The sleepy town I call home during the winter has gone through some changes in the time I’ve been gone. The video store that was run by the Lowells is now vacant with a “For Lease” sign in the front window that reads more like “Closed For Lack Of Interest”.
There used to be a small independent grocer by the name of Diane that dealt with the local farmers in the desert and surrounding areas. Everything was home grown and the only way to get this honest produce was to fill out an order form. She had broccoli, heirloom tomatoes, various kinds of apples and pears, beans and asparagus just to name a few. It felt really good to support local farming and to be part of such a healthy and beneficial interaction that you rarely see anymore.
As I drove into town I thought of how much fun I had preparing my meals around the seasonal produce. The stews I used to make. The elaborate omelets I would whip up so I could use what was left in the fridge to make room for what I would pick up that afternoon with all the other flip-flop wearing desert rats. However, as I drove by I caught glimpse of the store and saw the dreaded sign. This one read “Squeezed Out by Corporate Fucks!”…well not those words exactly, but close enough. Damn it!
Needless to say I was very disappointed by these discoveries. I mean, the list of reasons I like living in Palm Springs isn’t all that long to begin with. It wasn’t a very good time for a really annoying experience with an uncaring corporation. Enter Bank of America.
Whenever I have any interaction at all with Bank of America it usually ends with me fantasizing about removing all of my money from their greedy hands, packing it into Mason jars and burying them under palm trees. Not only do they have control of my money, they took over my credit card companies so it’s like there’s no escape. They have me at their incompetent mercy, but that lack of control I experience is admittedly offset by the extreme convenience of their normal operations. And I don’t really have that many Mason jars.
Last week I lost my ATM card; complete financial paralysis, right? It seemed like a visit to a local branch would be the best way to fix this. At the branch I was instructed to pick up a small white phone and press 1. Why did I bother coming to the branch if no one would help me? After a couple of minutes speaking with someone who sounded like he was all of 15 years old, I allegedly had my ATM card re-issued and left feeling some accomplishment and relief that my account had not been emptied.
This morning I called to check on the status of my card. I have learned from years of experience that thinking everything is taken care of will only lead to disappointment. I called my customer service (don’t even get me started on that phrase) number; the same one I’ve called for all of the nightmare problems I’ve had with them in the past. Sure enough, my ATM card had not been reissued and I had to sit on hold for three minutes grinding my teeth before they could find evidence that I reported it lost a week prior. I was livid and there was nothing they could say to make me feel anything less – especially not another one of their empty “I’m SO sorry!” statements.
It isn’t just the banks or the utility companies. More and more I find that my human interaction is being replaced by something more cost efficient. It isn’t an upgrade in any sense. Our population is booming out of control and yet companies are employing fewer people each year. While the companies protect their profit margins, we get crap service and have to visit megastores to get broccoli that was grown in Nova Scotia and have our movie rentals shipped to us from a distribution center in Kentucky. Personally, I’d rather support my local economy, get superior merchandise and have a nice chat with my favorite video store guy about new releases.
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