Tis not the first time an error of my own doing has diverted me from the tedious freeways of everyday life to side roads with uncharted curves adorned by snagging brambles that seemed to warn, “Go back.” I stumble forward, discovering yet another column topic, one that likely should remain at barrel’s bottom and marked “obscure.” Anyway, there I was, standing way back in the customer service line at Sam’s Club, wondering why some customers were yelling at sympathetic “associates” who didn’t hire out for such. I soon learned that they were patiently listening to “poor me” accounts, from mid-December until well ...