RRN Online Volume 507

February 18 '06

Volume 507

Champaign Anyone Recent Business Trip

Old Barn Central IL I go to Champaign, IL, whenever I have to go there, and I only have to go there whenever my work requires it. Fortunately, my treks to Champaign occur only once per year. Unfortunately, it’s typically during the coldest part of the year, January or February.

Champaign is home to the tens of thousands of students attending the University of Illinois, but it’s also home to one of the many Divisions of SUPERVALU. The lay of the land in the Champaign area is quite similar to that surrounding my Division of SUPERVALU in Indianola, MS, and that which is often said of Kansas, "it’s flat as a pancake," certainly applies to Indianola and Champaign.

I’ll never forget my amazement with the Mississippi Delta the first time I saw it rain in Drew, MS. I couldn’t figure out how the water drained off the sidewalks, streets, and fields. I remembered that a physical property of water is that it seeks its own level, but since everything looked level, I had no idea the water had a way to "run off."

My boss and I keep pointing out our twice-yearly meetings that rotate between Champaign, IL, and Atlanta, GA, should logically fall in Champaign in the summer and Atlanta in the winter, but our astuteness has thus far been ignored.

My first two or three trips to Champaign were by airplane, but the last couple of trips have been by automobile. Either way it takes a full day of travel, but it’s far less expensive by automobile.

Luckily, Wayne Hunter, one of my work associates in the Midwest Region lives in Cape Girardeau, MO, and I’ve been spared driving alone for the entirety of the eight-hour trek to Champaign. Wayne is a native of Arkansas and is extremely knowledgeable of both the wholesale and retail side of the food industry and the application of technology for the retail customers we support. That he’s entertaining in a pleasant sort of way and possesses a great sense of humor makes the trip from Cape Girardeau to Champaign a short one.

Wayne’s a good host and is willing to stop as often as needed for biological breaks, rest stops, or simply to grab something to eat. Plus, by riding with Wayne, I don’t have to learn my way around in a strange city.

We didn't see many hawks on this particular trip, but as we neared Champaign, old barns captured our interest. We saw several that were similar to the one pictured above, except the "upper room" portion centered atop the roof of many were much larger.

We were slated to stay at the Drury Inn, about two miles from the Division’s offices where our business meetings would be held. It was a pleasant upgrade from the Fairfield Inn down the street. Drury provided an amplified continental breakfast that included scrambled eggs, sausage, gravy, and biscuits. They even supplied pancake batter for those who wanted to make their own Belgian waffle. Knowing SUPERVALU would have amply food for between-meal-snacks, I found a cup of coffee and a glazed donut adequate for my breakfast needs.

Apparently the motels up north are better insulated against the cold than the ones down south. Each night, I set the thermostat on sixty-five degrees and even with outside temperatures dropping to the lower twenties and upper teens, the heating unit came on infrequently. I suppose the TV worked, but I never turned it on. With little spare time on my hands at night (perhaps an hour each of the three nights), I tried to put together my newsletter and only finished it late Thursday night after I got back to Pontotoc.

Drury Facility There was one aspect of my room that intrigued me, namely, the bathroom. One corner of the bathroom was walled diagonally to create an unusual commode placement (see picture). My first thought upon seeing the commode protruding from the corner was that my daughter had been there and rearranged the room. Rayanne won’t square a bed or a dresser against a wall if there’s a diagonal solution she can incorporate into her decorating plans. And, I feel sure if she ever has a chance to remodel a bathroom at her house or mine, the commode will go into the corner.

Whenever I dine with a group, I try not to complain about the choice of restaurants. Given my druthers, I’d never set foot inside a restaurant whose principal offerings were the likes of Chinese, Italian, or Mexican. I understand a lot of Americans enjoy such places, and while I can usually find something to eat in one of them, I find most burger joints more to my liking than these.

On Monday night our group ate at the Lone Star Steakhouse (American), then on Tuesday at Olive Garden (Italian), and on Wednesday night we ate at Chevy’s (Mexican). I suffered no ill effects from any of the eateries, but my best meal was served at the Lone Star.

Dana Houston works out of the Quincy, FL, distribution center and is the only woman among the ten field specialists in our group. There were other staff members from our regional offices and one night we also hosted a couple of folks from our Home Office in Minnesota, which brought our group total to twenty persons. On our first night of dining, Dana became the designated "birthday person." It really wasn’t her birthday, but since she had recently celebrated a birthday, we had a birthday celebration for her each night.

