Archive for the ‘Dos & Don’ts’ Category

Someone on Facebook recently shared this story with me. It’s about a group of kids playing a prank on a kid with autism who thinks he’s about to do the ice bucket challenge. Instead of ice-water they allegedly poured bodily fluids (urine etc.) over him.

Ice Bucket Challenge

I’m sharing the link to the news story and will leave it up to you to decide whether or not you want to watch the actual video. Between us, I haven’t been able to press play.

Unfortunately, as parents of special needs kids, these are things that we worry about all the time. What if this happens to our kids? Would they tell us? What about our kids who are not able to speak/communicate? How would we react if we knew?

What these kids did to that boy was, without a doubt, cruel and absolutely wrong. But this is learned behavior. They were not born with thoughts of doing these things. Now, this is not about laying blame at the feet of parents, however, as adults we all need to keep in mind the influence we have on the kids in our lives. How you talk about the disabled in your home determines how your kids interact with the disabled? You may mot be telling them to go out and do mean and cruel things, but if you speak of the disabled in less-than terms, they will be treated as less-than by your children. Teachers, what you say in your classroom impacts the relationship these kids have with each other? Playground and classroom hierarchies etc. manifest this way. I’m more empathetic towards kids (even though I struggle with it sometimes) who commit some of the horrific acts you hear about being done to our special needs kids/adults. But we all need to recognize that what we do and say has consequences – consequences which are sometimes borne out in ways we never saw coming.

At the end of the day I hope that whatever disciplinary action is taken involves these kids getting involved in/doing something meaningful for kids (and their families) with autism. So they get a feel of what it’s like to be in someone else’s shoes… Something called empathy.

After all we’re not born loving fries more than broccoli.

Jamaica Tallawahs Captain, Chris Gayle addresses members of the media at a press conference at the Sir Vivian Richards Cricket Grounds (

Jamaica Tallawahs Captain, Chris Gayle addresses members of the media at a press conference at the Sir Vivian Richards Cricket Grounds (

I don’t know about you but I think Chris Gayle’s recent comments in response to a question from a reporter at a press conference were totally sexist and disrespectful – And the reporter laughing is at best irrelevant and at worst heartbreaking.

In case you missed it here’s a clip of the comments (within the article)

For those who think she wasn’t offended… So what if she wasn’t? If my boss refers to a female colleague as a bitch and she’s ok with it – HELL NO it doesn’t make it right and he better think twice before he refers to me as one. I for one see that laughter though, as nervousness/I don’t know how to respond/Should I respond?/What are people going to think?/It’s Chris Gayle! I can’t challenge him. Can I?/I’m going to be labeled a feminazi. Or it will be said that I have an agenda/It’s Chris Gayle! The cricket star! So shocked and unconsciously mute now – What comes out instead? Nervous laughter… It’s a coping mechanism. Raise your hand if you’ve never witnessed it or more likely experienced it yourself.

So, yes, Chris needs to apologize – And if enough of us get together, we can make it easy for him to do so or very difficult for him not to. We have unlimited access to sports (and other) journalists online and they are always looking for stories. Well… We need to give them one. At the end of the day, the goal as I see it, is not so much to get Chris to apologize. Yes, we want that to happen and for him to recognize that what he said is unacceptable but I see it more as us preventing others from making similar utterances and understanding that what he said was totally inappropriate. You must think twice before you say stupid shit. We know… Speech is free – But – Consequences will cost you.

I haven’t seen anything about Chris Gayle’s comments on my FB timeline so I will be putting this comment on my timeline. I will also be posting this (what I’ve written here) on my blog. Is there a Twitter hashtag? I know; there are some out there who think hashtag activism is a waste of time and does nothing but I disagree with that notion. At its core it’s an awareness tool which is a big part of activism. So it’s not going to solve the problem on its own but it can make the unknown mainstream and put pressure on people to act.

