Marcie J's Open Salon Blog

Valley Nation (OMG. Why does, like, EVERYONE talk this way?)

Wed, 16 May 2012 11:05:54 -0400

So, like, every day on my bus ride to work, I am, like surrounded by these 20- and 30-something girls talking like rully rully loudly on their cell phones. And it is like, so TOTALLY irritating. Seriously, I want to grab their iPhones from their gel manicured fingertips and run screeeeaming from the bus.

Their conversations all sound exactly alike. It’s as if these girls were all hatched from the same sorority at some College For The Overindulged where they majored in Shallow and minored in Snotty.

But what I notice most is that their voices all sound exactly alike. And OMG, it is, like, the most super annoying thing everrrrr.

Young women used to be mocked for speaking this way. They were parodied as moronic “Valley Girls”. Valley Girls were a popular stereotype and their trademark "Valspeak" was a staple of comedy routines and teen movies. Very few women actually aspired to speaking that way.

Plus, in those days, you rarely ever heard anyone speak "Val" outside of the San Fernando Valley. It was strictly a regional accent, restricted to a small region of the country, and limited to a subset of young women (mostly teenage girls). Living in San Francisco, it wasn't uncommon to overhear a snippet of Valspeak now and then. But I always assumed it was a purely West Coast phenomenon.

That is soooooo not true anymore.

Seriously, have you noticed that now virtually ALL young women, in all parts of the country, speak this way? “Valspeak” has infiltrated the language like never before. It has no geographic boundaries. You can hear it on the streets of Manhattan or in the malls of the Midwest. Everrrrryone talks this way now!

I have coined a term for this latest version of Valspeak. I call it “The Voice". And there is no escaping it. Turn on your tv and you will hear The Voice nonstop. Almost all young women on tv, from The Kardashians to The Bachelorette, now have The Voice. Even so-called “serious” journalists like CNN's Erin Burnett have The Voice (ok, using "serious journalist" and "CNN" in the same sentence is a stretch). Over at MSNBC, you can hear The Voice nightly — just listen to party girl turned political pundit Krystal Ball. Even when she's saying something semi-intelligent, it's hard to take her seriously because of...The Voice (and then there's also her NAME...and her penchant for tight, sleeveless dresses doesn't help her credibility, either).

The popular AMC series "Mad Men" prides itself on meticulously recreating the Sixties era. The show's set dressers and wardrobe people strive for authenticity. They usually get every last Sixties detail right; from the Mid-Century coffee tables to the women's kitten heels and teased bouffant hair.

But on a recent episode, that carefully crafted illusion was instantly shattered the moment Don Draper’s new wife, Megan, opened her mouth. OMG…she had The Voice! I'm sorry, but in the Sixties, women simply didn’t speak that way. "Mad Men" may be set in 1965. But Megan's vocal inflections are a dead giveaway that the show is produced in 2012. The Voice is as emblematic of our times as iPhones and Facebook profiles.

The Voice is also ubiquitous in tv commercials. I call this particular variation "Croaky Cutesy Voice”. Suddenly, almost every tv spot with a female voiceover sounds like it's being narrated by a six year old with a head cold. At first, the Croaky Cutesy Voice trend was sort of cool and different. Now it's just cloying. And mega annoying. Commercials used to be narrated by grownup women with sophistication and gravitas. But now, instead of Lauren Bacall, we get Baby Smurf. Really, enough is enough.

So, you ask, what exactly, is so irritating about this unique speech pattern? DUH. You mean in general, or shall I go alphabetically?

For starters, there's "uptalking". This is definitely one the most annoying linguistic trends of all time. Uptalking is when the speaker pronounces statements as if they are questions. As in, “So, like, yesterday, I went shopping? And like, I saw some really cute shoes?” What’s up with that? Listening to uptalk makes me, want to like, upchuck.

Then there is the phenomenon that linguists have dubbed “vocal fry”. This is the speech patterrrnnnnn where people draw out and end sentences with a gravelly low vibrato. This is like, THE most annoying trend everrrrrr.

Another trademark of The Voice is a bit subtler. It involves pronouncing the short "i" ( as in"pill") as a short "e" ("pell"). If you haven't heard this one yet, listen for it and you well. I mean, you will.

