FIFA1, part 2

9.4.2014

Continuing from last week's Venue Announcement, I wrote this to Peet's® Customer Service:

• Last week I visited my local Peet's in Marina Del Rey, CA to pick up my usual order of 1 lb. of French and 1 lb. of Italian Roasts -both whole bean- mixed together. I call this the Peet's Pyrenees Blend. It's delish. However, the store was out of French Roast. I said, "okay, I'll take the pound of Italian. Do you have whole bean Costa Rica?" The counterman said, "bagged in front." I snagged one bag and handed it to him to ring up along with the italian. Just then, my six-year-old tugged on my arm asking for an Odwalla Mango Tango. That distracted me for a moment and when I looked up, your counterman had dumped the Costa Rica atop the Italian. I said, "did you just mix the Costa Rica with the Italian?" He said yes. I wasn't happy, as these roasts are very different. He should have known that. If he did, he might have asked if I wanted these two mixed and I would have said, NO! I'm not the kind of person to refuse to pay for the weird mix, which I've dubbed "Peet's FIFA1," as the only connection I can find for Costa Rica and Italy is soccer. I've gotten through one pound of FIFA1 and it's not great. I wish your counterman had the proper training or interest in coffee to question what he thought I asked for. Most of your employees are enthusiastic about coffee and I've spent time chatting with many of them. I had never seen the guy who made FIFA1 before, and my guess is he is a new hire and doesn't know his product. That's all. Peace out. -jhj 

I got this back:

• Hi Josh,
  
  Thank you for contacting us. Please accept my apologies for the inconvenience here, I’m so sorry for the unintentional ‘mix-up’ that occurred at our Marina del Rey store. We expect our employees to provide great service at all times, and from what you’ve described it sounds like we fell short. I’ve forwarded your comments to the store’s management team so this can used as a training opportunity for the staff. You can also expect to be contacted in the next 2-3 business days by someone from store, as I’m sure they’d like to reach out and invite you back. We appreciate you bringing to this our attention, and thank you for your time and your business.
  
  Please let me know if I can be of further assistance and I’d be happy to help.
  
  Kind regards,
  
  Andrew
  PEET’S COFFEE & TEA
  Berkeley, CA

OOOh ... Real customer service!  And not a 'bot!  And not outsourced!

Next week we wrap the riveting saga of FIFA1, or "Nothing Happens To Me Anymore."


Tonight - Homestead.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

FIFA1, part 1

9.3.2014

Every 14 to 21 days, or so, I venture over to Peet's@ Coffee and Tea and get me two pounds of whole bean coffee and sometimes some tea.  Rarely tea, but always coffee.

Over the course of many years of trying their single-origin roasts and blends, I've come up with my own blend and get it most of the time.  It's a pound each of their Italian roast and French roast coffee.  I have them mix the beans and I call the mix the Peet's® Pyrenees Blend.  It's delish.

So I go to re-bean just the other day and place my order:  A pound of French, a pound of Italian, mix 'em up and bag them.  I bring my own bags.

"We're out of French," a counterman I didn't recognize said.  (I go there a lot.  I get to know the employees' faces.)

"Dang," I said.  "Well, Plan B, then.  Do you have Costa Rica?"  I could get a pound of it and enjoy the single-origin beans and get my Pyrenees Blend the next time.

"No Costa Rica either," he said.

"We do have Costa Rica," someone emerging from the back of the store said.  I recognized her.  "It's bagged in the front, there," she pointed.

I went and looked.  Sure enough.  "I'll take this and the Italian, please," I said, handing over the Costa Rica.

Just then, Ez grabbed my arm and said, "Can I have a Mango Tango, please?  Can I have a Mango Tango?  Can I?  Can I?"

"Cut it out, Ez," I said, "Yes, but be quiet a sec."

Ez distracted me just long enough for the new Peet's® guy to dump the Costa Rica out on the already weighed Italian roast.

"Um, did you just start to mix the Costa Rica and the Italian??"  I said.

"Yes."

"That is NOT what I wanted.  And it sounds awful," I said.

But I'm not that kinda guy.  The fuck-you-I'm-not-gonna-buy-that guy.  I shrugged and paid up, hoping for the best.

The next morning I ground up and brewed a pot of FIFA1.  Linkey Loo Robot and I came up with the name, referencing about the only connection between Italy and Costa Rica:  Soccer.

