Boomer Samaritan Fired

What should have been just a regular workday for David Bowers, 62, turned out to

be anything but normal.

Bowers, of Gaylord, Mich., has been a greeter at his neighborhood Meijer Thrifty

Acres store for nearly five years. An admitted extrovert, Bowers has enjoyed

meeting Northern Michigan shoppers and interacting with his many co-workers.

Everything changed Nov. 14, when a customer rushed through the door and yelled,

"Do you have a fire extinguisher? My car is on fire!"

Bowers grabbed a nearby extinguisher, pulled the pin and handed the extinguisher

to Ken Kuzon, whose van dashboard truly was on fire. In 10 seconds the fire was

out and Kuzon was very grateful. The damage wasn't too bad, and he was able to

start the van and go on his way.

Things weren't quite so rosy for Bowers, however. The fire happened at 9:30

a.m., and at 2 p.m., he was told that he was suspended. His manager told him

that "his heart was in the right place, but his head wasn't."

He was being suspended, he was told, for leaving his post. Bowers estimates that

he was outside for about two minutes.

Two days later, the manager called him to come into the store for a meeting.

Bowers was fired. He was asked for his Meijer discount card and told that his

life insurance would be cancelled immediately.

Bowers was dumbfounded. His first thought: "Mr. Kuzon was a man who needed help

and so I helped him."

The manager then told him that his job was not to think but to execute. This

made no sense to Bowers. Then the manager reiterated that he should not have

left his post without permission.

This made even less sense. You see, Bowers' job description includes picking up

carts in the parking lot, shoveling snow, and helping elderly and handicapped

people with their purchases. All of these require him to leave his post.

Bowers admits that he did violate the store’s policy which states that in case of an emergency, he was to stay at his post, call his supervisor first, the store director next and to announce the proper code on the store’s public address system.

I can just imagine the headlines in the newspaper the next day, had he followed policy: "Van filled with Christmas presents goes up in flames while store employees refuse man extinguisher."

When I talked to Bowers last week, he still couldn't believe this had happened

to him. "There was a guy who needed help and so I helped him," he said.

I told him that every baby boomer that I know would have done the same thing,

myself included. We're offspring of the Greatest Generation who taught us to be

good Samaritans even when it isn't convenient.

I still get teary when I remember a cold morning when I stopped in the dark to

retrieve an injured cat from the roadway. I was crouched with him at the

roadside as cars whizzed by me. Then, there was a hand on my shoulder as a man

in his work clothes, about my age, asked me if I was alright. He had stopped his

big step van to see about me.

We determined that the cat had died, and we crouched there together hugging.

This big burly guy tearfully said, "You're a good woman." I answered, "You're a

good man."

I know that you now have a memory coming to mind of a time that you were in need

and were helped. Or maybe you were the good Samaritan.

These are stories that color our lives and make them brighter. People like David

Bowers brighten our lives, but his story sure dims the bulb.

Bowers is a retired postal employee who was making $9.30 an hour. He says this

past holiday season wasn't quite as happy, as his household is now missing about

$900 a month. During his time at Meijer, he worked all the holidays the store

was open so that younger people could have that time with their children.

"I loved what I was doing." he said.

I once worked for a large company which had what I felt was a miserable corporate culture, but I too loved what I was doing. When I would complain sometimes, people would say, “Well, if you don’t like it there, you should leave.” My response to that is "Bad situations are not made better by the departure of good people."

Two more things: Meijer is contesting Bowers' unemployment, stating that it was

his own fault that he was fired. But he did receive a Christmas card from the

company addressed "to our valued employee."

 

Upspeak

“Where did you get that terrific haircut?” I asked my friend Gail. Mario Max? she answered. I’m guessing the year was 1977, and Gail had been living in Southern California for a time. I realized that she was no longer a Michigan girl, but had embraced all that was the San Fernando Valley. Yes, my highly educated friend had somehow morphed into a “valley girl,” complete with the sing-songey voice cadence and the “you know” interjections. I couldn’t believe my ears. Worse, after being around her a while I found myself doing some of it. Yikes, I hate to admit that, but give me a break I was still in my 20’s.

