This Just In: Lady Liberty Peddles Spicy Cajun Trail Mix

Is Duane Reade violating a UPC code rule by stretching it out into a Statue of Liberty shape? I'm assuming not, though I wouldn't put it past them. But I can guarantee they're in violation of my taste bud laws.

IHDR reader Scott writes:

I don't know if this counts as a horrible retail experience or just as horrible plagiarism. The new packaging for DR house-branded items uses a Universal Product Code as a design element ...

Well, it seems that there is a standard UPC use (here via Wikipedia), but when have we seen Duane Reade follow any standards?

Dimensions

UPC-A Bar code symbols can be printed at various densities to accommodate variety of printing and scanning processes. The significant dimensional parameter is called X-dimension, the ideal width of single module element. The X-dimension has to be constant in UPC-A symbol. The width of each bar (dark bar) and space (light bar) is determined by multiplying the X-dimension by the module width of each dark bar or light bar (1,2,3, or 4).

The X-dimension for the UPC-A at the nominal size is 0.33 mm (0.013 in.). UPC-A can be reduced or magnified in the range of 80% to 200%.

Nominal symbol height for UPC-A is 25.9 mm (1.0 in.).

Quiet zone (light margin)

The minimum Quiet Zone width required by the UPC-A bar code symbol is 9 x X-dimension on both the left and right sides. UPC-E requires 9 X-dimension units on the left side and 7 on the right. (Source; UPC Symbol Specification Manual).

Barcode text

Exactly 12 digits must be printed below the UPC-A barcode.

Yep, I don't know what the hell they're saying either. Best I can surmise: there's a standard, though there's a little bit of breathing room when it comes to sizing. I don't see a 'Statue of Liberty' clause here, so maybe they've found a loophole.

(Thanks, Scott, for the head's up)

This Just In: I'm an Idiot

IHDR was featured earlier this month on NYTimes.com.

Just saw it today - and I was wondering why I was getting more email than usual!

Regardless: kick ass.

The 'Oh and...' Update: Manhattan Users Guide gave us a shout out as well - thanks MUG!

The Latest in Pandemic Couture...

(Thanks to Richard, for sending this in!)

This Just In: Coupons 101

Ah, the "coupon."

The consumer's best friend.

That is, until you try to redeem at the DR.

This just in from Susan B.:

I wanted to fight a parking ticket, so I needed pictures. I went to the
local DR to buy an instant camera, and after a quick calculation realized it would be cheaper to buy the free processing one. Which says, on the package, "Free 1 hour processing" and "coupon inside."

So yesterday, around 3, I dropped it off. The woman asked me if I'd be getting it that night, and I said first thing this morning. (DR's photo desk closes at 6 pm and reopens at 8.)

This morning, I slept in, so I didn't go to pick them up until 11. They weren't ready. The negatives were hanging there, but the photos had to be printed. I agreed to give the worker the "one second" she needed, and about 15 minutes later she had my prints ready (and the ones she'd taken care of while I stood there but before she started mine).
I was buying a diet coke, which she promptly rang up with the cost of the photos.

"The processing is free," I told her. "That coupon you were looking at? Says it's free."

"No," she told me, "That says free 1 hour."

"Yes," I replied, "Free prints with one hour processing."

"You have to pay for the prints," she said.

"Then what does free one hour processing mean?" I asked.

"That you get the one hour free."

"They weren't even ready in six hours," I replied.

At that point we both began studying the coupon, which said, "Free single set 4" x 6" prints. One hour processing." That should have convinced her,
right?

No. The small print said, "Free up to $7.49. If more than $7.49, $7.49 off."

"See," she said, "You only get them free if they're $7.49. Yours are $5.29." (I didn't shoot the whole roll, because I didn't think the parking ticket judges really needed 27 photos of the lack of signs on the block where I parked, and there were only so many filler pictures I could take in 48 hours.)

At that point I just looked at her, and she asked if I wanted the manager.
I said yes. He did arrive promptly, but she then said, "She says she gets
free prints, but her prints don't cost $7.49." He quickly figured out how
to, in fact, give me free prints with my free print coupon.

I left as the woman behind me was asking whether she got a discount because her 1 hour processing wasn't ready in an hour. Although I didn't stick around to
listen, it appeared that the manager was telling her no.

Anyone else have coupon nightmares? I'm sure there's times when the DR even confuses their own dollar rewards system.

Send us your story.

This Just In: The Cooler

Ladies and Gentleman - Think we found our t-shirt slogan, courtesy of the DR on E. 51st.

"The cooler is out of service. Please don't touch it. "



Thanks, Eden for sending this over!

UPDATE: Yeah. I suck. It should read "Ladies and Gentlemen." Oh the irony!

This Just In: BYOKey

Josh, who writes a new blog called palaverist.org (and another, soon to be my personal fave: [this is not a sentence]) sent in this nightmare nugget:

My own story of hate is about the Duane Reade around the corner from my office, where I actually watched a woman [ed. - cashier, I'm assuming] assess the line forming by the pharmacy, ostentatiously lock the door to the pharmacy, and then tell all the customers standing there that there was no way she could give anyone their medicine because the pharmacy was locked.

