What do people think of when they first think about intelligent people? Is it somebody with little personality who grinds away at their career all the time? Or is it somebody who appears superficially polite, but actually is snide and supercilious?
I'll bet they don't think of the pleasure an intelligent person can give to other people. Let me give you a little anecdote about being on the receiving end of this. But first you must bear the set up.
I was in Cortez Colorado, looking to buy a new Utah atlas, either the DeLorme or Benchmark version. This area caters to tourists, and it is the closest small city to the Four Corners. So you would expect it to be easy to buy an atlas for any of the four states.
Wrong. I failed to find these atlases in a half dozen places. The frustration was worsened by driving from place to place while pulling my trailer. Towing a trailer is a terrible way to knock off errands in a city.
If a sensible person were replacing a hardware or mechanical part, they would bring the old worn-out part to the store, and spare everybody the frustration of spewing out verbiage to the store's employee. But I was too foolish to do that, because I had already decided that this errand should be easy.
What blank, uncomprehending stares I got from the employees! One woman reminded me of the look that cows give when you encounter them on dirt roads in the forest.
At first I thought that Benchmark and DeLorme were terms only known to the cognoscenti of the outdoors. So I softened my approach by only using the term 'atlas.' But even that term confused these blockheads. And here I thought the average second grader knew what an atlas was!
With a certain amount of hope I went into a visitor's center that was connected to nearby Mesa Verde national park. It disappeared when I saw the first customer: he looked like a New York tourist visiting Florida in 1960. The store was filled with Native American kitsch souvenirs and coffee table books. Jean Jacques Rousseau would have loved this place. But no atlases.
Sometimes they could read my frustration, and then returned it. But I just couldn't believe that I was unable to make myself understood when talking to people who spoke English as a first language.
Finally, as a broken man, I went into Walmart and threw myself on the mercy of an employee. She wasn't just sentient -- which is all one could reasonably expect in a Walmart -- she had a mind like a steel trap. She sent me right to the place, although Walmart just sells the old Rand-McNally highway atlases that get the mass tourist to Disney World, Las Vegas, or the national parks in the West.
That wasn't her fault. When I left the store I still felt dazzled by the eager pounci-ness of her mind.
I'll bet they don't think of the pleasure an intelligent person can give to other people. Let me give you a little anecdote about being on the receiving end of this. But first you must bear the set up.
I was in Cortez Colorado, looking to buy a new Utah atlas, either the DeLorme or Benchmark version. This area caters to tourists, and it is the closest small city to the Four Corners. So you would expect it to be easy to buy an atlas for any of the four states.
Wrong. I failed to find these atlases in a half dozen places. The frustration was worsened by driving from place to place while pulling my trailer. Towing a trailer is a terrible way to knock off errands in a city.
If a sensible person were replacing a hardware or mechanical part, they would bring the old worn-out part to the store, and spare everybody the frustration of spewing out verbiage to the store's employee. But I was too foolish to do that, because I had already decided that this errand should be easy.
What blank, uncomprehending stares I got from the employees! One woman reminded me of the look that cows give when you encounter them on dirt roads in the forest.
At first I thought that Benchmark and DeLorme were terms only known to the cognoscenti of the outdoors. So I softened my approach by only using the term 'atlas.' But even that term confused these blockheads. And here I thought the average second grader knew what an atlas was!
With a certain amount of hope I went into a visitor's center that was connected to nearby Mesa Verde national park. It disappeared when I saw the first customer: he looked like a New York tourist visiting Florida in 1960. The store was filled with Native American kitsch souvenirs and coffee table books. Jean Jacques Rousseau would have loved this place. But no atlases.
Sometimes they could read my frustration, and then returned it. But I just couldn't believe that I was unable to make myself understood when talking to people who spoke English as a first language.
Finally, as a broken man, I went into Walmart and threw myself on the mercy of an employee. She wasn't just sentient -- which is all one could reasonably expect in a Walmart -- she had a mind like a steel trap. She sent me right to the place, although Walmart just sells the old Rand-McNally highway atlases that get the mass tourist to Disney World, Las Vegas, or the national parks in the West.
That wasn't her fault. When I left the store I still felt dazzled by the eager pounci-ness of her mind.
Comments
... Boondockboy
I don't know what direction you are going but Barnes and Noble might have them in St. George or Albuquerque. My experience in Cortez was somewhat the same as yours. I was very surprised that a 'town' of that size in a tourist area offered so little.
Chris