I bring this up because lately there’s been some buzz in the media about “upspeak” or “uptalk” as it as come to be called. I refer back to Gail’s Mario Max answer. When responding to someone’s question, the answer comes back sounding like a question. Where are you from? You’re asked. Mt. Morris, Michigan? You answer with a rising pitch. Get it? I’ll bet right now you’re thinking of someone who does this often. Most likely it’s your granddaughter. You see, I learned from NPR (National Public Radio) and some online research, that this has become so widespread that linguists have now labeled it a dialect. Some are even predicting that as the twenty-something generation comes into power in the business place, that it will be fully acceptable.

I’ve been trying to decide how I feel about this. As some of you know, I’ve used this space to harangue about the over use of the word “like” and the useless use of the word “basically.” I can’t help it, somebody has to speak out about the decline of our language.

So, I will relate an incident that happened in my day job workplace. Two young women who I like very much were my co-workers one Saturday. Both are intelligent and educated. I was overhearing a conversation they were having, and both interjected the word “like” about twice per sentence. With good humor and no judgmental tone, I told them that I would give them each $10.00 at the end of the shift if they could eliminate “like” from their speech. They smiled and said okay, it’s a deal. They lasted five minutes and ten minutes respectively.

While both were noticeably embarrassed about it, they conceded that it would be almost impossible to undo this habit. They even mentioned that their parents are annoyed that their college educated women are sounding so schoolgirlish. The truth is that this is peer speak as I see it. If most everyone around you does it, you do too.

I now cite something my friend Carol told me about her high school senior Nick. (Nick was a computer prodigy who went on to attend Amherst and publish a book and become an icon at Google.) So, Carol would overhear Nick talking on the phone or to his friends in the next room, and he would use “like” every fourth word and other expressions that gagged her. Then, when he was just around the family or other adults, he didn’t do any of it. He was able to censor his vernacular based on his audience. She thought that was pretty cool. I did too.

Now, back to the upspeak controversy. It doesn’t annoy me at all really. I just file it with people with foreign accents. It’s just part of the fabric of our multicultural surroundings these days.

There is someone else out there though who eschews the use of upspeak. My old friend Judge Judy. Yes, watching her cut to the chase and expose the bad guys is one of my guilty pleasures. When someone answers her with upspeak, she replies, “You’re asking me?”

Health Insurance Woes

I know a few people who aren’t struggling with health insurance woes, but not many. As a middle class, middle American, mid baby boomer, I’ve noticed that what is happening with me, and those around me is usually happening to millions of others.

An artist friend has no insurance, but she puts a few hundred in savings every month. The idea is that she will use that if she ever has a serious health issue. We all know that that is a high risk solution.

A retired couple I know who aren’t yet 65, pay $1,800 a month for their health insurance policy. I can’t help but think that they could be buying a second home with that payment.

Then there’s my friend Julia who is one of the most intelligent people I know with incredible analytical skills and an advanced degree. She cannot figure out what Medicare supplemental insurance would be the best choice. She has spent hours poring over documents and websites. I can’t imagine how older Americans are navigating all of this. Many older people are not computer savvy enough to get through the Healthcare.gov mess. What about those who don’t own a computer?

I share these little scenarios because I know that you probably have similar ones. It doesn’t always come up in polite conversation, but it’s time that it does. The powerful insurance companies affect our lives in so many ways. For instance, I’ve delayed having an elective surgery that I need because my insurance won’t pay for my doctor’s facility charge. They will only pay if I go into a hospital. I can’t believe that the cost would be less. These rules make no sense.

As long as I’m in my complaining mode, I want to go on record as being furious about the insurance ads that guarantee that you won’t be cancelled. Gosh, that sounds great doesn’t it? What they don’t add is that they can increase your premium at will. One of my friends likened the insurance industry to the Gestapo. There’s no arguing with their rules.

So many had high hopes for relief with the Affordable Care Act. I suppose it’s possible that some day the glitches will all be worked out, but I don’t see it happening any time soon. One headline in today’s paper was “No Fast Fix For Insurance Cancellations.” It’s a sad state of affairs for people who had only catastrophic coverage. When I was a tour director, it was as an independent contractor, and I paid about $400 a month for that kind of coverage. That is no longer an option. Coverage must meet the ACA guidelines. Untold numbers of people who are self-employed are getting cancellation notices with no real options immediately available.

