Month: December 2004

  • Wal-mart, the last Evil Empire

    Throughout history, many great empires have come and gone, most of
    them, arguably, having committed such atrocities in the process as to
    be rightfully considered evil.  Most recently, the Soviet Union
    went down the tubes.  Germany and Japan did their best slightly
    less recently; that’s why we fought the War to End All Wars–excuse me,
    the Second War to End All wars.  Great Britain had a good run;
    even little Holland and Belgium had their day.  Rome, too, and
    Greece even did so well, a movie about it has recently been
    released.  That leaves Wal-mart, that great bloated stinking Jabba
    the Hutt of global merchandising.

    Wal-mart did not get to be the greatest retailer on the face of the
    earth by offering quality, value or service–they offer low prices.
    Period.  And they do that, they amassed the great Walton family
    fortune in the old-fashioned, piratical way–they steal.  They
    steal from pretty much everyone they can.  And for the most part,
    they get away with it.

     In a sense, they steal from third-world nations by putting
    pressure on their overseas suppliers to make their workers produce
    more and more for less and less,  always on wages that are a mere
    fraction of poverty-level wages.  In a similar sense, they steal
    from wholesalers by pressuring them to give them better-than-usual
    deals–not long ago, you could buy a certain multi-tool from Wal-mart
    for less than I could get  the same thing for resale from one of
    my wholesalers.  This is not illegal; it should be.  Wal-mart
    routinely ignores and/or violates Fair Trade agreements, which is why
    you will never find a Spyderco knife for sale there–Spyderco got
    tired of their unethical bullshit. 

    They steal from their own employees, in a very literal sense. 
    They steal from the mid-level managers by forcing them to work overtime
    for no compensation whatever.  More astonishing, they steal from
    their lower-level employes by going into the computerized hour records
    and changing them, so that some workers work for, say, 50 hours a
    week and only get paid for 45 or so.  The most amazing thing about
    this heinous atrocity is that the bastads admitted it.  A  PR
    type for Wal-mart said “In an organization of this size, that sort of
    thing is inevitable.”  That is an exact quote.  Is America so
    totally corrupt that big business ROUTINELY, INEVITABLY steals from
    it’s own workers?  My god, I hope not. This sort of corporate
    arrogance should not go unpunished.

    Here is another way they steal from their employees.  It used
    to be, you got health care coverage as soon as you started 
    work.  Not now, not Wal-mart.  At Wal-mart, you have to work
    there for six months before you get coverage, if you manage to get any
    at all.  Many employees can’t stand working there and don’t last
    six months.  Wal-mart doesn’t care.  There are always plenty
    of minimum-wage slaves–thanks to the Bush administration’s
    policies–to replace the ones who leave.  The rest of big business
    is watchng this, and if Wal-mart gets away with it, screwing staff out
    of six month’s worth of health care coverage will become the industry
    norm.

    In another sense, they steal from their female workers by
    discriminating against them.  Right now, the biggest class action
    lawsuit in history is going on against Wal-mart on this matter. 
    And speaking of lawsuits, I recently read that every working day, every
    day of the year, THREE NEW lawsuits are being filed against Wal-mart.

    They steal from competitors by offering loss leaders to steal
    customers.  On Kodiak Island recently, a new Wal-mart went into
    business.  It was not long before they started to drive the local
    retailers out of business.  People who once owned their own
    business are now eating dirt and working for Wal-mart.  At least
    they are upfront about it–a Wal-mart biggie was quoted recently as
    saying that their corporate goal is to drive as many other businesses
    out of the marketplace as possible, in as many countries as
    possible.  This is greed and rapacity on a scale once unimaginable.

    Now I am not making any of this up.  All the facts above cited
    have been documented in that notorious radical rag, The New York Times.
    (Except for the KodiaK Island thing, which was reported locally.) 
    What can we do about it?  Boycott the bastards, for one
    thing.  If you can offord to pay, say, an extra 20 cents a pound
    for catfood, buy it somewhere else.  Instead of supporting their
    international clothing sweatshops, pay a lot less and get more value by
    purchasing name-brand clothing at thrift shops.

    And if you are prone to vandalism, shoplifting, or any sort of
    computer-driven mischief, now I offer you a target worthy of your best
    efforts.  Hit Wal-mart.  Ht them high, hit them low, hit them
    hard and hit them often.  You will be fighting on the side of the
    angels.

