BUZZURRO

Today I went to the supermarket by my house.
I have written numerous posts about the dangers lurking in the supermarket near my house, but I need to eat, and since I don’t drive and this supermarket is near my house, I am drawn there. Like a moth to the flame.
I entered the store in the late afternoon. I have learned over time that the majority of others do their shopping in the AM, so to avoid the crowds of shoppers, I do my shopping in the afternoon.
My timing is almost perfect; from 1:30 pm to 3pm all the employees seem to be at lunch. Only one cash register is open during this time so if there are only 20 people in the store and 7 of them want to pay for their stuff and leave, then there will be one long line of 7 people. Anything after 3:30 is usually OK.

I picked up a few items on my trip. As usual there were hardly any other customers in the store. Then I went to the front of the store where the cash registers were. Out of the 12 cash registers, only one was open, although in another one there was an employee who told everyone that he is not open.

“Oh” I thought to myself “I guess I didn’t start to do my shopping late enough.” as I got on a very long line.

It started moving. “Could this be a fast cashier?” I thought to myself in wonder. One person paid for her stuff and left. Then another. And another. Finally I could see the register,. I could almost touch the belt in front too. I was only one person away from lying my few items upon it. When, OOPS. There was a problem.

The cashier asked someone for a price check because the barcode on an item didn’t scan. At that moment the female 2 legged creature in front of me decided that she was going to go to the other cash register where the employee was still sitting but was not ringing up food.

She swung her heavy cart laden with many canned items around right into the small of my back.

Then she backed up and walked away. . (if you’re reading this you dumb cretin, I hope you choke on all that heavy food you bought ! You evil dyed-haired mutant cow !)
Without apologizing or anything. I am used to rude behavior before, I am used to being hit and scraped by these massive shopping carts, but this was PAIN. I was in agony.

I said an expletive out loud, in English, so nobody UNDERSTOOD me (which is good because it wasn’t a nice thing I said either), but they all HEARD me, whether they saw the incident or not. Not one person in line behind asked me if I was OK, or what happened or anything. I tried massaging my own back, but I still hobbled through the cashier line, hobbled out the door and hobbled home.

I am so tired of this extreme rudeness.
Well, now a few hours later the pain has subsided. I don’t even have a bruise. But I am not looking forward to going back.

The advantages are often the same as the disadvantages. The natives hear your accented speech and assume rightly or wrongly that you are a complete idiot and don’t know anything.
This has worked to my disadvantage in my job search. Much more serious than any advantages, but there are some.

It has worked to my advantage though when a telemarketer calls my house. I can simply say that I don’t understand Italian, and they hang up.
It has worked to my advantage when I meet Mormons or Jehovah’s Witnesses in the street, although for them it is not simply enough to say I don’t know Italian, I also have to say I don’t know English and pretend to be any other nationality where it is more likely that the language is not spoken often. (I usually say I’m Polish. No offense to Polish people, but there really aren’t many Polish Mormons or Jehhovah’s Witnesses walking around.)

Yesterday at around 5 PM my doorbell rang. At first I thought it was Buzzurro so I quickly opened the door, but to my disappointment it was not Buzzurro. It was a young man with a paper in his hand. Most of the words in the title were covered by his hand, but the one that was showing was COMUNISTA (communist).
“Ugh” I thought to myself “If he’s selling that I’m really not interested.”
Well, he wasn’t selling anything, he was giving it away. Just like a Mormon with a political touch.

He tried to give me the newspaper to read about ‘what’s going on in the world and in Italy.’ I interrupted his speech with my usual “Sorry, but I don’t speak Italian.” Thinking that he would go away, but he was a little more attuned to reality than the rest. Because if I didn’t speak Italian, how could I have understood his earlier sentences about understanding the news ?
Instead of going away he said “Not even a little Italian? Do you understand enough to read a newspaper?” and I replied “no.”
Perhaps I should have just looked at him with a blank expression on my face because he continued “Are you sure ?”
“Yes” I said.
Then he asked me if Buzzurro speaks Italian.
“A little” was my response. And then he asked me if he reads newspapers “No” I replied. And then he turned around and left. Saying “Goodbye” (in English) as he went.

I read a study a few months ago that the majority of pedestrian fatalities in Italy occurred on the zebra crossings made for pedestrians to cross the street.

I heard many jokes after this study such as “You see? You shouldn’t cross the street on them.. It’s dangerous.”
But the reality is that most people do cross at them, so that is where the majority of the pedestrian fatalities are.
Cars do not stop to let pedestrians cross the road at the zebra crossings, and in fact often speed up when they see that there is a pedestrian wanting to cross the street, because they don’t want to have to brake and wait the 2 seconds necessary to actually allow the pedestrian to actually cross the street.

Often they will not slow down and attempt to swerve around the pedestrians if they are already in the crossing.