Don’t even get me started on the CPL statement with their… “Chris’ comments were mere pre-match hijinks and made with no malice intended…” Seriously! Pre-match hijinks! We’re talking about a grown man here, right? And malice…! I really wonder how many people heard that and thought he meant any malice. We thought he meant something more sinister… Just creepy! He was disrespectful, plain and simple. I’m not sure about any of you but I’m deeply troubled that they continue to support him – And – their ill-advised statements make them just as bad.

Here’s an article referring to the CPL statement in The Daily Observer.

This event has many sponsors, who have been decidedly quiet. All of us need to start calling/emailing these establishments/people and let them know that you are horrified that they can continue to support the person who made such sexist comments. I would want to believe those comments he made are in direct conflict with their company’s culture of respect for all individuals – And if it is, they should say so and demand he apologizes and for CPL to retract their absurd “Mad Men era” statement and treat this matter with the seriousness and urgency it requires.


This is a guest post by journalist Liane Kupferberg Carter. It looks at an issue I’ve often thought about. Many of you know that Kuba loves plush toys and I sometimes wonder how we’re going to mange it if he does not grow out of it – He’s eleven now and I see we get the side-eye from onlookers sometimes. In this post she gives us her perspective on her 21 year old son Mickey who loves plush toys.


On a trip to Arizona three years ago, my son Mickey asked to visit the airport gift shop. He rummaged through a display of stuffed animals. “Hey there little fella,” he said, clutching a small stuffed bear to his chest. For the next hour until it was time to board, he walked through the airport gripping his new toy.

For years therapists have urged us to encourage more “age-appropriate” interests. We have. But at 21, Mickey is still drawn to Sesame Street characters. His bed is piled with so many plush toys there’s no room to roll over. He sleeps with a large Sponge Bob pillow.

I’ve come to wonder if wanting him to be more age-appropriate says more about our comfort level than about Mickey’s development.

Professionals tell us he has a “spiky” profile: test scores show an uneven scatter of strengths and challenges. His interests are spiky too. He does have what would be considered age interests suitable to his age: he loves watching sports. He enjoys hanging out the mall, eating at the food court and buying t-shirts at Banana Republic (which he calls “The Gentleman’s Store.”) He wears Beats headphones to listen to music—Raffi as well as rock. We encourage his interest in championships, players, team rankings and game rules, which gives him conversational currency with peers.

But if carrying a small Sesame Street Grover beanie in his pocket makes him feel safe, why shouldn’t he? Don’t we all have our transitional objects, or habits and rituals that reassure? How many adults panic at the idea of leaving home without a smart phone? Why do we expect our children on the spectrum to be paragons of age-appropriate maturity, when we ourselves frequently choose age-inappropriate activities or interests? One of my husband Marc’s favorite movies (sorry hon, I’m outing you here) is the animated Pixar flick “The Incredibles.”

Instead of focusing on having age appropriate interests, wouldn’t we all be better off focusing on teaching our kids the appropriate times and places to pursue those interests?  Listening to Muppet music on an iPod with ear buds is fine; carrying a Muppets backpack is not. I don’t want anyone bullying him.

When Mickey was a toddler, he was evaluated by Dr. Stanley Greenspan, the architect of Floor-time Therapy, a developmentally-based intervention that stresses following your child’s lead. Dr. Greenspan taught us to enter into Mickey’s interests. “Those passions are the window to your son’s emotional life,” he said.

Last night when I poked my head in his room, Mickey was engrossed with his iPad. “I’m watching Snoopy,” he told me. “He’s for everyone. Come see.”

I sat beside him. “Looks like Snoopy is doing his happy dance.”

“Yes!” he said. “I’m getting ready for my play date with Jake this weekend. Jake loves Snoopy.” I shared that with Jake’s mother. “Aw,” she said.

“I struggled for years to come to terms with him skipping down the halls and singing Barney songs.”

