David Spates "Therefore I Am" Published Jan. 10, 2006

World's problems start with retail headaches

I can't solve all of the world's problems, but I can solve two. In fact, the answers to these vexing issues are remarkably simple. I can't believe no one has figured them out.

First off, why can't I buy winter clothes during the winter? It seems the older I get the less tolerant of the cold I become, and it would be nice to add another layer to my winter garb. If I dislike the winter now, what will I be like when I'm 60, 70 or 80? I'll probably move to Boca Raton, FL, so I can keep my feet warm. By then I'll be one of those guys who says "oy vey!" and reaches for my parka every time the temperature dips below 60. Of course I'll have to convert to Judaism to get the Yiddish just right, but I think I can learn to read right to left.

But before I abdicate pork and start wearing black dress socks with sandals, I thought I'd do my best to battle the elements by purchasing a nice, thick, long-sleeve shirt. I have a few long-sleeve collar shirts and sweaters and sweatshirts, but I wanted a heavyweight long-sleeve T-shirt for layering purposes -- like an undershirt on steroids.

I went to a big-name clothing store recently in search of just such a shirt only to (re)discover that you can't buy winter clothes during the winter. I've known this for years, but I always seem to forget. Every winter I search for winter clothes and kick myself because I forget that winter clothes are actually sold in the fall. Or is it the summer? The spring? To be frank, I'm amazed I own a coat. I must have gotten lucky one season. Thank goodness they sell underwear all year long or I'd be in serious trouble.

It was the same story at every store I visited. Spring fashions as far as the credit card can see.

Am I the oddball in this scenario? I fear that I am. Apparently everyone else in the Western world buys their spring clothes in the dead of winter, so I can only surmise that these same shoppers buy their winter clothes in the fall. What do you do? Should I buy clothes and then put them on a shelf until the weather gets appropriate? I, foolishly, buy clothes when I need clothes.

It's winter. I need winter clothes. I'm cold. Why can't I buy winter clothes in the winter? It's like some demented Abbott and Costello routine.

Perhaps this is the reason I dress as I do and my 4-year-old daughter smirks at my wardrobe.

I suppose I'll resign myself to dressing three months out of time and shivering in the grocery store check-out line, which brings me to yet another retail aggravation and the second of the world's problems I can easily remedy.

This happens at least once a week. I'm standing in a long check-out line, and I'm about halfway through the line -- as many people in front of me as behind me. The neighboring check-out lines are unmanned. From the mist a kid in a blue vest holding a green bag of money moseys over to one of the vacated check-out stations and starts to put cash from the bag into the cash register. Like Pavlovian dogs, we the customers are at full attention and turn our gaze upward, waiting for the signal light. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

BLINK! It's on! A second line is open! Go! Go! Go! Hit the beach hard! Keep your head down and aim for the light!

The ensuing mayhem is nothing short of barbaric. Old women are knocked off their walkers. Children are orphaned. Grown men weep openly. In the end, it's the guy who was last in my line who is suddenly first in the newly opened line, despite the fact he was in line for maybe 30 seconds and I've been standing there since the last days of the Carter Administration. Since I was in the middle and could not maneuver through the mass of humanity and shopping carts, suddenly I'm the last person in line, and the schmucks who were behind me are living la vida loca in the new line.

There are a few unwritten rules in our society, and one of them is that the last person in a check-out line is allowed to be the first person when a new line opens up. It's not right. It's not fair. It's indecent. It's un-American.

I hereby publicly call for a modification in our new-line procedures. The next person in the first line should be the first person in the second line. It's that simple.

We can be civil and accommodating if we want to be. It's not unprecedented. We give one another a 5-foot buffer at the ATM. We wave one another through a four-way stop sign. We hold the elevator. We can be good if we chose to be. We must extend those same courtesies to the check-out lines.

I'm not asking for much. In the grand scheme of things, winter clothes sold in the winter and grocery store civility are attainable goals. We can do it, can't we?

· · ·
David Spates is a Knoxville resident and Crossville Chronicle contributor whose column is published each Tuesday. He can be reached at davespates@tds.net