generally included a run down of the day and what was going on the next day. Thursday's was different in that when we came in all the chairs were in a big circle. Everyone knew the dance was directly after the presentation, so obviously, my stomach was churning. I was nervous as hell. When the presentation was done the speaker said that this year's dance would be different. To dance, he said, you must first be asked. Guy or girl it didn't matter, you were just supposed to be asked, but until you were asked you couldn't get up. Well, this was good news for me. I was safe, I could ask the guy sitting next to me as soon as I was asked. So the speaker asked one person to dance, and they got up and danced for a few seconds then the two of them asked two more people, and so on.
Slowly the people around me were asked. One by one everyone was standing. Except for me. No one asked me to dance. Not one person. Minute by minute I watched as the people sitting dwindled and the people dancing increased. At some point I was the only person sitting down. I continued to sit for a few minutes in disbelief. This "inclusive" activity had managed to exclude me. At some point I got up and exited through a side door. This was the point at which I threw my "warm fuzzy" into the trash. I walked far enough away from the building to where I could be sure my inevitable crying would not be heard, sat down and started to sob quietly. Apparently one of the counselors had seen me leaving and I soon felt someone touch my shoulder. I don't remember who it was, but it wasn't anyone associated with my group or me. Of course he wanted to know why I was upset.
"No one would dance with me" was about all I could push out.
"Oh, come now, we can find someone to dance with you, come on back with me." the person replied.
"No, I'm done. No one ever asked me to dance to begin with," I said matter of factly, "and I have enough pride that I'm not going to be led into a sympathy dance with someone who's only doing it because they pity me."
"Fair enough" was the answer, and the person left me alone to feel sorry for myself.
Clearly it's not the religion's fault that I was a shy teenager and no one at the camp really attempted to reach out to me. The thing that opened my eyes the most however, was how completely opposite this religious camp was from all the other camps I had attended. Specifically speaking, I spent many years at Camp Kern. I never felt like an outcast. One year I was given the "Most Flirtatious" award. Another year I actually met a girl and spent the King's Island Saturday with her. At Camp Kern, everyone was included in everything. There were no cliques, no competition, no feelings of not measuring up.
The religious camp was the exact opposite. If you didn't express certain feelings or beliefs you were automatically excluded. On a nightly basis people were "overcome" by the spirit and spent an hour crying for their past "sins" and swearing they were born again. They would get up and witness about the bad things they'd done and how because of the camp, their life was renewed and they felt closer to Jesus than ever. I can honestly say if I ever in my life felt "close to Jesus" that religious summer camp would have been the last place it could have been.
Friday, February 20, 2009
To the American Auto Industry
The US auto industry is whining for me to "buy American" and purchase the junk they sell. So I'd like to make a proposal to the American Auto Industry. When you decide to reimburse me for the thousands of dollars I spent repairing the last two piece of crap American cars I've owned, then I will consider buying another American made car. Until then I will continue to buy Japanese owned-American made vehicles.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Today's Sports Coaches: an Open Letter
I read with interest the story about the Girls High School basketball coach - Micah Grimes - who "cheered wildly" as his team closed in on 100 points (while holding their opponents to 0). He further pressed his players even into the fourth quarter.
I am not going to assassinate Grimes' character as that is not fair I do not know him. However, all around me I see him. His actions mimic coaches I see everyday at all levels of recreational and club sports teams. For some reason the mentality that the New England Patriots ran by in 2007 - which is fine in the NFL - has filtered down to grade school level sports.
Case in point. My son plays indoor soccer. Recently we moved from one facility to another. At the previous facility, teams were generally juggled and evenly matched. At the new facility there appear to be 7 year old club teams. Nick, not being on a club team because I don't deem it necessary at 6 to be that devoted to any one sport, got put on a team with some new and some mildly experienced players. This would be fine except for the fact that they're playing against teams that have been together since they were 4 and have excellent soccer skills for 7 year olds.
I am happy for the challenge posed by this. You always learn more playing against more talented players than less talented. What makes me sick is the way the coaches have allowed their players to play against Nick's team. Most of the time they spend pressing. Even in the fourth quarter after the team has scored 30+ goals in a 30 minute game, they are still pressing their offense and cheering on the goals.
Give me a break.
This past week I got the joy of listening to a parent run down the number of goals each player scored. Oh and "that one girl even scored a goal!". Yay. So not only does the coach condone it, the parents love it too. Well, congratulations. Your team is capable of beating a completely over matched team by 35 goals. I hope you're happy about that.