The bottom line is this: Mickey works hard all day to meet other people’s expectations of suitable behavior. If he wants to watch blooper reels from “Reading Rainbow” and outtakes from “The Muppets Movie” when he gets home, that’s fine. Why shouldn’t he seek out things that comfort or amuse him? We all do. Marc and I have watched so many “Seinfeld” reruns we could do a responsive reading of the dialogue. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)

It’s his leisure time, not ours. Mickey gets to choose. I respect his choices because I respect him. I’ve stopped caring if his interests don’t fit someone else’s idea of appropriate.

As long as they’re appropriate for him.


This article was originally published on Autism After 16 by Liane Kupferberg Carter. Liane is the mother of two adult sons, one of whom has autism and epilepsy. Liane is a journalist whose articles and essays have appeared in more than 40 publications. As a community activist, she has worked with both national and local organizations.

I know I’ve been a bit tardy with my posts but in my defense… I do have a lot of stories to tell you but they just sometimes come to me at the worst times when I’m not able to write any of it down. For me to get something out I have to drop everything and just focus on writing or else you’re just going to get crap – And you know that would be a big step down from the literary masterpieces you’ve grown accustomed to.  You’re welcome but no need to thank me it’s the least I can do.

You know that in my posts I’m either pissed-off or funny – But – I’m trying to mellow out because I’m getting older and somehow I never remember the funny stuff after they’ve happened. So in honor of my birthday I’ve decided that moving forward I’m going to work on striking a balance. So, as a part of the process I need to first confess a few things.

1. Ok… Let’s start off with what you know is one of my biggest fears, which is to be seen in faded underwear. I’m happy to confess though that I’m over it. Now, I worry about being taken to the ER in my spanx. Shhh… Sometimes it’s full-body spanx. It will be a couple hundred dollars down the tube if they have to cut it off of me. My mom is to blame for all this nutty behavior. One day I was stripping in front of my mom… SIDE NOTE: Get your damn mind out the gutter cause this ain’t no freak shit.

Back to what I was saying… So I’m taking my clothes off and she shouts out “Oh my God! How much clothes do you have on? Try nuh tek-een dung de road. Translation: I hope you don’t faint/pass-out when you get to where you’re going.” Now I can’t stop worrying. SIDE NOTE: I no longer watch the ER Trauma shows. Now I want everything that happens to me to be a surprise.

2. I think I’m ready to try my hand at being a lawyer or maybe being a cop. I’ve been binge-watching Law & Order all year.  Actually this is not really a confession – Just wanted you to know about the new skills that I’ve acquired. I can spot a perp anywhere.

3. Ok… I’m no longer day-dreaming about quitting my job and cutting coupons so I can appear of TLC’s “Extreme Couponing”. I now realize that I need my job – BUT – I want my own reality show. Who wants to get paid to be my friend on it?

4. I’m way past my annual check-up. Because of my job, I’m having difficulty finding a gynecologist who does not know my name, recognize me or both. So now I’m back to wanting to quit my job. Some background… I went through a lot to trouble seeking out a doc that I’ve never been to before for my last check-up. So, I get there and I’m in plain clothes.  SIDE NOTE: OMG! I tell you I could be a cop… Plain clothes (Not exactly what plain clothes means for me though).

Anyway… I walk into the lobby and immediately think, “Shit! I know all the staff here. Not good.” So I do all the preliminaries – At one point I thought that my blood pressure reading would be off the charts because I’m going a little nut-so hoping that the doc doesn’t walk out, see me, and start a conversation as if they know me. I would have passed out for real – And I wasn’t even wearing any spanx. I know… Totally nut-so.

That didn’t happen and I wait to go into the exam room. So it’s now my turn. The doc introduces himself to me and we exchange some pleasantries then the doc directs me to a room where I can strip… SIDE NOTE: Man! This is the second time I’m talking about stripping in one post. That could be good (suki suki) or bad (still suki suki…?) Back to the story… So I strip and put on a gown. SIDE NOTE: Yes, I think seriously now I want to quit my job because I need to spend some time coming up with a design to replace those gowns. Maybe crotch-less pants or… I don’t know but… If you’ve ever been in one (patient gown) you know what I mean.