     

    PS–This morning, I held my nose and went shopping there–I frankly
    can’t afford to boycott the bastards.  I got there as they were
    opening, and the staff was having this weird, Lord of the Flys-like
    ritual–”Gimme a W, etc.”  It was really creepy.

    Oh, and there was this prominent poster near the front doors,
    crowing about the money they put into local communities. This is
    another lie, and a damned lie at that. Study after study has shown that communities lose money
    when a Wal-mart invades the area.

    One final note–at a recent holiday show, a man came by wearing a
    t-shirt that said “US Public LAw something gives Wal-mart employees the
    right to unionize.”  I admired it, and he told me he used to work
    at the local Wal-mart.  He wore the t-shirt to work.  They
    fired him.

  • Just another bizarre morning


    I went to the local Wells Fargo this morning to see about getting hooked up to be able to take credit cards.  This is kind of a big deal for me, being a really small business owner–on the retail food chain, I am maybe two notches up above the guy standing on a street corner selling fake Rolexes out of his trench coat.


    Anyway, I go to see Renhilde, a nice lady for whom English is her second or third language.  I noticed some striking snowflake obsidian jewelry she was wearing, looked like something Kathy would have made.  So we talked about rocks for a while, I told her  about the metaphysical properties of snowflake obsidian, how it was a dichroic and so forth.  Not exactly your usual busniess conversation, but hey, this is Alaska after all.


    She called the Wells Fargo people and got stuff going, I dragged in my business license from the car, explained the deal about my real name versus the name on my birth certificate and so on.  Things were going well, then I called Kathy to confirm my email address.  I left a message, she called back, and I hit the END button on my cell, cutting her right off.  Mercury retrograde strikes again!  So I called her, got a busy signal, she finally got hooked up with me, told me to use a different email address, that  the one I had given them at first wasn’t valid or working or something.  More Mercury retrograde stuff, I guess.


    Then the fax from the Wells Fargo main office came through. I was about to sign it when I noted that they had really screwed up my name–they had it “Graffox” instead of “Greyfox.”  Never mind that I had spelled it twice, AND they had a copy of my business license, which had been faxed to them.  More Mercury retrograde stuff.  I told the person there that I was not surprised, warned her that this stuff would be happening for the next three weeks or so.  She mentioned several recent instances of communications screw-ups, had been wondering what went wrong, and seemed relieved to know it was just some astrological mischief.


    Then she asked me what color pony I wanted.  That threw me for a minute. I told her I lived in a little cabin, didn’t have room for bales of hay, much less a pony.  It seems Wells Fargo is giving away a stuffed animal horsie with new accounts, choice of two colors, called Kathy to ask what color she wanted, and communications got screwed up again–I said palimino instead of pinto or something.  I thought pinto was a bean, but never mind,  she finally settled on the toast-colored one with the white tail and mane.  Almost forgot about that, but thank god I remembered the mane.  Ahem.


    The deal included a free business checking and savings account.  I had to deposit $100 in each, she said.  I gulped.  She said, no problem, you can withdraw all of it tomorrow if you want to.  I relaxed, and handed over my rent money.


    Meanwhile, we are still waiting for the revised fax with my right name to come through.  It finally came, I signed it a few times and promised to give them my first-born son (ha ha, joke’s on them, I didn’t tell them about the vasectomy).


    Another paper that came with the contract said I need to fax them a copy of my phone bill and some other stuff I didn’t have.  Renhilde said, no problem, Amy would have mentioned it if it was important.  So I guess I’m okay on that.


    There was something else I wanted to mention–oh yeah, Wells Fargo asked about my advertising campaign.  I told them I walked up and down on the bike path next to the highway carrying a sign that said “SALE”.  I bet they’re they’re still tittering about that one at the main office.  Same thing when they asked for my street address.  I said, what street address?  Up here, that is like “the cabin next to the really big spruce tree.”  We finally settled on “Mile 49 Parks Highway, Cabin #8.”  But I warned them, that wasn’t my mailing address.


    Oh, and they wanted to ship my credit card stamper thingie UPS.  I told them, bad idea, UPS drivers up here tended to either get lost or steal the stuff. She said she would try to have it shipped USPS Priority.


    I wanted to come up with a really cute ending for this, but what with Mercyreo beiudsfs rtrp[sdgdf;l ;hkxj. . . . .