If I was a parent of a child on that team he'd have been off the team before the game was over. I would be thoroughly embarrassed by the boorish behavior of the coach, and not ever want Nick to be involved with such poor sportsmanship again.
So all you Micah Grimes and those of you defending him, you can have your lopsided wins. And you can speak all you want about how you did nothing wrong and you can continue to believe that mercilessly pounding an over matched opponent is "[playing] with honor and integrity and [showing] respect" for your opponents. Yep, go on ahead believing that. Hopefully it comforts you and helps inflate your tiny ego. Because clearly you need something that your life is not currently providing.
I am not going to assassinate Grimes' character as that is not fair I do not know him. However, all around me I see him. His actions mimic coaches I see everyday at all levels of recreational and club sports teams. For some reason the mentality that the New England Patriots ran by in 2007 - which is fine in the NFL - has filtered down to grade school level sports.
Case in point. My son plays indoor soccer. Recently we moved from one facility to another. At the previous facility, teams were generally juggled and evenly matched. At the new facility there appear to be 7 year old club teams. Nick, not being on a club team because I don't deem it necessary at 6 to be that devoted to any one sport, got put on a team with some new and some mildly experienced players. This would be fine except for the fact that they're playing against teams that have been together since they were 4 and have excellent soccer skills for 7 year olds.
I am happy for the challenge posed by this. You always learn more playing against more talented players than less talented. What makes me sick is the way the coaches have allowed their players to play against Nick's team. Most of the time they spend pressing. Even in the fourth quarter after the team has scored 30+ goals in a 30 minute game, they are still pressing their offense and cheering on the goals.
Give me a break.
This past week I got the joy of listening to a parent run down the number of goals each player scored. Oh and "that one girl even scored a goal!". Yay. So not only does the coach condone it, the parents love it too. Well, congratulations. Your team is capable of beating a completely over matched team by 35 goals. I hope you're happy about that.
If I was a parent of a child on that team he'd have been off the team before the game was over. I would be thoroughly embarrassed by the boorish behavior of the coach, and not ever want Nick to be involved with such poor sportsmanship again.
So all you Micah Grimes and those of you defending him, you can have your lopsided wins. And you can speak all you want about how you did nothing wrong and you can continue to believe that mercilessly pounding an over matched opponent is "[playing] with honor and integrity and [showing] respect" for your opponents. Yep, go on ahead believing that. Hopefully it comforts you and helps inflate your tiny ego. Because clearly you need something that your life is not currently providing.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Teens and technology
OK, so I ran across the following website:
http://www.thenationalcampaign.org/sextech/
that has a study of people ages 13-26. It made all sorts of fascinating findings about how many of these people had posted or IMed nude images (or sexually suggestive text) of themselves to others.
I'm not going to claim that it doesn't happen but I'm going to explain my own personal experience with these surveys.
I filled out all sorts of surveys in middle school and high school. I would claim all sorts of crazy crap about myself. I did drugs daily (never touched them). I would drink and drive (didn't drink). I had sex with a different person at least once a week (I was a virgin). Etc, etc. None of it was true, I just thought it was funny.
Looking back I probably should have been honest. But really who cares?
So how many of these kids are being honest? Doesn't really matter. Just make sure you teach your kids about the perils of doing stupid stuff and hope they listen to you. It's the best you can do.
http://www.thenationalcampaign.org/sextech/
that has a study of people ages 13-26. It made all sorts of fascinating findings about how many of these people had posted or IMed nude images (or sexually suggestive text) of themselves to others.
I'm not going to claim that it doesn't happen but I'm going to explain my own personal experience with these surveys.
I filled out all sorts of surveys in middle school and high school. I would claim all sorts of crazy crap about myself. I did drugs daily (never touched them). I would drink and drive (didn't drink). I had sex with a different person at least once a week (I was a virgin). Etc, etc. None of it was true, I just thought it was funny.
Looking back I probably should have been honest. But really who cares?
So how many of these kids are being honest? Doesn't really matter. Just make sure you teach your kids about the perils of doing stupid stuff and hope they listen to you. It's the best you can do.
Monday, December 1, 2008
The Wal-Mart Stampede
Sickened.
