That Day I Used My Breasts to Get Revenge at Best Buy

This story begins with a broken camera lens. I bought this lens as a part of a camera kit. So, when I took the lens to get repaired, they required me to send the entire camera off. So I did. Several days later, I got the camera back, and the repair wasn’t complete.

Time passed, then I finally took the lens back to be repaired. They sent it off again, and I quickly got an email that told me to pick up my camera, suggesting that I make an appointment, which I happily did. They provided a handy list of things to bring with me which included any accessories that came with my device and any questions that I had.

I showed up to pick up my camera. I approached the service counter and saw the employee standing there.  Let’s call her Krista (not her real name). She greeted me, then I told her that I was there for an appointment to pick up my camera. Before I made it all the way to the desk, she asked me for a piece of picture ID.

I’ve used this service in the past, and didn’t recall them asking for ID then, so I said, “I guess I’ll have to go get it from the car.”

Then she nodded weakly at me. For some reason, this made me angry. I turned to go get my ID, but on the way, I said, “It would have been nice if the notification had told me to bring my ID.

I came back, ID, in hand and this girl looked at it. Her co-worker came to assist her. Let’s call him Ned. He had the body language of a guy who was proud to help this damsel in distress. The body itself was in a shape of a slug. Ned Slugbody stood behind her, a softbodied guard, as she went through the repairs made to the camera. She read from the list like Floyd Mayweather reading from Harry Potter. She acted as if she was afraid of me. Ned acted like he could protect her. 

Ned G. Slugbody (middle name Greasyface) placed the camera on the counter. I reached for it, then, he gives me permission to verify that my own camera is working. I tried the camera, and the lens still wasn’t working properly. I told Ned. He tried it himself, then stated in wonder, “It doesn’t work.” This is when I resisted the urge to look him dead in the eye while thrusting my fist into the air yelling, “Eureka!”

Ned said, with confidence, “Sometimes the devices come back unrepaired.” He then promised that my camera will be overnighted back out for repair.

I left and continued to simmer. 

I tracked the status of my repair like a jilted lover stalks an ex’s Facebook posts.

This incident occurred on a Wednesday. My camera was not sent out until that Friday.

Then the requisite survey about my experience came. I went to town on it. I felt better. 

A little.

Today, I got the message that my camera was ready to pick up. So, I went back to Best Buy hoping that the third time was, indeed, the charm. 

I wondered whether Krista is going to be at the counter.  

I made sure to take my ID into the store. I grabbed some other items, too.

She was there. I looked at her aggressively.

An innocent man served me. It seemed like he wasn’t going to ask me for my ID. I stood there smugly…until he asked for it.

Then, I reached into my bra and pulled out a bottle of Zyrtec, placing it firmly on the counter. The aggressive smacking sound was satisfying. Then, I pulled out a hair roller and placed it beside the allergy pills. 

“It’s in here somewhere,” I said for effect.

I continued to paw around in there and pulled out a small roll of pink camo washi tape. I asked Alex to hold it. Then, finally, I pulled out the ID, which had been resting safely at my shoulder the whole time. I handed it directly to the innocent man taking care to place it very close to his face.

He checked the ID and goes off to get the camera. 

Alex and I try to stifle our laughter.

Krista is lingering in the background nearby, sneaking furtive glances at me, then I say, loud enough that she could hear it, to Alex. “Don’t let me forget to get that cream on the way home,” as I gesture toward my bosom.

Innocent guy brought me my camera. I checked it. It worked. I thanked him.

I also spent the evening bursting out into spontaneous laughter, now satisfied with my experience.

Looking for Lyndon #2: If You Let Him

Looking-for-Lyndon

 

I need to borrow from Whitman in order to talk about Lyndon Johnson. He contained multitudes.

This is a part of the draw, a part of the attraction to him.

There are so many stories of Johnson’s crudeness, the id taken over. There are stories that I would find disgusting if they were about anyone else. But from Lyndon, there is something endearing about it. Who hasn’t once been swept up by ambition? Who doesn’t have those horrible, base thoughts that beg and tempt? Lyndon knows. He understands.

Lyndon can make you feel more human.

