Cannabis, crime and THE BIG WINK

My crime novel THE BIG WINK is looking more and more like a snapshot of history. On Tuesday, the City Council in Redding, CA, voted to ban medical marijuana dispensaries, effective Dec. 1.

I wrote THE BIG WINK while we were living in Redding in 2009. It was a wild time in Northern California, with everyone jumping on the medical marijuana bandwagon while the feds looked the other way. Thirty dispensaries opened in the city, and thousands of people got medical recommendations that allowed them to legally smoke pot. Everyone, it seemed, was scrambling around, trying to find a way to cash in on the Green Wave.

Perfect setting for a crime novel. Into this mix, I introduced a crew of robbers led by hardened local criminal Ray Bunch. My fictional gang knocked over half a dozen dispensaries, stealing cash and weed that could be resold on the street. But during one hold-up, a prominent banker gets shot. Suddenly, the news media, the cops and advocates on all sides of the cannabis issue are focused on Redding and the robberies.

I'm very proud of THE BIG WINK. I think it's one of my best novels, and it's garnered five-star reviews. But soon it may no longer reflect the real world. If the City Council's ban holds up against the lawsuits to come, the dispensaries will disappear and potheads (and legitimate medical users) will go back to buying off the street.

Read the news story here. And, please, read The BIG WINK. Only $2.99 on Kindle, Smashwords and other e-book platforms.

The Customer Service Two-Step

The router/modem thingy that connects our house to DSL and the greater Interwebs was deader than vaudeville, so I had time on my hands. I called Customer Service.

First, I sat through a lot of recorded messages, occasionally pressing “1” to keep things moving along. The helpful recordings suggested I should plug it in and check the cables, but I’d already tried all that, so I just waited.

A live human eventually came on the line. She was very nice, very helpful. Though we had certain communications difficulties -- I kept referring to the router/modem thingy as “that box on my desk” -- we managed to sort it out.

She asked me the same questions about whether it’s plugged in, but I’d already tried all that. When she heard that even the “power” light wouldn’t come on, she ruled that I need a new box, which I thought was the whole point of this conversation.

Then she said, “Your modem is no longer under warranty. So a new one will be $69.”

“I don’t want to pay $69,” I said. “I already pay you people every month. Without a box, I can’t get your expensive service, which I already pay you for.”

“But the modem costs--”

“I didn’t break the box. I shouldn‘t have to pay for it..”

“Let me go talk to my manager.”

“Okey-doke.”

Several helpful recorded messages later, she came back on: “Okay, my manager says we can give you the modem for free, but you’ll need to extend your service contract by one year.”

“No, I’m not allowed to do that. My wife handles all that stuff. She’s not here.”

“Huh. Let me go talk to my manager.”

A couple of minutes of recorded messages followed, but I wasn't listening. I was playing Spider Solitaire. That part of my computer still worked.

“Okay," she said when she returned. " My manager says we can give you the modem for free and with no contract extension.”

“Free? Great. How soon will it get here?”

“Two to three business days.”

“That won’t do. I need it sooner. This is my home office. My whole business runs through that box. My wife’s business, too.”

“Let me go talk to my manager.”

A few Spider Solitaire games later, she returned: “Okay. We’ll send it overnight delivery.”

“Free shipping?”

She sighed. “All for free.”

“Perfect.”

I report this triumph of everyday life not simply to crow about it, but to remind you that you don’t have to settle for the first answer. With a little mulishness, you often can get exactly what you want.

My wife taught me that. Over the years, I’ve watched her wear down a lot of salespeople and helplines. Her favorite expression: “Can you make an exception for me?”

All it takes is patience. Dealing with Customer Service has developed into a little telephone two-step, and you have to let it run its course. I’m sure the “manager” my helpful operator consulted each time was the next line on a page of sales protocol. In between her ever-improving offers, she was probably doing her nails. Or playing Spider Solitaire.

It’s her job to go down her list and drag her feet and maybe squeeze some money or a contract extension out of the hapless, panicky customer. It’s the good consumer’s job to wait her out.

These companies know they have a lot of competition out there, and to keep customers they must let us have our way with them. Eventually.

All they ask is that we dance with them first.

Your extended warranty

Thank you for buying your new Appliance or Other Product from Nameless Store That Sells Appliances and Other Products! We’re sure your life will be much improved by this purchase.

This product comes with full warranties from its manufacturer, and that should be good enough, but you never know. We’re not saying it’s going to break or anything, but you might want an Extended Warranty from Nameless Store. Just in case.

For only (a shockingly high sum of money) per year, our Extended Warranty protects your Appliance or Other Product against all malfunction, damage or negligence. If it breaks, we’ll fix it. Guaranteed!

The following restrictions apply:

You must bring your Appliance or Other Product to us for repair. We can’t be driving all over the state, picking up appliances and other products all day. We’ve got a Nameless Store to run here! Ha-ha! But no, really, you’d better rent a truck.

This contract does not cover the costs of labor or parts, beyond certain levels to be determined later by Nameless Store. Haul it in here. Then we’ll tell you what it’ll really cost.

When we say “fix it,” we mean we’ll TRY to fix it. Some things can’t be repaired. Throw your plugged-in Appliance or Other Product into the shower (not that we’d ever recommend that!), and we probably can’t bring it back to life. Or, you, either.

Our repairs follow a certain protocol:

You wait your turn. Yes, you do. We’ll get to you between 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. on Tuesday. Or is that a week from Tuesday? I forget.

Your Appliance or Other Product is examined in our Triage Center by an experienced technician named Earl, who’s had the same toothpick in the corner of his mouth for 23 years. Earl will shake his head and pronounce the Appliance or Other Product “fried.”

Sighing and shrugging, he’ll pass it on to Level Two of our Extended Warranty Service Center, where qualified technician Doyle will drink coffee and talk about fishing while his apprentice Skippy screws around with the insides of your Appliance or Other Product, making the problem much, much worse.

A period of four to six weeks will pass. During this period, we will forget you ever existed. Guaranteed!

Eventually, you’ll call and complain. This will snap us to attention, and your Appliance or Other Product will be located and transferred to Level Three, which is over there in the corner with those other losers.

Another period passes. Usually only two to three weeks this time. We’ll await your call.

Once you simmer down a little, sir, we will repair your Appliance or Other Product. Or we will sell you another piece of junk with its own Extended Warranty.

Your repaired/replacement Appliance or Other Product will be delivered to your home and installed by Certified Installation Team members Itchy Bob and Ralph the Recent Parolee.

We guarantee that this repaired/replaced Appliance or Other Product will then work for a short time. Hopefully, for the life of this Agreement. We’ll see.

If the Appliance or Other Product continues to give you trouble, you should contact us immediately, and we’ll send Earl over to look at it. Guaranteed!

Escape clause: Nameless Store is not responsible for anything, ever. Not your broken whats-it. Not for any injury or illness that might result from its use or misuse. Nor small fires, nor anything like that. Nada. We didn’t do it. You can’t prove it. Don’t even think about suing us. Ralph the Recent Parolee remembers where you live.

Guaranteed!

Break the ice with small talk

If you want to succeed in business or most any other endeavor, you must master the art of small talk.

Most pursuits involve interaction with other human beings, whether they be employers or coworkers or customers, and those humans will judge you on your ability to keep up a conversation about, um, nothing.

Some people think you should only speak when you have something important to say. We call these quiet types “the unemployed.” Others are shy, and it truly pains them to speak up. But they must overcome their reticence unless they intend to work their whole lives as “mimes.”

Speaking of the French, the term “small talk” originated in France, where it’s known as “un petit palaver.” The French are famous for their ability to talk endlessly about nothing at all, but we should remember that they are drunk on red wine, which tends to make people talk too much and wear berets.

You don’t have to be French to become a “maestro” of small talk. Anyone can do it, given practice and the right mental outlook. (Red wine doesn’t hurt, though take care not to overdo it. It’s a fine line between scintillating chat and drunken blather. Ask any waitress.)

The secret to small talk is to ask questions. People love to talk about themselves, and as long as you can stay awake during their answers, they’ll come away thinking you’re a charismatic, intelligent person who sincerely cares about others. As we all know, if you can fake sincerity, you’ve got it made.

How to get started? Small talk usually begins with “icebreaker” questions that are simple, direct and innocent of underlying intent. Questions as easy as “What’s your name?“ or “Where are you from?” open avenues for small talk. As you become comfortable with those, you can move up to more involved questions, such as “What can I do for you today?” or “How about this weather?” or “Where did you get that nifty beret?”

Once the ice is broken, follow the other person’s lead. This requires “listening.” If you pay attention to what the other person says, it’ll naturally lead to other questions that help maintain the conversation. Questions such as “Anything else?” or “Hot enough for you?” or “Are you French?”

Advanced small-talkers pick up cues from the environment. In an office setting, look for family photos, framed diplomas or evidence of hobbies to find common ground. These cues can lead to questions such as “Are those your children?” or “Oh, so you graduated from technical school?” or “Do you enjoy fishing?” (Caution: Be prepared for hours of tedium if you ask, “Is that a picture of your car?”)

You want to get personal, but not too personal. Inappropriate questions can lead to embarrassment, demotion, even unemployment. Some examples:

“What happened to your hair?”
“How come your children don’t look like you?”
“How about them Cowboys?”
“Can’t you have that removed?”
“What’s that smell? Is that you?”
“Did you vote for that idiot?”
“Is that red wine in your coffee cup? At this hour?”
“How’d you like a kick in the butt, frog-face?”

Remember to keep it simple. Not too deep. You’re not jumping into the conversational ocean here. Small talk is like a spring-swollen stream -- shallow and swift. Steer clear of inappropriate questions and really listen to what others say, and you’ll do fine.

If you find yourself stuck in a conversational corner, try this: “Parlez vous Francais?”

How to redeem your rebate

Thank you for purchasing the new Widget 4000. You'll find the Widget 4000 is a super product that meets all your widget needs. Best of all, you save $100 with this simple mail-in rebate!