That's the best description I have for how I felt when I heard about this. I was watching the news Friday with my family. My dad and I ended up in an argument about who should be sued/punished. I argued that the shoppers should all be brought up on murder charges. He argued that Wal-Mart should be held responsible for creating the mob with its "deals", and not providing enough security. Obviously, out of the thousands of Wal-Marts in the country the only one stampeded was this one, so I held my ground.
Later I got more information on the story. Still no pictures, but more information - the crowd busted the doors down and actually walked over and around the dieing man lying on the floor so they could get to spend their money on their precious stuff. When asked to leave angry shoppers refused citing how long they'd waited in line, callously ignoring the death of an employee because they needed to get their stuff. Someone else's life is far less important than MY stuff!
So today I finally found some pictures of the incident here:
http://www.nydailynews.com/money/galleries/walmart_stampede_captured_in_pictures/walmart_stampede_captured_in_pictures.html
I was immediately struck by the ethnic race of the crowd. Obviously being a white male, I would have felt out of place there. My initial reaction - and I'm ashamed to say this - was "of course! They're black/hispanic. That explains it." We always tend to look for order and reason when something tragic like this happens. I realized what I'd done was essentially say "I would never do such a thing! I'm white!" This is wrong and - again - I'm ashamed at my initial reaction. However, upon thinking about this more, it really has nothing to do with color. Clearly this could happen to any race/ethnicity with equivalent values.
People in this country have lost sight of what truly matters. So much of our economy is based on the fact that everyone wants newer and better stuff. It's what Christmas is about, right? Getting new stuff, giving new stuff, shopping, buying new stuff. Yay!
It's gotta end folks. We're in the midst of the worst recession in decades and people are spending money like there's no tomorrow. And all because Wal-Mart is advertising 50% off on a television? A $2000 TV is marked down to $1000 and people rush out to buy it forgetting that they're spending ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS on a television! It's insane. And it's greed. Pure and simple greed.
One last word on the stampede. Even though this one occurred in a black/hispanic area, this could happen at any Wal-Mart. My wife refuses to shop there because most of the patrons (not all, just most) are mean and nasty, and this is a prime example. It's got nothing to do with race and everything to do with values. As a country we need to get back to what's important and get away from the "me and my stuff first" mentality.
That's the best description I have for how I felt when I heard about this. I was watching the news Friday with my family. My dad and I ended up in an argument about who should be sued/punished. I argued that the shoppers should all be brought up on murder charges. He argued that Wal-Mart should be held responsible for creating the mob with its "deals", and not providing enough security. Obviously, out of the thousands of Wal-Marts in the country the only one stampeded was this one, so I held my ground.
Later I got more information on the story. Still no pictures, but more information - the crowd busted the doors down and actually walked over and around the dieing man lying on the floor so they could get to spend their money on their precious stuff. When asked to leave angry shoppers refused citing how long they'd waited in line, callously ignoring the death of an employee because they needed to get their stuff. Someone else's life is far less important than MY stuff!
So today I finally found some pictures of the incident here:
http://www.nydailynews.com/money/galleries/walmart_stampede_captured_in_pictures/walmart_stampede_captured_in_pictures.html
I was immediately struck by the ethnic race of the crowd. Obviously being a white male, I would have felt out of place there. My initial reaction - and I'm ashamed to say this - was "of course! They're black/hispanic. That explains it." We always tend to look for order and reason when something tragic like this happens. I realized what I'd done was essentially say "I would never do such a thing! I'm white!" This is wrong and - again - I'm ashamed at my initial reaction. However, upon thinking about this more, it really has nothing to do with color. Clearly this could happen to any race/ethnicity with equivalent values.
People in this country have lost sight of what truly matters. So much of our economy is based on the fact that everyone wants newer and better stuff. It's what Christmas is about, right? Getting new stuff, giving new stuff, shopping, buying new stuff. Yay!
It's gotta end folks. We're in the midst of the worst recession in decades and people are spending money like there's no tomorrow. And all because Wal-Mart is advertising 50% off on a television? A $2000 TV is marked down to $1000 and people rush out to buy it forgetting that they're spending ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS on a television! It's insane. And it's greed. Pure and simple greed.
One last word on the stampede. Even though this one occurred in a black/hispanic area, this could happen at any Wal-Mart. My wife refuses to shop there because most of the patrons (not all, just most) are mean and nasty, and this is a prime example. It's got nothing to do with race and everything to do with values. As a country we need to get back to what's important and get away from the "me and my stuff first" mentality.
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