Tag: Favorite

Dumb Signs

I love dumb signs. I mean, I really love dumb signs that are put up to discourage bad behavior. I find it curious that someone believes that another person will change their behavior just because a sign orders or threatens them to do so. Well, here’s a message for all you sign makers out there: It doesn’t work. Step away from the fat black Sharpie. Signs don’t work on people who exhibit bad behavior in the first place.

Dumb signs reach the wrong audience. They only reach those people who wouldn’t do what the sign warns them of in the first place. Like the sign on all new iPods that says, “Don’t pirate music“. Man, I’ll bet that little sticker tugs at the heart strings and stops those bad pirates in their tracks. Or how about the sign above the men’s urinal at a company I used to work for that said, “Do not post signs above the urinal. Signed, Building Mgmt”. A few days later some jokester posted a sign that read, “Do not post signs above existing signs above the urinal. Signed, The Urinal Hero” That right there is my all-time favorite sign.

So I get a kick out of coming across dumb signs like I did tonight as I drove through the Arby’s drive-thru. Quick topic change. Have you ever tried to order JUST A SANDWICH off the Arby’s menu? It’s nearly impossible. The person taking the order must be working off some spiff program because they jump into action trying to shove a combo meal down your throat. They can’t imagine anyone would decline fries and drink with the sandwich. Next time I’m there, I’m going to order a sandwich and then forcefully decline the combo meal pitch. Then I’m going to order a stand alone order of fries. You just know the order taker is gonna throw a hissy about this time and attempt a drink upsell. I’ll decline that. When I’m asked if that’s all I need I’ll pause and say, “You know what? I’ll take a medium Diet Pepsi”. It will be a combo meal the old fashioned way.

OK, so back to the sign. As I drove up to the window to pick up my hard fought sandwiches, I noticed the following hand-written, ALL CAPS sign posted right near the window for every drive-thru customer to see:

ALICIA’S MANAGER KEYS HAVE SUPPOSEDLY DISAPPEARED. THIS WILL RESULT IN TERMINATION! HOPEFULLY THESE KEYS WILL MYSTERIOUSLY SHOW UP IN THE CUP ON THE COUNTER.

Upon reading this sign my first thought was, “Well crap, Arby’s hired a thief”. If this person would steal from a colleague, wouldn’t it make sense they would steal from a customer too? My second thought was, “Putting them in a cup on the counter might not be the most secure option given the circumstances”.

I’m sure Alicia is upset about her missing keys. I’m just not sure every person that pulls up to the drive-thru needs to read about it. And honestly, if you took the keys even by accident, would you return them with the threat of TERMINATION looming? I love the exclamation point after TERMINATION too. Nice touch.

I picked up my sandwiches, looked to make sure my keys were still in the ignition and drove home with more questions than answers.

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Damp Hair Hugs

The time just before the kids go to bed are some of the most hectic, loud, pull-your-hair-out-wanna-scream minutes of the day. At least one person is crying while another is running around the house naked. And that’s just the parents.

My goal at this point is to settle the kids down enough where I can catch them two at a time and fling them over my shoulder like sacks of potatoes. Then I make a beeline for their rooms before they can escape my grasp or give me a wet willie. 

One after another, each child is delivered to his or her bed where the next escape can be plotted. We say prayers, give hugs, and an occasional high five before I retreat to my computer in the basement to recover from the ordeal.

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Yet I know what’s coming. As much as I’d like to think I did an admirable job of tucking them into bed I know that Luca is quietly tip toeing down the stairs. She’ll come up behind me and ask for one last hug. She wrap her hands around my neck while her cute, blonde and damp hair smacks me in the face.

Damp hair hugs from my 7 year old daughter. Best part of the day? You bet.

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When Your Dad Is The Coach

“NOW PLAY SOME DEFENSE!!” the dad yelled as his 14 year old son ran down the court after hitting a three point shot to tie the game. I sat on the sideline watching this boy’s face turn from jubilation to sadness. The excitement of the shot he’d just nailed was wiped off his face as fast as it took the ball to swish through the net. No matter what this boy did his father was there to point out what he’d done wrong.