The resulting cup of coffee was not great.

Next week, FIFA1, part 2:  What I'm doing about it.


Tonight - Gino & Carlo.

Kickin' it old-school, in a North Beach divey kinda way.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

The Fez is Red

9.2.2014

The imps in the schoolyard prior to morning lineup are usually having their last spaz-attacks just before the bell buzzes (it's electronic, hence "buzzes" and not "rings.")  There are a couple of them that can be counted on to be totally out of control, bouncing off other kids, slapping, kicking or yelling at things real and imagined.  I've suggested that Ez observe from a distance and get a visual example of how NOT to behave.

It's interesting to see the shit they bring to the free-for-all, too.  Like one who must have seen some Sumo wrestling matches over the weekend, because he spun his backpack around and wore it on the front, then proceeded to body-blow any- and everyone he could catch.  Or sneak up on.

"Don't do that shit, Ez," I said.

"Don't worry, dad, that kid's a spaz," Ez replied.

Another kid came running into the yard, screaming, "Indiana JONES!!" and making bullwhip-like motions with his arm.  This kid being a first grader, I wondered whether his parents screened "Raiders" for him.  Oh you know, impaled-people, poisoned monkeys, Nazis, machine-gunned Nazis, airplane propeller-diced Nazis, melting Nazis.  You know ... that "Raiders."  I figured that there was a chance he saw it all, but more likely something dumb like "The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles" or a comic book or his dad's pantomiming Indy or something.  However he got the Indy bullwhip, he whipped everyone he could catch.  Or sneak up on.

I asked Ez about it later.  "Did his dad let him watch the movie?"

"Yeah, the one where Indiana Jones' dad gave him the hat and bullwhip," Ez said.

"Which one is that," I asked.

"I don't know."

"That didn't happen in "Raiders of the Lost Ark," I said, "which is an awesome movie and we'll watch it together when you're 12 or something."

"Okay, dad," Ez said.

Tonight - Jay n' Bee Club
Come for the booze, stay for the pizza.

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Ducks

9.1.2014

Not working from home for most of the summer and actually getting out into the world, I'm stunned at just how oblivious people "out there" are to what is going on around them.  I'm referring to, naturally, drivers.

I lost count of people on their phones when I tried to count them, and I tried to count them every day.  They're talking on them (most while holding the phone up to their ear like they were on the kitchen phone (in the old days when there were phones in kitchen)),  flipping through something (Facebook, iTunes, text scroll, whatever) or pecking out something (you know).

Also in total oblivion are countless others that just. aren't. there.  Sure they're in the driver's seat, sure their hands are on the wheel, foot on the gas, but they're not aware of the traffic around them, the color of the light, the stripe of the lane or the motherfuckin' PEOPLE in the crosswalk.  This last one really irks me because I have to cross a street in a crosswalk every day.

The crosswalk is the one between my home and Ez's school.  The street it crosses is a quiet residential street that isn't anything like a quiet residential street.  The LA fuckwits have found a way to avoid the menacing, unpredictable parking lots that are the main arteries through the city simply by either clogging the small streets, or racing down them as if they were bigger boulevards.  The crosswalk I need to use gets both kinds of drivers.  Some close up every last inch between their car and the car in front of it.  No way will anyone merge in front of me!  I ain't letting anyone turn!  Others hit the fuckin' gas and narrowly miss clipping that car coming out of the neighborhood.  Doin' 40 down the road doesn't leave one much reaction time, let alone time for pedestrians in crosswalks get safely across.  I get one of each, usually every day.  I fuckin' hate it when the driver who doesn't yield gives you an "oops, sorry" -look, but even more irksome is the zombie that doesn't even notice the signs, blinkers, stripes or people waiting to cross.  These bastards are the worst.

So today, just this morning, Ez and I dodged the car standing on the stripes of the crosswalk while stuck in standing traffic on the way to school.  On the way home, my side was clear, but someone was gunning down the road on the other side.  I stepped off, fully anticipating getting a chance to yell, "FUCKWIT!!" at them when the dude braked.  Hard.  He totally didn't want to, but I sorta forced the issue.  It's an idiotic thing to do, but I get a small kick out of it.  Making people do shit they don't wanna do is fun!

Tonight - House of Shields  (the venerable Majesty of New Montgomery)

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!