If you let him.

Links I Like #35

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I might have to ask you to forget that you saw this here.

Why do I want to make these carrot waffles so bad? Somebody tell me (George Michael voice goes here).

I have been all into Skillshare over the last couple of weeks. I want to know all of the things.

Finding out about an Oreo S’mores Blizzard might be hazardous to my long term health.

Hmmm…Kale & Salmon Ceasar Salad? I’d need make my own dressing in order to be mayo-free, but I’m intrigued.

Why am I so attracted to carrot-based recipes? This time–a smoothie.

These sure are some pretty chocolate bars. This is not a euphemism.

Understanding fully that there is nothing cute about drooling, I leave this pastrami-brisket hash here.

Links I Like #34

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I am always attracted to things like this Vegan Budhha Bowl, but I seldom follow through with making my own. 

Look at this raspberry chocolate cup!!

I’ve never heard of passionfruit curd before. But curd-filled donuts are something I can get behind.

Fruity kale salad? Don’t mind if I do.

Churro. Cream. Puffs. Excuse me while I wipe the drool off of my face, neck and upper chest.

My left eyebrow is raised at this gummi bear sangria. I haven’t decided quite what the arched brow means though.

These pumpkin spice brioche knots are super cute.

I’m not telling you anything that my s’mores pinterest board hasn’t already revealed: I am a huge sucker for anything s’mores-related.

Wait, what do you mean no yeast cinnamon rolls?

 

Links I like #33

linksilike

Alex recently gave me the side-eye because he thought that we ran out of homemade granola. He was wrong, and he happily has something to eat with his morning Greek yogurt. But maybe I need to find some new granola recipes nonetheless.

A three-ingredient, delicious-looking chicken recipe? Sign me up!

Apples + cheese. I’ll be in your wedding.

I do love kale salads. I might have all of the ingredients for this one. Hmmmmm….

JalapeƱo. Popper. Dip. Excuse me while I wipe the drool from my chin.

I have a soft spot for meatballs. I also have a collection of physical magazine clippings of meatball recipes.

I am so afraid by, yet intrigued by kombucha.

Churro donut holes!!!!

I would like very much to have this Pulled Pork Fried Rice all up in my mouth!!!

Don’t Drink the Water #4


waterA Flint native, I can’t quite stop thinking about the water crisis though I no longer live there. I wondered what my peers were thinking, so I asked them, via a form. They answered.

waterdrops

Nickole, raised in Burton, attended college in Flint.

What is your relationship to Flint, Michigan?

Went to college there.

Do you currently live in Flint?

No.

When did you first become aware of a problem with the water in Flint?

Heard about it on the news.

How did you become aware of a problem with the water in Flint?

News.

How confident are you that this issue will be solved satisfactorily?

Skeptical.

What does a satisfactory solution look like to you?

Fixed, new pipes, no lead,

Do you have family directly impacted by the water crisis?

No.

Are you eligible to vote?

Yes.

Have you voted in the past?

Yes.

Will you vote in the future?

Yes.

 

Looking for Lyndon #1: An Obsession Begins

lbjFew presidents would ever know more triumph, few suffer such a swift and tragic fall. -LBJ. American Experience

I wasn’t always obsessed with Lyndon Baines Johnson. 

This particular itch began several years ago. I was at home, nursing a cold, when I decided to watch a documentary about Lyndon Johnson. On the couch, sniffly, and uncomfortable I fell into and out of sleep, the movie playing in the background. When I woke up, I had been impregnated with a new desire to know Lyndon. He had entered my heart. He has been at home there ever since.

LBJ, Lyndon Baines Johnson — Texan, Democrat, political virtuoso. He rises up out of the 1960s like a Colossus, like something from Shakespeare, filling the stage — 10, 12 characters in one. He is admired and he is detested. Everybody who knew him had stories. -LBJ. American Experience

This, ahem, interest has developed into something that other people don’t understand. Many have told me as much. Wonder is what’s plastered across acquaintances’ faces when they ask themselves what I see in him.

I can’t explain it either.

It just is.

And my life is better, richer for it.

But that isn’t enough for me. I want you to see him how I see him.

Join me?