Too crowded, ya'll. Unless you have Cheetos, I'm not opening shit.

Speaking of pharmacies...has anyone visited the Duane Reade doctor yet? I'm licking taxi floors just to get sick enough for a visit.

Dr. Reade is available at these locations:
• 1627 Broadway at 50th Street
• 2589 Broadway at 97th Street
• 125 East 86th Street at Lexington Avenue

Go forth and contract TB, people!

This Just In: Prescribe Me Edition

Ah, another entry into the Duane Reade BS Hall of Fame:

Isn't it time the biggest pharmacy chain in NYC moves past the disgruntled employee scrounging through alphabetical buckets when retrieving our prescriptions? All I'm asking for is a computer linked to a conveyor belt and the ability to swipe my debit card.

Picking Up A Prescription At Duane Reade: AKA A finely tuned strategy in which I ultimately buy more crap.

Me: I'm picking up

Employee: Last Name?

Me: Schwartz

Employee: S - h? w? - s???

ME: S-C-H-W-A-R-T-Z

Employee: First Name?

Me: eye roll indicating annoyance at not being asked my full name in at once
Me: Allison

Employee: Goes to the "S" bucket and sifts through every single prescription, during which time I text my boyfriend, blow my nose take a picture of my shoe on my cellphone, and decide I need to buy more Chapstick conveniently sold at the pharmacy checkout.

Employee: Shouts while taking a futile stab at the "A" bin. When did you call it in?

Me: This morning.

Employee: Oh. She nods as if to say "that's a totally different story" and begins to rummage through the stack of prescriptions that have not yet been sorted and while looking for mine decides that this would be a super time to alphabetize the lot

Me: Bite my nails

Me: Decide I need Purell hand sanitizer so I can bite my nails without fear of strange diseases, conveniently in my purview

Me: Decide I have no time for lunch and grab an energy bar from the under the checkout counter

Employee: Finds my prescription and rings up my items annoyed at something, possibly that I have a first and last name that begin with different letters.

Employee: You have a 5 dollar coupon!

Me: I take my yard long receipt and stuff it in my bag with disgust. Another $100 bucks spent at Duane Reade.

Well executed, Ms. Schcwh5rtz!

Got an equally bullshitty story? Tell us.

This Just In: My Lady Pocket

From "D" (name protected for obvious reasons...I mean, c'mon...it's the virginia we're talkin' bout.)

I had a prescription for some gynecological medicine. They ended up giving me a topical acne medication. Thank god I had the good sense to google the name of the drug when I got suspicious. Went back to DR pharmacist and asked wtf they were doing. Pharmacist lady gets hostile and tells me to call my doctor - that it's MY DOCTOR's fault. Mind you this was after waiting online for 45 minutes with 2 ppl ahead of me in line. I LOATHE DR.

[Ed. -- Can I get an 'amen'? Also, wondering what made her 'suspicious' enough to google the drug. ::shudder:: Thanks, D!]

This Just In: Stunned Silence Edition

"This Just In" features stories sent in by you guys.
Keep 'em coming!

[Ed. "Buy this man a drink. Seriously."]

From "Steve-O":

I am an epileptic, and one day I was having 'auras' while at work so I went into Duane Reade to fill out a prescription, because it was the closest thing to my job.

I went to the counter, and saw someone stocking meds in plain sight. Granted, I am standing there having little body twitches, and I can barely talk, but she sees me.

After 5 minutes of watching the pharmacist stock meds, I spoke up and said, "Excuse me, can you help me?"

This big fat bitch looked up and said, "Excuse me...I am on break."

Not in the mood, I snapped back, "You stock things on your break, but you cant help me? I guarantee you I am easier to deal with, and I need your help now. Its an emergency."

What does she do? She fucking walks away, and goes in the back room!

So I go to the front cashier, and tell her I am sick and need to see someone immediately.

Her response, "Go to the pharmacy section then."

I calmly said, "I did that, and for some reason she walked away."

The cashier responds with a nasty attitude, "Well, she went on break then."

I flipped out here & I am very embarrassed about my response but I was not well.

I shouted back, "No fucking shit. I know she went on break. She fucking told me as I asked her to help me. You are not aware right now, but I am very sick, and you ignoring me is not helping. So if you are not busy, will you please go fucking find someone to help me. Otherwise, I will drop right in front of you and vomit, piss and shit all over the place. So either help me, or I will give you something to clean up."

Her response, "You are very rude. You dont have to talk like that."

My response, "Yeah well...everyone here acts like they are fucking retarded, and they are very convincing."

The woman called my bluff and stood at the counter and did not help me.

Realizing this was not helping, I shouted, "Ok then. Go fuck yourself bitch! You go and earn your $7 bucks an hour with pride! Maybe you can buy a boat ticket back home!". Yikes...not nice at all.