So, I get back in the exam room and get up on the bed the doc starts asking me questions about myself, family history etc. At this time I’m still just sitting on the exam bed. Then the doc says to me, “Lie back and put your legs up. SIDE NOTE: The doc is about to go take a look at the best view in the world. 

Still talking to me, I guess in an effort to make me comfortable. So… Pause… Exam for a minute or two then, out of the blue says; “Oh, so you’re Salma Crump!” I was like, “F ME DEN!” To myself, to myself, I said it to myself! Translation: “F ME! Nothing else, that’s it. The word “den” is just our way of vocalizing an exclamation point.

After that it was like my knees had a mind of their own because they were closing like a vice grip. I swear, I was told to relax about ten times after that. There was more talk after that but I would be lying if I told you what it was about. I couldn’t process anything else other than the Queen Victoria Expose which was unfolding right in front of me. And that is; ladies and gentlemen why I’m way past due with my check-up. You see, I just prefer when my doc gets to know Queen Victoria before they get to know Salma Crump. Please… Don’t judge me.

5. When your kids ask for toys; don’t make any assumptions, just check the toys out before you say yes. So, leading up to Christmas Kuba has been asking for the Animaniacs toys. He’s been into this cartoon lately. He would say to me (at least 5 times a day): “Mom, I want the Animaniacs plush toys for Christmas – Yakko Warner, Wakko Warner and the Warner sister Dot.” Yes, my kid is very specific. As it got closer to Christmas I decide to go check out the toys online.

I go to Amazon first. My search returns only one of them. I try all sorts of different searches but still the only one and it was about $45. I’m thinking to myself, “What the hell is wrong with this seller”. Anyway I go to ebay now. I get a few results but not as many as I think and I notice that the prices are along the same lines and some even more than 45 bucks. Then it occurs to me that I haven’t seen a description which says “new” yet. Folks, the toys are collectible items. The three stuffed toys are about to cost us about 150 bucks. What the hell did I get myself into! And it’s just like my kid to want vintage toys. It’s not that we’re opposed to spending this amount – But – on stuffed toys? Aren’t these supposed to sell for like 5 bucks? Now that is a bill I would support. So, the moral of the story is; check out the toys before you say yes. Your pocketbook will thank you. We’re suckers though… We bought the toys. SIDE NOTE: Even PayPal sent me an email after the purchase saying: ‘Come on man… Really!”

6. I’m still eating things (albeit less of it) which had a face prior to hitting my plate.

7. Ok… Never wear black pants or black underwear on planes. Actually stay away from black while traveling. For the second time in my life I bared my ass while traveling. This time it happened after I got off the plane. I take that back. I’m really not sure when it happened. All I know is that Kuba and I had just got off the plane after a long day of travel, numerous lines, escalators, and thousands of people – Only the have my sister greet me in arrivals, give me a hug then say… “Turn around, yuh nuh wan hole in yuh batum?” Translation: “Turn around… You know there’s a hole in your bottom?”

SIDE NOTE: Guys, think about that for a second. This is what we call a double entendre, which, in literary terms means that what she’s just asked me could be interpreted in two ways; especially one having a meaning that is indelicate. And I don’t know about you but I consider all the holes on my body to be very delicate and any reference to them should be done with all sensitivity.

So what do I do? I reach for my ass. Long story short… It had turned into a city with a drug problem.

Imagine the horror. The first thought was Kuba. My only son, who came forth from my loins the one who had traveled with me ALL DAY! By the way, does loin mean vagina or womb? SIDE NOTE: I call Charlton to ask him. He’s like my ghost busters. You know… Who you’re gonna call…

Me: What is loins? Is it my vagina or my womb?

Charlton: Loins… What is this about?