Watching this father coach his son by tearing into his every wrong move brought back a flood of memories. I know this boy’s father who is the basketball coach at a local high school. He’s a good man. So is my father who was a high school coach for many years and coached me in basketball, baseball and football. But I can relate to how this boy felt tonight because I’ve been in that same situation a few times. Like the time I played my first football game in 9th grade. I caught the only touchdown our team scored and was so excited to tell my dad who wasn’t able to watch the game. He picked me up from the game and when we got to the car he turned to me and said, “Coach said you played poorly on defense”. Excitement dashed. Touchdown forgotten.

When your father is the coach you’re expected to be a good athlete. I was able to get into the school gym to practice any weekend I wanted. My dad would spend hours working on my shot, tossing baseballs and footballs so I could improve my skills. For that I’m very grateful because I know he made me a better athlete which lead to earning an athletic and scholastic scholarship to college. I knew I had to be better than my competition or my dad would start the other player. He was careful not to play favorites when it came to starting games and playing time.

But there are downsides. By far the toughest part to manage was the coaching didn’t end when the buzzer sounded or the last out was recorded. In fact, most of my coaching took place at the dinner table. When I played a good game, the meal was enjoyable. When I didn’t play well, I just wanted to be left alone. I know my father meant well. He wanted me to reach my full potential just like his dad demanded of him. To his credit, he backed off me as I matured and moved onto the varsity teams.

I have a good relationship with my father today. As good as it’s ever been. The good times we had in athletics together far outweigh the challenges we had. As my children begin to play sports I continually remind myself that how I react to their performance can have a lasting impact on how much enjoyment they derive from the experience. Watching Luca play soccer last year, Kim had to remind me to chill out a number of times as I yelled for my daughter to be more aggressive with the ball.

One of my goals as a father is to find the positive is my children’s performances. Be it sports or music or school or whatever.Even if they misjudge a pop fly or miss open shots or play the wrong key, I can encourage my kids by searching for the good. Even if that means saying, “Hey, you really hustled out there today. Great job.” I don’t want to be like the mom in American Beauty who, after watching her daughter perform cheers tells her, “You didn’t screw up once!”

I recall a time when our basketball team was playing in the state tournament. We played the first half very tight. Our shots weren’t falling and we all hung a heads as we filed into the locker room. My father sensed the tension and the pressure we’d placed on ourselves. He ended that half time discussion by saying, “You’re not making a million dollars to play basketball. Let’s go out and have fun because that’s what it’s all about”.

That’s great advice I need to remember as my kids pass through the inevitable ups and downs of athletics. And life.

How’s My Driving?

On my way into work this morning I pulled up behind a GE Service Van that had one of those How’s My Driving stickers slapped to the back. I’ve never understood why companies use these stickers. Do they magically make one a better driver when the threat of being reported is just a phone call away?

I followed the van a few blocks before pulling up to a left turn arrow near my credit union. I had my cell phone in hand and wondered if anyone would answer. I dialed the 1-888 number and was immediately forced to listen to a commercial for a fabric softener! I had no idea GE even made fabric softener. I eventually made it through. Here’s how my call when down:

GE Rep1: Can I get your name and phone number in case we get disconnected?

Me: Sure. (I give her my name and bogus number)

GE Rep1: What can I help you with today?

Me: I’d like to comment on the driving of someone in one of your service vans.

GE Rep1: Excuse me?

Me: I may not have the right extension. A sticker on the back of a GE service van invited me to call and comment on how it’s driving.

GE Rep1: Ohhh! Hold just a minute, sir.

(I wait about a minute before another lady comes on the line. It’s clear from the start that she’s not in the best mood)

GE Rep2: So you want to comment on a driver? I’ll need the van number and your location.

(The van starts to pull through the intersection and I’m having a difficult time driving, talking on the phone and trying to locate the van number. I notice the number 9290 in very small font running vertically up the left side of the back door)

Me: The only number I see is 9290. I’m in Redmond, Washington.

GE Rep2: OK. So what’s the problem?

Me: No problem at all. I figured I’d call and let someone know this driver is doing a very good job out here. He just took a left turn in front of me and it couldn’t have gone any smoother.

GE Rep2: So you haven’t noticed any problems?