To redeem, you'll need the original sales receipt, your credit card receipt and the UPC bar code from the product. The UPC code is printed on a label attached to the product box with Super Glue. Cut the label off, cardboard and all, with a razor blade. (For safety reasons, we cannot process rebate requests that have blood on them.)

To fulfill your request, we'll need the following: Your name, address, age, phone number, credit card number, ATM number, driver's license number, Social Security number, vehicle identification number, library card number, computer password, childhood nickname, blood type and the names of any prescription medications you're currently taking.

We'll also need the same information from your spouse, if any. If you have a firstborn male child, we'll need his information, too. If you do not have a firstborn male child, please enclose a written explanation.

Please include the following information as well: Where you purchased your Widget 4000, how much you paid for it, why you chose that store and how much commission the salesman made. This information must be accompanied by a short essay explaining why you chose the Widget 4000 over similar products.

(Rebate requests that do not include the essay will be considered null and void. The Widget 4000 Corp. retains rights to all written material and may use your testimonial in advertisements without seeking your permission first.)

All your information should be hand-printed on an unlined sheet of legal-sized typing paper. (Lined paper, indecipherable handwriting or crooked margins will result in disqualification.)
Accompanying artwork will not be returned.

Use of profane language will make the request null and void. This is to protect our workers.
If you have retained a lawyer to help you seek your rebate, please include the lawyer's name, address and whether s/he is allergic to peanuts. If you are a lawyer yourself, we require that all the above steps be accomplished while performing a handstand.

Since our fulfillment center is in Thessalonika, all requested information should be written in Greek. (If you actually speak Greek, then we meant Malay.)

All items must be placed in a plain white envelope exactly 3.5 by 27 inches. Using the wrong sized envelope will void your request.

The front of the envelope must bear ONLY the address listed below. Write your return address on the back in a simple alphabet-replacement code where A equals 1, B equals 2, etc. Write the numbers upside-down and left-handed.

Correct postage must be attached. Postage should be paid in Algerian dinars. No exceptions will be allowed.

The envelope must be mailed to our fulfillment center by midnight of the date 30 days after your purchase. Make that exactly at midnight. Yeah, we like that better.

Processing takes about 90 days. If you do not hear from our fulfillment center within 120 days, you should stand on your head and hum "Mammy's Lil Baby Loves Shortnin' Bread" until someone slaps you.

Good luck!

Unceremoniously dumped

My last Home Front column ran today in the Record-Searchlight. I was told just before Christmas that the newspaper would drop the column for budgetary reasons.

Budget must be really tight at the R-S if they can't afford a weekly freelance column. Earlier, I lost my "in" at Scripps Howard News Service when the Albuquerque Tribune went under. Tough year for newspapers.

While glad to be out of an industry in decline, I'm a little nostalgic about what may be my last byline in a newspaper. I entered the biz in 1975, and journalism has played a big role in my life.

But I'm not really going anywhere. I'm right here online. And bigger things are in the works. Stay tuned.

Read this at work

American workers are among the most productive in the world, but imagine how much we could accomplish if we didn't waste a quarter of every workday.

According to a survey, the average worker fritters away 2.09 hours per day, not counting lunch. Time-wasting activities cited in the survey included surfing the Internet, chatting with co-workers, conducting personal business, running errands and "spacing out."

(This survey was conducted before the current financial crisis; now most employees spend all day watching the stock market and quietly weeping.)

The survey of more than 10,000 employees was done by America Online and Salary.com on the Internet, so it's no surprise that computer use was the top time-waster. (The results did not break down how much time was spent filling out survey responses.)

"A certain amount of slacking off is already built into the salary structure," said Bill Coleman, senior vice president at Salary.com, who was running a personal errand at the time. (Kidding!)

But 2.09 hours is twice what employers expect, according to a follow-up survey of corporate human resource managers, and the time wasted adds up to an estimated $759 billion a year.

That number's deceiving, however, because some of that wasted time might be "creative waste," which Coleman defined as "time that may well have a positive impact on the company's culture, work environment, and even business results. Personal Internet use and casual office conversations often turn into new business ideas."

Some thoughts about this survey:

One, it's skewed toward white-collar workers who have access to the Internet. Nobody working on an assembly line goofs off two hours a day. Many blue-collar workers even have their bathroom breaks timed and regulated. Any sawmill worker who's "spacing out" soon will go by the nickname Stumpy.

Two, survey respondents make mistakes and tell lies. They might be overestimating their wasted time (or underestimating it, though I don't know how a man wasting more than two hours out of every eight could stay employed unless the company is owned by his father-in-law).

Three, many time-wasting activities clearly were not reported. Picture how much time per day is spent on cigarette breaks, drinking on the job, snacking, napping, doodling, putting on makeup, nostril mining, ogling secretaries, canoodling in the supply closet, planning vacations, looking for another job, squeaky chair adjustment, bathroom magazine consumption, and phone sex. And the No. 1 time-waster of all -- complaining -- isn't even mentioned.

Finally, the survey omits a growing portion of the working population -- those of us who toil in home offices. We don't have bosses looking over our shoulders. No one's timing how long we spend in the bathroom. We can "space out" to our hearts' content, at least until the bills come due.