Of course, there’s the dreaded "l word": like. This is, like, the hallmark of Valspeak. But I have to confess, I am guilty of this one myself. Try as I may to avoid it, "like" has crept into my speech and has taken hold like a fashionista who just found a pair of Jimmy Choos on sale. I, like, say like ALL the time. So I am not, like, going to get all high and mighty about this one. Still, I know it is like, RULLY annoying (especially when combined with the "A-word": actually. As in, "We like, actually, didn't even start eating dinner until, like, actually, 9 PM").

Call it The Voice, call it Valspeak, call it whatever you like, this unfortunate linguistic trend is taking over our nation and it's time we called a halt to it.

Young Women of America: Why, oh why, do you persist in talking this way? Do you think it sounds fun and cool? It doesn’t. It sounds stupid and shallow. And super annoying. Does it make you feel like you're part of the club? Damn right it does — The Spoiled Ditzy Airheads of America Club.

Um, ladies, hell-o! Can't you plueeeze stop? Seriously, I am, like, begging you. PLEASE. STOP. TALKING. THIS. WAY. NOW.

Of course, it's hopeless. It seems Valspeak is here to stay.

And I am, like, sooooo over it.

My Journey to Discover Why Everyone is on a Journey

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 16:02:28 -0500

Overuse can turn a perfectly good word into a perfectly horrible one. One word that's currently on the road to linguistic lame-itude is journey.

Have you noticed that suddenly, everyone in America is on a journey?

Just glance at any "People" magazine cover or watch any celebrity interview, and chances are you'll learn about someone who has just completed, is still on, or is embarking on some kind of journey.

You can’t turn on the tv these days without hearing about these dramatic, personal journeys. Piers Morgan asks virtually every guest, “Tell us…what kind of journey has this been for you?” “It’s been a journey” is now the stock answer to describe everything from Kirstie Alley's weight loss battles to Brook Shield's triumph over post-partum depression. The subject matter doesn’t really matter— as long as one has been on a journey, it suggests some sort of profound transformation or magical passage to a more enlightened state of mind. It's definitely not about the destination, it's all about the journey.

Merely using the word “journey” adds import to anything — no matter how trivial. So it’s no surprise that Reality TV is rife with journeys. No episode of "Dancing with the Stars” is complete without swimsuit model Co-Host, Brooke Burke, injecting the "journey" question into her backstage, post-performance celebrity interviews. "So...the judges just awarded you 10's for your Paso Doble", she'll gush...before switching to her Really Serious Voice to ask, "We know you've worked so hard for these past 8 weeks...can you tell us...what has this JOURNEY been like for you?" (The answer to that last question inevitably contains the two words most often associated with these sorts of profoundly life-changing journeys: "so" and "amazing", as in, "Oh, it's just been SO amazing!").

“The Biggest Loser” is also big on journeys (so I hear, I don’t watch it). Every contestant is on his or her own journey (“Follow Courtney’s journey”... “Biggest Loser winner Olivia Ward opted for a tummy tuck to remove excess skin after shedding 116 pounds. See her journey and dramatic transformation.” Viewers are also invited to “Watch the final four journeys, or go online to find recipes, advice and support for your own journey.”

(Geesh, I’m so worn out just hearing about all this, I think I’ll journey to the fridge and inhale a quart of Rocky Road).

Of course, these profound, personal journeys are even more ubiquitous in print. No celebrity or politician memoir is complete without adding the requisite “My journey to…” after the title. Today, all you need is a colon and a personal journey to make it to the best seller list. A quick perusal on Amazon reveals literally hundreds of such subtitles, including:

Not Afraid of Life: My Journey So Far (Bristol Palin)

Louder Than Words: A Mother’s Journey in Healing Autism (Jenny McCarthy)

This is Herman Cain: My Journey to the White House (Herman Cain)

Invincible: My Journey From Fan to NFL Team Captain (Vince Papale)

Just Call Me Mike: A Journey to Actor and Activist (Mike Farrel)

Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Journey to Change the World…One Child at a Time (Greg Mortenson)

Pink Boots and a Machete: My Journey from NFL Cheerleader to National Geographic Explorer (Mireya Mayor)

