imagine this

You work Monday through Friday at a job you like. Sure, it's not perfect. And there are things you'd love to change. But basically, you like what you do. 

You're a hard worker. In fact, you're one of the best performers in your office. 

Every Monday when you get to work, your boss stops by. "Hi Lucy, how was your weekend?" he asks. "Great thanks, and yours?"

Despite the pleasantries, you know where the conversation is heading. It's the same one you have every time you've been off for a day or more.

And it doesn't matter how well you've been doing. In fact, there's zero correlation between your performance and what's coming next.

"So Lucy," your boss continues. "This week we're going to have to decrease your paycheck by 38%. I'm sorry. But at least it's better than two weeks ago." He's referring to the two weeks prior when your paycheck was reduced by 63%. 

In fact, last week it was only reduced by 20%, but lately it's been closer to 40. You have no control over the level of reduction, nor does your boss. 

There have even been times when your boss has had to have the more difficult conversation. 

"Lucy, I know you've worked really hard this week. And we think you're doing a great job. But unfortunately we can't pay you at all this week. But we can loan you a little bit of money that you can pay back next week. We hope you understand. It's not that we don't appreciate all that you do, and the hours you put in. It's nothing personal, just business."

I'm Lucy. Welcome to my world.

Sorry, it's been a rough few weeks.

(Oh, and the scenario above may be imagined, but the numbers are real).

a different look

I would love a new apartment. 

One with gorgeous hardwood floors, new appliances, beautiful baseboards and new doors — ones that haven't been painted over for 50 plus years. And of course more space. But none of this is going to happen.

I'd also love to get a new sofa. A new end table. And a few other new pieces of furniture, especially dining chairs as I now have none. Most of this is not going to happen either, except for the dining chairs, those I need. 

I plan on having my apartment painted soon, and have sent an email to the painter to schedule it. It's been over a week and he still hasn't responded. But eventually he will.  When it's painted, the letters on my son's door (they spell his name) will come down. They were put up when he was an infant and should have been removed years ago, but I kinda like them.

After weeks of asking, two of the guys who work here helped me move around some furniture. Even though my son's door is now mostly blocked, I like the openness — especially now that my TV no longer sits in front of my window. It feels more welcoming.

Once I get my photos framed and hung, put my TV on the wall, get the windows and rugs professionally cleaned, and find some dining room chairs and a rug for underneath them, I'll be mostly there. 

But for now, I'm enjoying my new view.

BEFORE

AFTER

afternoon break

I need to buy dinner. There's really no reason to cook if you live in New York and you're the only one at your dining table.

I walk to Agata (a half block away). It's crowded.  I'm trying to get to the dessert section. "Excuse me," I say to the blond in front of me. No reaction. "Excuse me," I try again, this time louder. Again, nothing. I try a third time. I'm almost yelling. And again, this chick doesn't move. I have no choice but to squeeze around her, bumping into others as I squish between her and the tiramisu cakes. That's when I notice. She's so engaged in her hands-free phone conversation, she's oblivious to her surroundings. I'm all for multi-tasking, but not when it tunes out and inconveniences others.

I am checking out. My items total $20.26. I hand the cashier $21. She hands me back the one and says, "I have extra change I want to get rid of or else my register will be over." It's a small thing, but sweet. 

On my way home,  I bump into a Moncler-clad two-year old. He's in the driver's seat of a toy, electric Mercedes Benz car. He's at the wheel, strapped in, and appears to be driving along the city sidewalk. His dad — dressed in matching Moncler — is walking next to the child-driver. In his hand is some kind of handheld remote device. I smile at the boy and the dad says, "For now, I'm the one actually controlling the driving. He's only two. Too young to be driving alone in New York."

I know what he means, but it still makes me smile.

weekend of ups and downs

Horrible Friday
Get to work and check my numbers. Between Monday and Thursday, while I was off, I had $1,907 in returns; I want to cry.

Work hard  in the remote back corner of the store — most of the activity is in the front.

End the day just covering my returns. In other words, eight hours of strenuous work to breakeven.

Via messes up and I wait almost twenty minutes — when I was told six — for my ride to come.

Eat an unhealthy dinner; too tired to care.

