Jack in the Beanstalk Effect: Why good people steal.

I was musing this morning about illegal downloads of music. Last night I bought a prepaid card to Apple's iTunes Music Store for $15 at a drugstore. Each song is $0.99 so at the end of the card I will have 15 cents left over. The deal is to buy $99 worth of song and the 100th one comes with the change.

Why Is it so wrong or looked down upon to actually buy music when anyone can import their own collection or download from other users with P2P (peer to peer) technolgoy? Its gotta be a cultural phenomena. Personally, I won't be spending a lot of money on music downloads but I wanted to see how or if it was so awful to actually buy the songs.

iTunes makes it so easy. Although I hear that if you don't have an ipod, forget about putting the songs on other mp3 players. They say on the site that you have access to unlimited burns of the songs you buy. That's good. But I've read that the format that downloads is the AAC format which doesn't burn to .mp3 format for MP3 discs. That's not good. They also say on the site that you can share your music with 5 total computers/devices as part of your usage agreement which is Fair, I suppose. Then they have something they call "burning playlists" which you can do only 7 times. Technical details that get in the way. I'm going to test the MP3 disc later today.

What woke me from my slumber this morning was the big question of why good people felt alright downloading content and software. Does Hamarabi's Code not apply to the internet? An upload for an upload? Because the content ownership is not so much physical as it is conceptual maybe it doesn't culturally fall under the guidelines of Theft. Good people know not to take things from shelves, people's homes, etc...

Although, on a side note, I've noticed some people like to eat grapes at the supermarket. How is the cashier supposed to weigh them if they're in your stomach? Totally a pet peeve of mine... If you can't wait to consume the food until after you purchase it, there's something wrong. Same as eating candy bars and drinking sodas while in the store. It's not yours until you pay for it! Just thinking about it gets my goat.

The second Theory is about money. Perhaps we feel like we've paid enough for the technology to access the internet. or maybe we feel that internet access fees through AOL or our DSL service provider count as the toll. To pay again for services or downloads while online is as foreign to us as Flight Attendents on airplains coming through the cabin and demanding payment halfway through the flight. They do, to some extent these days. They make you pay to listen to the movie playing or for the food or alcohol they serve. Perhaps a better example would be if you were listening to the radio and the hit song was just about to come on but the radio jockey announces, that to listen to it you have to be either a privaleged person or you could swipe your credit card and purchase listening rights. Money and entitlement certainly go hand in hand in our social paradigms.

My third conceptual idea about it all is the story and ultimate lessons of Jack and the Beanstalk. It teaches us to ignore the advise of our elders, leaders, lawmakers. It teaches us to be frivolous with our money. It teaches us to see how far we can go before getting caught.

And it teaches us in what circumstances that it's alright to steal:
Jack says we can do so as long as we are
1> helping ourselves. 2> helping others.
And most importantly 3> Taking from the Wealthy Giants (i.e. Industry).

Irresistible or My Bus Ride Home

I had the most interesting time getting home Saturday night. In retrospect I should have avoided going into Boys'Town for a drink at the Abbey. Not entirely worth it, although I did run into a friend I used to work with at APLA's Aidswalk office.

After making the trek up to Sunset from Santa Monica Blvd I ended up waiting almost an hour for the 2 line to come by and take me toward my transfer line 156. On the bus this guy gets on and sits in front of me. He's got feathery soft looking hair. He's white with glasses, the hair is thinning on the top back of his head and it suits him. He didn't realize I was totally checking out what he was doing with his camera phone. He turned off the flash and took a shot of the back of the head of this older bald white guy. Then he sends a message to someone in his address book called "Tommy" and writes:

My ride back behind fathead...

I was like, "ouch" do people really think like that? Of course in front of these two guys were two full figured black women. One was wearing a white/blonde wig. Her tits were huge. They were checking out a porno tape box called: "All Dat Azz 17" with this black guy who it apparantly belonged. I got out at my stop before becoming the next subject of a tacky SMS to Tommy (he was framing the shot of the blonde gal with the porno tape in her hand).

Let me tell you, there must be some whore-vibe I give off. perhaps it's the way I look when I'm checking out the cars as they pass by... reguardless, because of this night I can only imagine how much more worse it could be if I was less chubby and more buff.

I'm at the corner of Highland and Sunset, right in front of the Carl's Jr. Jr. near Sabrina's apartment. And I'm just jamming on my iPod Shuffle. Then this guy drives up and slows down to lean toward his passenger side window where I'm standing 3 feet away on the curb and he points foward toward hollywood. I'm thinking he's about to ask me for directions but then I realize he's asking me if I want a "lift" -- as the saying goes, "Grass, Cash, or Ass. No one rides for free."

I waived him off, privately pleased with myself. I should be angry or annoyed that anyone would think I was turning tricks but then again it was 220 in the AM. But I wasn't really angry; you can't change a leopard's stripes? Is that how that goes?

