I blame James and Ryan.

Kidding, kidding. Well, not really.  Any how, through a series of conversations over Twitter and bgtwt (as in “Big Tweet” – something we very well may refer to quite often here), it was determined that a few others may be interested in having a multi-author blog, and it was also decided that this would be the place, since that’s what it originally was meant to be.

That being said, I’d like to introduce our two newest members of the WeBlogYouRead bunch… <drumroll>… Tiffany and Colleen!

I have no idea who they are. I only know them through Twitter, but that will change soon.

That’s beside the point though. I think what we’re going for here is a post or two a week; something to spur discussion, something that’s not as personal as what we might write elsewhere – basically, just shit we find interesting, which is the best kind of shit in my opinion.

Ready? Onward!

In fact, should I ever leave Texas to move elsewhere, I know for certain that Central Market would be in my list of the top five things I’d miss. The more times I make trips to my local CM, the more I’m reminded of why they stand out from all of your other generic megamarts.

Case in point: today, I had one of the best experiences in any retail store that I’ve ever set foot in.

Every year, Central Market hosts a Hatch Chile Pepper Festival. Now, hatch peppers aren’t your boring, plain old green chile pepper. They’re like the utility player of the pepper world. Naturally, CM’s Foodie newsletter says it best:

Hatch chiles aren’t about the heat. We love them because they’re so versatile. They are big and meaty and have a seductive, complex flavor that doesn’t overwhelm everything else on the plate.

During the two weekends the festival is held, you can find hatch peppers in everything from bread to cheese and ice cream to brownies to everything in between.  Last year, during the festival, Wendy and I happened upon a delight of a dessert: a Hatch Chile Apple Cobbler. Apples and Hatch Peppers you say? Indeed. Sure, we were a bit skeptical of it at first, but at the same time, it was the pairing of these two completely different things that drew us to it. How could you turn something like that down?

Out of everything else we bought that year, the apple cobbler was hands down the best thing we had; so needless to say, we couldn’t wait for this year’s festival to roll around so we could partake in the apple and Hatch peppery goodness. Unfortunately, we couldn’t make it to the first weekend of the festival, so, we went on a Friday night of the last weekend, and found a lone cobbler, hidden beneath a loaf of sourdough bread. When we happened upon our discovery, our eyes darted around the store to make sure it wasn’t some cruel sick Candid Camera joke, and that we really weren’t gonna get the cobbler.

We got it home, unpacked all of the rest of our goodies (we did not buy one thing that did not contain Hatch pepper in some fashion), and placed our cobbler on the counter.

We left for a daytrip on Saturday, and by the time we got back, the poor untouched cobbler had started to grow mold. We were devastated.

I checked the Sell By: date, and it was for that same day, Sunday. I thought it was odd that it would grow that amount of mold by the date that it was meant to be sold by, so, we made the trip out to a different CM location (on our way to somewhere else), cobbler in tote.

We walked in to the store, and were greeted by a young man named Zachary. He asked if there was anything he could do to help us. I relayed to him our plight, and he didn’t respond with any inquiries as to where it was bought, he didn’t question the conditions under which it was left, he merely asked “Okay, how would you like us to handle it?” I was stunned. It took me a few seconds to think about what I wanted to say, as I was expecting to be told what was going to happen, not asked what I’d like to do.

I told him “Well, I’d like to see if you have anymore, and if so, make an even exchange”, to which Zachary said “Sure, I’ll hold this cobbler here while you go look, and either way, just come back here and I’ll get you taken care of.”

We made it to the bakery, and spoke with a girl named Holly. She regrettably informed us that they didn’t have any more cobblers. Without even having to ask, she excused herself to go see if they would be making any more, as she knew the festival was supposed to go through Wednesday. She came back and told us “I’m sorry, our manger here at the bakery is gone for the day, and I’m not even sure if we have the ingredients. Let me give you his card, along with the name of our other manger, and you can call one of them in the morning to ask if we might be making more.” She apologized again for the inconvenience, and handed us the card.

We walked back to the front, told Zachary they were out, to which he simply said “Okay, well, I’ll just refund you the amount. How would like the amount refunded?” I thought to myself, I have options? You’re not gonna force me to put it back on my card or get a CM gift card? You’re letting me choose? Shouldn’t there be some kind of 20 question process I have to go through, or long form to fill out?

Nope. I just told him I’d like it back on my card, and that was that. It took all of two minutes.

Now, I could have just stopped there, and been completely happy. But, I figured I’d give it a shot and just see if there was a chance we might still be able to get our hands on a cobbler.

Tuesday morning, I called the number on the card, and asked for Murray. The operator at the store put me through to the bakery, after which Murray answered. I told our story for a 3rd time, and he said, “Just one second, let me go check and make sure that we have the ingredients.” He came back, told me they did, and asked how many cobblers I would like. “Well, just one, if that’s okay.” “Sure. We should be able to have it ready for you later this afternoon, or tomorrow morning at the latest. Let me take down your phone number and we’ll call you once it’s ready.” Again, I was taken aback at how easy that was, and even more so, that a store would even do that for one lone customer who’s after a $7 dessert.

Fast forward to 12:30 that day. I get a phone call from Murray himself, telling me that the cobbler was ready, and that I could come by and pick it up whenever it was convenient for me. Since I was already on lunch, I went ahead and headed up to CM, walked back to the bakery, and asked for Murray. He came out, I told him who I was, he shook my hand, and told me he was sorry again for what had happened to us. We discussed what might have caused it to mold so quickly, and what we could do to prevent it this time around. He boxed up the cobbler, and proceeded to print out a label for it so that I could pay.

But wait.

He wrote something on the label, which I presumed was a code or something for the cashier to know how to ring it up; but instead, he wrote “No charge” on the label and initialed it. He came out from behind the counter, handed it to me, and said “I’ll go ahead and just not charge you for this one, so you’re all set.” I shook his hand one more time, thanked him, and walked away, stunned, yet again.

DId that just happen? Did I just get a Hatch Pepper Apple Cobbler baked specifically for me, after only talking to the store earlier in the morning? And did the man just give it to me for free for my supposed “troubles”?

Look, maybe this kind of thing happens all the time, maybe it’s happened to you. The point is, I really just expected to get my money back, if that. I mean, technically the fact that the cobbler molded was partly Wendy and I’s fault for not immediately refrigerating it.

However, Central Market took it upon themselves to see that I was taken care of, and in the process, cemented the fact in my mind that I know that I can go into any one of their stores and be treated like a human being, not just another sales figure, not just The Faceless Customer, but, someone who enjoys food just as much as they do.

Consider me a happy customer, and one that won’t hesitate to tell my story to anyone else who will listen (heck, I’m writing this book of a post aren’t I?).

Thanks Central Market.

To all of those who say you just can’t get good service any more, I say: “While it may be hard to find just anywhere, I know for sure where to find it from now on.”

And no, you may not have any of my delicious Hatch Apple Cobbler.

It’s fucking spot on.

The author asserts that one of the most useful places for profanity is at the workplace. I could not agree with her more.

Now, just as the author states, I too am a huge fan of foul language. Yes, you read that right. I don’t have any qualms about dropping an f-bomb or synonym for fecal matter at a moment’s notice. Sometimes, a silly “gosh darn it son of a beeswax” just won’t do. You really need that “fucking son of a bitch”.

My roommates in college and I always joked that if our lives there in the apartment were a movie, it would most definitely be rated R, on account of language alone. Whether it was during a game of foosball, darts, Tiger Woods ’02’03, or Apples to Apples or just watching the latest episode of 30 Minute Meals (“There she goes again with her fucking EVOO…”), we cussed so much it makes your run-of-the-mill scurvy sailors look like Harvard graduates.

So, it was with much delight to me when I realized that at my place of employment, profanity is not frowned upon. Now, we’re still careful around our business customers, but I’m telling ya, there’s no guarantee that you won’t walk around a corner and come in on the tail end of a super dirty conversation about how much you’d have to be paid to do any manner of unsavory things.

Also, since I work in an IT department, profanity pops up whenever there’s a problem in production, or a piece of software isn’t behaving properly, or, you’re just hashing out requirements with someone.

One of my former coworkers used to tell the story that two of our directors would sprinkle cuss words in to their conversations during interviews, just to see what the candidate’s reaction was. If they balked at it, and got offended, then that person may not fit in real well there. If they took that as a sign that cussing was okay, well, then that just means they can pick up on the vibe of things here without too much trouble, and aren’t afraid to follow suit.

