Butch Leiber's World

I guess I like to think I’m conventional but in 2009/2010 America, what is convention? Conventional: conforming with accepted standards.

Friday, I went and had coffee at Conspire, which was voted the best Neighborhood Coffee House in Phoenix by New Times Magazine. Conspire is in an old house in downtown Phoenix and is an arts cooperative selling crafts and clothes and books and awesome lattes. There I met Deborah, a waitress at a local sushi restaurant, Damien, a young (early twenties, maybe) hipster, and several sex workers hanging out and having their afternoon jolt of caffeine. Deborah was cute, urban, dressed in layers of tank tops and t-shirts and topped off with a knit Rasta cap in Jamaican colors, not neatly hiding her head of wild red hair. Damien, who was one of the friendliest, happiest guys I’ve ever met in a coffee shop, looked like he hadn’t washed his hair in weeks and smelled equally feral. In my head I needed to run and take a shower but started wondering who “those” people were. How do they exist in today’s society? Why don’t they just fit in like the rest of us?

“Those people.” In that I heard my grandmother, sitting at the dining room table judging and criticizing the people she dealt with on a daily basis. Now, her “those people” and my “those people” are different people. And I’m sure to some, I’m one of “those people.” I am gay, and I was raised Jewish and I shave my head and I have a tattoo and I’m one hundred pounds overweight and I’m single and I have sex with random strangers and, well, I can probably find more things that make me one of “those people” to someone else.

Why is it so easy to judge and assess people when they don’t fit our mold of how people should be? We have our own conventions in life and think everyone should fit in that mold. I’ve been looking, searching lately for Mr. Right and the few men I’ve met lately who I really like just don’t fit the mold of what I expect for my boyfriend, or better, what my friends or parents would expect me to bring home. So I dump them, or move on hoping the next one will fit better.

I’ve begun to notice lately the constraints I put on myself by my own conventions, how I should be, how my life should be. The more I judge and criticize myself the more I notice I’m critical and judgmental of others. I check out what they’re doing or not doing and vote on whether it’s good or bad or even worse, could I, should I try that on? I like to think I’m an independent thinker. I like to think I’m unique and my own creation. But ultimately, I’m one giant paradox of convention and non-convention; a bundle of look at me and what are you looking at. I want so badly to fit it – everywhere, and so badly to be unique, always looking for approval, acceptance, love.

For this final two weeks of the year, I’m taking on acceptance, love and approval of all, including myself. No one is perfect, and we all are. Happy holidays!

Peace.
Butch Leiber’s World Blog

I want to start today’s posting off with a little tirade about bad customer service. Let’s not tolerate it. There are so many choices in today’s marketplace for our shopping dollars, why support stores, restaurants and services that don’t care about you. Border’s Books at the Biltmore – 3 cashiers on the line at lunch time three saturdays before Christmas. I had to wait fifteen minutes in line to buy a greeting card! Then, the scanner rang up the wrong price for card and the girl behind the counter was surly about having to change the price for me. “It’s only fifteen cents,” she said. But it was MY fifteen cents. Grrr…. Add to that the gray haired drivers trying to find parking and paying no attention to blocking travel lanes in an already crowded parking lot… and I’m going on a tirade! And, I won’t be shopping at Borders again any time soon.
Now, let’s talk turkey– or roast beef or even pastrami. The best in town is probably at Scott’s Generations deli but between the girl who kept trying to grab my plate off the table before I was finished with my meal (and no, I don’t think she was concerned about my diet, trying to save me from that large slab of meat) and the waitress who I had to continue to try to find to fill up my iced tea and the sneering jerk behind the counter who wouldn’t hang up the phone call with his girlfriend/ mistress/ daughter, while he checked me out, I won’t be heading back there anytime soon. I will need to find a new Jewish deli to satisfy my occasional salted meat craving.
Customer service seems to be a dying art. Some companies get it. I had dinner at Sushi Brokers in Scottsdale last night and the staff was awesome – from the bartenders to the bus boys. They always take good care of us there and that’s why when I have the cash for sushi, that’s my favorite place.
Being nice isn’t enough anymore. But don’t tolerate anything less. Stand up to bad customer service. Train the people who wait on you. Tell them if their service was bad. Don’t tip for bad service. Stand up for a civilized society! I once watched a girl at Subway throwing my sandwich together, not paying attention, clearly preoccupied with something else and making a mess of things. I asked her to stop and reminded her that I was going to eat what she was making and I wasn’t going to eat that. I called her manager over and requested someone else make my sandwich. He obliged and sent the girl on break. I don’t know what happened to her but I felt better. We live in a consumer driven society. Don’t take crap from the people dishing it out… even at Subway.
Ok,. I’m don’t ranting now. Thanks for reading.
Peace.