I’m sure most readers are familiar with birthday routines, where the employees of a restaurant chain march out with a birthday treat and sing happy birthday to the celebrant. Dana handled the attention well and shared her treats with the rest of us.

After dinner on Tuesday night, John Scott (Champaign Division) took one carload of us to tour the new produce distribution center. John left the Retail Technology department to work in Information Technology early last year. SUPERVALU has built similar distribution centers for general merchandise and health and beauty products, but this is the first facility to house only produce items for multiple divisions.

The most unique feature of the produce facility is a pair of fully automated, computerized fork lifts that move palletized product onto warehouse racks where human selectors pick the product for shipment. It was fascinating to watch the fork lift move along a rail, then select a pallet of produce four stories above and lower it to replenish a slot at floor level, and then wait for further instructions from the main computer. By consolidating produce purchases for several distribution centers, SUPERVALU hopes to supply independent retailers with product at prices low enough for retailers to compete with mass merchandisers like Wal Mart.

Driving back to Cape Girardeau with Wayne Hunter was every bit as much fun as the trip up to Champaign. About a hundred miles north of Cape Girardeau, we begin to see snow in wooded areas and soon we saw snow about three inches deep, everywhere except on the highway. At a rest stop near Rend Lake, we paused long enough to make a few pictures.

Back in Cape Girardeau, more than an inch and one-half of snow was still on my car. Wayne tried his ice scraper, but snow had turned to ice on the roof and windshield and didn't want to budge. After heating the car for several minutes, most of the snow on the windshield melted away. Wayne and I said goodbye and I drove to a nearby gas station, where I gassed up before getting back on the Interstate. I drove several miles before the snow finally slid off my roof.

Kismet Incident Cross Words

There are times when I feel that the advantages of having an English major in the family are outweighed by the disadvantages. Though now retired from the teaching profession, Sarah, my sister, continues to ply her trade, especially when visiting at my house. She’s seldom around to proof a draft copy of this newsletter, but just let Barbara or me overlook a grammatical error and Sarah will pick it up with more glee than should be allowed. The grammar checker contained in Microsoft Word is okay, but it’s not perfect in recognizing my mistakes.

The most recent grammatical chastisement emanating from Sarah resulted from my misuse of the possessive case of a proper noun when possession did not apply. Luckily for me, Sarah’s not a queen, and we don’t live in a bygone era, else I fear my head might have rolled.

"Tsk, tsk," she clucked. "In the current issue [Volume 506], you put an apostrophe "s" on American when only the plural was needed. Now you should know better. You only use an apostrophe "s" when you need to show possession, and in ‘we Americans’ there is no possession."

"Yeah, Yeah," I knowingly admitted, thinking there actually might be something worse for a writer than having a younger sister with a liberal arts degree in English and at that time wishing I knew what it was.

"Well, it’s too late to correct the newsletters already in the mail, but I can fix the mistake on the Internet version."

But, I’m not the only one in my household to be belittled by intellect of our local monarch, Sarah the Great. I’ve seen Barbara reduced to a quivering, gelatinous substance when she didn’t know the answer to a question that Sarah deemed, "common knowledge."

"You didn’t know Heyerdahl’s first name is Thor?" is a typical example and her indignation would in most cases be followed with, "Humph."

But, this time for the coup de grâce, Sarah added, "He sailed the Kon-Tiki across the Pacific."

Note: In 1947, a crew of six manning the raft, Kon-Tiki, demonstrated it was possible for natives of South America to have sailed to the islands of Polynesia, 4,300 miles away.

I don’t get off much lighter, either. When the subject of the lost "Ark of the Covenant" came up recently, Sarah quickly informed me it was located in Ethiopia.

"National Geographic had an article on that a year or so ago. Don’t you read your Geographics?"

"Probably not that one," I replied, then knowing how to irritate an avid reader added, "I just look at the pictures."

Persons, unfamiliar with our family, might think we stay at each other’s throats, when in actuality most of our barbs are flung good-naturedly.

Often, when Sarah is dining with us, she attempts to complete any unfinished crossword puzzles lying about. These, too, provide her the opportunity to showcase her formidable word power.