Me: I’m trying to figure out where Kuba came from

Charlton: (silence)

Me: You there?

Charlton: Really?

Me: You know when folks say he came forth from my loins. What do they mean?

Charlton: It’s mine. He came from me

Me: How do you know?

Charlton: That’s what it means. My seed

Me: (silence) – I’m thinking that whatever I say could potentially give this convo new meaning

Me: I thought he came from my loins? So it is my bowels then?

Charlton: Yes

Me: Yes… He came from my bowels? Why does it have to be my bowels?

Charlton: He came from your gut right?

Me: Well… I guess

Charlton: Ok then

Me: So because he came from my gut that means he came from my bowels?

Charlton: I’m pretty sure it’s that but I’ll go research it

Me: I’ll go research too

SIDE NOTE: It’s on like Donkey Kong!

Anyway… Where was I again? Ok, right here… So my ass is ripped. Not “ripped” like “ripped” – I am working on that though – But – “ripped” like the seam broke and it’s “crack city” baby. One sec, back to loins for a minute … If Charlton is right –although I’m still researching, and Kuba came from his loins then I guess my dad’s own was a bit watery. Because if it wasn’t then maybe I would have more (literally… more) of an ass that is “ripped like ripped”. Sorry mom. But you were right when you said that we stood in the “bubby line” too long. Translation: “breast line”.

SIDE NOTE: I know; I have a serious problem with staying on topic. I’m working on it.

So my one and only son who came forth from my loins (yes… whatever… my research is not complete), the one who had traveled with me ALL DAY said not a word! Guys, we literally went up escalators where there were folks behind me whose head was in my direct fart line. And it was “Silent Saturday”… They wouldn’t have seen it coming at all.

SIDE NOTE: My apologies Princess. Everyone, I’m friends with a real Princess and she frowns when I talk about farts. She says it’s not becoming. So I’ve promised her that I will no longer talk about it here. So, from to the ones who are turning up your noses right now but you know you’re a closet fart lover. Here’s one for old times’ sake…

8. I think most people get farts all wrong. Too often they’re misinterpreted. I think they’re just a non-verbal way for you to say; “hey, you’re cool, I like you” or in the case of a stranger a nice “hello there”. I’m about to share something very special with you. Cause you’re my homie. It’s a day-of-the-week calendar that I’m considering printing and sharing with all my friends, which includes you. I know… No need to thank me.

Ok… Here goes the Fartdar.

Monster Mondays: Not what you’re thinking. It’s all noise and no real action

Time Bomb Tuesdays: These just escape like at all the wrong damn times. You let someone in your car; you’re in a full dressing room at Khols with your son the fart police.

Wicked Wednesdays: Run for your life

To Be Named Thursdays: Seriously… These could fit any profile

Funky Fridays: How it affects the senses is anyone’s guess

Like I mentioned Saturday’s are “Silent”: …………………………….. Deadly!

Savor the Sundays: Just let it out man. It’s just a gentle breeze. When it happens your… Hmmm squeeze…

SIDE NOTE: Feeling a bit sad now. Think I just lost a friend. 

9. Ok, I’m no longer going to deny it. I naturally walk like I’m about to kick someone’s ass.  However, I desperately want to learn how to walk sexy. There is no mood-killer worse than walking towards your man doing your sexiest stride and he asks you; “What did I do now? What are you upset about?” Little does he know that it’s because I’m concentrating so hard on walking and wining that my face is all scrunched-up and added to that my arms out at the sides, that I look mad.

10. The one checkup that I was looking forward to most after giving birth was… Ok, wait a second. This is just between us. Ok… What I was looking forward to most was my six week postpartum check-up where my doctor said…

“You’re free to resume sexual activity now.”

Thank you Jesus! I can take off the “Gone on Vacation”, “Extended Leave”, “Laid Off” sign off my vagina. I tell you… It couldn’t have happened soon enough. Any day I would have started to hump Charlton’s leg like a dog. I think I started humming something from Marvin Gaye right in the doctor’s office.

