A scant six months ago, I joined the wild and crazy crew here on MBDC; I was branching out in my blogscapades and wanted to try my hand at writing about the area that I’ve come to love.

Everyone here has been extremely good to me, one of the new kids on the block. The experience has been inspiring and has driven my creativity in approaching this area to new heights. I’ve been driven to explore this town more than I ever have before, in search of new restaurants, new venues, and new entertainment. Much of these experiences I’ve yet to share; sadly, I won’t be doing so on this stage.

Instead, I’m leaving MBDC and moving to We Love DC. My continued excitment over living here remains unabated. With our imminent purchase of a home in northern VA, I look forward to planting our roots deep into the soil and growing old with the District – inside the zone and through the Beltway. And sharing all of this with the great people of the area with more passion and freedom than before.

So thank you, readers, writers, commentors and the MBDC staff for taking a chance on and accepting the missives from one of the small fish in this vast pond. May your futures remain bright and your cameras nearby.

See you on the other side.

I don’t know that I have a lot to say about the matter, other than it being somewhat interesting that this kind of thing crops up wayyyyyy out in the burbs rather than in the city. I wonder who their market is, or what their necessary purpose might be. After all, if you don’t approve of Plan B, you’re just as able to not get a prescription for it filled at CVS as you are at DMC Pharmacy. Is it that important to be able to fill your prescription for penicillin somewhere that there’s no condoms on the rack, tempting you?

Perhaps it’ll all a way to get a job for a friend or family member who is a pharmacist who finds himself unemployable at the majors because he won’t dispense birth control pills. Beyond that I’m hard pressed to understand the need for this business – when you open an alternative to Outback you don’t serve everything BUT meat, you have an entirely different set of offerings. What’s DMC Pharmacy going to bring to the table other than… what it doesn’t put out on the table?

I was at the Germantown Wal*Mart to buy four bags of sugar because earlier in the day I had been at Butler’s Orchard picking 10 pounds of strawberries to turn into delicious jam. And to make delicious jam, you need lots of sugar. I grabbed four bags and headed to the checkout, where I also decided I could use some refreshment. I grabbed a Mountain Dew from the cooler, but the cashier had already processed my card for the four bags of sugar. He apologized and rang up another transaction for the Mt. Dew. At that point, he crumpled up my receipt for the four bags of sugar and handed me the receipt for the Mountain Dew. I headed for the exit, and was greeted by Wal*Mart security who wanted to check my receipt. I produced the receipt for the Mountain Dew and explained that the cashier had tossed the other receipt for the sugar. I would repeat this explanation 6 more times before this affair ended. The rest of the tale is below…

At this point, I attempted to leave, but was told I could not. I immediately asked if I was being detained. I was told “no” but that I wasn’t allowed to leave unless I walked back to the cashier to get a receipt. I said that I was “happy to let the security guard talk to the cashier, but that I was heading home with my sugar.” I attempted to leave again, and the door was blocked. I asked again if I was being detained, and was told “yes.” I asked on what grounds, and the security guard said “Because you stole.”

I informed the guard I had done no such thing, that the sugar was my property, and I was leaving with it. This time I pushed passed him and left the store, with him following me demanding I stop. As I left, he grabbed my bags, ripping them open. As he followed me he attempted to grab my bags, and grab the items inside of my bags. At one point, he told me that he should “kick my ass.” As I reached the end of sidewalk outside the store and headed towards my car in the parking lot, another employee came running and blocked my path. Soon afterwards a manager arrived. I again asked if I was being detained. I was informed by the manager that I was. I again asked for what reason, and was told by the original security guard that it was for stealing. I once again informed them that I hadn’t stolen anything and that I was leaving.

At this point, the manager informed me that Wal*Mart policy did not allow me to leave the store without showing a receipt. I said that I had paid for my merchandise, that it was in fact a store employee that had thrown away my receipt, and that I was not compelled to prove that items that I legally owned belonged to anyone but me. Again I inquired whether I was being detained, and was told my only options were to go back in the store to talk to the cashier or have the police called. I informed the manager that she was welcome to call the police, because I had done nothing wrong. At tht point, she radioed for someone to call the police. Once again, I started to walk to my car as the two security guards again attempted to block my path in the parking lot.

At this point, and off duty police officer came to the scene (he appeared to be heading into Wal*Mart to shop, not the one called by the manager), showed his badge, and asked for an explanation. Everyone was calmed by this, and tensions visibly eased on the faces of the Wal*Mart employees. I explained my side, and Wal*Mart employees explained their side. After the explanations, I asked the police officer if I was being detained, and he said yes. I asked on what grounds, and he said “suspicion of theft.” The officer told me I could give them “their merchandise back” and leave at that point or I could go inside and talk to the cashier. I indicated that since he was detaining me, I was willing to go back into the store and speak with the cashier, but that the merchandise belonged to me.  At this point, one of the bags of sugar fell from my ripped bags and split open on the pavement. It was an accident, but I could tell no one believed me when I said so.

