February 15, 2010
Ben Lemon
1234 Dreary Lane
Marietta, GA 30066
Krispy Kreme Doughnut Corporation
PO Box 83
Winston-Salem, NC 27102
Dear Krispy Kreme,
I am writing you in regards to the service I received at your Marietta, Georgia location (299 Cobb Parkway South). I have been frequenting this establishment for several years and have always been discouraged by the cold and callous demeanor of its workers. Unfortunately, this location is the only one near my place of employment. On my last visit, the lack of accountability and customer service was very unacceptable to say the least.
On February 10th, I stopped to get a doughnut and coffee as I do at least once a week on my way to work. On this particular day, the drive-thru employee was very rude. She has been rude in the past, but this time she was worse. I was given my doughnut and was asked to wait for my coffee. Upon her return to the window, she spilled the very hot coffee across my lap. This of course burned me, but it also damaged the seats and carpet in my car. I asked to speak to the manager and she advised me that he was not available. I asked, “why not?” The employee told me that he has not come into work yet and said the she does not know when he will arrive. I explained my disapproval and asked her to get me a new cup of coffee. Upon receiving the coffee, I informed her that I will be contacting the corporate office about this.
I must pose a few questions regarding my experience at this particular location. Why was the Marietta store without a manager? Who is going to pay to get this mess shampooed out of my vehicle’s interior? I enjoy your product, but I do not believe that it is worth the lackluster service and the chance that this may happen again.
Sincerely,
Ben Lemon
Krispy Kreme Customer
Additions:
1. I added the date at the top of the letter.
2. I added a new line to the last paragraph. (“I must pose a few questions regarding my experience at this particular location.)
3. I also added “Sincerely” to my closing.
Deletion:
1. I deleted a sentence from my last paragraph. (At the very least, I think that Krispy Kreme should pay to get the interior of my vehicle cleaned.)
Substitution:
1. I changed, “I asked to speak to her manager” to I asked to speak to the manager”.
2. Instead of posing a question on the last sentence, I changed it to a sentence. [(I enjoy your product, but is it worth the lackluster service….) to (I enjoy your product, but I do not believe its worth the lackluster service….)]
I think the changes that I made the letter a bit more precise and professional. I also think that by removing “At the very least, I think that Krispy Kreme should pay to get the interior of my vehicle cleaned” that I have reduced the chance that Krispy Kreme will do the bare minimum to keep me as a customer.
Title of Blog Citation:
“Lisa the Tree Hugger.” The Simpsons.FOX. KTTV FOX, Los Angeles. 19 November 2000
Monday, February 15, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Honorable Discharge
http://www.time.com/time/picturesoftheweek/0,29409,1950092_2017278,00.html
Being a Sergeant 1st class, I have seen my fair share of flag-draped coffins. I will never get used to it. Tolerance would be the most accurate description of my state of mind. Conflict overseas has definitely had an effect on the number of brothers and sisters that receive this honor.
Who is it this time? Is this a male or female? Perhaps we were in boot camp together or served together on my last tour. Could it be Joseph Taylor? I remember not thinking that he was cut out for the military life back in boot, but to my surprise he ended up being a real asset to his company. Maybe it’s Heather Nash. She saved my life in Afghanistan. I didn’t think I was going to survive the explosion, but her selflessness in action got me out of the blast radius and behind cover. She was even able to suppress enemy fire while I fended off the effects of the detonation. Regardless, the person in this casket is somebody’s loved one.
It troubles me to have these thoughts, but it is difficult not to. I am honored to be a part of this man or women’s ceremony, but I would much rather be sharing life with them. Am I out of line having these thoughts? Am I going soft? I should be focused on my orders not on these trivial thoughts, but this is my fourth ceremony of this kind in the last month. I understand why so many see the honor in dying for their country, but should such a sacrifice have to be made in this day and age. Was the action and motive that took this life, necessary? What about all of the lives before? Some of the veterans think of this as the highest honor. I think of it as an honor that nobody wants to bear. Perhaps that is a difference between the generations. I guess it is pretty amazing to be immortalized within the history books.
As I suspected, there is media everywhere. (Keep your back straight soldier! Keep your chin up! Make this individuals family proud and for God’s sake don’t trip.) The flag perfectly adorns this warrior’s final place of rest. The patriotism is overwhelming as we march to the sounds of the bugler playing “Taps”. There is a sea of red, white, and blue that flickers in the wind. I think I will take a moment of silent reflection for another selfless act of one for the defense of millions.