It has become one of Charlton’s “remember when…” moments. To this day when Queen Victoria “acts” dead he says… “Remember when…” 

11. Sometimes I forget how old I am. Someone asked me the other day how old I was going to be on my birthday and I was… “Ahhh… 2014 minus 1977 – Seven from four… You can’t – Go over to the one and borrow one…

I eventually did the all the calculations in my head. Took me only a few minutes. Then I said 37.

Happy birthday me! Was actually a few days ago… I’m working on my timing.

I think it’s still cool to say Happy New Year. Happy New Year to you!

Hey Mister… Shut up!

I think I’ve had it up to here – Folks; I’m up on a ladder with my hands above my head so I’m right up to my limit – With the rude comments from strangers, friends (although I’m reconsidering this label) or family (unfortunately, I’m stuck with this one). So, please indulge me as I go through a little DIY therapy session and put some things in perspective.

Chief Tormentor

“Wait! Is he retarded or something?” Dear God please help me! I want to drop-kick this man. I’ve watched enough Jet Li movies; I could so do it – BUT – I didn’t. Ladies and gentlemen, I actually responded and said; “He’s autistic.” Somewhere between my mind and my mouth I dropped “you idiot”. I was so pissed!

Parent Expert

For the mom who comes up to me after he has had a meltdown… “You mustn’t let him embarrass you like that in public. You need to put your hand in his bottom.” She waits. I say nothing. She gives me the evil-eye. I continue ignoring her. She looks (disgust) at my son and shakes her head. I’m willing myself not to speak – So afraid of what may come out of my mouth.

Friends, Family and then some

Yes, we do discipline him. However, contrary to what you believe we can’t beat it out of him nor will we attempt to for your sake.

Ms. Tact Less

Did you do something to cause it? WHAT! I just had to walk away from that one.  Whatever made you think you can ask me that? Arrrggghhh!


Kuba was babbling up until about four (4) years old. So his speech at times is still not that clear. “He’s too big to be speaking like that.” My response: “No shit Sherlock!” Like really! Do you think that I (a) Don’t already know this, (b) Doing everything that we can to improve it and (c) He wants to improve just as bad. Telling me that you have a 5 year old grandson who speaks VERY WELL because his mom makes sure of it is not advice. It’s just you showing off so… SHUT! UP!

Dr. Know It All

I was watching this program on TV and they were talking about how this gluten-free diet/ABA therapy/freak juice /jumping out of a plane can cure autism. Look… The one thing that I know for sure is that to date there is no cure. Yes, there are therapies that help, but no one thing helps all autistic people.  Take home message; not because you watch it on TV or read it in a book that it’s the gospel.

The Food Police

My kid is a picky eater, plus added to that he has a few food allergies which can sometimes make dining out a challenge. “I don’t know how you put up with how he eats. If he lived with me he would have to eat what I give him.” My response: “You should be happy then.” Tell me again why anyone would want to take this personal.

You know what? Very early I realized that I was going to have to develop some THICK skin and eventually I began to let things just roll off my back – And actually began to look forward to questions from folks because it gave me an opportunity to tell another person about autism and hopefully make them more aware and understanding. But more and more it’s becoming hard for me to keep a civil tongue in my head, especially when others can’t or won’t.

Folks, this is our tender spot here – And you’re making it so hard for us when you come at us this way.

Ahhh… Yes. That high road… Sometimes filled with jerks and meddlers who think they have a right to talk to me as the wish and ask me any intrusive question that pops into their mind. As much as possible I try not to listen to the voice in my head. Imagine that! Not listening to the voice in my head – Thought we were to supposed to listen that one? But for now, with me, it won’t be pretty if that voice takes the lead so I swallow what a part of me so want to give right back to them because I’m going to be the one who regrets it, because I’m the one that knows better. And at the end of the day, I’ve done nothing to inform an uneducated mind. Plus hopefully I’m teaching my son a lesson about advocating for himself.

