Erin Culhane Opinions Editor I was shopping for a birthday pres- ent last week at a store in Maple Ridge. I’m not one to go looking for trouble, so I won't mgntion the name of the store. Anyhow, over the store’s sound system came a youthful, male voice: “Attention customers. Preparation H feels good on the whole.” Eyes widen, jaws drop. Yoinks—did he say when I thought he said? Then av 's Voice , came Ove the Scone days. It’s pia ipt. For example, when I’m on the? with a bank representative, he « oF she tomer service. calling Ms. Culhane.” I know it’s not Broad’s Eye View J. ALL OP Columnist the rep’s idea—as if youd talk to some- one like that in “real life.” It’s not just on the pho hit with aa I caniet tank winiou, being aske like some lg stationes “Of course, we all Esow die absolute seems to think that saying my name worst, most artificial scripting comes 15 times in three minutes is good cus- from the telemarketing industry. | had “Yes Ms. Culhane. Is one lady call up to offer me a credit there anything else we can do for you card. “I'll just confirm your informa- today Ms. Culhane? Thank you for tion here and we'll send the card out upon approval,” she read. jugikttow, like, side of chipolte ~ Spanish: Welcome back! Ah, another year of artificial air and light within these hallowed halls of learning. Good times to be sure. If you're looking for Exile on Main Street, tough shit—that boat has sailed. There’s a new gal in town and if you were hip enough to read the OP’s swanky magazine-style summer issues, you already know who I am. If not, I suggest you make haste and get thee to the OP office for some back issues. Anyhoo, I racked my brain try- ing to think of an appropriate way to start up the school year. I considered back-to-school fash- ions, bitching about tuition fees and other themes, but I just couldn't whip up any enthusi- asm. So I went to Scruffy’s for a drink. Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I had a few drinks and then | couldn't walk back up the hill to make it to my next class. Since I was stuck, I forced an epiphany on myself—the muse had visited me in a hazy cloud of hops. I would write about drinking at Scruffy’s. For those of you who are So I said, “Hey, did you miss the part where you ask me if I want the redit card, or is that not in your _ Wher there’s the “covers all bases” e pproach: “I work for Telus, I just had stand- my carpets cleaned yesterday, my fur- nace is getting checked as we speak and I’m only 12 and not allowed to have a credit card.” There’s always the I-don’t-under- stand approach. With this method, you lose all comprehension of the English language and out comes the German has a nice ring: “Ich spreche Englisch Norwegian is more your style: “Jeg taler ikke English.” My girlfriend Jenn says she uses this one: speak English,” which really throws “Yo no hablo inglés.” nicht.”. Or _ perhaps “Sorry, I don’t new to the college and New Westminster, Scruffy’s is a local watering hole, cleverly positioned at the bottom of the hill, right beside the Skytrain station. It lies in wait for weary commuters and students foolish enough to come down for a drink between classes. Since I fit into both categories, I know of the dark lure of Scruffy’s. Many times, faced with a two-hour gap between one class and the next, I’ve trekked down the hill with a group of class- mates for a “quick drink.” Not once have I made it back to class. Something about that first cold beer in the afternoon, and sud- denly you feel like you are in a place where “everyone knows your name”. Add an order of Scruffy Skins or nachos, which of course requires another bevvie to wash it all down, and you are done for. With a belly full of heavy carbs and several drinks, there’s no chance in hell youre going back to class. The very thought of the fluorescent light- ing and builders-beige that is the palette of Douglas will drive you them. The understanding, tolerant person in me says, “Erin, they're just doing their job—be nice.” answering-phone-calls-during-dinner person, person, the intolerant-of people-talk- ing-from-scripts-instead-of-from- themselves But the sick-of- the tired-of-being-upsoled person—that person would take the delinquent store employee and his wise-cracks over arti- ficial, quasi customer service any day. to your third drink, which is just where Mr. Scruffy wants you. Now I don’t know if there really is a Mr. Scruffy, but from what I can make out, if there were he'd be some sort of a long-haired ter- rier in a hat. I don’t know about you, but that scares the shit out of me. I just cannot shake the image of this big, evil dog mak- ing us slobber and roll over for beer and cigarette-shaped human treats. Maybe that’s just me. Now I am not trying to tell you to never go to Scruffy’s. That would be like saying it's NEVER right to tell a lie. But you should be aware of what you are doing and be ready to face the conse- quences. I feel it is my moral responsibility to warn anyone who is unaware of the temptation that squats at the base of the hill. But if you choose not to heed my counsel, to test your wits against the big dog—well I'll be sitting in the smoking room and I’m getting pretty broke. For a beer, Pll tell you about that ghost that haunts the cigarette machine. page 7 ©