Then these two black guys on bikes were riding around looking sneeky... another black guy was on foot and the 3 of them were just looking for trouble. I suspect they could have been undercover cops but really, it's 230am... there's no need to be riding around unless you're up to no good. I kept my eyes foward and my body turned toward them defensively, making sure not to make eye contact. There was also this drunk white guy who was having a hard time lighting his own cigarrette. He had a bike too. I totally could bust Fellini out of the water if only I had my camera with me.

The 156 bus finally came along delivering me from the mean streets. It goes up highland and around the bowl along the 101 toward North Hollwood where I had my car parked at the park and ride. I got on the bus and everything was going smooth until the Hollywood / Highland stop (3 stops down). The bus loaded with people and who should sit next to me but a couple of gay mexicans. One's obviously intoxicated (he sits next to me) and is necking or whispering something to the other guy sitting next to him... We're near the front and the seats face inward, so the three of us sat in a row. They seemed pretty intimate and I just smirked to myself because I thought I knew they were going to go together somewhere and bump uglies. Boy was I wrong!

The guy next to me is kind of hunky, with big arms and a sleeveless tee on. On one arm he has a tatoo that reads: "Et Tu?" in a script sort of font one usually see used by young people who have the name of their adored etched into their skin. I'm checking out their interactions in the reflection of the opposite window because I wasn't really sure they were gay or not. At some point I determine for a fact that it was so...

"EtTu?" nudges at me and makes a pen motion, which I promptly pull a pen out because who am I to stand in the way of someone hooking up. He's so drunk he can't even tell that the cap is on and I procede to uncap it for him.

Then he writes the number down for his "friend" and hands it to him. Not wanting to part with my pen, I reached for what he had in his hand and pulled or rather pried it back. He gave me a little resistance about it and I gave him a smile. I should have known or seen that as a sign of things to come.

I can't say I didn't enjoy myself. He kept playing footsie by pressing against my leg with his and then rubbing my leg with his hand, feeling me up really. I'm real meaty I guess and that must have whirled his propellers. The first few times I just gave him a weak sheepish smile as if to say how embarrassed I was for him, his friend who he just gave his number to, and for myself to being molested like that on the bus.. I laughed to myself as I thought about yelping, "I need and adult! I need an adult!"

And I also tried to feign dis-interest. Apparantly it makes horny people hornier. He took complete advantage of my proximity to him for almost the entire ride. I did take his hand off my leg a couple of times but I didn't get relief until he departed some stops later.

I tell you, I didn't have the nerve to look at the guy whom he gave his number. I probably would have been stabbed in the eye.

I don't play my shuffle real loud on the bus so i totally heard the bros and sistahs in the back making comments about my particular experience. If any of them would have tried to get my attention and accost me about it I would have told them off -- I would have said, what makes you think I didn't enjoy myself? Isn't that what us fags do? touch each other's dicks, right?"

That last part I thought up 'cause I heard one guy say, "hell, if some fag's touch me, I sure wouldn't be sleeping, that fag would be grabbing your dick if you don't look out..."

He said that you see, because at one point I had my eyes closed to discourage the guy from trying to play with me... In this case it obviously didn't work. By the way if someone keeps messing with you and you're supposed to be "asleep," look out... jeffery Dahmer liked necrophilia like that.

I had a good time tonight, didn't i? Thanks for caring.

-esther

Squeaky Customers get Comps

Here's an interesting observation...

You know those proverbs of old-world wisdom we were exposed to as children? Here's an example: The nail that sticks out gets the hammer. Translation: Caution! if you act too much like an individual and step out of line you'll get noticed for it and a tremendous amount of force will put you in your place.

There's another unfortunate proverb that applies too well in customer service these days. That is, "the squeaky wheels gets the oil." Translation: if you whine about it loud enough, someone will pay you to shut up. It absolutely amazes me how the customer service industries will cater to the awful complainers and whiners, i.e. the bad customer, rewarding them with gifts and complimentary lunches. We're practically training people to be the problem people we dread over when we go into work every day.

If you look at the big scheme of things, the Good customers don't get squat. Since they follow the rules, the relationship is purely, we serve you buy and everyone is even. The Bad customer may never do anything to enrich your life, but will always expect something out of their trip to see you.

So here's a challenge for everyone. The next time someone begins angling toward a free comp from you or your company because of "some wrong" done to them, just offer an apology. (And a FUCK off too)

Don't let people determine for you what you think will make things right. Once we're back on that track, let's try and award our good customers for making customer service a rewarding experience.

No Jive in 2005

The months of November and December brought tons of changes, much as was predicted by the Year of the Monkey. I suppose most of us expected more of a revolutionary change and in some ways it was.

In November I changed locations and moved to the Valley. I never thought I would ever move to the Valley. I think it very pleasant here although in the summer I hear it can be hell.

