A Return To Poor Person's Shopper's Food Warehouse

I don't know what it is about Poor People's Shopper's Food Warehouse, but I keep getting into the most interesting conversations in there. The other night I went in for a few things. The store wasn't crowded, but there was a backed up line at one register. An older black woman was in front of me, dressed to the nines. She had on a white raincoat with gold buttons, a white lacey hat, black dress, hose and shoes. She turned and whispered to me conspiratorily, "There's only one woman checking out," (meaning the cashier.) "Really?" I whispered back. She nodded like it was a disgrace and crying shame as in "what's the world coming to?"

We started talking. She told me she had been to a funeral at her church earlier in the day, and she said, "I was in such a rush to the get to the church on time I did something stupid." I asked what and she smiled and said, "I forgot to put in my teeth." Sure 'nuff, just a few scragglies here and there. I told her I certainly didn't notice because I was admiring her hat and thought she looked "real spiffy." She thanked me then started telling me about how she had found some real bargains (mint Life Savers.) Her cart was packed, and she was leaning over it with her cane.

She asked about a cake in my cart from the bakery, and I told her I had a friend with a birthday, and even though they said not to do anything, I got a small Italian cream cake and some candles to celebrate. She said, "When a man tells you not to do anything, they really mean for you to do it." I nodded. She went on to praise the bakery and how the woman who baked for the store was "a doll." I had only seen an older woman back there with gold teeth, so I guess that's who she meant. Next time in, I'll remember "doll," rather than "teeth."

She went on discussing the store in general, then we shifted the conversation. I had mentioned I was tired from being over in a house of someone deceased, clearing things out until late, and I was really dragging. I told her the woman had been 96 years old and living on her own, and that seemed to perk her up; thinking she might make it that way, maybe. We talked about what it was like removing things from a deceased person's house. She said, "I'm originally from Philadelphia, but I've been living down here for decades. When my mother took sick, my two brothers wanted me to move back to Philly to take care of our mother, but I told them "No. I'm not doing it." She paused and added, "That would be my brothers Jack and.....Jack Ass."

She stayed put in D.C. with no regrets. She said they still want her back up there, but she isn't budging. She talked about a man in her life who is "sniffing around her." Trust me, this woman had me howling with laughter. It was all in her expressions and timing. A store manager came up and split us up to go into two express lanes. I told her I didn't want to go because when that happened last time, the cashier was looking at my coupons and check and license, just short of biting it for authenticity, and everyone being held up was pissed, and sure enough, I got back into that cashier's line again. Same thing.

When I was done, I saw the church lady over by the pharmacy talking to a friend, so I went over and said, "I want to thank you for our conversation today. It absolutely made my day, and I had such a good time talking to you." Her friend turned to me and said proudly, "She goes to my church!" I told her, "Well, it's obvious everyone in the store knows her and loves her (they did know her, too,) and that she's a very interesting lady....and funny. My church lady turned to me and said, "I'm the Whoopi Goldberg of Aisle 3!" And on that note, we parted. Laughing.

A Morning At The Opera

Most mornings¹, the first thing I do after making my coffee, is to go to my computer and check on what’s sold during the night. I've written about my selling on eBay before on this blog. At first it started out as a means to rid myself of things I had accumulated over time: books, CDs, DVDs, posters, knickknacks and gewgaws.

When I was enrolled for a series of courses at a local college last summer, one of my classmates starting talking about selling on Amazon (she has sold on many sites and she highly recommends Craig’s List²). She told me how it was better to use these other sources, dependent on what you were selling—and she was right. I added one Amazon account, then another, and I find that I sell more books, CDs and DVDs on Amazon than eBay. I also find it faster and cheaper to post things. eBay is still good as an auction source where you pray bidding wars erupt over the item. eBay has posting fees and you set the postage rates. Amazon has no listing fees and they pay your postage (though as a set rate it can fall short at times.) Things were exiting the house. I was being productive and making money.

One evening this winter I was online talking to my friend Laura, and she starting asking me about my profits. I had, at that time, only generalized ideas about profit. I knew I was making money selling these things, but I hadn’t really focused myself on exact amounts. My chief concern was getting rid of things.³ For whatever reason, my friend’s boredom, or my curiosity, she asked if she could make up some spreadsheets that night so we could see what was going on. “I’m Queen of the spreadsheet,” she said, and she wasn’t kidding. Those spreadsheet serpents sank their dollar sign fangs into my consciousness. I realized how well I was doing, or how much better I could be doing, so now the selling has turned into a much more consistent, day to day part of my life. Spreadsheet sales in the sunset.⁴

Awww...Yer Mudder Reads Woodrow Wilson's Love Lettahs

Yesterday morning, like most mornings, I was sitting here sipping my coffee, pollen blowing in from the open window, and me blowing my nose. I should explain that when I sell something online, I always send out email following a sale, letting the buyer know their stuff is on the way, but also with a request “if they desire to leave feedback for me, it would be appreciated. " I opened an email from someone who had purchased a DVD of the opera Aida, and I started giggling. Keep in mind, this is how your brain works when you have one eye partially open and your mind is on low flame:

Dear Cube:

The DVD of AIDA (La Scala 2006) arrived this morning. Thank you.

It is a present for a friend so it will be a while before I get feedback on the quality but I am pleased with the ease and speed of this purchase and receipt of the DVD. So, thank you.

