Strange People

Part I

There are some strange people in the world. This afternoon I heard a car screeching its tires as it tried to turn into the very steep driveway across the street from our house. Then I heard a loud "thump" which sounded like it might have been that car hitting my car. I walked outside and looked at my car, and it was OK. I said to the driver as he stepped out of his car:

- "You made it!" I congratulated him.
- "I was hoping I wouldn't have to talk to you again," he said.
- "Have we met before??" I did not recognize him.
- "Yes but this is ridiculous ... " and he continued mumbling. I could not understand him, and he did not look at me and started to walk away.
- "Are you speaking to me?" I asked. He kept walking and did not reply. "Because I can not understand what you are saying."
- "That is because I was speaking English!" he sneered at me and continued walking up to my neighbor John's house.

Very strange.

NOTE: There was more to this entry, but I have taken it down. That's why some of the comments may be confusing.

I Don't Know You, So I Can't Talk to You

Early this evening, Maria and I went to a little soiree where the majority of attendees were San Anselmo Chamber of Commerce members. Our hosts were the fabulous Joann Hartley and Jennifer Hershon of Hershon Hartley Design (website by yours truly). Although we knew a couple of people there, and HH's landlord cordially introduced himself to us, the rest of the crowd failed to respond to my standing with an open posture, soft eyes and face, and even to nods and "Hello"s that I proffered to them.

This is a disappointing phenomenon I discovered when I arrived 21 years ago in California, which I call the "I Don't Know You, So I Can't Talk to You" syndrome. Or, put another way, the "We Have to Have Met Twice" game. Here is an example from tonight: Seeing us at a party, in this case an Open House, was not enough for Frank Goodyear of San Anselmo's WestAmerica Bank (a total stranger to me, he was still wearing his nametag). When I nodded to him in greeting -- twice! -- he did not even acknowledge me. But, if I were to run into him again tomorrow at the coffee shop, I am certain he would say, "Hi, didn't I see you last night at the Hershon Hartley thing?" and we would be off and running with our conversation. You see, it is not enough that we are both human beings, that we both have struggles and joys, that we live in the same small town, or even that we both were invited to the same party at the exact same time. No, all of that only counts as Encounter No. 1. Once we meet again, then at Encounter No. 2 we will then have a common experience to draw upon and thus will have a reason to talk.

To walk around a party, or any store or coffee shop, or even to just be on the planet and to avoid eye contact and conversation with people around you -- in a social situation -- beggars the mind. How else, when else, would one meet someone new???

Checkout Chat

It may be difficult to work and talk at the same time over at the local Safeway grocery store. I went through the line this afternoon and had this little conversation with Anne, the cashier:

- "Sir, would you like to make a donation for prostate cancer?" she asked.
- "Actually, I am against prostate cancer," I said.
- "You never know when it might sneak up on you," she said.
- "Have you had any takers?" I asked, thinking of her obligation to ask every single customer today for a donation.
- "Yes, my father had it a couple years ago," she replied.

A real head-scratcher, that one.

California Morning Commuters

Waiting at a crosswalk near "The Hub" in downtown San Anselmo, CA, the other day, I watched the faces of drivers whizzing by, and I got the idea for this little art project. Reminds me of the movie 'Smoke', where Harvey Keitel said, "You're going too fast; you have to take time to look at each picture."

Trying to Get My Two Cents Back

This is a story about fairness and justice and a little bit of karma. And about getting even for those little rip-offs that occur every day.

My favorite burrito stand in Marin County is San Jose Taqueria under the freeway overpass on Fourth St. in San Rafael. It is a real dive, and the sanitation in the place leaves a lot to be desired. But the burritos are excellent! Huge and tasty, filling and delicious. And on the bright side, I suppose it builds up my immunity to a wider variety of bacteria than eating in a clean place would.

A 'super chicken' burrito (with sour cream and guacamole) costs $4.25, or $4.58 after tax. Each time I give the register clerk a $5 bill, however, he gives me only forty cents back instead of the forty-two I am owed. No big deal the first time, or the second, but after about 10 visits I realize that these little shortages add up over time.

San Jose Taqueria bustles with energy at lunch time. The line can stretch 15 deep at high noon. The clerks race as fast as they can to take and fill orders, and the register clerk is no exception. At first I understood that pennies can slow down a transaction, but when I noticed that the cumulative effect was always in the house's favor, I decided to 'fight back'. I was going to get my money back one way or another.

I thought of just asking for a twenty-cent refund, but that would have required evidence and an understanding and patient clerk. Not going to happen. So, I decided to play their game. Today I decided that instead of handing over a $5 bill, I would instead count out four dollar bills plus exactly 55 cents in change. That way, instead of paying two cents too much, I would short them three cents. I was very curious whether the clerk would ask me for the additional three pennies. If he did, that would give me the perfect opportunity to mention that I had been shorted ten times in a row and see how he would respond.

I counted out my money and stepped up to the register to order. "Super chicken burrito, for here," I said. "That will be five thirty-six," he told me. In the two days since my last visit, they had raised their prices! All flustered, I had to reach into my pocket for more change, and with a flash of inspiration, I counted out $5.35 (not $5.36) and handed it over. He did not bat an eye as he dropped my money into the cash drawer and gave me my order ticket.

So, I saved one penny instead of two. But I paid eighty cents more than I expected. From my point of view, though, I am now down about nineteen cents in total, and it will take only another three or four months before I break even again.

How is it possible that on the very day I finally figured out their system a little bit, San Jose Taqueria raised their prices for the first time in the five years I have eaten there? Felt like karma, but who knows. I laughed as I walked out the door.

Footnote: after finishing lunch, I stopped by Peet's coffee for a large (with room). Normally it costs $1.85, but for the first time ever, the barrista told me "We are out of coffee for a couple more moments, so if you can wait, we will give it to you no charge." Now that is karma, baby! That is how Peet's earns my loyalty, too.

RFIDs For All!

I get frustrated whenever I read articles about RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) tags. The list of possible applications is too limited. Every article talks about their uses in grocery stores, in the manufacture of passports, in regulating the circulation of library books, in tracking pets, and the like.

Am I the only one who notices that RFID tags and tiny GIS transponders could be used in far more interesting, nefarious and objectionable ways? If transmitters the size of a grain of rice were readily available, why not put one on your kid's car? in your boss's briefcase? or under the bumper of a police car? It would be fun and satisfying and very profitable to track people without their knowledge, and I'm sure people could come up with even more interesting and probably illegal uses for them.

Illegal, perhaps, but not easy to prevent, discover, or prosecute.

Anonymity and electronic technology are incompatible. As technology evolves and improves, it is going to get easier and easier to spy on each other. Before long, it will be as though the entire world lives in a small one room house; no one will be able to completely disappear.

If the ability to see where everyone is is distributed evenly across the entire population, then this ability will probably improve our relationships with each other. I.e., if everyone has equal ability to spy on everyone else, then the result should be peace and calm and better behavior. If, on the other hand, the ability to observe everyone else is limited to just a few individuals, whether the government or a few corporations or to law enforcement only, then the result will be increased paranoia and an oppressive, Orwellian future.

Thus the morality of surveillance technology lies not in the technology itself nor even in the use of it, but rather in the distribution of access to it.

Bring on the RFIDs, I say, but make sure I can get my hands on a few for my own use!