Reichanadter, Jeri. "Coming Home." Photo. Time.com 21 Dec. 2009. 9 Feb. 2010
http://www.time.com/time/picturesoftheweek/0,29409,1950092_2017278,00.html
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
The Gamer
I have been a big fan of video games for as long as I can remember. It is definitely my favorite past time. My first experience with video games was the Commodore 64 home computer. Most of the games were pretty simple and lacked the technological strength that today’s gaming consoles and computers have. The home computers in that era were nothing like what we see today. Windows was not even invented yet. Programs were initialized by the use of DOS. Plus, Commodore’s had a built in cartridge peripheral to allow the use of game cartridges, which is pretty uncommon for home computers today. Though the Commodore 64 was fun, it lacked the immersion that later gaming systems adopted. The Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) is a shining example of this.
One of the most memorable games that I played was Super Mario Bros., which is a side-scrolling action plat former. The level design was unlike anything that the gaming industry had seen to date. The level of exploration and reward were second-to-none. I remember scouring the levels for new hidden levels and various other goodies, which was quite addictive. Not to mention, it made for some great bragging rights amongst my friends. I remember when I first found the “warp zones” on level 1-2 and that I was the first of my friends to find it. Unfortunately, I also found out that my older brother already found it and that he also found one on level 4-2.
Some of the most fun I had in my youth involved my older brother and I doing laps on the massively popular kart racer, Mario Kart. This game made its debut on Super NES, which was the predecessor to the NES. The exhilaration, comradery, and enjoyment that I experienced while playing this game have seldom been matched. The feeling of accomplishment when I was able to spin my brother out, as infrequent as it may have been, was one of the things that kept me coming back for more. Still to this day, I find it hard to re-create the special moments that the older NES and SNES games gave me in my childhood.
Games have changed allot over the years. So much, that the industry has lost vision on some of the simplistically fun things that made up the games of my youth. I still play and enjoy the games of today, but I fear that I will never restore those feelings that so many others and I experienced back then. Perhaps it is not just video games or video game developers that have changed over the years. Would I still give Super Mario Bros. a play in today’s market? Unfortunately, I probably would not.
One of the most memorable games that I played was Super Mario Bros., which is a side-scrolling action plat former. The level design was unlike anything that the gaming industry had seen to date. The level of exploration and reward were second-to-none. I remember scouring the levels for new hidden levels and various other goodies, which was quite addictive. Not to mention, it made for some great bragging rights amongst my friends. I remember when I first found the “warp zones” on level 1-2 and that I was the first of my friends to find it. Unfortunately, I also found out that my older brother already found it and that he also found one on level 4-2.
Some of the most fun I had in my youth involved my older brother and I doing laps on the massively popular kart racer, Mario Kart. This game made its debut on Super NES, which was the predecessor to the NES. The exhilaration, comradery, and enjoyment that I experienced while playing this game have seldom been matched. The feeling of accomplishment when I was able to spin my brother out, as infrequent as it may have been, was one of the things that kept me coming back for more. Still to this day, I find it hard to re-create the special moments that the older NES and SNES games gave me in my childhood.
Games have changed allot over the years. So much, that the industry has lost vision on some of the simplistically fun things that made up the games of my youth. I still play and enjoy the games of today, but I fear that I will never restore those feelings that so many others and I experienced back then. Perhaps it is not just video games or video game developers that have changed over the years. Would I still give Super Mario Bros. a play in today’s market? Unfortunately, I probably would not.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
The Little Store
Eudora Welty structures her story, “The Little Store” by first giving a brief description of her town and her mother. Explaining her mother’s use of the nearby Grocer’s delivery service forms a good transition into the main part of her story, which is the young girl’s journey to “The Little Store”. When Welty comments, “she never set foot inside a grocery store” (Welty, 155) and then proceeds to detail the mother’s use of grocery delivery for her regular needs, she is providing a good transition into why the these trips to “The Little Store” are necessary.
Welty next begins to detail how well the little girl knows the sidewalk leading to “The Little Store” by stating, “I knew even the sidewalk to it as well as I knew my own skin” (Welty, 155). She reinforced this point by explaining the multitude of games that the young girl played. She commented on jumping rope, hopscotch, jacks, roller-skating, bike riding, and playing with her homemade steamboat. This provides the reader some insight into how well the little girl knows the area, background on the little girl, and also gives an idea as to the age range of the child. All of these statements are made with less detail as to add more emphasis to the main point of the story, which is “The Little Store”.