Then there are the overcoming illness/adversity/addiction journeys…

It’s Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life (Lance Armstrong)

Save Karyn: One Shopaholic’s Journey to Debt and Back (Karyn Bosnak)

How to Overcome Bulimia: My Journey from Hell to Happiness (Shaye)

Livin La Vida Low-Carb: My Journey from Flabby Fat to Sensationally Skinny in One Year (Jimmy Moore)

And my personal favorite:

A Raw Life: My Journey from Cooked to Raw Foods (Nubia I)

Where will it end? I'd say Journey to the Centre of the Earth qualified as a journey. And Eugene O’Neill surely earned the right to the title, Long Day’s Journey Into Night. But My Journey from Cooked to Raw Foods? Seriously??

Not surprisingly, corporations are jumping on the journey bandwagon, too. Not to miss out (after all, corporations are people, too), companies are quickly co-opting this term for their own purposes. And why not? By simply adding “journey” to your company’s website copy, or generously sprinkling the word “journey” throughout your corporate mission statement, whatever actual work you are doing is suddenly imbued with an altruistic, almost religious quality.

This air of sanctity matters even more today, when many companies are striving to look environmentally responsible. So we get Rubbermaid’s CEO talking about “Making a Difference: Our Journey of Transformation” and Colgate Palmolive inviting us to “...follow our journey from a single store front to global front runner.”

Tech companies, in particular, are all over the journey thing. For an industry that prizes innovation and originality, their website copy all sounds surprisingly similar...

The destination of our journey is to build a real-time enterprise and we’re focused on business processes and the end-user to complete this journey.

EMC has traveled a long way on its journey to cloud computing.

The Value of Customer Journey Maps: a UX Designer’s Personal Journey

The founders of Edge Case, a startup, take the journey metaphor to new heights, as witnessed by this inspiring home page copy:

Over five years ago we started on a journey to create a company -- the company we always wanted to work for. Recently, some friends of ours offered to help us continue on that journey and we accepted. We have not yet arrived at our final destination. We continue to hike along. The opportunity to reach our original destination and then continue on to new sites and explore new territory was too much to pass up. Today we are announcing that Digital Garage has acquired Edge Case. Together we are forming New Context, a company dedicated to bridging the divide between design and technology while helping build new companies and improve the software side of existing ones.

Phew. Sounds like these kids got some much-needed venture capital funding in the nick of time — get those hiking boots on, boys, and let the journey continue!

I don’t know about you, but if I hear the word “journey” one more time, I may have to make a quick journey to the bathroom to throw up.

Once upon a time, the word "journey" was reserved for describing actual physical journeys and exotic travel, such as trekking by camel across Outer Mongolia. There were also religious/spiritual journeys. Then came truly life-changing experiences or dramatic life stories; whether it was an individual's battle with serious illness, or some type of truly remarkable achievement. Those qualified as "journeys", too. In those contexts, the word made sense. For a while.

But now, "journey" can be used to describe — and add faux gravitas to — just about anything, no matter how mundane. The more trivial the topic, the more profound the “journey”. Hence this late breaking news flash about Kourtney Kardashian’s pregnancy: “We are sure that Kourtney will share her pregnancy journey with fans via her reality show, Twitter and her mommy blog.” (OMG. I am really looking forward to reading Kourtney's mommy blog! Stay tuned...).

How did we get here? I’m not sure. But as with most loathsome language trends, I suspect Oprah had something to do with it. “What journey are you on?” has been a staple Oprah-ism forever. We've also heard ad nauseam about Oprah's “weight loss journey”, her “spiritual journey”, her "career journey", etc. etc. I’ll bet if Oprah discovered a new shampoo, we'd hear about her "hair care journey".

Whether or not we can blame Oprah for our modern day Journey Syndrome is unclear. All I know is we need to give this word a rest — and soon. Please, people, can we just STOP with the journeys??

So what have I learned while writing this post? (other than the fact that I clearly don’t know when to use quotes versus italics). I’m not sure I’ve discovered any definitive answers. Nor have I found enlightenment. And I certainly haven't lost any weight sitting here in front of the computer.