Roman Pumblechook⁵ , M.STAT




I thought, “What the….??? MISTER!!!" I sold you a new, sealed DVD. You received a new, sealed DVD…and quickly. What do I have to do with the quality of the DVD? I didn’t manufacture it. I didn’t record it. I didn’t star in it. At this point, I took my crumpled tissue and held it to my chin and threw my arm out in declamation warbling, “Ayeeeeeeda….and I threw in a “I Pagliacci,” for the heck of it. I was laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Right when all of this was going on, my friend Drew⁶ signed on, and I started telling him the story. He said, “Perhaps they mean that they didn’t know what damage was inside….of course they could mean vocal damage.” Then he said, “Boy…those Three Stooges could SURE sing an opera!” I answered, “Who knew Larry was such a tenor?” Drew shot back, “Curly, sure, but Larry? I didn’t see it coming." Drew added, “You could invite opera singers over for cocktails and have them all sing to perfect pitch to shatter the DVD jewel case sealed in it’s plastic. Moe was known to do that with his falsetto. (translation: I ripped it, posted it on the internet, and now I want my money back.)”

I invariably get good feedback on my accounts. I ship very quickly (“faster even than Amazon,”) and I wrap carefully. I put a personalized note in thanking them for buying from me, and I’ve even had them comment on my penmanship. I was laughing when I replied to Drew, “I applaud her use of bubble wrap and brown wrapping paper. I also noted she uses high end shipping tape.” ….and if that don’t seal the deal, nyuk,nyuk, nyuk…⁷

~~Pennies from heaven~~

¹Unfortunately, this goes on when I travel as well. I’ve shipped items to my vacation locale that I’m selling so that I can continue to mail them out as they sell. I’ve even gone to junk shops and yard sales when I travel and sold using my account. This past fall when I was on Cape Cod, one of my friends there said she had always wanted to learn eBay. She had some antique beaded handbags we used as learning tools on my account so I could show her how I photograph items and do my descriptive writing and layout. I know. What a way to spend vacation time.


²She was emptying out her house because she thought she would be moving (false alarm,) but a few weeks ago she told me she had done very well with her Craig’s List sales, but she stipulated to me, “When you use Craig’s List, make sure it is clear “cash only and no negotiations on the price.”’

³I’ve also followed the usual paths of disposing of items. Better items of clothing went to friends, some to consignment shops (although you never do very well with them as the profit percentage goes to the shop owner.) Boxes of books were shipped off to one friend who was then living in a small town in Western Massachusetts. She would speed read through them then donate the books to her local library. Greenfield Library should have a wing in my honor. Another friend received so many cookbooks she said “no more!” and meant it. There are times I want to cave and just hire a dumpster and do this the fast way, but the pragmatic me plugs along . I usually read library books now (and a lot of intralibrary loan,) and I’ve stuck to my rule of “If you do buy a book, one must leave.” There was a man in my neighborhood who was a known packrat. You could see things spilling out of his house. One day in the early evening I was driving somewhere and passed his house. There were police cars and dumpsters and people standing around on the sidewalk and into the street. The man stood there, (probably hyperventilating and feeling sick to his stomach, given his attachment to "stuff.") Some kindly neighbor had declared him a health hazard, and the authorities came in to empty his house. It took two days and seven dumpsters. Either that night, or the next, I drove by and saw that the man had put a ladder up against the side of one dumpster and was crawling down inside and hauling his things out again. I use him, (and others I’ve known like him,) as a cautionary reminder of that illness (and hoarding is an illness,) along with my own philosophy about materialism (which is: as each year passes: divest, divest, divest.) After that incident, the old man put up plastic siding on his side porch so no one could see in again. He died about two years ago, and his relatives did a hasty slapdash clean and repair to put the house on the market. It didn’t sell for the longest time and when it did, those owners didn’t stay long, then another set, then another set. I half wonder if the old man put his curse on the place.

⁴There’s a great You Tube recording of Al Bowlly singing “Red Sails in the Sunset,” and if you want to know more about Al Bowlly, well….there’s Wikipedia. I’m only a footnote, yanno?

⁵Not his real name, but close enough. The email and M STAT are his, so his name and title had me laughing, too.

⁶Drew has guest blogged on here before, including his infamous “boy lunch” with another friend Tony when they went to lunch and reported back from Hooters. I was talking to Drew while writing this, asking him what the sandwich is he always orders…Texas Steak or Pulled BBQ Pork. He said probably the BBQ, and I said, “You would order the pulled meat at Hooters.” He said, “Just like the restaurant, I don’t deserve my R Rating.” We did our homework. It was the Cuban sandwich.

⁷ While I was writing this, in my researches I learned that the first Stooge, Ted Healy, had been murdered in 1937, on the day his son was born.

You Get A Lifetime Warranty With That

Memo To Self: Cancel Blog

I have a gym membership, and I predominantly use it to workout with a personal trainer. I told my trainer recently that I would like to increase my gym time to daily (on those days when I am not with him) and how beneficial it would be to have him record what I was suppose to do at each machine including it's number, name, the weight and position pegs, and the position of my body. I've used these machines over time and should know them, but after studying Pilates for a while, you learn that every body part should be positioned properly before beginning the movement. My plan is to make up a ringed notebook to carry along with me, so I can be doing the workout correctly. There must be more than eighty machines at that gym, and it's a lot to hold in your head. This week I will take the recorder to the gym, work on some of the machines during my regular training session and build the information as I go.

With that plan in mind, I went with a friend to Best Buy on Friday night, and I quickly found a small Sony recorder that will more than meet my needs. Waiting in the checkout lane, the cashier said, "Would you like to buy the warranty for this item? It covers nine years for only $9.99." My friend said, "No thanks, she won't be needing it." "Are you sure?," the cashier asked. "Absolutely," said my friend. "She's only getting it for her suicide note."

We were still laughing about this when we went into the Container Store to buy a full roll of bubble wrap. The cashier asked us what we were talking about, we told the Best Buy story, he laughed, paused, then queried ....Now should I ask what you are going to do with all of this bubble wrap?"