We at-home workers waste time in many of the same ways as our corporate peers -- Internet surfing, running errands, yakking on the phone -- but the boundaries are blurred. Going to the post office, for instance, could be personal errand or top-priority business, depending on what's being mailed and how desperate we are to get out of the house.

Because nobody's watching, we can waste time in ways not available to people who work in real offices: Wandering aimlessly around the house. Random mumbling. Uninterrupted hours of computer solitaire. Toenail maintenance. Phone pranks. Counting dust bunnies. Staring out the window. Staring into the refrigerator. Staring into the depths of our tortured souls.

The only way we work-at-home types get anything done is by exercising discipline and maintaining a rigid work schedule.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for my regularly scheduled "spacing out."

Inconvenient truths

My family was dining at a poolside café during a recent vacation when I noticed this extremely small print on the menu: "For your convenience, an 18 percent gratuity will be added to your check."

This chapped me. It wasn't the amount; I often tip 20 percent without batting an eye. Wasn't even the audacity of it, though it always rankles when restaurants presume that customers are tightwads who won't tip unless forced.

No, what griped me was the phrase "for your convenience." What's "convenient" about having an 18 percent gratuity sneaked onto your bill? Did the restaurant management think we customers would say: "Ah, they've included the tip! How convenient! Now I won't have to judge the service for myself or do any complicated math!"

Maybe, since it was a poolside café, they thought we'd all go mad, spinning around, trying to find tip money in our pocket-free swimsuits. Or, that we'd be too sunstroked to understand the subtle hints (greedy leers, reaching hands, dripping saliva) the waitstaff was throwing our way.

"For your convenience" is just another example of lame marketing spin. Corporate America takes us all for saps, and they think we'll fall for anything if it's labeled "convenient." This is the same reason that every bright-colored product package is splashed with words like "new!" or "improved!" or "easy-to-open!" when none of those things are true.

Any time you encounter the phrase "for your convenience," doesn't it really mean terribly inconvenient? "For your convenience, direct questions about this product to our corporate call center in Albania, between the hours of 4 a.m. and 6 a.m. on alternate Thursdays."

(If you read or hear "for your safety and convenience," look out. That usually means inconvenient and dangerous. For example, they always say on airplanes that your seatbelt should stay securely fastened "for your safety and convenience," when what they mean is: "We'd prefer that you be strapped into your seat, screaming, when the plane goes down in flames.")

When you encounter "for your convenience," it usually means something that's convenient and/or profitable for the corporation in question, not the consumer. "For your convenience, this automated teller machine accepts all debit cards for a charge of only $3 per transaction."

Or, the phrase is connected to a warning mandated by the corporate attorneys: "For your safety and convenience, do not ingest this product while operating heavy machinery near kindergartens."

Occasionally, the phrase is used to convey the message that you, the customer, are an idiot: "For your convenience, these hot dogs contain no actual dog. Enjoy!"

While it appears that companies are misusing the term "convenience," a little research finds mitigating circumstances, right in the roots of the word.

"Convenience," it turns out, comes from the Latin conve or "pay" and nience, which means "through the nose." Strictly speaking, the corporate spin doctors often use the term properly.

This usage explains the term "24-hour convenience store." At these small markets, you can "pay through the nose" anytime of the day or night for the same products available elsewhere for less.

Unless it's a much longer drive to the nearest supermarket, convenience stores don't make any sense. Many supermarkets are open 24 hours now, in case you get the midnight munchies, and most have "express lanes" where you can get checked out as quickly as you would at a convenience store.

Come to think of it, the only difference is that you have to walk farther in the aisles of a regular supermarket to get your midnight gallon of ice cream. If you're buying fattening food at midnight, you probably ought to be doing more walking.

For your safety and convenience.

Ugly and Unfriendly, Inc.

As a work-at-home dad, I'm always on the lookout for items that help justify my decision to remain unemployed -- oops, I meant self-employed -- and a couple of new publications do just that.

One is a study by the Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis, which found that attractive people tend to make more money than their more homely counterparts. The other is a self-help book by Tim Sanders called "The Likeability Factor: How to Boost your L-Factor and Achieve Your Life's Dreams."

This is just the kind of workplace pressure I don't need. To become a success, to even get paid as much as the next guy, I need to be handsome and likeable? I'm sorry, but that's asking too much. Better that I continue to work alone at home, where I can be as unkempt and unfriendly as usual.

The Federal Reserve study found that attractive people tend to earn 5 percent more per hour than average-looking folks, after factoring out other variables like education and experience. Worse yet, the researchers found a "plainness penalty" of 9 percent less per hour, punishing those with below-average looks. The worst penalty hit women who were obese, who were paid 17 percent less per hour than slim women. Tall men, on the other hand, scored a slight "height premium" for each inch they towered over the national median.

The Fed said these differences in earning might result from differences in self-confidence or social skills. Or, it could be plain old discrimination.

The government should study this topic more carefully, because I know we all have questions. For example, I personally am abnormally tall. Does that mean I've been paid extra all these years? I don't think so. As I become increasingly obese, does that cancel out my height? Does my lifelong attachment (har!) to facial hair work against me?