But at least writing about this topic has been somewhat cathartic. I feel a sense of healing...a surprising, new sense of lightness.

Thanks for being a part of my journey.

My Mattress Buying Nightmare: A Cautionary Bedtime Tale

Sun, 29 Jan 2012 14:01:29 -0500

Let me start off with a disclaimer: If you haven't purchased a new mattress recently, this post will probably be of little interest. However, if you've just bought a mattress — or plan to buy one soon — keep reading. I think you will be able to relate only too well to my story.

Until a few months ago, the word "mattress" was barely even in my vocabulary. I had been sleeping on an ancient, 25-year-old hand-me-down mattress. True, it was getting a bit lumpy. And once in a while, I would feel an ancient spring pushing through. But it was my bed and I was perfectly content to sleep in it.

My significant other, however, hated the mattress. He started issuing ultimatums, threatening, "It's the mattress or me." In retrospect, I should have said, "The mattress stays. You can go." But it's too late for that now. Far too late.

So began our Mattress Buying Adventure in Hell.

Our story started out in the usual way; with us traipsing around from store to store, trying out beds. We went to department stores. We went to chain stores. We went to small, independent stores. And like all new mattress shoppers, we quickly learned that the system is rigged. The mattress retailers are out to deliberately deceive and confuse you. And no matter how clever you think you are at this mattress game, you won't outsmart them. Trust me, they are going to win. And one way or another, you are going to part with a lot of money (ca-ching! ca-ching!)

First, as every mattress shopper knows, the industry makes it almost impossible to comparison shop. Every store has their own models, with their own different, exclusive names. Say you like a Serta "Perfect Day/Taurus" at one store. When you go to a different store, you won't find the same bed. Or, you'll find it under the Serta "Trump Home Collection" (yes, Donald Trump has his own brand of mattresses...ick). Or something like it. Or not very much like it at all. Or they will tell you that particular bed was last year's model and is no longer available. Even though you just saw that bed at another store fifteen minutes ago. The confusion goes on and on. It's maddening. Intentionally so.

Then there are the return policies. When it comes to buying a mattress, the store's return policy matters. A lot. Some stores have a 60-day return/exchange policy. Some have a 100-day policy. Some allow no returns or exchanges at all. Which is a problem. Because the fact is, when you buy a new mattress, you really don't know if you are going to like it until you've slept on it for about a month or two. You have to "break it in". Of course, by then, the entire experience may have broken your spirit and made you question your will to live…or at least your need for sleep. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the shopping...

A few words about the mattress stores. You know those big mattress retailers who advertise a sale virtually every day of the year? Here in San Francisco, we have several of those stores all lined up on one block. I call it “Mattress Death Row”. I have made numerous visits to every one of these fluorescent-lit emporiums of pain, and I now dread stepping inside their doors. The signs on their doors should say, “Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here…And Abandon Your Wallets While You’re At It”.

Mattress salespeople are frequently compared to used car salesmen. I think this is unfair to used car salesmen. At some mattress chain stores, the sales staff practically ooze sleaze. You walk in and encounter a sales guy, perched like a vulture, ready to swoop down on his innocent prey and point him or her towards the priciest, top of the line Serta, Sealy or Simmons (the “S-brands”). These mattress-peddling predators can barely disguise their contempt for the customers. That contempt is only surpassed by the air of self-loathing that surrounds this breed. They hate their jobs. And I don’t blame them.

In other stores, however, I have to admit the sales people were quite friendly, low-pressure, and infinitely patient. And believe me, they need patience. At one such store, which I now fondly refer to as “SleepTrainWreck” , a young sales guy looked on for over an hour as my boyfriend and I ran back and forth between assorted Sertas and Sealys, arguing over which mattress to buy. I actually thought we would break up in that store. But we didn't. Instead, we were so worn down by the process, and so desperate to make a decision and get the hell out of there, we finally bought a mattress: A Stearns and Foster "Governor's Palace Euro Pillowtop” that cost about twice as much as we intended to pay (ca-ching! ca-ching!). The weary sales guy threw in some free pillows to sweeten the deal (more about those pillows later).

Now, you may ask, what was so difficult about choosing a mattress? An innocent enough question. But if you have to ask, then you haven't bought a mattress lately.

