I just have to say, being a shop owner is not always about the business. Sometimes, the business location is more entertaining in and of itself than the work that goes on inside the walls.
So, I have to just write a short excerpt on that which is observed from my humble little stool looking out on to the cross streets of Kipling and 26th!
Being on a corner lot, we are susceptible to cars that like to cut through our property in order to save a few precious seconds of actually waiting at a red light to make a right turn. Some times, the cars that come through do so at such a high rate of speed that it is a sheer wonder that no one is sent flying across our porch (yes, we have considered a speed bump...) In the early years, this resulted, before we installed a perimeter fence on our porch, in a few cars actually driving up and over the two-foot high concrete slab of our patio, and Dukes of Hazzarding themselves onto the other side with tailpipe scraping behind them.
The other day, it was extraordinarily amusing to watch one gentleman in his very expensive SUV cut through the lot and accidentally hit his rear hatchback button, which simultaneously sent three cases of Diet Coke skidding into the middle of the road. He actually pulled back into our parking lot, ruminated on the whether or not he would venture into the street to collect the debris. Then, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, blasted back onto the street to head home leaving his Exxon-Coke spillage to fester on the hot tarmac. Although this was indeed amusing and sad, what followed really kept me entertained. On the brink of closing the shop, I made plans to go into the street and clean up the mess like a good Samaritan. Just before I went out, however, someone pulled up in a van that had a huge logo on the side that said something like "Eco-Corp" (I'll not use the real name to save face for this eco-friendly enterprise). The eco-friendly driver popped out of the car and darted into the street. "Aw," I thought, "that's great. I'm not the only one who cares about cleaning this up." But, alas, she bent down, snatched up exactly one can of soda, took her life in her hands as she crossed in the middle of the street again, seated herself back behind the wheel and popped the can open for a nice long swig of sugary-goodness. She then proceeded to peel-out of our lot leaving the cardboard and aluminum lolling about the street.
So, I went and changed and geared myself up, yet again, to clean the mess. Luckily, when I came out, some other caring individual had thrown on his hazard lights in the middle of the street and was seeing to the mess. Actually, he had cracked open the window of his beat-up old Ford and was chucking cans through the open window with as much purpose as his bulbous form would allow. When he was done, with perspiration, obvious even from a distance, matting his hair, he realigned himself behind the steering wheel of his truck and accelerated conspiratorially onto a side street to enjoy the loot he had stumbled across. Meanwhile, all the cardboard and bags he had left behind blew into the beautiful park on the other side of the intersection, soiling its greeness with their silverness.
I took these events as life lessons. Really. Someone who doesn't care for their lost items, someone who cares only a little, and someone who cares maybe a little too much...about Diet Coke. As fate would have it, one can was overlooked and rolled into the gutter. I picked this up to share with my employees the next day in lieu of a Christmas Bonus.
So, I have to just write a short excerpt on that which is observed from my humble little stool looking out on to the cross streets of Kipling and 26th!
Being on a corner lot, we are susceptible to cars that like to cut through our property in order to save a few precious seconds of actually waiting at a red light to make a right turn. Some times, the cars that come through do so at such a high rate of speed that it is a sheer wonder that no one is sent flying across our porch (yes, we have considered a speed bump...) In the early years, this resulted, before we installed a perimeter fence on our porch, in a few cars actually driving up and over the two-foot high concrete slab of our patio, and Dukes of Hazzarding themselves onto the other side with tailpipe scraping behind them.
The other day, it was extraordinarily amusing to watch one gentleman in his very expensive SUV cut through the lot and accidentally hit his rear hatchback button, which simultaneously sent three cases of Diet Coke skidding into the middle of the road. He actually pulled back into our parking lot, ruminated on the whether or not he would venture into the street to collect the debris. Then, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, blasted back onto the street to head home leaving his Exxon-Coke spillage to fester on the hot tarmac. Although this was indeed amusing and sad, what followed really kept me entertained. On the brink of closing the shop, I made plans to go into the street and clean up the mess like a good Samaritan. Just before I went out, however, someone pulled up in a van that had a huge logo on the side that said something like "Eco-Corp" (I'll not use the real name to save face for this eco-friendly enterprise). The eco-friendly driver popped out of the car and darted into the street. "Aw," I thought, "that's great. I'm not the only one who cares about cleaning this up." But, alas, she bent down, snatched up exactly one can of soda, took her life in her hands as she crossed in the middle of the street again, seated herself back behind the wheel and popped the can open for a nice long swig of sugary-goodness. She then proceeded to peel-out of our lot leaving the cardboard and aluminum lolling about the street.
So, I went and changed and geared myself up, yet again, to clean the mess. Luckily, when I came out, some other caring individual had thrown on his hazard lights in the middle of the street and was seeing to the mess. Actually, he had cracked open the window of his beat-up old Ford and was chucking cans through the open window with as much purpose as his bulbous form would allow. When he was done, with perspiration, obvious even from a distance, matting his hair, he realigned himself behind the steering wheel of his truck and accelerated conspiratorially onto a side street to enjoy the loot he had stumbled across. Meanwhile, all the cardboard and bags he had left behind blew into the beautiful park on the other side of the intersection, soiling its greeness with their silverness.
I took these events as life lessons. Really. Someone who doesn't care for their lost items, someone who cares only a little, and someone who cares maybe a little too much...about Diet Coke. As fate would have it, one can was overlooked and rolled into the gutter. I picked this up to share with my employees the next day in lieu of a Christmas Bonus.
