acho que não

Dear Owner of Curves Vaughn, Who I Have Never Met, and Whose Name I Don't Even Know, Which I Find Odd, Given that at My Previous Curves Location, the Owner, Dionne, Knew All the Customers by Name:

When forced to change gyms because of a job change, I specifically chose your club because it was a Shining Star club. I thought that would mean I'd continue to receive the same level of personal attention I'd grown accustomed to at my previous location (Curves Markham on Alden Road).

Today was a pretty typical day. I came in between 8:30 and 9:00 and got a half-hearted hello from the person on the desk. Other than that, she was doing paperwork and ignoring the circuit.

After a few minutes, though, she stopped doing paperwork and left the desk. I thought she might pay some attention to the half dozen people on the floor, but no, she wandered aimlessly around, arms crossed, face scowling, gazing out windows, reading the bulleting boards and ignoring the circuit.

Then a second staffer arrived, and I thought that now that there were two people on duty, surely one of them would be tasked to attending to the circuit. But no, they stood behind the desk, chattering to each other, and not about anything particularly work related. They weren't scowling though, I suppose that was an improvement. But still, they were ignoring the circuit.

I was late for work, so I cut my circuit very short (something the staff didn't notice or ask about to see if there was a problem) and left. They were still standing behind the desk, chatting with each other. Ignoring the circuit.

At my previous club, staffers were engaged and engaging. They encouraged us, made us laugh, corrected our form on the machines and helped us get to know each other. They were the best part of Curves. It was almost like being in the commercials. I find the experience at this club to be completely different, and your club looks shoddy in comparison.

There are exceptions - I came in off schedule on a Thursday once, and ran into the same staffer who had been working the first day I visited the club. She remembered me from that one other encounter, offered some pointers, and generally did her job well. (I believe her name is Liz, but I'm not sure.) Perhaps other days and other times your location is staffed by people who care about their jobs. But Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings before 9:30, all you have are scowling, unhappy people who appear to need more sleep.

Perhaps you should consider hiring some morning people?

Dear Advertising Moron,

Why, yes, the water for my toilet and my tap do come from the same place. So does the water I use to wash my hands which I later lick chocolate off.

The great thing about living in a first world country is what that means is that the water in my toilet, like all the other water in my house, is fully safe to drink, floridated for the health of my teeth and generally over-engineered.

What that doesn't mean is that the water in my taps is somehow dirty or contaminated. It also doesn't mean that I need to buy a Brita to filter my already perfectly healthy tapwater.

The only thing involved in that advertisement that is full of shit is you.

Sincerely,
Me

I've been doing various and sundry little writing exercises in the hopes of getting in the habit of writing more often, as well as improving my writing. The first one I found interesting was about perspective shifting. The task is to take a Dear Abby style letter and turn the perspective around - write it as if it was written by the subject of the letter. What would be their take on the situation? How would they feel? How might they express themselves?

I've tended to mimic the original structure of the letters just for balance, but that's not necessarily necessary.

Dear Miss Manners

My 20-year-old daughter was recently married. She is also pregnant. One of the guests at the wedding gave a gift of Pampers and baby wipes. I was simply livid. It was such poor taste. I would like to know what is an appropriate response to this obvious slight.

Dear Miss Manners

I was recently invited to a big, fancy white wedding. The bride has been living with the groom for years, and is visibly pregnant, but still wanted to have her fairy tale wedding complete with massive pile of gifts. The registry included a vast array of fancy crystal and expensive linens, but I can't help but feel with a baby on the way, a more practical gift might be in order - what do you think?

... like really, appallingly offensively bad breath. Do you:

a) Mock them for it loudly.
b) Take them quietly aside and tell them about it sincerely.
c) Send them an anonymous email about it.
d) Ask a manager to talk to them
e) Suffer.

Some people have a sweet tooth, and some people prefer to snack on more salty snacks. While I enjoy an ice cream sundae as much as the next person, I count myself amongst the latter.

Give me salty, meaty, fatty goodness over simple carbs anyday and twice on Sunday. Or, in the case of a recent trip to Los Arrieros restaurant, twice on Wednesday.

After a previous aborted visit (they were closed due to mechanical difficulties) I started with low expectations - I was pretty pleased just to make it in the door.

A gruff greeting from the Pop of this Mom & Pop operation, and we sat down to examine the menus. They may be more of a historic list of possible dishes and charming mispellings (who ordered the grilled pork lions?) than a current menu of what's available on the night, as we hit on a couple of 'out ofs'.

First up was the Big Pork Candy Mountain (listed on the menu as Picada Colombiana). This $16 appetizer was a heaping platter of meat in various forms, with some starches thrown in for balance. The chicharron was separated into handy bite sized morsels, just right for snacking on. The platter also marked the first appearance of the Potatoes of Fantasticness.