Me: No, none. Do only people with problems call to comment?

GE Rep2: Mostly. But you have no problems to report?

Me: None. From what I’ve witnessed, his driving the last several blocks has been top notch.

GE Rep2: I’m happy to hear that. Do you have anything else to report.

Me: That’s all for today. Thank you.

Games We Play

Each night before the kids head off to bed they beg and plead and occasionally bribe me to play a game with them. The type of game doesn’t matter as long as it meets the one important criteria: The game must be one that I make up on the spot.

In the past I’ve played a game where the kids run around the living room in circles while I toss couch cushions and throw pillows at them until mom asks WHAT-THE-HECK-DO-WE-THINK-WE’RE-DOING!

Another game I made up while trying to rest on the couch goes something like this: The kids try to sneak up and pull my socks off before I can smack them over the head with a pillow.

Each game I make up includes the tossing or hiding of items that weren’t made for that purpose. That’s what makes the game fun. That’s also what bothers mom. These games are best played while mom is running errands.

Tonight we played a game where the kids line up on the couch and I make a comment that applies to one of them like, “I’m going to tickle the person with the longest hair”. The kids laugh till they cry. Sometimes they just cry if they get passed over one too many times.

I decided to switch things up tonight by chasing the kids around the living room with a nursing cushion that looks like a pillow in the shape of Pac Man. I call it the JAWS OF DEATH if only to make it sound more threatening than its appearance gives off. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Kim use this item. It looks like it could be a neck brace or nifty platform to hold up a set of nursing boobs at just the right angle. I really should pay more attention to these things. But the game entails capturing each child in a Pac Man grip and relocating them back to the couch.

My goal in any of these games is to wear out the kids before I collapse. So far I’m 0 for 25.

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The Movie That Changed My Life

There are a handful of movies that have had an impact on my life. I recall wanting to learn more about autism after watching Rain Man, and I had a sickening feeling for days after watching Schindler’s List. But no movie has had as much impact on my life as American Beauty. It’s my all-time favorite movie.

I’ve thought about writing this blog post for a long time but never had the guts to start it. I figured it was a bit too personal and that nobody else would care what I thought of some movie or how it drove me to make changes in my life. I’ve told very few people about what I’m about to write, and I’m not proud of how I handled certain parts of this experience. Yet it’s something I think back to often, and it’s shaped how I view my work and my family.

Back in 1999, I moved into a job I thought would be challenging and rewarding. It came with promises of responsibility, advancement, and rewards. But I soon realized that it was none of the above. I had several job opportunities at the time, but I selected this position because I was told it wouldn’t require as much travel as the others. Plus, my manager seemed nice enough, and the group was one of the largest, most stable at the company. It seemed like an ideal situation for me at the time.

Sometimes when emotions run high, I fail to notice the red flags. They might have been small flags but they were there from the start. The first red flag came when my travel increased over my last position. I hadn’t been married long, and Kim and I wanted to start a family soon. The idea of being away from home for days on end was not what I was after. Another red flag came when I realized one of my closest friends left the group to join another. One of my biggest regrets is the fact that I didn’t listen to him well enough when we met for lunch. All the signs were there though, and I failed to take them seriously. Maybe I didn’t want to see them.

I worked for a self-absorbed jerk. We called him a “volunteer” because he owned enough Microsoft stock to retire a millionaire many times over. This guy had no life. He arrived at work before anyone else and stayed long after everyone had gone home. And he let everyone within earshot know. He was a miserable person to be around, and those who reported to him closed their doors and tried to go about their business in a fashion that would avoid his wrath. Each morning I’d arrive at work around 7:30 am. My office was on the third floor. I could take the elevator or the stairs. Which choice would take longer? I’d slog my way up three flights of stairs as slowly as humanly possible. With each step, my stomach would turn into a tighter knot. Step after grueling step. When I finally reached the top, I could almost puke. The hours at work felt like days. I couldn’t enjoy my weekends because I was thinking about how come Monday morning, my hell would return.