I went to the SI Ferry and was able to get to my regular pharmacist to help me.

I dont go back to that Duane Reade anymore.

This Just In: Faux-Yolk Edition

"This Just In" features stories sent in by you guys.
Keep 'em coming!

From "Ernestina":

Husband in car with sleeping 3 year old. Long day of Irish Pride spent at the St Patty's Parade in Staten Island. Toes and fingers frozen, contacts suctioned to my eyeballs, all I need is a few quick things to hold us over until our monthly Supermarket Sweep this week. Soda, Milk, Pop Tarts and Cereal.

Grab my loot in 4 minutes, only one person on line--YAYA...

.............7 minutes later.............

I'm sitting on my basket of loot because I am tired and stuck behind a woman who is not only 100, not only wearing one of those "knit caps with the wig attached", but who is buying completely useless shit. If she was purchasing things like heart medication, band aids, you know, I could wait.

But this list is SO RANDOM and she piles everything on the 1 x 1 counter in a HUGE PYRAMID which eventually topples and takes another 7 minutes to pick the crap up.

SAID CRAP:

1 box of mac and cheese
1 box of chocolate covered liqueur cherries that looks ABOUT 25 years old with dust on it
2 jugs of windshield wiper fluid ??????????? (Please get off the road old lady)
14 Cadbury chocolate eggs with the gross, yellow faux-yolk
1 Case of water
1 stuffed bunny that sings when you squeeze it which she keeps squeeeeeeeeeeeeezing.
1 box of baby wipes (don't want to know)
1 lollipop
1 dishtowel
1 sponge
rope (not kidding)

Just when the end looks near, she pulls out 150,000 coupons from her pocket.

Then I hear the most glorious words over the loudspeaker:

"I'm open in Cosmetics! Please step over!"

THANK YOU JESUS.

15 minutes gone.....when I get back to the car, husband and child, both asleep in running car.

SIGH.

This Just In...Eckerd

"This Just In" features stories sent in by you guys.
Keep 'em coming!

From "Mooch Rex":

Call me curious, but when Eckerd decides they need to hire some folks to help mind the store, do they start by combing through primordial ooze for applicants?

Perfect example. I'm at my local Eckerd, which is located on the 6th level of hell, just past the adulterers. I had an odd craving for Coca-Cola Blak (Which is cooler than regular coke because they dropped the “C” out of “Black”. Hip! Cool!) So, there I am, purchase in hand, standing in the ridiculously long line as usual. Random thought: Y'know It's always a marvel to me how Eckerd always has the great sense to make sure that as LONG as the line gets they MAKE sure only ONE employee mans a register. Must have been in the contract ol' Scratch worked up for them. (Ol’ Scratch is another term for Satan. And before you ask, Yes, I worship the Devil.)
So, the single celled organism working the register, with her fat mouth hangin’ slack and her big meaty “Will there be rabbits on the farm, George??” hands clumsily molesting the items folks bring up, unenthusiastically calls upon the next person in line.

Now the woman in front of me was old. Really old. I'm talking formed out of the first sludge of the earth old. The ancient one shambles up to the counter and states that she'd love a pack of cigarettes for purchase. Now, all of us people trapped in line can tell she's been a LONG-TIME smoker. I suppose it was the small visual and audio clues that tipped us off. The white hair of age now a lovely yellowish tinge from the billowing clouds of nicotine smoke, the brownish teeth that looked like she ate a bowl of tootsie rolls without coming up for air and the throaty rasp of a once feminine voice now three octaves lower. Hell I’m a man and I don't even have that deep a voice.
The lummox behind the counter, and this is NO bullshit, asks to see her I.D.

HER I.D. PEOPLE. Would you card God? Hell no. You just know that fucker is OLD.

The Ancient one stared back at the Lummox like she just took a dump in a box of cigarettes and demanded she smoke them.

I settled back to enjoy the show.

"You're joking, right?" Oldie rasp/chuckled.

"No, I've got to see your I.D.” Said the Lummox “To make sure I'm allowed to sell you cigarettes. To make sure you’re legal"

Holy fuckin’ shit.

A massive sucking of teeth erupted from the line behind me, which if I had to visualize with a word, would sound very close to "TCCHH". The line which had been about ten people deep when I found my place, had snaked so far back it went past the photo counter. Methuselah was furious, and really, why wouldn't she be? When you've experienced the extinction of the dinosaurs AND lived through two world wars, I'm sure all you'd want to do is just chill out with your pack of smokes and take the edge off of life for a bit.

"The Mummy Returns" demanded to see the manager.

Having had my fill of the floor show, I put down my bottle of Coca-Cola Blak (Rad!) and I walked out. No small amount of bottled sugar water was worth waiting in that line to witness the battle of wills between a woman who's intelligence can be trumped by a brick, and a woman who most likely kept a Stegosaurus as a pet. I walked over to my local grocery store and bought a delicious red bull instead, thankful it gave me the wings I would need to fly back out of Eckerd hell.