On the way into the store, the officer informed me that it was his day off, he had important things to do, and he didn’t want to take me to jail. But I had one last chance to give them their merchandise back and just leave, because if I wasn’t telling the truth, he would personally drive me to the station. I agreed wholeheartedly with him, and told him so. I’m fairly certain he thought I had actually stolen the sugar at this point. He then asked what I needed so much sugar for anyway. At the time, I was literally covered with strawberry juice. It had stained my shorts and shirt red, and I thought it was fairly believable that I was going to make strawberry jam. He still seemed skeptical, asking where I had been picking strawberries, and only seemed to believe me after I was able to name Butler’s Orchard. He then asked if I had ID, what my name was, and how old I was. Upon telling him this, he said “You better not be lying to me,” so perhaps I was too quick to think he didn’t assume I was guilty.

Of course, upon re-entering the store and speaking with the cashier, he informed everyone that I had paid for the sugar and the receipt was found in his trash can. His story differed slightly in that he told them he had given me the receipt but I had thrown it into his trash can. That was impossible based on where his trash can was from the checkout counter, but it didn’t matter. The original security guard was cordial, shook my hand, and apologized. The Wal*Mart manager and police officer lectured about how next time if I just cooperated and gave up my rights at the beginning, it would have been much easier on everyone. Trust me, Wal*Mart, there won’t be a next time.

Safeway employees and managers – every time I am ready to give your store another chance, I see something like this. It doesn’t take much to keep the place looking decent. Is this how you save money? Do you try to reduce shrinkage by waiting until the ants carry everything off to their intricate system of nests somewhere in the building?

Do any of our readers work for Safeway and want to comment? All I can think is that if there is one ant-infested part of the building, there are likely to be others.

So last night me and the missus went to look at a couple of townhomes, one of which we’re considering purchasing. We’d both had a really long mental day at our dayjobs, so I suggested we make the trip out to the Cold Stone Creamery on US 1, near the I-495 interchange. There’s not really a good place for ice cream near our current home and we both like the taste of CSC’s ice cream. So it’s worth the drive for us.

Read the rest of our adventure after the jump.

When we got to the store at 8:20 p.m., there was – as expected – a small line. A couple of families and two groups of teenagers.

And, surprisingly, only two associates behind the counter. Which isn’t a big deal, really. Except that they were really, really slow.

So we settled into place, as it seemed it would be a wait. I mean, if there’s only two people working and roughly 12 people in line, it’s going to be a bit.

Except….I noticed they had an erase board behind the counter (a large one) with four names on it, showing who was working what shift and their assignments. Four names – and all were working to close.

Ooookay. So where’s the other two?

Apparently, in the back. One’s washing dishes. The other comes trotting out with a pan of brownies – and after looking down the line of us (there’s now four people behind me) – PROCEEDS TO CUT THE BROWNIES.

No stepping up to help, no attempt to speed the line (there’s another open register to the left of us), not even an acknowledgement of our (still patient) existence. She just cuts them brownies like the world depends on them.

Think she stepped up after putting them in a covered dish and on the display case?

Heck no. She disappeared into the back again for another 5-6 minutes.

By now, it’s 8:34 (I’m taking notes now) and the line has only progressed through the one family of four that was up when we entered. And by now, the line is to the door – at my count, about 25 people. (You can see the line in the picture above – I took it after we exited the store.)

My wife wanted to leave at this point. I wanted to stay, however, but not for ice cream. I looked at her with a smile and said, “I’m a blogger. I have power. This’ll be fun.” So I whipped out a notepad and jotted down CSC’s mission statement posted prominently over the register:

“Fun friendly people who exceed customer expectation every day in every store, one customer at a time by providing quality product, unmatched store cleanliness, and superior service.”

Well, their ice cream’s pretty good and the store was clean; I’ll give them that.

As I was jotting down the statement as well as who was working (that’d be Jackie, Keith, Kelly and Teneisha), the brownie-cutter noticed me writing stuff down…and then finally stepped up and started helping. So now we’re up to two, plus the register person who’s running around doing non-ice cream orders. I wonder how much longer it would’ve taken if it wasn’t blatently obvious I was taking notes? (My wife urged me to interview people in line…)

Finally, at 8:45 my wife stepped up and placed her order for a small banana and oreo dish. There was no communication between any of the staff at all, save that stupid “Gimme a break” ditty they break out into periodically. Paying was perfunctory – no smile, no “sorry for the wait,” nothing. Though a very large tip bucket was prominently displayed.

Yeah, fat chance there, kiddo.

So what’s my point with all this? Easy. If you go to the CSC on US 1, don’t expect to go through the line any faster than rush hour traffic on I-95. And bring a book – you’ll be there a while.

(photo by bcostin)

So as previously mentioned, my wife and I had determined now was the right time for us to look for a home in Northern Virginia. (Considering my decades-long “dislike” of Maryland, it was automatically disqualified.)

This past weekend was our first outing with our Realtor to see what the area had to offer. We stuck to Springfield this weekend; no need to rush hither and yon right out of the gate.

We saw about 8 houses over the course of the last two days. Four were flat-out clunkers, two were ‘ok’, and two were outstanding! So much so we were hard-pressed during a late dinner at Mike’s American Restaurant to decide between the two – supposing we would place an offer so quickly from the start.