One summer afternoon, my manager came into my office and demanded I travel with him to help prep for a presentation. I stayed up all night preparing slides and helping him understand the product and how it would benefit the attendees. The next morning he gave the talk. It was clear that he didn’t feel it went over very well. I’m sure part of that was due to the last minute preparation, but he made it clear that he was done speaking at these small events, and that I’d be called on to handle the next one. Although I stayed up all night to help him prepare for a talk he committed to, and yet I felt like I had screwed up. No matter what I did, I felt I was making the wrong decision.

I felt very alone at this time. Kim was the only person I could talk to, but I didn’t want her to worry about my job.  I wasn’t supposed to complain because I worked for one of the largest, most successful companies in the world. A company that turned away thousands of talented people each month. Most would do anything to get a foot in the door. Who was I to complain? I carried a lot of self-doubt around, wondering why I wasn’t happy with my job and my boss. My life didn’t suck. Only the place where I spent 10 hours of my day sucked.

That’s how I felt as I walked around Disney World. I was so tired, yet I felt maybe a movie would take my mind off my predicament. It just seemed wrong to be depressed in the land of Mickey, Goofy and Pluto. So I made my way over to the theater and bought a ticket to American Beauty. I’d seen the trailer and figured it was worth a shot. I bought a Coke and popcorn and sat near the back of a nearly full theater.

As I watched the movie, I was stunned at how much I related to Kevin Spacey’s character, Lester Burnham. especially the scenes where he was dealing with a job he hated and how it affected his self-esteem and relationships. Some parts are painful to watch, yet many hit me like a violent crowbar to the chest. I sat there in my seat absolutely transfixed to the screen. I felt like I was watching a mini film that covered sections of my life.

“I feel like I’ve been in a coma for the past twenty years. And I’m just now waking up.”

When the movie came to an end I sat there for at least ten minutes and thought about my job. I was pissed off at the toll it was taking on my life. I grew up in a family where my father worked as a school teacher for 30 years and subsidized his income as a coach and driver’s ed instructor during the school year. He also managed a large public swimming pool in the summer. I don’t recall him complaining about his job and, until I saw American Beauty, I figured it was just a sign of weakness to complain about mine which was a piece of cake compared to those my father held.

Although the movie isn’t the most cheery, it was uplifting to me because it gave me hope that I could get out of the situation I was in. I didn’t have to continue climbing the stairs to a job that made me sick. I didn’t have to take the abuse this manager dished out on a daily basis. So I decided to talk to my boss when I returned from Orlando and explain to him how I felt and the changes (less travel) that needed to occur so that I could enjoy my job. At least that’s what I thought would happen. Yet a quick meeting with him convinced me nothing was going to change. So I did something I’ve never done before in my life:

I WALKED AWAY FROM THE JOB

I didn’t wait around, clinging to the belief that things would change. I didn’t notify HR of the abuse (something I regret). I didn’t offer to work another two weeks in the same environment. I came into the office one night and packed up my belongings and emailed my manager that I wouldn’t be returning. He was shocked and forwarded my email to HR who called me the next day and asked me to reconsider my decision. They asked what had made me leave so suddenly, but I couldn’t say, “Oh, I saw a movie that inspired me to quit”. They offered to hook me up with another group, but I’d made up my mind that I needed to fully remove myself from that environment. It was toxic.

“It’s a great thing when you realize you still have the ability to surprise yourself.” 

That was nearly nine years ago. I know I made the right decision to leave. I wasn’t happy and the daily dread was taking a toll on the relationships that matter most in my life. I’m glad I didn’t “suck it up” to the point where I became unbearable to live with at home. I’m glad I didn’t change my style to fit that of a company built on internal competition that thrives on pitting employees against each other. There are those who are adept at playing that game and can separate it from their family and friends. But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t treat people at work like crap and then turn around and be this kind person to my friends and family. I felt my only choice was to remove myself from that caustic environment.

I’m happy I did just that.

 

Calling the Starburst Candy Helpline

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved Starburst candies. When my mom was brave enough to take me along to the grocery store, she’d let me choose a treat if I behaved. At those rare times I’d select a pack of Starburst. As a kid, it felt like I was getting a lot of bang for the buck because each “fruit chew” was individually wrapped. I could eat a few now, stash the rest in my pocket where they’d stay warm until I needed my next sugar high.