Again, let me repeat… It’s not EASY for me to do this. When you sometimes want to give someone the “one-finger salute” because words fail you, and it is still illegal to drop-kick someone in a supermarket. Totally kidding – But it means that they have hit a nerve. However for the times that I’ve stopped and talked to someone about autism, nine times out of ten, I think they walk away feeling pretty foolish for the way they spoke to me and there’s been times that some folks have even apologized. And that right there, I can’t tell you how much it means to me.

So the next time you’re in the supermarket and you see a mom with a kid who’s having a meltdown… If you’re 12, go ahead and stare, I’m cool with that. If you’re 41; don’t come over and insist that I spank him, tell me that I’m a bad parent and start talking to the other folks in the aisle about how you would never tolerate that behavior or shout “Is he retarded!” Because when you do that; quiet inside-voice… Quite – He can hear you – And, most days, I couldn’t care less but really and truly, I would rather not expose him to this and have him feel uncomfortable.

You can though, feel free to give me the “I’ve been there smile”, ask if you can help or you can just ignore us. I’m cool with that.

So; are we all on the same page? Awesome! Thanks for listening.

Ok… This story has riled me up to no end…

Probation for Ex-Principal Sex Offender

Is it me or the punishment meted out does not match the seriousness of the crime committed. Yes, all men are created equal but in a civilized society there’s a certain level of trust that’s placed in our educators, pastors etc. There’s an expectation there that they will act in the best interest of our children. When this trust is betrayed in a most vicious way they should be severely punished.

So we’re to assume that he will never do this again – That this was his first offence – That his daughter will suffer if he’s imprisoned because he’s the sole breadwinner for his family. From what I know I think they’re many other breadwinners who are in prison. But what about the kid who didn’t deserve this – Did not ask for this – Did not expect this – Trusted this person. What about all the other parents whose kids were in this school (or who came in contact with this man perhaps at church)? Who are probably now asking their kids; “Has he ever touched you?” and hoping for an honest (although they want to hear “no”) response. What about them? I don’t want to think that I’m the only one who thinks that this is just absolutely outrageous!

He took her into a room – On school premises. Locked the door – Obviously had more in mind than saying hello. Pulled her onto his lap – Started touching her ass and asking her if she knew what sex was. A principal, predatory and opportunistic, did this! To a fourteen year old! PERV! PERV! PERV!

How does an offense like this result in such an unreasonable lenient sentence?


Just saying…

And no it’s not a business meeting… Who the hell in their right mind does that!

So I get there about 1PM; prime lunch time… The placed is packed and the line is loooong. I’m at Subway – Standing in line – And after a while I see folks just going up to the counter, turning around then leaving with each one slamming the door a little bit harder than the one before them. I stay in the line and wait my turn not realizing I’m heading into idiot-ville.  All of a sudden you hear an outburst at the counter, “Whey yuh mean nun effing bread day?” (Translation: What do you mean there’s no bread?) Believe it when you hear that a hungry man is an angry man :). Folks started complaining and leaving after this but I stayed. Why? I’m sure you’re asking. I don’t know… Could be that by this time I was like , fricking hungry plus I’ve walked into idiot-ville a few times before so I guess a part of me was thinking that the people there know me – LOL. I don’t want to believe we’ve been standing here all this time and there’s no bread and no one is saying anything.

Anyway, I’m about to get to the counter… I get there, order a grilled chicken sub. The attendant lets me complete my order then says,

Food Attendant: There’s no bread but you can get a wrap

Me (thinking): UN-SignLanguage-BELIEVEABLE! SIDE NOTE: My alter-ego wanted to say, “Whey yuh mean nu effing bread day?” But I usually talk my alter-ego out of doing and saying shit all the time so… What some people would call the “stush” me said…

Me: Are you kidding me? When were you guys going to say something? We’ve been standing in line all this time and no one saw if fit to make an announcement?

