An important economic summit just took place at a resort near Ottawa this past week. At the top of the agenda, were discussions relating to the North American Free-Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and border security. The circus event had the usual suspects of freaks and geeks. Journalist across the globe swooped into this sleeping Capital for some piss and vinegar. The inter-webs is currently bubbling with chatter pertaining to this video and accusations of the use of agents provocateurs during the confrontation between protesters and riot cops. But nowhere in the traditional media has anyone mentioned another atrocity witnessed during the summit. The blogalaxy has been equally silent.

Please direct your gaze at the 3 yahoos pictured below.

We are accessible and transparent and you will know this by our open collars.

Notice anything disturbing?

Two freakin’ words. Casual. Friday. The usually respectable universe of global politics infiltrated by wrinkled cotton pants and open collared shirts. This makes me ill.

Since the mid ’80s, this war of attire has been raging in the business world. Now it has to trickled down into every institution known to man. Is nothing sacred?! Initially funded by golf shirts and Dockers® khakis special interest groups, this ‘casual’ assault had turned the corporate world on its head. Employees foregoing the time honoured traditional garb for their weekend best, if you can call it that. In outfits usually reserved for buying bbq supplies or eating 3 lbs. of honey mustard chicken wings, corporate board rooms started resembling the rom-com aisle at your local video store.

The rationale was simple and relatively innocent, workers are to adhere to a strict dress code the first four work days. Friday is a time for employees to let their hair down. This is the part where in lieu of a raise or a bonus, you get a relaxed work environment. At first glance, how can this be a bad thing? Wrinkled cotton chinos equals fun. And who doesn’t like fun?

You can tell this was a brainchild after some human resources weekend seminar. At first, this movement meant leaving your tie at home for the men, and for you ladies, maybe a pair of sneakers to go along with that smart skirt suit. Then came the ’90s, and the rules of Casual Friday became much more lenient. Now, you wouldn’t even blink if Brian from Finance came into a meeting sporting shorts and a ‘My other ride is your mom’ t-shirt. Classy. Hey, there’s Lois with her barely there tank-top and flip-flops. It must be Friday!

Like the ideals of socialism, a once promising concept has gone horribly wrong. Casual Friday has slowly crept into the rest of the week. Somewhere along the line, buttons, ironing boards and a general feeling of self-worth became the enemy. Currently (at least at my work), the attire is beyond casual. It is more like Hobo Friday (though the rest of the week ain’t too pretty either), pants of differing varieties of elastic waistbands and t-shirts are the norm. Don’t even get me started with the ever popular Canadiana Line — animal graphics set to a lovely black poly-cotton backdrop. I understand what ’suits’ communicate to the regular bystander. Strict. Unwavering. Serious. But I ask you — Is this really a bad thing? Of course casual attire makes sense in certain sectors or job sites. If your job involves heavy lifting or prolonged exposure to the elements, you’re in. If you work in an office with other adults, sorry you are going to have to spend more than 10 minutes dressing. Come on, you deserve to give yourself that extra 15 minutes of prep time. It’s for your own good, that raise or corner office you covet might be on the line.

My main point of annoyance isn’t directly towards poorly dressed office drones. While it may be an eye sore, it doesn’t keep me awake at night. I do have major issues with politicians using Casual Friday as a PR ploy. They may think it’s a great idea from their team of stylists and image makers, I am not buying it. I don’t think it’s folksy and it doesn’t make them seem like regular joes. I expect — no, I demand — that leaders of nations dress appropriately. In fact, even minor politico players should get into this whole dressing properly thingy. The image of José, Steve, and George says this to me: I follow rather than lead. I don’t care either way but my PR team thinks this is a good idea.

Special note to current and aspiring heads of states, if you are conducting talks that has global repercussions, I want to see suits, ties and good shoes. They don’t have to be Saville Row 3-piece numbers, heck you can score 5 suits at Moore’s for a sack of nickels.

While I may not petition for a ban on Casual Friday, I won’t hinder the recent backlash either. News flash: Stuffy shirts are back in kids! Some offices have outlawed Causal Friday all together. Why? They want to present a more professional corporate culture. And you’re saying a stained t-shirt with the words, ‘No Fat Chicks’ doesn’t exude professionalism. That’s a shocker. Hopefully, this memo makes its round by this coming Monday, but I am not holding my breath.

A perfect capp’ to the evening

Let’s face the facts, this fair city of ours is known by a few not-too-flattering statements. Ottawa is a nothing but a government town. Strip-mall/parking lot haven. Where trends/fun/style go to die. If cities were colour coded, Ottawa would be beige. Do I really need to go on? Some are well-deserved, while others are slowly losing their grip on the city’s already mildly bruised ego. Well you can go ahead and add culinary mecca to this notable list. No longer will motorists on the 401 lean forward on the gas pedal as they bypass our little town en route to Montréal. People even flocking here for a tasty morsel or two, what a concept!

While we cannot compete with other metropolitan centres such as Montréal, Toronto or Vancouver for their flare in fashion, entertainment, business and all-around haute chic — where was I going with this — right, there is a little gem of a restaurant that has catapulted Ottawa’s rep as an excellent choice to stuff your gullet, and wash that palette.

