Swearing Off

A good portion of my 20s were spent as roomie to Sarah, and Sarah and I had two competing outlooks: mine, POW Training; Sarah's, Assertiveness Training.

As a consummate pleaser, I took with fervor to what I called POW Training, a training that presented itself anytime I had to pee, to stand for long periods of time, or to do anything remotely uncomfortable. I told myself I was preparing "just in case."

Sarah knew the real reason I participated in POW Training was because I was too chicken to deal with the situation. I was too chicken to stand up in the middle of the row in the middle of the sermon to go pee. I was too chicken to send back the hamburger when I had ordered the Cobb salad. I don't know why I was such a chicken, but Sarah felt the need to start a course in assertiveness training, a regiment that Bret has finished for her, and I am now a proud graduate. I still have my "I'm too chicken to ask for that" moments, but I am much improved. I now pee when I have to pee, for the most part.

But, assertiveness training or not, I have always had my own ways of fighting back. For example, I conducted a 19 year ban on any product made by Herbal Essences. Back in the 1990s, the company ran ads that played on the similarity of the words "organic" and "orgasmic" with footage of girls shampooing their hair while having far too much fun doing it. Now, I'm not a prude, and I spent several years working in the advertising world, so I understand the "sex sells" philosophy, but that particular brand of advertising crossed a personal line for me, and so, I swore off the product. I didn't feel others should swear off the styling line, but I simply refused. I had no delusions that my small protest meant anything to anybody, but it meant something to me. (I recently just purchased a bottle of shampoo by Herbal Essences; the ads have been off the air for over five years, and I consider forgiveness a virtue.)

And tonight, which is the point of this post anyway, I have a new swearing off. That's right. Walgreens in Brownsburg: you're on notice. Without going into detail, there was a register fiasco involving a slew of items, a plethora of coupons, and a handful of what Walgreens calls "Register Rewards," reward "checks" you get to use during your next shopping trip. I had read up on the rules of these "rewards," a term I now use loosely, so I knew what I was doing. When it didn't quite go as planned, I politely asked for an explanation. And, here's why I am swearing off Walgreens (not because I didn't get what I wanted and not because I was made to feel weird for asking): the manager finally admitted that she didn't really "know how they worked either." If you're the manager of Walgreens, you've got to understand how your little "reward" coupons work. She counted up my items: 14. She counted up the amount of "rewards" I had: 12. She did the "math" (she was wrong, but I didn't think it right to correct her, assertiveness training or not) and told me that I "should" be able to use my two extra "reward" coupons, but for some reason, a reason she couldn't explain, I couldn't. I don't care about the money, but I don't like when the person running the place doesn't even get basic company policy.

So, it's over. I'm done. I might just transfer all of my prescriptions if I get around to it, but for now, I'm not buying another item in the main part of Walgreens, at least the one in my city. I am reasonable, after all.