In general, can the "beauty premium" be proven to exist, and can we find ways to mitigate such discrimination? Do short, fat, homely people have a class-action lawsuit here? Can an "extreme makeover" result in a promotion? Can we now argue that plastic surgery is a legitimate business expense and should therefore be tax-deductible?

Meanwhile, Sanders, an author and motivational speaker, got lots of media attention for his book, which stresses smiling and listening and empathy and appreciation for others and similar such "likeable" traits.

This would seem to be good news for those suffering the "plainness penalty." Maybe you can't change your face, but you can plaster a smile upon it. Maybe it's too late to grow taller, but you can grow more empathetic to your co-workers. People will say, "You know, old (insert your name here) is ugly as a mud fence, but he sure is friendly!"

Likeability's not for me. If I started acting likeable in a workplace, colleagues would want to "share" things with me and tell me their personal problems and generally have conversations. Who needs that grief? From there, it's only a short leap to co-workers selling me pounds of band candy that would make me even fatter, which could affect my earnings. Frankly, I can't afford the cut in pay.

Yes, these two publications give me all the ammunition I need in my ongoing battle to remain a grumpy househermit. Clearly, the corporate world has hung out a sign that says, "Ugly Old Grouches Need Not Apply."

That's good enough for me. I know when I'm not wanted. I'll stay home.

You've been warned

Reading warning labels can be hazardous to your mental health.

We're surrounded by warnings these days. Consumer product labels and owner's manuals contain paragraphs of fine-print legalese, alerting us to potential danger.

Corporations try to anticipate all hazards, including any that might be dreamed up by especially creative idiots. Thus, we get electric hair dryers with labels warning against using them in the shower, and Styrofoam cups that warn, "This coffee is HOT!!!"

These warnings have become so prevalent and bizarre that a group called Michigan Lawsuit Abuse Watch, or M-LAW, hosts an annual Wacky Warning Label Contest. One recent winner was a toilet brush with a tag that says, "Do not use for personal hygiene."

M-Law president Robert B. Dorigo Jones said, "Warning labels are a sign of our lawsuit-plagued times. Plaintiffs lawyers who file the lawsuits that prompt these warnings argue they are making us safer, but the warnings have become so long that few of us read them anymore -- even the ones we should read."

If nobody's reading them anyway, why not include every possible contingency on every label? Couldn't we save a lot of time, grief and legal fees by creating a Universal Warning Label? To wit:

WARNING: Do not use this product for any reason, ever. If you choose to ignore this warning, the manufacturer takes no responsibility for any harm, injury or inconvenience that may result.

May cause cancer, birth defects, abdominal distress, headaches, allergic reactions, scabies, leprosy and bad vibes. Do not use this product if you have an existing medical condition, such as breathing.

Do not use this product if you are taking prescription medication. May cause drowsiness, especially if combined with alcohol. Do not operate heavy machinery.

Do not use if packaging shows signs of tampering. Do not eat the packaging. Do not suffocate yourself with the packaging.

Not a flotation device. Do not use this product as a parachute. Do not drive this product off a cliff into a steaming pool of lava. Not for bungee jumping. Do not use for sexual pleasure or personal hygiene.

Wear protective headgear.

Electric shock hazard! Do not use this product while standing in a puddle. Do not urinate on live wires. Do not stick your tongue to batteries to see if they're still good.

Expect a certain amount of shrinkage. Some settling may have occured during shipment. Wash whites separately.

This product contains calories. And fat. If you eat it, you may become fat yourself. This is not the manufacturer's fault.

Keep out of reach of children and adults who are deemed "slow."

Use at your own risk. Improper use of this product could result in fire, injury or death. Proper use of the product might be chancy, too. I'd carefully set it down and back away, if I were you.

Seek professional help. Buy the service contract. Pay extra for rust protection. Warranty is null and void.

Failure to read and heed this warning could result in accident, injury, brain damage, suffocation, disease, facial swelling, monetary loss, unemployment, bankruptcy, pregnancy, loss of limbs or digits, alcoholism, addiction, alienation, defamation, ridicule, unsightly body hair, hives or the heebie-jeebies.

None of these results are the responsibility of the manufacturer.

Please don't sue us. Please.

Catalog jam

Is there an actual "Pottery Barn" somewhere?

Is a barn the proper place to store pottery? Isn't keeping your pottery in a barn sort of like keeping your bull in a china shop?

Such questions have been on my mind, thanks to a chance encounter in San Francisco. My family was in a restaurant, my wife and I sneaking glances at the next table, where a group of young urban trendies seemed to be having a much better time than we were. They made us feel old and frumpy.

My wife turned to me and said, with a sniff, "Pottery Barn people."

She was exactly right, as usual. These were the people you imagine when you thumb through the Pottery Barn catalog of home furnishings. Young and fit, hip and stylish, they live in apartments with great views and espresso machines. They looked like guest stars on "Friends."

It started me wondering: Is this the newest way to sort us all into tribes? Can we be categorized by which slick mail-order catalogs litter our homes?