I have been warned not to run when you are in the middle of the street crossing and a car is coming towards you at a fast speed, because if you run the driver won’t be able to accurately judge your speed and won’t be able to swerve around you at the correct angle and might hit you.

Huh ?

The car should stop until the pedestrian safely crosses the road. The driving manual says so. It’s a case of blame the victim.

This morning I decided to go to the local market near my house. That entails crossing several streets, one of them being an unregulated crossing zone, complete with a pedestrian zebra stripe crossing.
After a few cars passed I judged a safe distance and crossed.
A car came speeding along out of nowhere, and stopped !
I was in shock !
Of course then the idiot on the scooter behind him did NOT stop and tried to pass the car on the right side, which is where I was.

I was not hit, but I felt the breeze as the driver passed me. I was not happy at the near miss.

Another of the intersections I cross is for a one way road but I have been here enough time to figure out that one way streets in Italian only mean drive ‘one way’ at a time.

I look both ways before stepping into the intersection and sure enough there are 2 scooters driving the wrong way down the road, I wait for them to pass, and then I’m safely on the other side.

“The car drivers are maniacs and don’t follow any rules of the road whatsoever”, I thought to myself for the millionth time.

Every time I cross a road that doesn’t have a traffic light to regulate the crossing I feel like I’m risking my life.
To be fair however, the pedestrians themselves aren’t much better. Yesterday I saw a lady drag her young daughter across the street when the light was red.

The oncoming car had a green light and most likely couldn’t even see the little girl who was shorter than the car was. The driver finally did see her, and stopped short.

The mother of course was mad that her child was almost ran over and slammed the car with her fist a few times and cursed at the driver.

It looked to me like he apologized but she gave him her middle finger as he departed anyway.

Excuse me, but she crossed when the light said not to. Shouldn’t she share some, if not all, of the blame ?
You always find such elegance on the streets of Italy. No matter what side you are on.

Today I took a walk down a street famous among all tourists to Italy, of which there are so many during the summer months, but not so much now.
Tourists flock to this area for what they think are shopping bargains from the many vendors there, but to those who live here what is sold is not known as bargains.
As I walk down the street, in clear unbroken English I hear one man yell at me:
“Look at my scarves. Best price in Italy.” I think to myself “I highly doubt that.”
And continue walking.
A few seconds later I hear.
“Look at my purses. All genuine leather too.” And I think “At 5 Euros each ? Not only does this vendor think I’m English speaking, but stupid as well. A leather purse doesn’t cost 5 euros.”
And continue walking.
Then I hear from someone else
“Wanna buy a poster lady ?” I think “No. If I did, I would stop and look, not try to walk by.”
And then another.
“I am having a special price on scarves that are 100 percent cashmere. You won’t find one for less.” I don’t care. I’m not even looking for a scarf !
I’m not looking for anything.

Can’t a girl just walk down the street in Italy and not be harassed? Even if she is English speaking ?
Next time I’ll just take a bus.

A friend of mine from Chicago said to me 4 weeks ago “Gospel ? In Italy ? Ha ha ha. I bet that’s something funny to hear. Ha ha ha.”
A week later she went to her first gospel choir concert and she completely changed her tune.
She told me, “The concert was awesome ! Everybody sang so great. They sang in English of course, and I could understand all the words !”
And with that one concert, she was converted so to say. She’s been to another concert since.
Gospel is originally from the US.
Read an article here.
Me, having never been to a gospel choir concert in the US, have little to compare it with (just what I have seen on TV), but I have been to a gospel concert here in Italy and it was very good ! The singers sing all the songs in English, but there is a translation for them to read so they know what they are saying since most are not English speakers.

Read the ANSA article here.

A guest post by L.Doe.

Outside my apartment window I can see the front of a supermarket. Every day there is a young gypsy woman with a red plastic cup standing in front of the door.

Sometimes she has a young child with her, and sometimes not. I often see a big car drive by her while she is standing on the street and begging shoppers or passers by for money.
Several times the car stops and picks up the child whenever he or she is with the young gypsy woman on her begging vigil in front of the market. Sometimes I actually see the man in the car get out of the car and who turns over her plastic cup and pockets whatever money she has begged for.
Then he gets back in the car and leaves her begging. It is very sad.

This gypsy woman never seems adequately dressed for the temperature. She wears what I would think are clothes fit for early fall.

About 2 weeks ago after buying a few things at that store she asked me for some money. “Ho fame (I’m hungry)” she said.
She then showed me a beat up photo of a child and said “Anche mio figlio ha fame. (Also my child is hungry)”.

I knew in my head that the man that I sometimes see is really her “pimp”, and if I were to put some coins in her cup he will take them from her, but I can’t help myself. I give her some money anyway, thinking that maybe she will see a part of this money, maybe just a small amount. A small amount is better than nothing.
2 hours later while home in my apartment I see the car drive by her. I see the man get out and take the money out of her cup.

Last week I walked by the store on my way home from the nearby bus stop. It was cold out… She asked me for money. I shook my head no. Then she asked me for warm clothes or shoes.