Food Attendant: We have wraps

Me (thinking): Well NEWS-PlentyWords-FLASH… That’s why people are leaving! No-one cares about the damn wraps! SIDE NOTE: By the way does it make sense for me to tell you that by this time she’s now telling me that they’re out of cucumber and tomatoes so if I want the wrap those won’t be included.  I know… IN-JailTime-CREDIBLE!

Me: Is the cost for this wrap any cheaper?

Food Attendant: No. It’s the same amount

I then turned around and said…

Me: EVERYBODY! Subway is out of BREAD and TOMATOES and CUCUMBER!” So if you don’t want a Who-Gives-A-Shit-Wrap you can leave now!

SIDE NOTE: Ok, I didn’t actually say that second part about the wrap – BUT I so wish I did, right? It sounds so bad-ass! And I don’t think I would have obsessed about it either. Like think that maybe there was someone telling them all along to make an announcement to the customers but they ignored her. And she didn’t want to say anything because she had just started working there and feared that she would lose her job if she did. Plus there’s a guy in the line that she was checking out and it looked like he was checking her out too. Now she’s wondering what he’s thinking after my outburst. She’s embarrassed. Like that I would be obsessing. God… I need to get this OCD shit under control. BTW, in my nut-job obsession if I said what I didn’t say then obsessed about it – They guy would be thinking… I hope they close this joint early so I can walk this chick to her car, bus or wherever ;). Bow-chicka-wow-wow ;).

Anyway, my announcement caused most of the other suckers (like myself) to leave. Back to my car that’s parked illegally, in a spot not suited for parking, in a spot where it should not be with the engine running. That’s the trick folks. Leave your engine running – This way if you come back out and a cop is about to write a ticket your excuse makes better sense. You know… Something like; “It was just going to be in and out officer. I didn’t expect to take this long. I went in there and so and so (make shit up – LOL) happened.”

SIDE NOTE: Murda! Nuh badda sen dis to yuh police fren. Yuh too libarty! Translation: Please do not send this post to your friend who’s a police. Nobody asked you to, so don’t!

SIDE NOTE: And please… If e between a tief and yuh ploice fren. Tek all de libarty yuh want and send ge yuh police fren… PLEASE! Nuh tell nun teif bout dis! Translation: Cyarn badda wid dat right now! Seriously though… Translation: If you JUST HAVE TO TALK about my car and how I park with the engine running – And you have to choose between your friend who’s a police and your friend who’s a thief  – Tell your friend who’s a cop. By the way if you haven’t already started think about that intervention with the thief now is the time to do so.

Anyway, back to my rant…

Now tell me… How the hell does Subway run out of bread? Cookies…? Yes! We-don’t-give-a-shit-about-your-wraps? Yes! But bread! You’re in the sandwich business for crying-out-loud! You don’t run out of bread!

I went to Subway one day to get a sandwich for lunch a little after they opened in Antigua – And that’s what happened which led to a one-man boycott that lasted a few years.

Yes… After a few years I went back. Turns out Charlton took Kuba there and he loves their pizza. I know right…? You would think I could count on him to boycott with me.

My unfortunate experience took place at the Subway city branch which I’ve been into twice (yes twice) since the end of the boycott. So much time had passed that I did not recognize anyone so I was hoping that they had either worked their way up so I don’t have to see them or out which would be better for Subway and folks like me

Anyway, now… I could not be happier with the service. And this is the service at the Old Parham Road branch. There’s even an attendant there that recognizes us as soon as we walk in and pretty much knows our order. Now that’s service!

By the way folks, there’s this FB Group that sort of led to me writing this post. I was initially writing this as a comment on this page but whaddayaknow… Turned out to be an epistle. I should have known. I have trouble doing anything small :). Take a look at the page though and consider joining too.

Customer Service in Antigua & Barbuda

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