Once upon a time, buying a mattress was simple. You chose from "Soft", "Medium" or "Firm". There were coils inside, and probably some cotton or horse hair, covered with thin (cool) cotton ticking. Sadly, those days are gone. Today’s mattresses are overly complicated, gimmick-laden slabs, filled with a host of mysterious, mostly synthetic materials that don't breathe. There are wrapped coils. There are unwrapped coils. There are individual coils. There are no coils. And there are endless, conflicting opinions on which one is best.

As for the materials, all the big name manufacturers use a combination of either Latex , Memory Foam, or some other generic foam. Memory Foam is notoriously "warm". So if you "sleep warm", like I do, you have to avoid it like the plague. Latex is supposed to be cooler, but the jury is still out on that. Plus, there are many different types of Latex. Are you getting tired? Me too. I now know more about this topic than I ever cared to know. Let's just say: it's complicated. And, the fact is, you can try out the bed for hours in the store. But you don't really know how you are going to like your new mattress until it's home and broken in. As one blogger on a mattress forum so aptly put it, a mattress is "the one big ticket item where parts are concealed and enigmatic." In other words: Buyer, beware.

The new mattresses are also bigger than before. Much bigger. In fact, they are now behemoths. I have no idea why people like these huge, heavy beds. I even read that interior decorators loathe them. http://www.nytimes.com/1999/04/15/garden/the-new-beds-a-step-or-two-up.html?pagewanted=all&src=pm

But apparently, there is a huge market for huge beds. Supposedly, a lot of women like them because they make them "feel like princesses". I don't get it. But there are so many things I don't get.

We knew our new bed would be higher than the old bed. So we purchased the "mini" box springs. Nothing, however, could have prepared me for the day the new bed arrived. An enormous delivery truck pulled up, and I watched in horror as three deliverymen wrestled the new, behemoth (king) mattress out of the truck, and up three flights of stairs. When they took away my old bed, I practically cried. When they put the new mattress onto the frame, I practically went into shock. It was gigantic. The bed now resembled a huge, mile-high throne in the middle of the bedroom. It dwarfed everything else in the room. When I climbed up onto the bed (which took considerable effort), I was suddenly peering down on a bird's eye view of my bedside table. I didn’t feel like a princess. I felt more like Gulliver.

Before we could even judge how we liked the comfort of the bed, the "mini" box springs had to be changed out for even mini-er box springs. That meant another trip to SleepTrainWreck, another separate purchase so as not to forfeit our one mattress return allowance (ca-ching! ca-ching!), and yet another delivery.

Once we had lowered the mattress to a reasonable, human height, we quickly realized that the "pillowtop" made the mattress very mushy. We'd sink in so deep, we started calling it "The Mosh Pit". It was also much too warm. The fault of the pillowtop? The latex mattress? Impossible to say. But we were sweating and needed to do something.

I had seen ads for a "cooling mattress pad" made with "NASA Outlast technology". I immediately ordered one (ca-ching! ca-ching!). The day the pad arrived, it had such a strong chemical smell, we had to launder it right away. The directions said it was ok to put it in the washer and drier. So we did. On Low. The mattress pad disintegrated in the drier. It just completely melted. The Cooling Mattress folks apologized profusely and sent us a replacement pad. We are still using it. But honestly, it isn't any cooler than any other pad. So much for NASA technology.

Bottom line, after several months of trying to adjust to The Mosh Pit, we knew it had to go.

Thus began another endless round of shopping, researching, and lying on countless beds in countless stores. It was clear that every mattress came with a trade-off. The mattress would have some type of "cooling construction" -- great! -- but it would be too firm. Or it would be just the right softness, but have too much Memory Foam. Or the store wouldn't allow any returns. Or...the list went on and on. At one point, we were tempted to buy an old-fashioned, cotton/coil mattress from a well-known local manufacturer. We could have had one -- for about the price of a new car. So it was back to the evil "S"-brands with their polyurethanes, foams and scary list of unknowns.

