STAY OUT OF MY SPACE

This is going to sound weird, but the supermarket has always been my
happy place. I shop and ponder and am at peace with the world,
surrounded by aisles of colorful packaging and tasty treats and the
smell of fresh coffee. I do not want anyone bugging me within what is
supposed to be my zone of comfort.

About 25 years ago, I was inside a grocery store when a
hearing-impaired guy handed me a card asking for money. We got into an
altercation - in sign language - which ended in his cursing me out. I
was a little shaken by that incident and, obviously, I haven't
forgotten it. I was stupid to get mouthy with the guy, but I have a
profoundly deaf sister who is a hard worker and high achiever and
never let her deafness get in the way of her success. Also, I was
inside the supermarket, not outside, where, when approached by those
wanting personal donations, shaking your head "no" will generally
suffice. And that's mostly what it was about - the guy was in my space.

Twenty-five years later, at what's supposed to be the mature age of
45, I don't take much guff, but I've also become more tolerant. I
temper my big mouth with patience. Still, the supermarket remains my
bastion of relaxation, and I don't want to be bothered while I'm in
it.

That's why I was a little annoyed when the well-dressed young man was
in the Simi Valley Pavilions, trying to sell me a coupon book. He came
up to me while I was attempting to make a very important decision:
plain coffee cake or lemon.

He said he was selling the books to raise money for D.A.R.E., the Drug
Abuse Resistance Education program, which, he said, is getting less
government funding. Well, sure, I care about that. Both my kids went
through D.A.R.E. and I support our local police and their efforts to
keep children on the right path.

But, once again, someone was intruding upon one of my few chances to
temporarily get away from my office. I smiled and said something
snarky. He thanked me and walked away. I learned later that the store
manager asked him and his partner to leave.

I wondered if the fundraiser was legitimate, so I spoke to John
Lindsay, D.A.R.E. America's regional director, and asked him if it was
true that D.A.R.E. had lost government backing. Lindsay told me that
D.A.R.E. America's funding had been cut by 80 percent. The coupon
books are, indeed, a legitimate fundraiser, even though D.A.R.E. only
makes 50 cents off the sale of each one, which are sold by independent
vendors. Lindsay told me that the books' sales keep D.A.R.E. officials
from having to ask D.A.R.E. police officers - or the schoolchildren
they're helping - to raise money to finance the program.

I asked Lindsay if he knew that the vendors' salespeople were
soliciting customers inside supermarkets. He told me they were
supposed to follow a code of conduct and that he'd talk to the vendor
in my area.

I then spoke with Daymond Rice, the director of public affairs and
government relations for Safeway, the parent company of Pavilions. He
said that, while outside-of-the-store rules vary, Safeway's policy is
that there is absolutely no soliciting allowed inside the store.

So, the salesperson definitely wasn't supposed to be in my
supermarket. I felt a little better about being selfish with my
solitude, but I still went online and made a donation to D.A.R.E. I
guess that's another thing that comes with age - the ability to put my
money where my big mouth is.