If there are Pottery Barn people, are there also Crate & Barrel people? And are they really well-organized?

We've already got a name for Williams-Sonoma people -- foodies. Only a "foodie" can tell you why it's imperative to have the proper stainless-steel whisk in your kitchen.

What about Harry & David people? What would you call them? "Fruities?" Wouldn't they object?

The more I thought about it, the more the catalogs seemed worthy of sociological study. I went through some of the approximately 17 trillion catalogs that come to our house each year, trying to find patterns and social demarcations.

Who are the marketers targeting? Do the customers already exist, ready to have labels applied to them, or do they somehow shape their lifestyles to fit the world depicted in their favorite catalogs? Has it become a matter of "you are what you buy?"

For instance, there's a catalog called Anthropologie, which features European-looking accessories and clothing. I asked my wife about the target audience, and she said, "Rich women who think they're French." Ah, oui.

Many of the women's catalogs try to evoke a sense of place: Coldwater Creek, Sundance, Maryland Square. Others sound like old-fashioned department stores: Talbots, Chadwick's, Spiegel, Nordstrom. Women apparently can recognize each other from such clothes. They see another woman and go, "Aha, a member of the Talbots tribe."

Then there are all the casual clothes catalogs, broken down by target markets:

L.L. Bean: Rugged outdoorsmen who hike.
Orvis: Rugged outdoorsmen who fish.
Land's End: Rugged outdoorsmen who live near a beach.
TravelSmith: Rugged outdoorsmen who spend too much time in airports.
Eddie Bauer: Rugged outdoorsmen who drive SUVs.
Nautica: Rugged outdoorsmen who own yachts.
J. Crew: Outdoorspersons who are too young and cool to be rugged.

Some catalogs are full of gadgets and gizmos. Brookstone and The Sharper Image have all kinds of electronic whizbangs you didn't even know you needed, ultimately designed to relieve you of your disposable income.

Bed, Bath & Beyond seems self-explanatory, though that "beyond" part worries me. Frontgate, Lillian Vernon and dozens of others appeal to homeowners who value the perfect decorative welcome mat.

Levenger is for fountain-pen fetishists. Abercrombie & Fitch apparently caters to nudists. Victoria's Secret is for anorexics and 14-year-old boys.

But where is my own tribe among all these slick catalogs? What company targets overweight, aging, non-rugged INdoorsmen whose most strenuous activity is reading? Is there a catalog called Olde & Frumpy? Nearsighted & Dumpy? Gerontologie? J. Whew?

I'll be watching the mail.

Meeting expectations

It's a common notion in the business world that "nothing gets accomplished in meetings," but that couldn't be further from the truth.

Plenty occurs in your typical business meeting. In particular, careers are ruined because participants don't know how to play the game.

No matter what your field, you eventually will be expected to "take a meeting" with your superiors or co-workers or clients. Somewhere, I'm sure, lumberjacks are forced to sit around a long table and analyze performance and profit ratios.

(Even we lowly workers who toil in home offices occasionally are summoned to headquarters or forced to pitch our ideas to customers. We tend to be ineffective in meetings because we're accustomed to working alone, muttering and cursing and wearing coffee-stained sweatpants.)

The key to a successful business meeting is to be prepared. You must know your material and how best to project it. You must know the participants and what they expect. You must make sure you don't have spinach stuck in your front teeth.

All the etiquette lessons your mother tried to teach you apply to business meetings. Since you didn't listen to your mother any more than you currently heed your boss, let's review:

--Mind your manners. Common courtesy is expected at business meetings. Don't talk over other people, no matter how slow and befuddled they seem. Don't shoot rubber bands at co-workers. Don't chew gum while meeting with a client, and never, ever stick the chewed gum to the underside of his desk.

--Know your audience and what connections lie behind the scenes. Do some research, so you know which client is a slack-jawed idiot and which ones simply look like slack-jawed idiots. Dogpile-on-the-boss'-nephew almost never works. And, how many salesmen have been ruined by referring to competitors as "Satan's spawn," only to learn the customer is married to one of those competitors?

--Avoid sweeping generalizations. For instance, don't say "golf is for morons" until you find out your client's handicap.

--Don't hog the conversation. Nobody likes a know-it-all. Give others a chance to dig their own holes of ignominy. (Note: When you witness a colleague sink his career in a meeting, it's considered impolite to snort-laugh.)

--Pay attention. No matter how long-winded your boss or how unproductive a meeting seems, it's always bad form to start leafing through magazines. Just like in school, the teacher always calls on the student who's staring out the window.

--Know the terminology. You won't make a good impression using terms like "gizmo" and "widget" unless you work for Universal Gizmos and Widgets, Inc.

--Dress appropriately. At one time, the traditional business suit was the correct uniform for all meetings. No more. Part of knowing your audience is knowing how they dress. Hollywood types, for instance, tend to dress like carpenters. Computer engineers go for the "surfer/nerd" look. If you wear a business suit to a meeting with software geeks, they will sneer and flick pizza on you.

--Be careful with jokes. "Two drunks walk into a bar…" may not seem funny to a client who's active in Alcoholics Anonymous.