It was discouraging and exhausting. But…I wasn't alone. I soon discovered that the Internet is crawling with other miserable mattress owners/shoppers, all complaining bitterly about their new mattresses. The mother of all these sites is an industry-sponsored site called "What's the Best Mattress", http://www.whatsthebest-mattress.com/login.php?err=post&ref=%2Fforum%2Fpost.php%3Fp%3D19276&refn=

This website became my go-to resource and support group all in one. Log on, and you enter a world of hurt. There are literally hundreds of comments from people complaining about every possible make and model of mattress. There are disgruntled pillowtop owners. People complaining about collapsed mattresses. Or mattresses that “outgas” chemical fumes. Or that hurt their backs, shoulders or necks. Others complain about an uncomfortable phenomenon called "Latex pushback". There are even people offering advice on how to perform "mattress surgery". Yes, you heard that right. These folks will tell you in agonizing detail how to cut open your brand new mattress to either remove or add your own fillers. It's unreal. I mean...doesn't the industry know we HATE their products?

In the end, we finally settled on a Simmons Beauty Rest “Pemberton Plush” (matress names are clearly designed to make the buyers feel like royalty, instead of poor, sleepless schmucks who had to take out a loan to purchase a damn bed). The new mattress arrived this week, and so far, it feels very comfy. However, to my dismay, it also feels…very warm. But I won’t go there (not yet).

We returned the The Mosh Pit to SleepTrainWreck. They gladly refunded our money, or at least part of it. First, they deducted for the old box springs we had already returned (ca-ching! ca-ching!). Oh, and remember those "free" pillows? Well, we had to pay for those, too...or return them after months of use (ca-ching! ca-ching! ca-ching!).

Like I said, you can't win at this game.

Nighty night and pleasant dreams.

Crap: Why Vague, Single Syllable Book Titles Are the Rage

Sun, 27 Mar 2011 23:03:39 -0400

(Repost)

Peruse the bestseller shelf in any airport bookstore and you'll notice a trend. I call it “Monosyllabic Title Syndrome”.

I think the trend may have started with Malcolm Gladwell's second book, Blink. Right after that one hit the shelves - and sold like hotcakes - everyone wanted in on the act. So now, our nation's bookstore shelves are crammed with punchy, single syllable titles like Sway, Free, Dread and Rigged.

Cute and catchy as these cryptic titles may be, they do require some 'splainin'. Quite a bit of it, in fact. So every monosyllabic title is immediately followed by a really long, convoluted subtitle. To wit:

Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking

Switch: How to Change Things When Change is Hard

Sway: The Irresistible Pull of Irrational Behavior

Free: The Future of a Radical Price (huh?)

Dread: How Fear and Fantasy Have Fueled Epidemics from the Black Death to the Avian Flu

Rigged: The True Story of an Ivy League Kid Who Changed the World of Oil, from Wall Street to Dubai

The latest book by political pundit Dick Morris features the Mother of All Subheads:
Fleeced: How Barack Obama, Media Mockery of Terrorist Threats, Liberals Who Want to Kill Talk Radio, the Self-Serving Congress, Companies That Help Iran and Washington Lobbyists for Foreign Governments are Scamming Us...And What to Do About It.

(Personally, I would have titled this Sleaze: How an Opportunistic, Toe-Sucking Political Hack Shamelessly Exploited America's Socialist Fears and Tried to Destroy the Obama Administration Before They'd Even Been in Office for Barely Five Minutes with Two Hastily Published Propagandist Books Sporting Ridiculously Long Titles).

Somewhere along the line, it seems publishers decided that the secret to a best-selling book was a one word - and preferably one syllable - title. After all, Americans are lazy, not terribly literate and pressed for time. We like our literature lite and our titles bite-sized. Why tax our pea brains with all those pesky, extra syllables?

A short, catchy title can turn virtually any subject matter into an irresistible read. The next time I'm in the bookstore, I fully expect to see:

Fridge: How Coolants and Condensers Transformed Food Preservation in America

Steep: The Future of Tea in a Coffee-Addicted Society

Frizz: How Bad Hair Products Have Failed American Women

Mute: Why the Remote Control Matters More Than Ever in an Increasingly Loud, Obnoxious World

Grate: The Irresistible Lure of Parmesan Cheese

Drill: The Shocking, Untold Story of Dentistry

Of course, the monosyllabic trend is not limited to books. TV producers have also jumped on the bandwagon, giving us Weeds, Lost, Monk, Scrubs, Bones, Wrecked, Stoked and Hung.
The formula for success appears to be: Quirky Character + Edgy, Slightly Outrageous Subject Matter + One Syllable Title = Mega Hit.