The author uses a lot of sensory description when explaining “The Little Store”. Welty writes, “There are almost tangible smells – licorice recently sucked in a child’s cheek” (Welty, 157). Aside from evoking a connection with the smell of licorice this statement also evokes the taste of licorice. She also further details a smell of dill-pickle, ammonia, and mice.
Another sense that was used in the story was sight. The author provides a fairly detailed depiction of the store through the girl’s eyes when she begins to explain the large amount of stock that lines the store shelves. This gives the reader a mental image of the surroundings.
Welty’s comment, “Shelves climbed to high reach all the way around” (Welty, 157) provides a vantage point for the young girl. Through the girl’s eyes the shelves were high reaching as if almost too the roof. It made me think of how I may look at a stadium today with its high-reaching stands that wrap all the way around. I also noticed that the writer describes Mr. Sessions’s store cheese as being “as big as a doll’s house” (Welty, 157). These points reinforce the writers’ technique to create a childlike perspective.
Eudora Welty. “The Little Store” and excerpt from “Storekeeper, 1935.” From The Eye of the Story; Selected Essays and Reviews by Eudora Welty. Copyright 1978 by Eudora Welty. Used by permission of Random House, Inc.
Welty next begins to detail how well the little girl knows the sidewalk leading to “The Little Store” by stating, “I knew even the sidewalk to it as well as I knew my own skin” (Welty, 155). She reinforced this point by explaining the multitude of games that the young girl played. She commented on jumping rope, hopscotch, jacks, roller-skating, bike riding, and playing with her homemade steamboat. This provides the reader some insight into how well the little girl knows the area, background on the little girl, and also gives an idea as to the age range of the child. All of these statements are made with less detail as to add more emphasis to the main point of the story, which is “The Little Store”.
The author uses a lot of sensory description when explaining “The Little Store”. Welty writes, “There are almost tangible smells – licorice recently sucked in a child’s cheek” (Welty, 157). Aside from evoking a connection with the smell of licorice this statement also evokes the taste of licorice. She also further details a smell of dill-pickle, ammonia, and mice.
Another sense that was used in the story was sight. The author provides a fairly detailed depiction of the store through the girl’s eyes when she begins to explain the large amount of stock that lines the store shelves. This gives the reader a mental image of the surroundings.
Welty’s comment, “Shelves climbed to high reach all the way around” (Welty, 157) provides a vantage point for the young girl. Through the girl’s eyes the shelves were high reaching as if almost too the roof. It made me think of how I may look at a stadium today with its high-reaching stands that wrap all the way around. I also noticed that the writer describes Mr. Sessions’s store cheese as being “as big as a doll’s house” (Welty, 157). These points reinforce the writers’ technique to create a childlike perspective.
Eudora Welty. “The Little Store” and excerpt from “Storekeeper, 1935.” From The Eye of the Story; Selected Essays and Reviews by Eudora Welty. Copyright 1978 by Eudora Welty. Used by permission of Random House, Inc.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Where Am I From?
“Where am I from?” This is a difficult question, since I have lived in several places for an extended period of time. I was born on Barksdale Air Force Base in Bossier City, Louisiana. While I was still a baby, my parents moved to South Bend, Indiana. They separated a couple of years later and I stayed in Indiana with my father. At the age of nine, I moved to Georgia to live with my mother and I primarily lived there until the present. All of this relocating has made it difficult for me to identify myself with a given location.
Since I did not live in Louisiana for very long, I was too young to generate an opinion of the city or state. I also do not know whether I share any of the people’s characteristics or behaviors. These points make it difficult to consider Louisiana as the place that I am from, which is odd, since it is where I was born. The next state took up some of my more formidable years, so I will be able to draw many more comparisons between myself and my next location.
South Bend, Indiana is known for a couple things. Most notably is it is known for being the home of the University of Notre Dame. Naturally, I am a big fan of the “Fighting Irish”. Notre Dame’s prestige and public image, served as a beacon of hope for the surrounding inhabitants of South Bend. Another lesser known truth of South Bend is that it is home of the Merchants National Bank, which is one of the banks that John Dillinger robbed in the early 1930’s. I do find that I share some similar characteristics to the people of Northern Indiana. I find that I am much more acclimated to be comfortable in cold weather, which would make sense given the longer winters I experienced in South Bend as a child. This also makes Georgia summers a nightmare. South Bend has warm summers, but they are not as humid. I also think that these extended winters may have contributed to my “Golden Tan”, or lack thereof. My pale skin color appears to be a characteristic too as many of the white folks in this region share the same ultra-white, almost translucent complexion.