Fast forward a few decades to a time where my mother no longer takes me shopping and I have to secure my own stash of Starburst. These days, the only time I see Starburst are at Halloween and occasionally in the candy bowl at work. So today, while I was opening a “twin pack” of individually wrapped chewy goodness, I noticed these words on the back of the wrapper:

Questions or Comments? Call 1-800-551-0683

Since I wasn’t busy at the time I figured I’d give them a call and see if someone could answer several Starburst related questions I’ve had for years. I dialed the number and made my way through the maze of options including one to learn more about “the Mars policy concerning animal research”. Do they really test new candy on animals? I don’t plan to dig too deep there.

I eventually found myself on hold, waiting for the next available Mars consumer candy representative.  After a few minutes, a polite guy named Cameron came on the line and was more than willing to field a few questions. Here’s how it went down:

Cameron: Thank you for calling the consumer division of Mars candy. How can I help you today?

Me: I’m looking for someone to answer a few Starburst related questions. Are you the guy?

Cameron: Yes, I can help you. What questions do you have?

Me: I love Starburst candies but my favorite flavor is strawberry. Is there a way to determine if a package is loaded with mostly strawberry chews? I’ve tried holding a pack up to the light, but that hasn’t worked well and I always feel a little cheated when a pack is mostly filled with yellow and oranges.

Cameron: There’s really no way to tell. Each pack or bag is filled based on a ratio of flavors. Would you like me to find out what that ratio to flavor is?

Me: Yes, if it’s not too much trouble. (I’m put on hold for about 45 seconds)

Cameron: The current flavor ratio is 25% per flavor. The original packs contain orange, lemon, strawberry and cherry flavors. But some packs or bags may contain more or less than 25% because they are placed in a large vat and mixed together before packaging.

Me: That’s really cool. Do you know if there are any plans to discontinue the yellow ones. They are my least favorite.

Cameron: At this time, I’m not aware of any plans to discontinue the lemon flavored chews.

Me: Is there a way I could buy a bag full of only the strawberry?

Cameron: No, not at this time, but you’re not the first to ask. I will pass that suggestion on to our marketing group who values the input from loyal customers like yourself.

Me: Thank you. How would I go about suggesting a new flavor?

Cameron: You can tell me and I’ll pass it on for you.

Me: Cool. I’d like to suggest a lime flavored Starburst.

Cameron: We do have a lemon-lime in the “Baja pack”, but not lime only. I’ll pass that on to our marketing department.

Me: Do you have a lot of people call up asking about Starburst?

Cameron: I wouldn’t say a lot but we have a few who call us with questions.

Me: You’ve been very kind. Thank you for your help. That’s it for now.

Cameron: Thank you for calling the consumer division of Mars Candy and I hope you continue to enjoy Starburst candies.

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The Wilson A-2000

Do you ever ask yourself this question:

“If my house were on fire and I could only take a few items to safety, what would they be?”

We’ll assume for a minute that spouses, children and pets have made it out of the house safely. After my computer’s external hard drive the possession I’d go after would be my Wilson A-2000 glove.

I grew up playing baseball. It was my favorite sport and probably the one where I possessed better than average ability. Compared to basketball and football where having a larger body can give a person a competitive edge, baseball seemed tailor made for my 5’10 frame and inherent quickness.

My father was the baseball coach at the time and would always make sure I had the best equipment. He also made sure I didn’t wear my hat like a doofus. (It’s supposed to sit low, not up high like a chef’s hat) The year before he’d fitted me with a Wilson glove called the A2000 XL. I played third base up until my sophomore year when I switched to the outfield. That meant instead of a small fielders glove, I needed a larger outfielders model.  A teammate at the time was making the transition from the outfield to the infield. One day at practice we decided to swap gloves. It was a perfect fit for both of us.

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Along the back webbing of the glove is imprinted “The A2000 XLC”. You can see how flexible the webbing is. I love the color that’s come through over the years.

If you’ve ever purchased a new baseball glove, you know that they are very firm, uncomfortable and clasp the ball like a clam. My father showed me how to rub Vasoline and and later, mink oil into the glove to soften it up so it could be properly molded to my hand. The idea is to make the glove soft enough so that it grabs the ball like your hand would with the fingers and web enveloping the ball instead of merely clamping down on the ball. Hand motion is good. Clam snapping is bad.