Beckta, is housed in…well in a house, a lovely multi-story abode which exudes warmth and charm. While the exterior of the resto says Victorian, its interior is decidedly Mediterranean. A muted palette of colours and finishes offers an overall tranquil setting for some good ‘ol fashion eatin’. Taking its name from its owner, Stephen Beckta, who had cut his teeth in the industry both here and abroad gave this fledgling eatery instant recognition.

Since opening its doors in 2003, Beckta immediately became the place to dine in the city. Enjoyed by luminaries, dignitaries and regular Ottawans just like us. While it had been on our radar, we had not made a trip as yet. Sure we heard the chatter on the street, and we saw the Food Network show documenting their opening, but we still had not made our way down there. But all that changed last week. On that fateful evening, we arrived for our 7:30 pm reservations, ready for a night of slow eating.

From the moment we took our seats, time seemed to ebb forward at a slower pace. Tristan, our main server constantly assured us to take our time and that the night was young and we are in no need to rush any decision/action. Instructions that we took to heart, total dining time…3+ hours. It was a lovely evening of wine, food and conversation. I hear this slow-eating practice is still going strong in regions found outside of North America. How novel!

Since this was our maiden voyage, and we didn’t bring our thinking caps, we placed our lives in Beckta’s capable hands. With a glint in your eye, and a flutter in our chest, we went with the 5 course Tasting Menu along with its wine pairing. Meaning, that the chef Michael Moffat will prepare five selections from the current menu, each course accompanied by a wine selected by Stephen Beckta.

Tell me that doesn’t sound like fun.

This is the dining equivalent to speed dating. The portions are smaller, so you are not committed to the traditional entrée sizes. Perfect for new friends exploring each other. If you liked something, great, and if it didn’t tickle your fancy, also great. But very much unlike speed dating, at the tail end of the evening we were left satisfied and yearning for another encounter. While the pricing may intimidate some, it is well worth the investment.

With each passing course, we savoured each bite, and every sip. Allowing the ingredients to react and interact, setting off synapses in our taste buds. There was a party in our mouths and everyone was invited. During the eating segments of our evening, our conversation of geopolitics and self-discovery was reduced into single prolonged sounds of ‘mmm…ooh…goooood…

The ingredients were fresh, the presentation was impeccable and the marriage of certain dishes with its wine was bold. We only had one course that I thought was pedestrian, but I’m being petty. With each passing course, our expectations were getting loftier and loftier. The Seared Digby Scallops would be the part in the party where someone was changing the vinyl. A little hiccup, but not that big of a deal.

One can not write about Beckta without saluting their utmost dedication to service. Everyone we encountered throughout our ‘stay’ was friendly, knowledgeable and professional. And it is this ardent commitment to customer service that is Beckta’s brightest star. Sure, you can have a world class menu and wine cellar, but it is the human element that creates a joyous ambience. The employees seem to be passionate about their work. You can sense the pride in their manner and decorum. That you cannot fake. Stephen Beckta is rightly recognized for his skills as a sommelier and restauranteur, but he is also adept as a people manager. He has seemed to surround himself with a staff that reflects his passion and pride. And that is the real success of this little restaurant with a big heart.

Bravo Beckta. We should see each other again, soon.

With the advent of Facebook, Twitter, Jaiku and their ilk, any Joe’smo can have their whereabouts tracked on the inter-webs. The ‘do-no-evil’ scientists at Google just added another weapon to the stalker arsenal. Say hello to Street View. The masses were screaming for this function since Google Map came out of the oven. I am sure we will now scream to have it removed in the near future.

Hello? Ever heard of this little nagging pain in Freedom’s tummy called the ‘War on Terror’?

It is as cool as it is scary. Do yourself a favour, and poke around, click and drag to your heart’s content. Is was unveiled yesterday at the O’Reilly Where 2.0 Conference. Forgive them for the unfortunate conference name. Only a few cities have been added thus far, but undoubtedly the entire world will be mapped by noon Friday. I highly recommend viewing the Vegas skyline.

I am counting down the weeks where I can watching myself pee on Google Map, that would be epic.

From the dry deserts of Las Vegas to mean streets of Ottawa

Everyone Tom, Dick and Mary talks about it. From one-man outfits working out of their aunt Helen’s basements to multi-national corporate giants that span continents, they all profess it. Customer service is their middle name.

Oh really?

If it’s worked into their marketing spiel, it must be true. Laugh it up Madison Ave ad weasels — you got us good. Sadly, even more commonplace than these golden carrots held tenuously over the slobbering consuming masses are the stories of either poor customer service or a complete lack there of. Of course, this is nothing new. Entities like the Consumerist would not have flourished, if this wasn’t the case. On a daily basis, there are countless posts about blue ribbon cases of poor, I mean horrendous adventures in customer service. Indifference is the ultimate sin, a disregard for relationship building can end even the best whirlwind consumer/merchant love affair. Are you listening Bell Canada? Don’t go snickering Rogers and Royalbank Visa…you are ass to me also.

