Rants, raves and little things that just don’t make sense to a smalltown boy.
Can I buy an eh?
Nathan Cullen is either American or he needs to check his wallet.
In a mailout paid for by Canadian taxpayers, MP Nathan Cullen writes in length about a “social license” companies wanting to invest in northwest B.C. will have to earn.
Regardless of what one might think of Nathan’s opinion or what the expensive taxpayer-paid NDP propaganda mailout will accomplish, it is fair comment.
However, something Cullen and his staff might want to do before digging into the taxpayer wallet and publishing something of this sort, is to dig into their own wallets and check the spelling on their driver’s licence.
Twelve times, Cullen refers to a “social license.” Only in the good ol’ U.S. of A. do they spell it license.
Yes, this is splitting a mighty fine hair but given the fact it was ostensibly written by a member of Canadian Parliament, one should expect it to, at least, be correctly spelled in either one of our two official languages — not American.
NINE ITEMS OR LESS DAMMIT!
If she had counted all the hot dogs in the package and all the pizza pops in the boxes, I was well over the limit.
“You have too many items,” the lady in line behind me said as the express lane clerk began scanning my purchases at a Prince Rupert grocery store.
Several responses went through my head ranging from ‘sorry, I’ll go to another line’ to ‘expletive deleted’.
The nice clerk stepped in right after I chose something in the middle.
“Really?” I said, half question, half rebuke.
“It’s okay,” said the clerk with a wry smile. “I’m not counting.”
The lady stood there muttering to herself. She had to. She was the only other one in line. How dare I break the rules and waste 10 seconds of her life.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE LINE
Several days later, I was next in line at the same express till. Not wanting a repeat of the other day, I made sure I was well under the limit before I got in line.
While waiting, I was browsing the Kardashian magazines and remembered an item I had forgotten to pick up. I grabbed my little bin put it on the floor out of the way and told the three young guys who were chatting behind me to go ahead.
I walked down the aisle and grabbed the box of milk bones and returned. When I returned, the line hadn’t moved and the three young fellas saw me.
“Go ahead,” one of the three said. “You were back in time.”
I thanked them and re-assumed my spot in line.
When it was my turn I quietly told the clerk to scan in the young man’s energy drink and that I would pay for him.
The clerk quickly did so without being noticed.
“Paying it forward?” He quietly asked.
“No,” I said. “Paying it back.”