Seeing her feet which were in summer sandals, I nodded and continued home. I then found an old pair of gym shoes. I went out and handed them to her. “Grazie (thank you)” she said with a little smile on her face. I thought she might put them on then, but when I returned to my apartment and looked out the window they were on the ground in front of her.
So was a brown bag with what looked like a sleeve of a wool shirt sticking out of it.
Then I saw the big car drive by and this time she disappeared inside it.
I thought for sure when I looked out my window the next day and saw her she would be wearing my gym shoes, but instead she was wearing her inadequate sandals. Did she give my old stinky shoes to her pimp? Where were they ? Where was that sweater I saw hanging out of the bag ?

Now whenever I walk by her either to go to the store or the busstop she asks me for money, clothes or shoes. I don’t want to give her anything. I feel like such a fool.
I wish she would just go away.

Is it me ? Am I being too prudish ? This morning I took the bus into town. It was a double bus and as buses usually are in the morning, this one was packed with people, like a can of human sardines.
I looked around and I saw a lady with a baby, maybe 6 months old, covered in a pink blanket on her chest.
There was a folded baby stroller in the aisle in front of her. She was sitting in a double seat. The other was empty.
“That’s strange” I thought to myself. “The bus is packed and there is an empty seat next to her..”

A few seconds later the bus stopped short at a light and many of the passengers, me included, went flying from the momentum.
I managed to grab onto a bar on the bus and straighten out only a few feet from where i was originally, only this time instead of being behind the lady with the baby on the double seater I was in front of her. I glanced at her.
Her shirt was pulled up and she was breast feeding the baby. Both breasts were exposed, only one had the head of the baby on it so it wasn’t completely exposed. The other was.
My immediate thought was, of course “It’s cold outside!” If I were not wearing gloves, my fingers would have frozen amd fallen off. Imagine being shirtless.
My second thought was that if the baby was hungry she should have tried to put a finger or pacfier in it’s mouth. It was less than a 10 minute ride into the center of town where I’m sure she could have found a public restroom or someplace more quiet (and warm) to breast feed.
I think it’s kind of tacky to expose yourself on a crowded bus. At least move the blanket to cover yourself up ! Be a little discreet. Geez! I mean, what if older kids get on the bus ?
Maybe because I don’t have kids it kind of disturbed me. Maybe because I was raised in another culture. I don’t know. Was I wrong to get uptight ?

Today I used my American bought software called Resume Maker to help make my resume. I ended up making 2. It was so nice to make a resume without having to list place of birth, nationality, sex (it was obvious in the words I used, americanO for a male, and americanA for a female) marital status, and the dreaded Date of Birth which shows my age.

As I have mentioned in other posts. Age discrimination is the norm in Italy. Most jobs list a maximum age, and if you are older than it, you need to look elsewhere for employment.
Today as I wrote my resumes WITHOUT listing my age, I was smiling because I knew in the US I would avoid the humiliation I endured due to the maximum age last summer.

Let me explain what happened.. In April I left a resume (CV) at a large supermarket. After months of not finding an office job I thought I should try a supermarket. I used to be a cashier, so I left my CV at the desk.
At home that day I looked up the supermarket’s website, and saw the dreaded age maximum for cashiers was 34. I was 36 at the time. “Oh well” I thought unhappily. “That’s another job in Italy that I am considered too old to do.”

2 months later I received a phone call from a third society telling me that the supermarket that I applied at is hiring and would like to interview me. Remembering what the website said, I asked “Hiring for what position ?” The response was “Mainly cashiers, but other positions too. I don’t know what they all are.” So when the representative told me their address and what time I should go for the interview, I went.
When I got there I found a room full of people. Some were young, but at least 1 man looked older than me.

For the next hour I filled out all kinds of paperwork. Then the representative started calling for individual interviews.
She was sitting at a desk. She called my name. I went to her.
I saw that she had nothing but a copy of my resume on her desk, as I handed her the rest of the paperwork as I saw all the others ahead of me do.

She looks at the paperwork I gave her and then says in an irritated voice “You are 36 years old. You have to be under 34 to be a cashier. We are hiring for cashiers! You are too old!” as if I was a complete idiot who only wanted to waste her time. Of course she being a little upset at my ‘inconviencing’ her, she spoke in a very loud voice. Everyone in the room turned their heads to look at us, the interviewer and the 36 year old hag who didn’t make the cut.

I was mad. Humiliated and mad. I replied in a loud voice too, “Well, YOU called ME ! You had my CV in front of you. You knew how old I was. When I called this office they said that they were hiring for several positions, not just cashiers, so I’m sorry if I’m too old but YOU called ME !”
After my little discorso (speech), the representative quieted down and said “Well, maybe there will be other positions available. Who knows ? But for now, this interview is done.”

To make a long story finally over, I did not get the job. I repeat, it is SO NICE to not have to list my age on my resume. (CV)