By today's rules, Jane Austen would have written Pride minus the Prejudice. There would be no Catcher in the Rye... only Rye. Tolstoy's publisher would have made him choose between either War OR Peace ("Leo, baby, trust me on this...it sounds edgy...it's fresh...and it will climb to the top of Amazon's Bestseller List in a week..."). And I hate to even think what would have happened to Moby Dick.

Syllables. They're just like, so Twentieth Century.

Crimes and Moisturizers

Tue, 15 Mar 2011 13:03:06 -0400

I spend a lot of time in Walgreens. You might even say I pretty much live there. So I'm highly attuned to even the slightest changes at the stores.

Lately, I've noticed a disturbing new trend. Some stores are locking up certain merchandise behind glass (or rather, Plexiglass). If you wish to purchase an item, you must find a sales clerk (easier said than done), and have that person unlock the case to give you access to said item. It's annoying, to say the least.

At first, the only items that were being guarded in this fashion were disposable razors. I had to ponder the reasoning behind this; had 6-packs of plastic Bic razors become a new favorite among shoplifters? I suppose there was some logic at work here. After all, shoplifters care about personal grooming, too, and those fancy Gillette Mach 3 Turbo razors really are a bit pricey.

Or was it something even more sinister? Perhaps knives have become too expensive, and pink plastic Silky Touch Bic razors are being wielded as the modern criminal's weapon of choice.

It was all a bit odd, but I was willing to give Walgreens the benefit of the doubt. I figured drugstore crime must be worse than I thought.

But it didn't stop there. Next, I noticed that selected skincare products were also now under lock and key. These tended to be the higher priced items - usually in the $15-20 range. Apparently, thieves suffering from dry skin, under eye bags or crow's feet don't waste time with Pond's Cold Creme or Noxema. They're after the hard stuff; L'Oreal Skin Genesis with Pro-Retinol A is a favorite, as is the popular Olay Regenerist line. I picture a team of shoplifters scoping out the joint; "Hey, I'll grab the Olay Age-Defying Anti-Wrinkle Eye Cream and when no one's looking, you go for the Regenerating Serum...it's proven to visibly minimize pores."

Great. So now my Firming Serum is also under lock and key. Maybe it's for the best – the stuff's getting too expensive anyway (as an unintended consequence of their overzealous efforts to deter criminals, Walgreens is probably losing a lot of legitimate sales).

What's next? Is Walgreens going to lock up every item in the store? Is my favorite pharmacy turning into a veritable Fort Knox?

Just about. This week, to my horror, I discovered an entire shelf of stomach remedies and antacids had joined the forbidden items. What? Is there a black market in Maalox? Are there huge stockpiles of Mylanta and Maximum Strength Zantac stashed away in dingy warehouses around the city? Are corner drug dealers now trafficking in Pepto Bismol? ("Pssst...over here...I've got some really good stuff this week...you know, the pink stuff...it soothes and coats...").

I know shoplifting is a legitimate problem. But this is getting ridiculous. On the few occasions when I've asked a hapless Walgreens clerk to please unlock the case so I could buy something, I quickly regretted it. Inevitably, the key to the case is nowhere to be found, so the clerk must wander off in search of it – a quest that can take upwards of 15 minutes...if you're lucky. Sorry, but I don't have the time or patience to wait that long to buy a box of Pepcid AC. Maybe next time, I'll bypass Walgreens and just buy it from that suspicious looking character on the corner.

Late breaking update:

So...I've just been to Walgreens and it seems the lockdown situation has become even more extreme. I needed to buy a bottle of shampoo. But when I arrived in the shampoo aisle, I discovered that almost every shelf was now covered with a thick Plexiglass shield. I quickly scanned the forbidden items: Nexus...Garnier...Redken...Herbal Essences...all under lock and key. The only exceptions were Pert Plus and Head & Shoulders.

I have to hand it to these shoplifters; they really know their hair care products.