Bacon Scrapins – “Boxed In!”

© by Barry S. Wolfe

Bacon Scrapins are the little bits of meat left in the greasy fry pan. They’re tasty, but the nutrition needs searching for. This tale is a bacon scrapin.

“What are you gonna do with those?” my neighbour Dan asked.

I had a pile of books in my arms as I was manoeuvring to get the car door open.  “Hardcovers I’m taking to the Mennonite Store for them to resell, and the soft covers are going to the rec. centre library. I’ve got another paper bag full in the house, yet to go.” I replied.

“You know our library doesn’t accept books older than 8 years,” Dan added.

Our nine-stop-sign-sized community of “active lifestyle adults”, most of us ‘of an age’, has a central recreation centre with a free lending/exchange library supervised by volunteers. They are literate, and organized, and thus have “standards”.

“I know,” I answered. “No ineligible titles in this pile. They’re all younger than I am.”

“Everything is younger than you!” he teased.  It’s good to see folks reusing and recycling, including books. I don’t buy books. I get all of mine from the rec. centre or the public library in town.”

“That works. But you have to order and sometimes wait for a few weeks before you can get the book. I prefer to buy a title I see, either at the Mennonite recycle store, or at Violet Books in the mall. But I’ve stopped buying at the mall box store, and now just order on Amazon. Same price, or cheaper, and they deliver to my door within 2 days.”

“Why’d you stop buying at Violet Books in the mall?” Don probed.

“Because they have an oxymoronic corporate policy about bags to carry your purchases home in,” I complained.

“Woe. Stop there. What is an ‘oxymoronic corporate policy’ about carry bags? How can there be an illogical contradiction about bags? A bag is a bag.” Dan pushed.

“I’ll explain with an example,” I replied. “We parked at the box store mall at the north end of KW. Marilyn went in one direction to the card store while I went to Violet Books. I asked about a title I was searching for, and a helpful salesgirl looked it up on her gizmo and said they were out of stock. I thanked her and wandered around using my list of authors and titles and eventually found 5 books. One hardcover and 4 paperbacks. While I was wandering a clerk was stocking the 2 for $20 shelf. She noticed I had picked up a mystery title and put it back. She referred me to a pile she was putting stickers on and asked if I had read any of his titles. I perused the back cover and said, “Maybe next time, but Thank you!”.

“I went to the check-out counter, and he scanned my member’s discount card (which I had previously paid for). I then gave him a gift card which deducted some more. The plastic card had the amount remaining on the card written in permanent ink on the back, as placed there by the clerk when I checked out last time. Because the card now had no credit left on it, this sales clerk tossed it in the trash bin behind the counter. I then finally added some cash. The purchase cost was $78 and change.

He pushed the pile of books toward me and asked if I wanted to buy a reusable bag to put them in. It was an awkward pile, and it was snowing out so I told him I didn’t want to buy a bag, just give me a paper bag, please, and I’ll recycle it.”

He said, “We only sell bags. They are reusable. It’s corporate policy.”

I pointed out that I had spent nearly $80 in the store, and I didn’t want to pay for a bag I’d throw away. I just want a paper bag that I can recycle in the blue box.

“It’s corporate policy. We do not have paper bags we just sell reusable bags. Do you want to buy a bag?” he persisted.

“I’m not buying a bag!” and I took the pile of books in my arms.

“This does not seem to be going well for customer service at Violet Books,” Dan observed.

“Nope. I then went to the sales girl I had talked to earlier and asked to speak to the store manager, please. I explained my concern about corporate’s bags policy and I’d like to convey that to her manager. She said the manager was in the back, left, and about 5 minutes later the manager came out into the store to meet me.” I related.

“So, what did she do for you?” Dan asked.

“I asked her if I looked comfortable with a pile of books, a book list and a toque cradled in my arms. She didn’t blink an eye, just pretended to not understand my point and asked me if there was something I was trying to say. No really. That’s what she asked me. As if she didn’t know why her employee had asked her to come out to meet me. I got the impression she thought I was an idiot wasting her time. You’d be proud of me, Dan. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t add emotional impetus to my tone. I told her I’d spent nearly $80 in her store buying these books and I wanted a recyclable, paper bag, free, to carry them home in safely, please.  You know what she said?” I asked him.

“I don’t want to guess,” Dan observed.

“She said, “Did the sales clerk offer to sell you a reusable bag?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Good. It’s corporate policy not to provide paper bags. They end up in the landfill. We just sell reusable bags. We don’t have paper bags. It’s corporate policy. I have a cardboard box in the back you can have if you want.”

I saw a picture of their CEO advertising her recommended books on a nearby stand, and said, “Maybe Feather, the CEO, should be told that her corporate policy doesn’t make sense and it should be changed.”

“I’ll take it under advisement. Do you want the box or not?”

“I smirked mischievously (I admit it) and said, ‘Yes if it’s small enough to carry’. She went away and came back in about 5 minutes with a cardboard shipping box, about 2 feet long, 18 inches wide, about 10 inches tall. I put my pile of books, book list and toque in the box, and folded the flaps. She turned and walked away, and I walked out with more corrugated paper glued together to create that box, than would be in two dozen paper bags. She probably thought that she had shown her management skills most effectively on the old guy.

“I wonder what Violet Books’ corporate policy is if someone buys 4 throw pillows, 5 scented candles, a framed picture, and a children’s book for example. Do they make the customer buy 7-8 reusable bags to carry it all out?” I pondered.

“Oh, oh. This sounds like you’ve got something else up your sleeve.” Dan said tentatively.

“Yes. I’m writing a letter to Feather Wiseone, the CEO of Violet Books in Toronto. I’m going to relate my experience with her mall manager and ask her to reconcile the apparent logical inconsistency that corporate policy concludes that tossing innumerable used gift cards and a cardboard box away is good for the landfills, but a small paper bag (maybe reusable in the meantime) in the blue box isn’t.

That’s the oxymoron part. Maybe it’s irony? Anyway, it’s just illogical. Doesn’t matter. I’m also going to enclose my still valid membership discount card and ask her to find a way to process it so it does not end up in a landfill. That would be an ‘offset’ for the used gift card the clerk had tossed.”

“I’m also going to explain to her how I spend my winters in Florida and will be renewing my Noble Barns membership card there and how it’s their corporate policy to provide customer convenience service which includes free delivery of a book to your address anywhere in the USA if they don’t have the book in the store, and it will be on the doorstep within 2 days max. Noble Barns, whose style Violet Books originally copied, is a bookstore still serving readers. Violet Books appears to have lost its focus – on readers who carry books home in a recyclable paper bag.

“I’ll also add that I will be ordering my books in Canada via Amazon, and have them delivered to my door within 2 days. No schlepping to the box store in winter weather, no out-of-stock book titles, no precarious balancing of unprotected books between the check-out counter and my car, no flippant upwardly mobile managers.” I explained.

“And? You think she’s going to change corporate policy for you?” Dan taunted.

“Who knows? Some worker bee downstream probably filters her mail and she won’t even see it. Philanthropists who married into money, and Orderly Officers of Canada don’t bother themselves with the pettiness of the plebeians who buy her books. The old boy’s conscience is clear!” I bragged. “Now I’m off to recycle these books.”

The Bacon Scrapins characters, locations and scenarios are the fictional product of the author’s imagination – usually.

You may email appropriate comments for the writer to thisiswilmot@gmail.com