--Make suggestions. If you sit silent as a stump through every meeting, co-workers will start treating you like a stump. Or, worse, the way dogs treat a stump.

--Be prepared to back down. Don't insist that your idea is the only workable one or that the boss is stupid to ignore you. Wait until you're out of the meeting, then say those things in the "safety zone" behind your manager's back.

--Stay awake. No matter what.

If you follow these simple rules, you, too, can be effective in business meetings and go on to have a successful career. Particularly if you're the boss' nephew.

Warning: Reading this could be bad for you

The most disturbing thing I've read recently came from a carton of eggs.

Along with the usual hype about the eggs being "Grade AA" and "all natural" and "really, really good for you, despite what your doctor says," was this item, in red letters: "Vegetarian-fed hens."

I can't get this phrase out of my mind. Aren't chickens, by their very nature, vegetarians? Are there packs of carnivorous hens running around, hunting prey? Does it mean the hens are hand-fed by vegetarians? Or, scariest of all, the hens devour actual vegetarians, which raises the carnivore question again.

If "vegetarian-fed hens" is meant as a sale pitch, it fails miserably. It reminds us that eggs come from the nether regions of chickens, which, let's face it, we're trying not to think about when we sit down to breakfast. If it's meant as a warning, then shouldn't it be clearer? Should we be cautioning our vegetarian friends to steer clear of hens?

We've gone crazy with warning labels in this country. Manufacturers are so afraid of being sued, they warn us against ever using their products. Owners' manuals contain page after page cautioning against electric shocks and other potential disasters. Even advertising, the last bastion of institutionalized lying, is chock-full of warnings.

It began with cigarettes -- the "Surgeon General's Warning" on every pack, telling us tobacco smoke causes lung cancer, birth defects, heart disease, bad vibes, etc. At first, those warnings probably helped get the word out. But do they do any good now? Are there any smokers left who don't know cigarettes are bad for you? If so, we'd like the address of the cave they've been living in since 1967. We'll drop them a line.

Warning labels have gone far beyond such obvious health risks. The latest one to trouble me was on our minivan. The very long label begins: "WARNING: Motor vehicles contain chemicals known to the State of California to cause cancer and birth defects . . ."

Oh, so it's not drunk drivers that should worry us. It's the chemicals in the upholstery.

You can't turn on a TV these days without being offered prescription drugs. Drug companies spent $2.7 BILLION on "direct-to-consumer" advertising in 2001, according to the federal General Accounting Office. And we wonder why prescription drugs cost so much.

Yet the commercials contain so many warnings about side-effects, it's a wonder anyone takes the drugs. Yes, the product might help your allergies, but taking it could give you a worse disease or make you grow antlers.

I recently saw an ad for a drug that purports to battle "acid reflux." The side-effects included "headaches, diarrhea and abdominal pain." Now wait a minute: Isn't that what "acid reflux" is? Abdominal pain?

Consumers drive the American economy and, yes, we should be warned when products are dangerous. But nothing's risk-free. Shouldn't we consumers be given credit for a little common sense? Shouldn't we be spared some of these warnings? And, for Pete's sake, shouldn't we stop suing fast-food companies because their grease-dripping hamburgers made us fat?

We need to halt this tidal wave of lawsuits and warning labels, though we might need to post the following in chicken coops nationwide: "Warning -- Eating vegetarians can cause abdominal pain."

CEO = Corporate ethics omitted

Today's topic: "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Lying."

Corporate America has been shaken and stirred recently by one scandal after another. Almost daily, it's revealed that trusted honchos lied about their companies' financial health, then sold off their own stock holdings before the resulting crash. Or, they "cooked the books" to make them more palatable to investors. Or, they "loaned" themselves millions they knew they'd never pay back, then fled through the nearest fire exit.

The Bush administration has pledged -- without audible snickering -- to go after these corporate criminals, and a handful have been arrested. A few crooked CEOs eventually will exchange their pinstripes for a different sort of striped suit, one that complements the surrounding décor of steel bars and clanging doors.

(We can only hope they don't wind up in so-called "country club" prisons with cable TV and tennis courts. The average American wants corporate wrongdoers locked up in real prisons, preferably in the same cell with Junior, a sweaty 360-pound inmate who likes to dance.)

Whatever the punishment, it's too little too late for those of us who had money in the stock market or in one of the looted pension funds. We've lost our assets, the economy is staggering like a drunk on payday, and our dreams of retirement homes now center around cardboard boxes that once contained major appliances.

These shocking developments have led Americans to lose faith in Big Business and to ask themselves whether "business ethics" has become a contradiction in terms, an oxymoron like "jumbo shrimp" or "holy war."

Now, no doubt, we're in for a long period of navel-gazing as pundits, politicians and tycoons re-examine the nation's business practices in search of any evidence of ethics. It's an opportunity we shouldn't let slip away.

All of us should take a hard look at our own business ethics. Whether you work for a multinational corporate conglomerate or off your kitchen table, you're given the choice, nearly every day, between cheating and conducting business in an honest fashion.

