Let's rewind. I'm still at the mercy of Blue Water Transit, can only come and go when they say so, and pray that they're on time. It's 11:25 AM, and I'm sitting in the Subway inside the Walmart on 24th Avenue. The bus is due in ten minutes. I bought two donuts from the bakery, and a bottle of Marketside store-brand lemonade, and found a table in the back corner, away from public view, and quiet. Or so I mistakenly assumed.
There's a voice behind me. "You can't sit here."
"Yes, I can," I said. "And who are you?"
"I'm the franchise owner. This is my Subway. And you can't bring food from outside in here."
Now, I know this is bullshit, because I see people do it all the time.
"You have to leave," he said."
"I'm not leaving."
"And you can't bring trash in here." In a shopping cart, I had two large black garbage bags. One was empty. In the other were empty cans and bottles that the store's return machines wouldn't take. Clean, washed at home like all the others I at the time transported on the bus. Here's a picture of them. Folded, closed. Only Superman, or a Subway franchise owner with X-ray vision, could see inside.
People come to this Subway to eat, wait for people, wait for the bus, with their own food, with way more crap on their carts than I had. Who don't SHOWER, speaking of health issues. But I'm the one who has to leave.
And here's the guy giving the orders. (I did have the presence of mind to get out my phone.)
"And you're not a paying customer." (Really? I also see people sitting there watching for friends, playing on their phones, gazing into space, doing pretty much anything except eating Subway food.)
Okay . . . the bus is due in five minutes and I have to leave anyway. So on my way I went. As I was walking across the parking lot, this man followed me in his truck and said to me, through the truck's opened window: "I will put you in jail. Don't mistake softness for weakness, buddy."
Well, he's not my buddy, but that does sound like something some asshole high school football coach, or a prison guard (same thing) might say.
In town, I made two phone calls. One to Walmart customer service, and one to Subway customer service. The Walmart people confirmed what I already knew: that, since Walmart also sells hot food and that there's nowhere else to sit and eat inside the store, eating food not purchased at the Subway inside the Subway is allowed.
The Subway people said they'd get back to me. But I didn't have long to wait. When I got home, this disturbing email message, reprinted here in its entirety, was waiting for me:
I should really thank him. I had no idea who he was, and no way to find out. He saved me a week's worth of research time.
But I did some research anyway, and learned that the St. Clair County Chad Miller is indeed a football coach, at Algonac High School, and had coached at St. Clair High School. Then, apparently he became too much of an asshole to even coach football.
The school district's concerned parents, in their petition, state:
Recently, Chad was fired from his position as varsity offensive coordinator by SCHS administrators. The primary reasons cited for his release included poor relationships with players and poor offensive performance of the team. As citizens of this community, we should be deeply troubled by how this was handled.
The operative phrase here being "poor relationships with players." Yes, I can imagine. Don't even bother to read the whole petition. It's the usual bullshit, how so-and-so is such a positive role model and selflessy helps boys as they travel the path towards becoming fine young men, yadda yadda, you've heard it all before.
Oh, and BTW: all the Subway restaurants in St. Clair County get nailed all the time by the county health inspectors for things that go on in every home kitchen but aren't allowed in restaurants - but also for stuff like employees not washing their hands before, and after, tasks that require hand washing. Go here and search under "S."
My dear God, losing a high school football coaching job for being a bully. I didn't think that was possible.
So - let me ask You The Reader: have you ever been kicked out of a restaurant for doing something a few dozen other people do there every day of the week? I didn't think so.
Now, I must digress. I've been places. Ordered dinner in London, on all three visits to Paris, Amsterdam, Greektown in Detroit, Beverly Hills, in classy restaurants that have tablecloths and silverware, where you have to wear shoes and know how much to tip. San Francisco, six -- or maybe it was seven, I forget -- times. Nice places, but also on the list are the seamy side of Hollywood, the back streets of Berlin, parts of Detroit where now I wouldn't go without a police escort, what's left of Flint. Road trips, I can't remember them all. Off the top of my head, two weeks in Flagstaff Arizona, admittedly a tourist place but where no one knew I was from out of town.
I'm not stating this to brag. In the good, and bad, towns, the tourist traps and the workaday neighborhoods, where no one knew I wasn't a native and in fact didn't know me from Adam and Eve's housecat, everyone -- and I do mean EVERYONE -- has been nice. I had to return to my hated home town to find specimens like the dipshits I've already described, and 24K gold-plated assholes like Chad Miller who are way old enough to know better.
That factory I've been mentioning, where they build them out of spare parts? I think it's in Marysville.
St. Clair County, despite the presence of these creatures, still promotes itself as a go-to tourist destination. I don't get it.
So: if you're planning to visit our cute little wannabee tourist town next summer, and ever go to the Walmart on 24th Avenue -- it's the only Walmart in town -- and need to sit and take a load off, wait for friends, wait for the bus, whatever, remember that the only place to sit is at the Subway, and you'd best buy something before you do. Otherwise . . . oooops, I'm sorry, YOU won't get booted, if you're built like a pro wrestler or are a hot young blonde whose miniskirt shows off a nice pair of legs. Or a Negro; Lord help anyone these days who insists that our bronzed friends obey the same rules everyone else has to. If you're an old White dude sitting there by himself, a soft target, watch out.
My phone calls and research have told me that Walmart doesn't care what its retail tenants do as long as the rent is paid, and Subway doesn't care what its franchise owners do as long as they keep selling sandwiches. As far as I know, Chad Miller still has a coaching gig, at Algonac High School. The school apparently doesn't care what people representing it do as long as the football program isn't affected.
And there's the other operative word: "old." I'm 65. I don't look it, but I am, and there are laws meant to discourage unequal treatment in places of public accomodation, like restaurants, based on age. The football coach should consider himself lucky that the 65 year old White dude couldn't find a civil rights lawyer who would sue his ass, and his company's ass, for age discrimination.
But the blonde I mentioned two paragraphs above? She could. In fact, she could point one finger at the franchise owner and his restaurant and high school careers would be over. Even if she wasn't of the Negro persuasion and her last name wasn't Goldenstein. Are you reading this, buddy? It's for your own good, and please don't mistake softness for weakness.
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