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

This year I celebrated my second Facebook birthday. Starting a week before my birthday people from my life began to call, email, text, and post wonderful birthday wishes to my Facebook page. It’s humbling and incredibly fulfilling to get wishes from people I hardly see or talk to from all over the world. Facebook has forever changed the way we celebrate our birthdays.
I wasn’t too thrilled to celebrate this year – forty seven years old may be a minor accomplishment but not one I was keen to celebrate. So, I made no special plans, and in the past, the day could have passed with only my parents and brother and sister remembering my birthday. But there it is, on Facebook for all to see- “Wish Butch a Happy Birthday – Click here!” It’s simple and takes seconds. From time to time even I click to wish people a happy birthday. It’s a ten second feel good. But on this end, as my email began to fill with wishes I got a little teary… and grateful… and humbled.
I know amazing people all over the globe. Some I know well, some we’ve met, shared a moment and moved on. Some I know from my youth, from high school, from random cruises, Landmark, Landmark cruises, someone I met sitting next to me eating sushi in Tempe, former co-workers, spouses of former co-workers, former lovers, hook-ups and potential future lovers (or hook-ups) and other assorted extraordinary human beings. And many took the ten second feel good moment to think about me. But put all of those together and it made for a wonderful day in my world.
My birthday did begin in a surreal fashion. I worked until midnight so headed to the bar to usher in my new year. I picked up a friend on the way and met two others at the bar. One of them picked up someone else at the bar and the five of us sat around drinking. I realized of the five people I’d be spending my birthday with, I had know one of them for just under a year, one for just around two months and two for minutes. We were having fun chatting and drinking and then the strippers showed up. It must have been a slow night at the Cabaret down the street and they came around looking for potential customers. There were none to be found with us but that didn’t stop them from trying. When Dallan, yes Dallan, found out it was my birthday, he and Rocky ripped off their shirts (moment here to catch my breath – Dallas was amazing) and gave me a short lap dance. Thank god the bar was empty and I was very uncomfortable but it was a surreal moment… particularly when Rocky playfully bit me on the shoulder. My birthday was starting out beautifully – me at the center of attention of a bunch of handsome men – I hope that bodes well for the whole year!
We all (except for the strippers) ended up at Denny’s sharing my free GrandSlam Breakfast. You can order four items and there were five of us so I ordered my own Pancake Puppies (See my Nov 19th Posting) and Mike 1 had hash browns, Mike 2 had bacon, Daniel had pancakes and Bobby had the eggs. Everyone was happy. It had the making of a great birthday. There’s an x-rated ending to the story but we’ll pass on re-telling that here.
Last night I concluded my birthday week celebration and again the evening started with a stripper. Rigel invited himself to join Mike and I for happy hour and regaled us with stories of his physical, um, long-comings and his wild life and his new reality show that will make him famous and rich. He was the most interesting person I’ve ever met in a bar. I know he was out “promoting” for business for the strip club down the street but I hope this kid makes it. He had a great sense of ambition and purpose for someone, who, if you believe the story has spent a third of his life in jail, has two kids and a promise from VH1 to make him a star.
We’re now Facebook friends. Perhaps I’ll send him good wishes on his birthday next year.

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.