How to be sure you're on the right road? Examine your own ethical nature with the following quiz:

Question: If given the opportunity, which office supplies would you steal for home use?

A. Pens and pencils.
B. Scotch tape.
C. Oil paintings off the walls.
D. The corporate jet.

Q: You're making change for a customer who gives you too much money. You can correct the error or pocket the difference. How much money would it take for you to choose the dishonest route?

A. Dime.
B. Quarter.
C. Dollar.
D. $400 billion.

Q: What should be the proper slogan for corporate America?

A. "The business of America is business."
B. "The customer is always right."
C. "Great googly-moogly, where'd my 401(k) go?"
D. "Greed is good."

Q. What is your worst vice?

A. Lying.
B. Cheating.
C. Stealing.
D. Making Securities Exchange Commission investigators weep.

Q: Say your company is going under and you're caught cashing in your stock options on the way to the Bahamas with a false identity and a briefcase full of purloined pensions. You should:

A. Claim it was all a misunderstanding and offer to repay the money.
B. Claim you were set up by your competitors.
C. Blame your employees.
D. Blame your accountant.

Q: If a client complains about a service or product, you should:

A. Refund his money.
B. Solve the problem to the client's satisfaction, no matter how much time or expense is involved.
C. Show him the fine print where it says you're liable for nothing, ever.
D. Buy the client's firm and liquidate it.

Scoring: If you answered "A" or "B" to any of the above, there might be hope for you yet, if you clean up your act. If you answered "C," it's too late to change. You might want to "make a killing in real estate" by investing in boxes labeled "Amana."

However, if you answered "D" to all of the above, then you're ready for a job as a chief executive officer in a major international corporation.

The recent arrests have created some new openings at the CEO level, but you'd better hurry. Junior's dance card is getting full.

Executive privilege

MEMORANDUM from:
N. Ron Andersen
President and CEO
Upuhrs Industries, Inc.

Dear trusted employees:

It has come to our attention here at headquarters that some of you are dissatisfied with recent developments in the company's economic condition.

Let me be honest. Yes, our great ship of industry has hit the rocks. Yes, our stock, which topped out at nearly $100 a share, now is so worthless that even panhandlers won't take it. And yes, all of your retirement benefits were tied up in that same stock.

But this is no time to despair. You should look at this financial cataclysm as a learning opportunity. As our government officials have declared, the falling fortunes of Upuhrs Industries prove a valuable lesson in the vagaries of capitalism, the economic system that made this country great.

Capitalism, a word derived from the ancient Greek for "every man for himself," gives every American the opportunity to ascend the corporate ladder and amass immense riches. Sure, it helps if you're a white male with friends in powerful places. But the very founders of this country were white males with powerful friends, and where would we be today if it hadn't been for those slave-owning white males? To question our great corporate culture is simply unpatriotic.

(To those churlish employees who spray-painted "Eat the Rich" on our $300 million corporate headquarters, I can only say: You are un-American. By the way, we know who the culprits are, and they can expect a late-night knock on the door of the cheap motel room where they've been staying since the company's fortunes went kablooey.)

As I was saying, capitalism allows every American the chance at great wealth. Need proof? Then look at the corporate board of Upuhrs Industries. Each of the suits who sits on our board made hundreds of millions of dollars by selling off his Upuhrs stock before the "crash." They remain what's commonly known as "filthy rich," even though our company has tanked and all the employees are now broke. If that's not filthy, I don't know what is.

But to resent the good fortune of our corporate leaders is to take the short-sighted view. We worked hard to reach the top of the ladder, climbing and striving and pushing competitors off the rungs. Sure, we had the advantages of Ivy League educations and inherited fortunes and friends in the White House. But, otherwise, we're no different from you lowly employees. We struggled, believe you me. I myself still bear the scars from injuries suffered in a college lacrosse match. And I know each of our board members has, at some time in his life, suffered a wicked hangover.

But why, you might ask, has this suffering made us wealthy, while you regular employees are off to the poorhouse? It's for the greater good of society.

Republicans have argued for years that we at the top should get all the juicy tax cuts because we'll use our money to benefit mankind, and that same philosophy applies here. What would you employees do if you still had money? You'd use it to retire, send your kids to college, buy a new boat, make mortgage payments. These are all selfish reasons. We, on the other hand, will use our vast gains for the greater good, such as buying a new yacht. By doing so, we'll keep this country's yacht builders at full employment. And that benefits the American economy.

To those who believe we lied, stole and "cooked" the books to get rich while you got nothing, I can only feel pity. I would gladly dispute those contentions, but our corporate attorney, H.R. "Stonewall" Jaxon, has advised that I should not go into specifics here.

Instead, I would ask you to look at the bigger picture. You've all worked hard for years to make Upuhrs Industries a great company. We at the top appreciate those efforts, and we've profited greatly from them. Thanks to you, we can afford congressmen and teams of lawyers that will keep us from being prosecuted for our alleged misdeeds. While you're pacing the floor all night, worrying, we will enjoy untroubled sleep as the waves gently lap at our yachts.

And that, my friends, is the true meaning of "executive privilege."