I don't like Marshall's. I had not been there before, but last night I ventured, on a costume hunt. It was about 8:00 PM, when one could expect the store to be winding down. There was not a smile on the face of any of the sales staff, and I overheard one supervisor, from behind her desk at the fitting room door, grilling a young salesperson about the state of her "area." There was a long line to check out, with only two registers out of five or six actually open. A mechanical voice prompted customers where to go: "Register 1 is now available. Please proceed to register 1." There was a supervisor lurking behind all the cashiers like a slave driver with a whip...he didn't open a register and get to work. Not his job, I guess. I probably won't go back.
I'm not particularly happy with Denny's, either. I went there, hoping for a salad. I sat there for at least 10 minutes with my stale coffee before a waitress got there...only two other customers in the place, and it still took that long? I liked the Fiesta Corn (fresh pico on it), but the dipping veggies included celery that was brown on the ends, and one of the cucumber slices in my salad looked as if it had seen better days. I asked for oil and vinegar for my salad, and the oil was borderline rancid. Not to self: when eating at Denny's, stick to breakfast!
And, what the hell is up with Arizona? Since their passage of draconian immigration legislation, which usurps Federal prerogatives, they have been working on a new law outlawing ethnic studies and teachers with accents. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/04/30/arizona-ethnic-studies-cl_n_558731.html. One of the talking heads last night said that 60% of the country is in favour of Arizona's first step into ethnic cleansing; I guess we'll have to see where Americans are willing to draw the line. How long till they have checkpoints at state borders, asking for papers before we even enter there? Will they ask me, or is it just for Latinos?
And the "Drill, Baby, Drill" crowd is still screaming its mantra, in spite of millions of gallons of oil spurting into the gulf from a mile under the surface that nobody seems to know how to stop.
We are going to hell in a hand basket. Pass the popcorn.