Then in December I recieved a promotion at work. Which makes 2 in less than one year. I went from a new hire as a switchboard operator, to a credit office customer service support agent, to my current position as the executive assistant for the store's operations manager. Next Spring I'll be retiring, Ha! I'm excited about the position and the last 3 weeks have been very fulfilling. I'm learning essential truths about justice in this environment. Which is why I am going to rededicate myself to this blog in sharing in all the eustice that comes my way. I want to share in the mass confusion and social impacts in which I come into contact. OH! The drama of it all!

So for 2005 I am going to dispense with the justice and report to eustice for all.

-happy new year-

p.s. this is the year of the Cock!

Always (x-tian) Right

I have no one to commiserate on our recent election results. That is, I haven't had a moment to commiserate. I think I'm still in denial. That, and no one wants to talk to me about it cause I'll tell them how all along I was right.

I hate always being right.

Especially over this past year's public voting record. I believe I'm still owed a beer or two at the Friendship over the Govenor's recall election. I knew way before Gov. Schwartzenegger's popularity polls started to rise right before election day. Just like I new weeks ago that pResident Evil was going to be "elected"... We'll see if my other predictions won't come true. All I have to say is, for survival in a nuclear holocost, keep some iodized salt handy to consume to prevent the agony of radiation poisoning.

Driven

I ride the bus. It's not becuase I have to but because I choose to ride. It saves on gas and especially on parking. Do you have any idea how much it costs to park in Beverly Hills? Oh yeah, then there's that environmental benefit that according to

Then, at the beginning of this month, in my delirious world, I forgot to purchase my bus pass. Now I've been riding Metro for several months so the sudden loss of my riding privledges deeply impacted my lifestyle as I had been living it. I had gotten so used to being driven that getting in my crickety old car to zoom through traffic and pay for parking really ruined my day.

Once, when I was leaving work, a bus was barrelling down Wilshire and I thought, "Great! I can catch this one down to Crescent where I can walk one block instead of 8 to where my car was parked in a lot. I was about to flag it down but ended up flagging it away when I realized I didn't have any fare or my pass to ride. BUMMER.

I must have chased after buses at least 5 times in 3 days that first week of October. And toward the end of that first week I was completely driven to buying my bus pass. A person gets attached to their personal preference in modes of transportation. You find that you fit like a glove in your car seat. In the end, I found that riding the bus was not so much of a choice as much as it is a more preferred option in my life. Go Metro!

My Turkish Porn Studio Debacle

While looking at a condo this last weekend I came upon an intersection where I had been once upon a time...

When I first moved to Los Angeles, I had a real hard time securing employment. Apparantly I didn't have the right credentials and or I didn't know the right people... Let's face it, jobs were hard to come by at the time. I even entertained the option of flipping burgers but couldn't inspire myself to work that hard for so little compensation although I did manage to turn in an application and go in for an interview.

I happened upon a want-ad for a houseboy in the Woodland Hills area. Being a houseboy can be a wretched sexperience if you don't find a good match. Some people offer just room and board. Other's expect you to pay rent and give head. But the best are the affluent who can afford in-house employees... they offer room and board along with a salary or other compensation such as tuition for simple services such as cleaning, cooking, pet-care, etc. And a sex optional agreement can mean great fun for ethical sluts like myself who don't mind the awkwardness of being a sex worker. As it was, the ad I responded to was a non-sexual, cook/clean agreement that included a small salary. Perfect for my current needs at the time as I was trying my hardest to secure employement and residence and relieve my friends from the burden of housing and feeding me.

The house I came upon for the initial interview was grand but only in a suburban way. It lacked the privacy an estate in the city earns through tall growing shrub fences and regal drive ways. The inside was quite lovely though, and contained many interior rooms, stairs, art, and amenities. I met the gentleman who would be my boss and we talked about past experiences of house boys he had and current expectations. We walked around the house and I met some of the other tennents in his mansion. A real cute cute cute Turkish boy in a hot tub asked me if I'd like to come in and if I was going to stay around. He was some imported talent. Then was sat down some more and talked about the dietary needs of the household. It was a complicated mess but I felt I could take it on. Everything went very well and the secondary position of a graphic designer came up in our conversation.

You see, the gentleman was a Turkish man who ran a porn studio out of his home and he needed a per project contractor to create DVD covers for both gay and straight porn. So here's where it got good. We went into their main work room where there were several computers up and running... one was processing or encoding digital video onto a format to be printed to DVD. Kind of a clearing house for the major studios in the area. We popped my resume on disc onto one of the computers and wouldn't you know it, my disc produced a blue screen of death. I essentially destroyed all the computers in the lab and halted the production of a Turkish Porn Studio. At which point I excused myself and did not anticipate a call back.

However, a day later I did recieve a phone call from the man. He wanted me to know that it was a virus on my discs which caused his systems to fail and that I should be careful not to spread it by putting the discs in other people's computers. Even though it wasn't my fault I couldn't refute that it the fact seeing as how coincidence proved to be better evidence than any virus scan. I just let the blame fall to me. Before his call and after I checked several times and there was no indication of virus for your information.

The moral of this story: don't stick strange dics in your slots without proper protection.