Around 9 years old, I moved to Marietta, Georgia. Everything in Marietta was so much nicer and cleaner than anything I experienced in South Bend. I noticed that the weather was much warmer and the winters were almost snow free. I went through middle school and High school in Marietta, so it became the place that I identified myself with the most. This is where I made the most friends and is also where I searched for and found my own individuality. I have been told by many Southerners that I sound like a northerner. This is because I do not share their “draw” or accent, which is funny since I was born in the south and spent the majority of my life in the south.
I am still unsure of where I am from. I guess it depends on whether one is referring to where someone is born or where someone mostly identifies with. If asked, where I am from, my answer would still be that I was born in Louisiana, but I am from Georgia. I made this decision knowing that I share more physical characteristics with the people of Indiana, but it is the friends and interactions of Georgia that I identify myself with the most.
Since I did not live in Louisiana for very long, I was too young to generate an opinion of the city or state. I also do not know whether I share any of the people’s characteristics or behaviors. These points make it difficult to consider Louisiana as the place that I am from, which is odd, since it is where I was born. The next state took up some of my more formidable years, so I will be able to draw many more comparisons between myself and my next location.
South Bend, Indiana is known for a couple things. Most notably is it is known for being the home of the University of Notre Dame. Naturally, I am a big fan of the “Fighting Irish”. Notre Dame’s prestige and public image, served as a beacon of hope for the surrounding inhabitants of South Bend. Another lesser known truth of South Bend is that it is home of the Merchants National Bank, which is one of the banks that John Dillinger robbed in the early 1930’s. I do find that I share some similar characteristics to the people of Northern Indiana. I find that I am much more acclimated to be comfortable in cold weather, which would make sense given the longer winters I experienced in South Bend as a child. This also makes Georgia summers a nightmare. South Bend has warm summers, but they are not as humid. I also think that these extended winters may have contributed to my “Golden Tan”, or lack thereof. My pale skin color appears to be a characteristic too as many of the white folks in this region share the same ultra-white, almost translucent complexion.
Around 9 years old, I moved to Marietta, Georgia. Everything in Marietta was so much nicer and cleaner than anything I experienced in South Bend. I noticed that the weather was much warmer and the winters were almost snow free. I went through middle school and High school in Marietta, so it became the place that I identified myself with the most. This is where I made the most friends and is also where I searched for and found my own individuality. I have been told by many Southerners that I sound like a northerner. This is because I do not share their “draw” or accent, which is funny since I was born in the south and spent the majority of my life in the south.
I am still unsure of where I am from. I guess it depends on whether one is referring to where someone is born or where someone mostly identifies with. If asked, where I am from, my answer would still be that I was born in Louisiana, but I am from Georgia. I made this decision knowing that I share more physical characteristics with the people of Indiana, but it is the friends and interactions of Georgia that I identify myself with the most.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The Pantry
My wife and I decide to take a drive to our new house. The last couple of weeks, my stepfather and I have been working to get it ready for the “big move”. I was planning to sand some of the sheetrock and maybe add a little paint to some newly added walls, but I am too tired today. Regardless, it is nice to walk around and appreciate the progress of our new home.
Upon entering the front door, I smell the strong odor of paint and sheetrock. I see a light haze that coats everything. As my shoes slide across the hardwood floor, I see a faint mist of chalky white powder fill the air around my feet. Two sets of shoe treads detail our path throughout the house. My wife points to some minor imperfections that she would like me to address, but my focus is on a particular part of the house. I assure her that everything will get fixed and “If I can’t see the minutiae, I still try to keep my eyes open.” She then draws her focus to the chandelier in the living room being too small, I reminded her of how short we are, and that it is okay if “we miss a great deal, because we perceive only things on our scale. The lights are out in the far corner of the room. “Still, a great deal of light falls on everything”. I can still make out a floor that is littered with various saws, electric drills, and hand tools. All of which, share the same distinct haze. The kitchen is the main area of focus for this trip, so I continue through the house.