While stories, posts and blogs about shitty experiences are rampant all over this thing we call the internet. This ain’t one of them. You heard right. Zappos, ready your upper back/shoulder region for full patting action.

I recently made my first purchase on zappos.com — before I begin, here’s a back story (that may or may not add any insight). At the tender age of 12, I was diagnosed as a sneaker-freak…prognosis…negative. It’s a life-long battle. My mom cried and we stopped attending public events. But with hard work I was able to finish school, find a steady job and eventually found a mate. Good things.

OK, back on course, so I heart shoes and I have attempted to buy some online without much success thus far. With the advent of the online shopping experience brought a plethora of retailers ready to take my hard-earned cash money, most of them American — no surprise there. I found out quickly that Canada is a shipping no man’s land like Puerto Rico, Hawaii and Alaska. Usually I had to pay extra duties and shipping that made the entire buying experience lose some luster. So footwear aficionado meet zappos.com, online merchant meet disposal income. Their website was well built, categorized in a orderly fashion, great user feedback for sizing/fit and don’t even get me started about their search. Let’s just say that it had me at ‘men + 9.5 + hightops’. While I breezed though its diverse catalogue, the actual buying screeched to a halt upon check-out. Damned by my Canadian address, I decided to ring them up for a taste of their self-proclaimed legendary customer service skills. They are after all, Powered by Service™, it’s true. That’s their slogan. Big red flag in my books. Service could very well be the e-commerce engine they use or the name of their catering truck. A marketing trick no doubt. And the site was loaded with customer testimonials. Another red flag. Anyone can throw empty testimonials around. Watch.

‘Jumboshrimp was fast and courteous when they fixed my septic tank. I recommend them for all your sewer related needs.’
Denise
Housewife
Albuquerque NM

Wasn’t that easy?

So I dialled them up — ready for some mass confusion and annoyance. I got Dolores within 2 rings. Two! I wish that everyone could get a dash of Dolores in the lives. I asked her if it was possible to pay with a Canadian credit card but then have the item shipped to a my sister in Connecticut (who would be visiting me in a few days with shoes in tow). Surely that would grind the entire operation to a dead-stop! ‘No problem, sugar’ was her answer. I liked her calling me sugar. Usually I didn’t, but it felt nice. Within minutes my transaction was complete, Dolores repeated every detail to assure its correctness, including free overnight shipping and a free 365 day return policy. As in no charge — zilch.

While waiting for the email confirmation to drop into my mailbox, Dolores and I chatted about the weather (snow in Ottawa vs. sunshine in Las Vegas). I told her I was there 5 years ago for business, she invited me back to see how much things have changed. It was a delightful exchange. Short and friendly. The fateful email arrived, my order has been shipped is says. Sure it has I thought. I know about the status games you online entities play. I would be ecstatic if the shoes arrived within 5 days. Finally Dolores and I had to part ways. She asked me if there is anything else I needed assistance with. I told her I loved her. Seriously. She laughed and then gave me a most genuine salutation I have ever received in my entire telephony history. One pair of crisp white hightops later, Dolores become family.

Dolores, you are a testament to the Zappos credo. A real pleasure to deal with, Zappos you hold on to this woman, youhearme? So now, when I am ever greeted with a smug indifference across a counter or a telephone I calmly state. You….are no Dolores.

The following morning , I received an email from my sister saying that a package has arrived. Mind boggling! I made the order at 9 pm EST. It arrived at 8:30 am EST the following morning. Does this make sense to anyone? Does Zappos have access to some sort of teleportation technology? This is the norm evidently, Zappos didn’t make up their testimonials. I believe. I believe. It was secure, and pain free. All the things you want in an online buying experience. If only buying mortgages and insurance, or a donut for that matter was so delightful. Make it happen people of Zappos.

Since the 2 weeks that I the shoes arrived, Zappos has launched a Canadian version. It has only a quarter of the inventory and there are shipping fees. Not too impressive, but I am sure they are working on its improvements as I type. But if you pick up the phone, you still win the customer service lottery that is Zappos. Friend of the consumer near and far…

Important: I have no personal or financial affiliation to Zappos.com and or its employee-extraordinaire Dolores. I was more than ready to be utterly disappointed by this buying experience. But I have to give praise where it is due. Zappos talks and walks like a duck. Indeed.

The following is the second instalment in a series of podcasts called ‘Conversations’. The list of the invited will span a diverse selection, which may include artists, musicians, politicians, activists, entrepreneurs and maybe even my father.

Episode Two is a conversation I had with Melanie Yugo and Jason Pelletier, the duo behind ‘Spins and Needles‘. A local Ottawa social event that combines a night of fun crafting projects set to a funky beat. I learn about their goals, experiences and current campaign for global domination.

NOTE: Unfortunately, we chose to sit right next HVAC unit. Duh. Apologies for the the poor audio quality.

For more information on their upcoming events, or DJ Jason Pelletier’s music and weekly sessions, visit the following :

www.spinsandneedles.com

www.myspace.com/jasonskilz

www.technoetc.net