A: Break it good

Trying to stave off one of those lonely, self-important nights where I bemoan the fact that there's nobody to talk to.

The weekend dashed by in a haze of work. One thing I've learned is that the customer is often not right, and that's why my job exists. Oftentimes, maybe once a week or so, someone will find their circumstances utterly unacceptable and choose to take it out on the poor lackeys who make, well, not enough to put up with this shit. We're people too. A guy was utterly convinced we were screwing him because his DVD didn't work and we can't offer a cash refund, only an exchange. Blew his lid. Did we make the merchandise? "You don't care about your customers, you don't stand by your product." Sure we care about our customers, we want them to get the DVD they wanted. We stand by our products, we're confident it's not so shitty that this happens all the time, and give you a new one free of charge when it does. We can't just hand you back your cash because you no longer want the DVD you bought, just because one copy out of thousands pressed was defective. You've got to meet us halfway.

I mean hey, I had to return Lost season 3 because of a defect, and still it only works on my fancy DVD player, not my in-TV one. No explanation for that. But I didn't take it out on HMV, and not just because I hoped to work there again.

Deep breath, kid. The weird thing is, when the guy came in (I had spoken to him on the phone, and the three of us working that night spoke with him at the counter) I felt a sense of closure (he got his replacement) but Alan was a bit more... I dunno, shaken up about it.

It's weird, the things that stick with you.

When I was a kid, my dad had this expression: don't look at me in that tone of voice. He would use it when we'd look pleadingly at him, pouting. It was his subtle way of telling us to man up; he wasn't a hard guy by any stretch of the imagination, but he came from a long line of British stiff upper lip, and that lineage was kind of broken at our generation. I would root that in my mom, who is not the coolest customer out there.

Always been hesitant to put my dad into words. He's complicated. Pragmatic, usually capable of seeing multiple sides of an issue. Many situations, I can't tell how he's going to react. Some situations, I know exactly how he's going to react. The one time I got suspended at school, the part that upset me the most was knowing his reaction. What I actually did to get suspended was, if not cool in and of itself, at least one of those things you can look back at and say you learned something about yourself.

I thought it was a stupid turn of phrase, "don't look at me in that tone of voice." I'd hear it and go, "You can't look at someone with your voice." It's only now -- and literally, I mean like, today -- that I thought back on it and realized the rather subtle work of poetry that phrase was, and I'm pretty sure he came up with it himself. To my knowledge that is his most creative contribution to the world of language. I like it now.

I have no idea how people like my parents end up raising kids like me and my brothers. Eric and I were talking it out early in the year, when he was still around. We came to the conclusion that, whatever else we may think of our dad, he isn't a boring guy. Sometimes he is, but he helps cultivate an environment of unboringness. He's not wacky or anything, he's very normal. Growing up, and especially after he and my mom split, the weirdest moments were the ones where he actually parented. I'm not saying he was necessarily a buddy type either, he was just a guy who would be around, and if something went wrong, or if we went over the line, he'd take care of it somehow. He represented the threat of being parented.

At the end of my shift today, the four of us (Me, Taylor, Adam, Alan) were discussing how one could conceivably steal something from the store, and how stupid you'd have to be to try that. I shoplifted once from the convenience store. I also ran a scheme to get more candy on Halloween. As far as I can recall, those two candy-related transgressions, and my one suspension, were the only times I ever got fire and brimstone from him. My current behaviour is largely motivated by a desire to never again feel the way I did on those occasions. And I'm at the age where it seems unlikely that my dad will ever come in through the door bellowing "SCOTT. (MIDDLENAME.) WILLIAMS." That was the feeling of guilt. THAT has stuck with me. Somehow, and I have no idea how I did it, and I'm not sure if he knows either, he managed to create himself as a figure I would, at all costs, be afraid to disappoint. And that, my lads and ladies, is parenting.

I've managed a meager amount of writing output. Puffed up my script considerably. I don't love the additions, they feel somewhat disconnected. The whole thing may need another pass, but I'm proceeding, just to see how it ties together for Cary.

Someday I'll get my act together. I should go to bed, relatively early morning tomorrow.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto