In defense of dog parks.

Dipped My Toe into the Purple Phase

In the late 80's and early 90's I worked customer service at a durable medical equipment company.

Our customer base was mainly elderly. More often than not I dealt with caretakers, making most of them smoosh together in my memory. The ones that stood out were sometimes tragic, like the woman who phoned in tears while her husband was actively losing a battle to oral cancer. She didn't need fresh suction supplies, didn't need an elevated toilet seat or bedside table, she wanted to know who was going to fix the gate latch and change the bathroom light bulb. No joking, I was one sob away from calling my husband and saying, "I need you to drive out to El Cajon with your tool box, stat!"

My favorite customers were the ones who weren't going quietly. The ones filling their own supply lists and didn't need any god damned nurses telling them when to eat or to hold onto the stupid railing. These were my Purple customers. With a nod to Jenny Joseph, they were the ones who vowed to wear purple. And red hats. Spend their pension on brandy and learn to spit.

Other CSRs would see them coming and suddenly need a bathroom break, but not me. I loved these customers and hoped that I could age in such a way that made me quit shrinking into the shadows and maybe break a rule or two. 

With medicare and social security checks dotting my horizon, I've sometimes wondered if purple is in my future. I probably do worry less about the opinions of others, but still keep my lips zipped under most circumstances. 

But this morning brought an annoying piece of direct mail. The envelope declared "You Wanted This" or some such nonsense. It was nothing earth shattering, it didn't gut me, or cause me any pain. But I found that statement rather presumptuous, and not in that "got'cher attention" sort of way that good copy manages. It was just enough for me to say, "screw you, no I didn't." 

So, without thinking about it, I did a thing. I wrote a quick note on a scrap of paper saying, "No, I didn't want this. Your envelope is presumptuous and the rest of your copy is obnoxious, so as a reward, I'm sending your postage paid envelope back to ding your USPS account." 

I sealed it up, carried out to the mailbox, and as I raised the flag, I started giggling. I just dipped my toe into purple. 

Now I gotta learn to spit without getting it on my shoulder.