Needless to say, I’m amazed – and appalled – at the selection, even within a small five mile radius. Certain neighborhoods seemed to have ‘foreclosure’ or ‘for sale’ signs up nearly every other house. Others, you’d have a hard time finding even one.

A couple of the homes we visited were what I call “tired.” Scuffed walls, small holes, beaten appliances. Lived hard, then left vacant. Homes like that, I assign about $20K of additional “fix-up” money in my head – I’m no handyman, I’m gonna pay some guy to do it for me.

One home in particular you could tell was “rooms rented” – every door had a separate key, the carpet was beat to hell, and it LOOKED like a flophouse on the inside. You’d never know on the outside, though. We ‘passed’ on that one.

There was one place we went to that was still occupied, sorta. The house was a disaster; the two lower rooms were being ‘rented’, and it was just a sad testimony to the overeagerness of some people who bought over their heads and couldn’t keep above water.

Though I will pass on advice to this homeowner(s) – if you’re going to try selling your house, it would *probably* help if you, you know, CLEANED IT UP first. I know you’re supposed to look at the house and not the stuff, but geez! Nothing says “no way in hell” like old food along the baseboards, dirty clothes everywhere, and piles of junk “hidden” in the garage.

Bottom line? This first outing I’d give a B+. Two great possibilities, 4 disappointments. Prospects are looking good, though. I am really encouraged regarding the homes available for our projected price range.

Next week: the I-95 corridor (unless plans change).

Metro Considers Large Plasmas for Stations

Metro’s giving a good hard look at plasma screens for all the platforms, and if you’ve seen the plasmas at the Gallery Place station, you might have a good idea what the prototype may look like. In addition, the displays would show content from a new “Metro Channel”, designed to provide a platform for live announcements and display of system conditions.

Virginia Dumps Smoking Ban

Despite strong support from the left, the Virginia House of Delegates has killed the smoking ban for the fourth straight year. Since Virginia’s legislature holds most of the power in the State, cities and counties can’t independently ban smoking, and thus it continues unabated in many of the bars and restaurants in the state. Who was responsible? Why, look, it’s Virginia’s favorite son, David B Albo, of the egregiously stupid $1000 moving violation fines! Hooray.

Final Amount in Revenue Scam is $43M

Forty-Three Million Dollars is what several DC Department of Revenue employees stole from the city coffers as part of their years-long scam. My general hope is that they spend some serious time in a federal pen belong to the guy with the most cigarettes.

When in Doubt, Don’t Trust the Flower Guy

Some suspects were caught red handed on Thursday, but a Sheriff’s deputy dressed up like a flower delivery guy. They used a sheriff’s van made up to look like a flower delivery truck, and a deputy in a delivery guy’s uniform to put the cuffs on 12 suspects who had been dodging the police for some time.

Do you think they make fun of you extra if you got caught because you were monumentally stupid?

What’s interesting is that the fare increase will cost Metro another $363,000 just in new signage and reprogramming of the machines just to handle the fare increase, itself. The Democrats are using this an opportunity to bash Sen. Coburn (R-OK) for blocking a bill to provide $1.5B in matching fundings for the transit system. Sen. Coburn suggests that any increase in funding should be met with a decrease in funding. Anyone have a good source of $1.5B in the federal budget they might want to see cut?

The new Zipcar (they’re taking Zipcar’s name in this marriage, no hyphenation or brand new name) will serve serve 50 cities including the District. With 180,000 customers and 5,000 vehicles between the two companies, the new Zipcar will be a big deal, but I wonder if they’ll still need every one of those parking spots near the Metro?

Both companies are yet to showing a profit, and are hoping that an economy of scale will be available to them once they’re merged.

Here’s hoping.

Show me a person who hasn’t had a blood-boiling experience with Comcast and I’ll show you a person who has never had cable TV. Whether they’ve screwed up your bill, showed up five hours late for a service call, or taken three visits to actually fix your problem, their quality of customer service is at the bottom of every industry.

Let’s say for example that Comcast scheduled an appointment to come by your house for an installation, didn’t show up, came by two days later, then botched the installation. You decide to go to the local Comcast service center to complain, patiently wait two hours, only to be told that the manager has left for the day. What would you do?! What would you do?! Stop! Hammertime.

That’s exactly what little ol’ Mona Shaw of Bristow decided to do as she went home and stewed over the weekend, got her husband’s claw hammer, and went back to the service center to let them know who’s boss. According to today’s Washington Post article:

“Hammer time: Shaw storms in the company’s office. BAM! She whacks the keyboard of the customer service rep. BAM! Down goes the monitor. BAM! She totals the telephone. People scatter, scream, cops show up and what does she do? POW! A parting shot to the phone!”

She claims that her blood pressure skyrocketed, she started to hyperventilate, and was ultimately booked by Johnny Law. She was fined $345 and received a three month suspended sentence for disorderly conduct. Poor little ol’ lady. While I don’t think busting office equipment with a hammer is the solution to every problem, kudos to her for letting her voice – and her hammer – be heard.

Photo by yoganerd