So I’d take my glove home from practice every night and rub mink oil into the fingers, web, and palm. It’s amazing how much mink oil good leather can soak up. I’m sure I went through several tins of it. At night, I’d place a ball in the palm, secure it with twine and place it under my mattress where I’d sleep on it. After several weeks my glove was getting closer to perfection. After working on it for an hours I’d toss it to my dad at the dinner table for his inspection. He’d put it on his big hands, punch it a few times in the palm and say, “You’re getting close“.

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I’ve had the glove repaired numerous times. The leather stitching comes loose at times as you can see here. I wrote my initials (BDN) on the glove in 1983.

What I didn’t realize at the time is that a glove is never finished being worked in. The best one can do it get it to the state of “close”. There’s only so far elbow grease and mink oil can take it. The finishing touch came by playing catch, fielding fly balls and retrieving grounders. My father taught me to catch the ball in the palm instead of in the web because that made it easier to grab and possibly gun down a runner going for home. This is a lot easier said than done and one must have a lot of faith in the glove before attempting the palm catch. Ozzie “the wizard” Smith used to do this better than anyone. He’d catch the ball right up near his wrist where he’d flick the ball into his right hand and rocket a throw to first base just in time to nail the runner.

A few weeks ago I realized that my glove accidentally got placed in a toy bin that had been left out in the rain. I was crushed to find my old glove at the bottom of the bin, swimming in dirty water, mud and leaves. I pulled it out only to find it had moss and rocks and dirt all over it. I was so upset I didn’t do anything for a few days except place it on a rack to dry. I realized it was going to take a lot of care to nurse it back to shape.

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You can see how my my index finger has pushed down the leather over the years. The infield model had an open back whereas the XLC was covered except for the finger hole.

Once it fully dried, I used an old toothbrush to brush aware any debris on the outer side. It was clean, but very rough and discolored. It felt as stiff as a new glove so I pulled out some leather cleaner I normally use on my shoes and swirled it around for a while. It removed the last few bits of moss, but the glove was still very stiff so I bought a tin of milk oil and began the process I’ve done a hundred times or more. I sat at my computer and rubbed the mink oil into the fingers, the palm and the webbing. The most difficult part was cleaning the inside of the fingers. But over time it began to soften up. The rich colors returned and it began to feel like my old glove again. It’s still not back to where it was during my playing days, but it’s a lot better than where it was a few weeks ago.

And if I were to hand it over to my dad and ask for his opinion, I’m sure he’d say, “You’re getting close“.

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We Double Checked Your Order

Maybe it’s always been this way and I’ve only recently noticed. But getting an order correct at fast food drive-thru is really a vanishing art these days. When we go through the drive-thru and our order is correct, it’s the exception rather than the rule. Here’s my take on a few of our favorite places:

McDonald’s – They used to be one of the better ones until some knucklehead marketer back at corporate came up with the idea to add a “DOUBLE CHECKED” sticker to each bag. The last thing these employees need is another task to complete while trying to fulfill orders. Who has time to put stickers on the bags when you’ve got hot fries to bag? If I worked here, I’d put the stickers on the bags during the down times. Their people are either really nice or can’t get you out of there any faster. I like that the manager gets his or her own special shirt. If they happen to take your order you can usually just drive home.

Arbys – At least they make it interesting. Every order is a new adventure. We’ve ordered chicken strips and received roast beef sandwiches. On a positive note, when they do make a mistake it’s usually in your favor. I don’t know how many times we’ve come home with an extra sandwich and fries. But definitely check your bag before pulling away. That Market Fresh sandwich you ordered just very may well have turned into an order of Jalapeno Poppers. Lots of mistakes but in an endearing sort of way.

Taco Time – Good thing our kids like their food so much. Like Arby’s they make things interesting but in a bad sort of way. Mistakes never seem to favor you. Not the place to go if you’re in a hurry as it takes long enough that you feel everything was made from scratch. It’s odd they make so many mistakes here because they have a relatively simple menu. The difficulty we’ve had with them is getting soft and crisp bean burritos mixed up. Or just not including items and coming home short handed. They also don’t take Amex which is annoying. I took the kids here last night and they charged 37 cents to use Visa. Huh? You’re going inside to straighten out your order regardless so just avoid the drive thru all-together and grab a table.