I flip the light switch and “I see what I expect”. The large white tiles show some signs of age, but mainly they are just dirty. That is my impression, but “sense impressions of one-celled animals are not edited for the brain: “This is philosophically interesting in a rather mournful way, since it means that only the simplest animals perceive the universe as it is.”” The counter top is beset with lunch debris and the occasional beer bottle from the weeks prior, but the intense white of the new appliances add some needed contrast to an area of such disarray. To my left is a new structure. It’s a walk-in pantry that we are working on. I see freshly painted sheet rock with a new white door, much whiter with the tile, but on par with the appliances. It’s the little things that I may overlook that remind me that, “It’s all a matter of keeping my eyes open.” The freshly nailed baseboards have not been puttied or painted, but it is what is inside that has my curiosity. I open the pantry door and I realized that, “I had been my whole life a bell, and never knew it until that moment I was lifted and struck.” With a click that resonates in my ear, a fluorescent bulb above my head automatically illuminates. My stepfather had already completed the sheetrock inside and installed the pantry light. I see my wife’s eyes light up with enjoyment as she sees how this new addition has turned out. I see several spots of fresh sheetrock mud and a bright bulb that has a hodgepodge of wires hanging down from it. I start to contemplate the sanding that I will need to do inside of the pantry and how that haze that covers everything in the house will soon be covering my hands, face, and clothes. This will definitely be a job for another day.
After shutting the pantry door, I took a brief moment to admire the craftsmanship that was caught in my gaze. I went back into the living room, past the tools and across the dusty floor to the front door. “I reel in confusion; I don’t understand what I see”, but I am happy to say that this is going to turn out to be a great house. I locked the door and we went home.
Annie Dillard. “Seeing.” From Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. Copyright 1974 by Annie Dillard. Reprinted by permission of Harper-Collins Publishers inc.
Upon entering the front door, I smell the strong odor of paint and sheetrock. I see a light haze that coats everything. As my shoes slide across the hardwood floor, I see a faint mist of chalky white powder fill the air around my feet. Two sets of shoe treads detail our path throughout the house. My wife points to some minor imperfections that she would like me to address, but my focus is on a particular part of the house. I assure her that everything will get fixed and “If I can’t see the minutiae, I still try to keep my eyes open.” She then draws her focus to the chandelier in the living room being too small, I reminded her of how short we are, and that it is okay if “we miss a great deal, because we perceive only things on our scale. The lights are out in the far corner of the room. “Still, a great deal of light falls on everything”. I can still make out a floor that is littered with various saws, electric drills, and hand tools. All of which, share the same distinct haze. The kitchen is the main area of focus for this trip, so I continue through the house.
I flip the light switch and “I see what I expect”. The large white tiles show some signs of age, but mainly they are just dirty. That is my impression, but “sense impressions of one-celled animals are not edited for the brain: “This is philosophically interesting in a rather mournful way, since it means that only the simplest animals perceive the universe as it is.”” The counter top is beset with lunch debris and the occasional beer bottle from the weeks prior, but the intense white of the new appliances add some needed contrast to an area of such disarray. To my left is a new structure. It’s a walk-in pantry that we are working on. I see freshly painted sheet rock with a new white door, much whiter with the tile, but on par with the appliances. It’s the little things that I may overlook that remind me that, “It’s all a matter of keeping my eyes open.” The freshly nailed baseboards have not been puttied or painted, but it is what is inside that has my curiosity. I open the pantry door and I realized that, “I had been my whole life a bell, and never knew it until that moment I was lifted and struck.” With a click that resonates in my ear, a fluorescent bulb above my head automatically illuminates. My stepfather had already completed the sheetrock inside and installed the pantry light. I see my wife’s eyes light up with enjoyment as she sees how this new addition has turned out. I see several spots of fresh sheetrock mud and a bright bulb that has a hodgepodge of wires hanging down from it. I start to contemplate the sanding that I will need to do inside of the pantry and how that haze that covers everything in the house will soon be covering my hands, face, and clothes. This will definitely be a job for another day.
After shutting the pantry door, I took a brief moment to admire the craftsmanship that was caught in my gaze. I went back into the living room, past the tools and across the dusty floor to the front door. “I reel in confusion; I don’t understand what I see”, but I am happy to say that this is going to turn out to be a great house. I locked the door and we went home.
Annie Dillard. “Seeing.” From Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. Copyright 1974 by Annie Dillard. Reprinted by permission of Harper-Collins Publishers inc.
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