Recently, as Sarah was working a crossword puzzle while Barbara and I finished eating our meal, Sarah asked for our help.

"What's a six-letter word for fate that starts with K."

Immediately, Barbara responded, "Kismet."

"What?"

"Kismet," Barbara repeated.

"Yeah Sarah," I chimed. "Kismet."

"Kismet," Sarah responded with a puzzled look. "I’ve never heard that word before. Are you sure?"

I’d never heard the word, but I didn’t let on at the moment. When Barbara assured Sarah it was a word, Sarah insisted Barbara must have seen it in a previous crossword. It wasn’t until Barbara showed Sarah the word in our home’s dictionary that Sarah was convinced it was valid.

Folks around my house learn to fend for themselves, and there are times when one is ganged up on by the others. Sarah is still licking her wounds from what has become known as "The Kismet Incident," while Barbara and I savor the memory of the night Sarah learned a new word at our house.

Backyard Party RRN To Turn Ten

This year, Ridge Rider News will turn ten on the first Saturday in June. By a remarkable set of circumstances, it now appears the date of our annual backyard party will coincide with the date of the anniversary of this newsletter.

For the past several years we've celebrated the anniversary in July. However, chief chefs Lee Gordon and Jim Hess, at the time I checked with them this week, each had an open date on their respective church calendars for Saturday, June 3, 2006. Not only did they have no commitments on that day, but neither did FBC, Pontotoc. Dot Bell has assured me of the availability of the required number of folding chairs and tables we shall need to borrow for the evening's festivities.

It's too early to announce further details concerning this year's celebration, but unless something drastic happens, it's not too early to ask readers of RRN to mark their calendars as "booked" for the Saturday evening, June 3, 2006.

Bodock Beau Tendjewberrymud

The following is a telephone exchange between a hotel guest and room-service, at a hotel in Asia which was recorded and published in the Far East Economic Review...

Room Service (RS): "Morny. Ruin sorbees"
Guest (G): "Sorry, I thought I dialed room-service"
RS: "Rye..Ruin sorbees..morny! Djewish to odor sunteen??"
G: "Uh..yes..I'd like some bacon and eggs"
RS: "Ow July den?"
G: "What??"
RS: "Ow July den?...pry, boy, pooch?"
G: "Oh, the eggs! How do I like them? Sorry, scrambled please."
RS: "Ow July dee bayhcem...crease?"
G: "Crisp will be fine."
RS : "Hokay. An San tos?"
G: "What?"
RS:"San tos. July San tos?"
G: "I don't think so"
RS: "No? Judo one toes?"
G: "I feel really bad about this, but I don't know what
'judo one toes 'means."
RS: "Toes! toes!...why djew Don Juan toes? Ow bow singlish mopping we bother?"
G: "English muffin! I've got it! You were saying 'Toast.' Fine. Yes, an English muffin will be fine."
RS: "We bother?"
G: "No..just put the bother on the side."
RS: "Wad?"
G: "I mean butter...just put it on the side."
RS: "Copy?"
G: "Sorry?"
RS: "Copy...tea...mill?"
G: "Yes. Coffee please, and that's all."
RS: "One Minnie. Ass ruin torino fee, strangle ache, crease baychem, tossy singlish mopping we bother honey sigh, and copy....rye??"
G: "Whatever you say"
RS: "Tendjewberrymud"
G: "You're welcome"

The Power of Prayer

A small boy badly wanted a baby brother, so his dad suggested he pray every night for one. The boy prayed earnestly, night after night, but his prayers seemingly weren’t answered. After a few weeks, he didn’t bother to ask anymore.

Some months later, his dad said they were going to see Mom in the hospital and he was going to get a big surprise. When they got to the room, the little boy saw his mother holding two babies.

"Well, what do you think about having twin brothers?" his dad asked.

The little boy thought for a moment and replied, "I bet you’re glad I stopped praying when I did."

There’s an Eyewitness

Late one night, a man driving along a dark country road heard a big thud and knew he’d hit something. He stopped and got out to look but didn’t see anything.

The next morning, the sheriff came to his home. "You’re under arrest," the officer said. "You hit a pig with your car last night."

"Now how in the world do you know that?" the man asked.

The sheriff replied without hesitation, "The pig squealed."

Joke 1 from www.basicjokes.com, Jokes 2 and 3 from Laugh Newsletter, Reiman Media Group, Inc.

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