Our hard won entrees (we had to smash through a language barrier just to convince our host that we wanted something other than the Big Pork Candy Mountain) arrived and we reluctantly stopped mining our appetizer. I had ordered the Lengua Criolla which, for those of you who don't speak Spanish, (or, don't speak Portuguese and thus pretend to be able to read a variety of Romance languages) is tongue.

I've long lived by my Uncle Dennis's rule of never tasting anything that can taste you back, but I decided that having tried raw, oysters, sweet breads, foie gras, hearts, kidneys, livers, feet, brains and assorted other body parts, I could probably face up to the tongue. Still, it's one thing to be brave while looking at a menu, and quite another thing to be brave while looking at taste buds on a plate.

I poked at the slabs and decided to start with the cassava and potatoes on the side. Everything was smothered in a dense tomato sauce with so much compressed flavour that a mere drizzle would have been sufficient. I left most of the sauce on the plate to avoid overpowering everything else (especially phase two of Potatoes of Fantasticness) but then had to resist the urge to gobble it up with a spoon.

After putting it off for as long as I reasonably could, I finally tried a tiny sliver of the tongue (making an exception and drowing it in the sauce, just in case). It was soft. Tender. Beefy.

Not entirely unlike pot roast, really, and certainly nothing to be afraid of. I worked my way through two slices of tongue before the sheer volume of food caught up with me and I was forced to concede.

Dear Slimy Credit Card Company

It's true that I only continue to have an account with you for reasons of maintaining my credit score. I otherwise find you distasteful, dishonest and incompetent. The 'free gift' offer I received today is just one fine example of all three of those qualities.

Let's address them in order, shall we?

First, distasteful. Let's take a look at the CDs you'd like me to buy so I can claim my free gift, shall we? Perry Como? Paul Anka? Celine Dion? Dion? Surely you have my birthdate somewhere on your files, and can tell that I'm not in fact 78 years old. Why on earth would you send me an ad for a bunch of artists that weren't good even when they were popular?

Second, dishonest. Free. Free is an interesting word. I'll spare you the definition and the joke about beer and speech and assume you actually do know what it means. According to your letter, I'm eligible to receive the free gift because I'm a preferred customer. Though, I must first agree to purchase 2 CDs from a very short list of bad CDs for $9.97 (plus applicable taxes and shipping and handling). Sounds to me like my eligibility has more to do with my being a sucker than a customer, especially as '$25.01' and 'free' mean different things.

Finally, let's take a look at incompetent. Nowhere in this letter does it mention what my free gift might be. It doesn't tell me it's a mystery gift to build my excitement, either. It's just not mentioned at all. So this 'free' gift that's supposed to make me excited enough to pay $25.01 for some bad CDs? No idea what it actually is. I'm sure to get excited about that!

Not one of your more brilliant advertising ploys, Slimy Credit Card Company.

Sincerely,
Me

There was totally going to be an entry here today about the Corb Lund show I saw on the weekend. Except I never wrote the entry about the Corb Lund show that I saw on the weekend that was totally going to be here today.

Because I was supposed to have a review of the new Ginn Sisters CD done 55 minutes ago, and I'm still 58 words and one wrap-up paragraph short of finished.

Dear Carolyn:

Is it a bad sign for a "doing his best to be supportive" father, father-to-be and husband (to a wife struggling with depression-anxiety) to develop strong feelings with a female co-worker? The crush is (hopefully) one-sided, and things are mostly professional except for a conversational friendship of two people who have a lot in common as far as movies, music, etc.

Although it's great to be around her, I can't take the happiness mixed with overbearing guilt feelings that go along with it. I'm just hoping she will move on to another job soon, as her contract is almost up.

Dear Carolyn,

Is it a bad sign that a co-worker is paying too much attention to me? He's a father and husband, with a pregnant, depressed wife (he tells me about her during our all-too-frequent conversations). We have a lot in common so I enjoy chatting with him, but I feel like he's developing a crush on me.

Although it's nice to be around him, I can't help but feel like I might be encouraging him. I'm thinking of not renewing my contract just to get away from him.

Dear Carolyn:

I'm having trouble getting over my ex, and it's affecting all aspects of my life. Problem is, I'm a man in my mid-20s, and my guy pals don't understand any problem that can't be solved by drinking, sex, or just forgetting about it. I don't have a lot of close female friends, and I abhor shrinks. Whom should I seek out for guidance?

Dear Carolyn:

One of the guys in our group is still hung up on his ex, and it's totally bumming us all out. We've tried to take him drinking and get him laid so he'll just get over it already. He won't go see a shrink and he keeps trying to get us involved in deep conversations about relationships. We don't even talk about that stuff with our own girlfriends - how can we find someone else for him to unload on?