I really feel like that when you are relaxed enough to cuss in front of your coworkers, it means that you (for the most part, at least) can be real with them. If you feel like you have to walk on eggshells every time you hold a conversation with them, then how can you ever really be at ease or not worry that you’re going to say something that’s going to piss them off?

I am by no means saying that profanity is the only way to have a decent work environment, or that without profanity nothing would get done, but, when you’re talking with adults, I do believe that profanity has its place.

Now, would I say something R-rate in front of my 81 year old grandmother?

Fuck that.

So, I’m curious. For anyone reading this, how do you view or use profanity? What about in your place of work? Let us know in the comments.

This won’t be easy for me to say, but, Metallica, I, I think I’m over you.

<sigh> Look, we’ve had our fair share of good times, I won’t lie.

I’ll never forget my first experience of hearing you. My brother had a cassette tape of Ride the Lightning, and played it in his ’66 Mustang when he and I were going off to run some errands. It was loud, it was fast, it was ominous. It was awesome. Little did I know that over time, the music I heard in the car that day was that of a band that would become my all-time favorite.

I’ll never forget that my very first all-black t-shirt was a Metallica “Wherever I May Roam” shirt I bought in 8th grade. I made my cousin drive me to the then iconic Bill’s Records and Tapes, where nothing has a price on it, the man behind the counter was creepy, and they still sold albums on vinyl. I wore that shirt proudly, even if I did look out of place because my hair wasn’t long, and I didn’t wear Jnco jeans.

I’ll never forget when I received Metallica (The Black Album), on CD, as a gift, but that it actually turned out to be a live Doors album, even though everything about the CD physically said “I’m one of Metallica’s best albums.” I still have that CD.

I’ll never forget when I stood out in the sweltering heat at Texas Stadium, all day, sitting through bands I didn’t really care for back then. Bands like Powerman 5000, System of a Down, Kid Rock, and Korn. I’ll never forget when people started ripping off their seat cushions during a Powerman 5000 song and tossing them down on to the field, and when someone had to come out between songs and tell us to not do that anymore. I waited, through the heat, knowing that James Hetfield wouldn’t even be there because he had injured his back a few nights back. That Metallica still came on stage, using the frontmen from the other bands there to fill in for James, was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And to top it off, you told us that you’d come back and play a free show once James was in tip-top shape.

I’ll never forget the night that, after drinking a good deal of beer, and eating enough pizza for two people with my 3 college roommates, I beat both Blackened, and …And Justice For All on expert on the drums on Rock Band. I felt like Lars that night, like I was an unstoppable drummer with a 32 piece drumset in front of me, arms of steel, flailing wildly, hitting patterns that would make even Neil Peart piss his pants.

Alas, those were the days.

But, I’m sorry Metallica, I realized today, during a conversation with Ryan, that, as he put it, “I guess I’ve just moved on from Metallica.” It hit me then, that I too had moved on. It’s a combination of St. Anger leaving such a bad taste in my mouth, and also me just not being into that heavy of music anymore. It’s that there’s an Unforgiven III on your new album Death Magnetic – how can you fit “unforgiven three” into the lyrics of a song?  I guess I’ve just evolved into more of what some might refer to as an “indie snob.” So be it.

On the best of days, I know I will still be able to jump right in to any song on Master of Puppets, Ride the Lightning, or Metallica, crank up the volume, and remember the good ol’ days of sheer Metallica blisfulness.

Thank you Metallica, for giving me great music to listen to, unforgettable concert experiences, and near impossible Guitar Hero and Rock Band songs to play.

I’ll miss you.

Good bye.

The first post on WeBlogYouRead.com.

This blog, for now, will be a collaborative effort between three people. James, Ryan, and myself (Michael). Others may be added later, but for starters, it’s just 3 guys and their blog.

All 3 of us are friends in RL (that’s real life for you internet n00bs [that's someone who's new to something]), and really, this blog, like most I suspect, is a product of a conversation between James and I, and just seemed like a fun thing to do.

The content you’ll read here will cover a wide range of topics – whatever our eyes come across that seems interesting, and is worth talking about.

I think that covers it for now. James or Ryan will no doubt jump in and add to what our vision might be for this blog. Maybe it will evolve into something more specific, and maybe not. Either way, this is just us, blogging, with you, reading.

It’s a weblog you read.