Jack in the Box – I’ve not had any problems with these guys, but I don’t go here very often anymore since I started Atkins. They have good burgers but don’t go here trying to order the Chicken Caesar Salad or a Roast Beef and Swiss wrap as Kim found out. They have some of the most laid back employees I’ve ever seen. Uniforms must be optional. If you go here late at night you’re bound to see friends of workers hanging around. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that I’ve been served by one of these unofficial helpers. One of my favorite things about Jack in the Box is the picture of the random dessert near the drive-thru window. One month it’s a slice of key lime pie. The next month it’s cheese cake. Just seems a bit too classy an offering for this place.

Wendy’s – Consistently the best drive-thru experience of them all. They have a really good Caesar salad and I like that the kids meals have options other than fries. Our kids love the mandarin oranges. They have the dual drive thru windows like McDonald’s and take Amex. A few times when we’ve had to wait longer than normal they have tossed in something extra. The only downside I can think of is the picture of the triple burger makes me sick to my stomach. Oh ya, and they got rid of the fruit bowl they used to offer last year.

Taco Bell – We used to go here often and had our share of mix-ups but they try hard. A couple of things make me laugh here. The first is the LED sign near the drive-thru window that has, in big red numbers, the amount of your order. Just below the amount is a sign that says something like, “If you’re asked to pay anything other than the above amount, please contact this number”. Makes me wonder if they recruit ex-cons or something. The second thing is the big countdown timer that’s prominently displayed. I’m sure other establishments have a similar timer, but Taco Bell wants to make sure every drive-thru customer sees that their employees are under the gun to fill your order. I don’t think I could handle a job that every transaction I handle is being timed and recorded.

Dairy Queen – Another place we used to go often before Aktins. Not for the food but for the ice cream. They know how to please the kids by handing out suckers, double cupping your shakes or putting the ice cream in a cup lid, making it easier for kids to eat. And any place that gives out “dog cones” can’t be too bad. We never loved their food but we liked their treats a lot.

Failure to Round

I don’t know why but whenever I’m driving down highway 167, I nearly always notice the road sign that says failure to buckle up will result in a fine of $101. I believe that people should buckle up and if they don’t, they should be fined. But it’s the amount that seems strange to me. It’s as if the Washington State Supreme Court has never heard of the rounding concept. Why not just make it a hundred bucks even and call it a day?

I looked up the Washington State Highway Patrol website to see if this was just a one time oversight. What I found is the lack of rounding fines is the rule rather than the exception. But there are a few where simplicity won out and were rounded such as Second Degree Negligent Driving ($250), No Valid Driver’s License ($250, Failure to yield the right of way on approach of emergency vehicle ($500), and Failure to provide proof of motor vehicle insurance ($250). Hmmm….maybe any fine that’s a multiple of $250 gets rounded? There are a couple more parking fines that run $80 or $90 as well but the majority of fines aren’t so neat and tidy. Here are a few of my favorite infractions and fines that seem to be determined by rolling a set of Yahtzee dice:

Intoxication in State Park Areas – $137 (Don’t people head to parks to get wasted? Let’s call it $140 and be done with it.)

1st Offense Load Violation – $52 (If we milk ’em for 2 bucks more we can afford that cool new radar gun)

2nd Offense Load Violation – $97 (One might assume a 2nd violation would be double the 1st violation? Nope!)

3rd Offense Load Violation – $112 (Again, by the 3rd offense I’d assume they are deliberately trying to break the law, yet they receive a volume discount. You don’t send a strong message by offering only a slightly higher fine than than the 2nd offense. From here on out it’s “break the same law 3 times get the forth violation for free”)

Wrong way on Freeway – $177 (This is the fine of the month special. This is the same amount as driving 35 mph over the posted speed limit. My guess is going down the freeway in the wrong direction is often bundled together with a “Driving while intoxicated” and “Open container” in a combo-meal type fashion.

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