As I sit here typing this, I can barely hold my head up because I have a miserable respiratory infection with a fever and all the accessories. I have to have a written doctor’s excuse before I can return to work at my day job. I pay for the best health insurance policy my company offers, but it’s not a great help just now. Since I can’t get an appointment with my general practitioner for a week or so, I will have to go to an urgent care clinic. That will cost me $100.

Well, thanks for listening. I have to go have some miso soup, get horizonal and get well so I can get back to work. You see if I fall below 30 hours a week, I lose my health insurance.

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Smells of Nostalgia

I was catapulted back to my childhood as I tried to listen intently to the nice older gentleman who I was waiting on. My mind however was back in my Michigan house and I was hugging my daddy as he was all dressed up and smelling clean and wonderful. It was of course Old Spice, and it was reserved for special occasions. Meanwhile I saw this customer’s lips moving, but wasn’t really listening to a word he said. I hadn’t smelled that aftershave in years and I was in a nostalgic space that I wanted to preserve.

Later that day at home I noticed a USA Snapshot in my USA Today newspaper, listing the scents that evoke the strongest sense of happiness. Old Spice wasn’t in there, but I could sure identify with the three that were listed. Number one was baking bread. Oh, what a special occasion it was when my mother would make homemade bread. It was maybe twice a year, and usually a surprise. I would run from the bus into the house, and that aroma would have filled every room. The happy molecules were running rampant.

Clean laundry was the second most happy smell. This takes me to a summer day in our yard as I would play in between the big white sheets hanging on the line. There is no smell that even slightly approximates that.

The salty smell of the seashore was number three. One of the reasons I always wanted to live here was so I could smell that glorious aroma anytime I wanted to. I have spent lazy days on Captiva marveling at the turquoise beauty of the gulf and inhaling that smell that seems to just cleanse the entire body. Feet in the sand brings a connection to mother earth that I believe renews the body and spirit.

I have two friends who share the great love of the smell of lilacs with me. All Floridians,  the beautiful purple flowers send us back to our Northern homes with this fragrant harbinger of spring and the impending summer. Conversely, lilacs made my mother sad because they filled her girlhood home on the day of her sister’s funeral.

I know that many people don’t like the smell of carnations because they permeate most funeral homes. I however love that smell. I was five years old and opened the refrigerator early one Saturday morning and saw a beautiful flower in it. I picked it up and put it to my nose and couldn’t believe how wonderful it smelled. It was the boutonniere my brother had worn to the prom the night before. That is where that smell takes me to this day.

There was never a time that everything was more right with the world than on mornings when I would awake to the smell of bacon cooking while a summer breeze fluttered my sheer bedroom curtains. I knew my mother and maybe my dad and brother were all up and sitting at the kitchen table, ready for breakfast, after which a summer day of freedom stretched before us.

There are just so many evocative smells that bring back such happy memories: Leather reminds me of the excitement I felt when I opened the box with my very first suede coat that my daddy had surprised me with. Jergens lotion takes me back to my one-room school where the teacher bought all the girls little bottles one Christmas. I can’t pass by a plumeria/frangipani bush without picking a blossom which transports me back to the happy times my husband and I spent in Hawaii. Avon’s moisture cream was my mother’s body smell, as was the perfume My Sin on her special occasions. I confess that I can’t smell those smells now without getting teary. Those previously happy smells are now tinged with loss and grief.

With martinis so in the mainstream right now, I can’t stand the smell of gin. You see, my forays into underage drinking in my senior year involved the then popular Tom Collins. A night of misery and vomiting ended that love affair. I’m guessing you boomers might have a similar story from your teen years.

When I stepped out of the airport in 1991 and inhaled a deep lung full of moist Southwest Florida air and saw palm trees, I knew this was home. I count myself as a very fortunate person today to breathe in that indescribable aroma and revel in the warmth of this beautiful place. All I have to do is open the sliding doors.

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