Have another Kafka-esque call with AT&T Wireless — an hour of conversation ending with an accidental disconnect — wish it were easy to change carriers.

Crawl into bed early, exhausted and stressed.


Stellar Saturday
Assigned to work up front near elevators (we are rotating through May 10); it's the best place to be.

Customers all treat me with respect and appreciate my help.

Busy all day, ending with sales of $8,504. Finally, a good day. 

Walk 9.1 miles — in boots, not running shoes, on a cement floor, not a dirt running path; but  happy with the exercise.

Have a major return investigated that turns out to have been a mistake; good that I check my commission report. 

Love the book I'm reading: Everything You Want Me To Be by Mindy Mejia.


Neutral Sunday
Semi-busy until four. Then nothing for the next three hours.

Walk 7. 1 miles.

Feet and toes hurt by end of day. Really, two toes are actually throbbing.

Can't find my Metrocard, again, and fear it's lost.

Love Sunday nights — no work again until Friday, giving my aching body time to recover.

an atypical day

Leslie (not her real name; she likes privacy) and I meet for lunch at Boulud Sud. Later we are seeing a matinee of Sarah Ruhl's new play, How To Transcend A Happy Marriage at Lincoln Center.

All these are things I rarely do:

• Have a big lunch at a nice restaurant.
• See a matinee.
• And meet up with my good friend Leslie.

The first is obvious. I like to eat little throughout the day and big at night. I know this is the least healthy option, but I don't care.  Dinner (with a good book or better, good friends) is something I look forward to.

I rarely go to matinees, but there is something appealing about them. First, I am more likely to stay through the second act — getting home late is not an impediment. And second, it's a better way to spend the afternoon than watching Judge Judy and doing stuff on my computer.

As for Leslie .... she is one of my closest friends yet I see her infrequently. Our schedules don't align as much as we'd like.

I get to the restaurant a few minutes early. It's empty. It starts to slowly fill but given the outstanding quality of the food, and the very reasonable pre-prix lunch option ($19 for soup or salad and entree), it should be packed. 

Leslie and I both order the cold potato and sunchoke soup (whose name does not give justice to the exceptional tastes embodied in it) and the crispy chicken sandwich (that, too,  is far better than its name implies). 

While most of the other diners are appropriately mannered, the flannel-shirted young girl near us has her sneakered leg on the dining chair, and is texting as her grandparents converse.

After lunch, Leslie and I head over to Lincoln Center. 

I have a low bar for theater, movies, books. It doesn't have to be that good — just please don't bore me.  And the play doesn't. It's entertaining (more so the first act than the second) and well-acted (the cast includes Marisa Tomei). 

But in the end, neither Leslie nor I are entirely sure what the play is about. Plus, any story   (other than a children's fairy tale) where a person literally becomes a bird loses major points with me.

purging

I could be a professional organizer.

I hate clutter and chaos.

Knowing that, I am in the wrong industry. Retail is a hot mess everywhere. Clothes are tossed unhung in dressing rooms. Go-back bars overflow with layers of toppled garments. Neat supply rooms quickly become piles of empty boxes. It unsettles me when I'm surrounded by disorder.

At home I avoid it.

I am preparing to have my apartment painted soon. The last time was February 2007. I am barely recovered from that major cyclone. But first, I want to declutter.

Today I work on bookcases. I give Alexander's text books to my neighbor (why do so many look unopened?); bring unread books (that will never be read) to the library; and toss old notebooks and souvenirs that have lost their value.

With the walls and floors mostly bare, it is starting to look as if I'm moving.

I have no remorse for anything tossed. If anything, I find the absence of things calming. 

a visit home

"I'm coming home this weekend."

I love hearing these words.

Late Thursday night, I'm sound asleep; I awake with my son telling me he's home. Straight from the Bolt Bus, Alexander goes to a friend's apartment to hang out. I would too if I were his age.

I awake on Friday to uneaten chicken nuggets and fries sitting on my coffee table with no diner in sight. 

Before leaving for work, I ask my semi-sleeping son, "Dinner tonight?"  "I'll let you know." The major attraction of eating with me is that I will pay. That improves my odds for a positive response.

I finish an exhausting day of ringing up little and seeing returns diminish my sales to nothing. "Sushi?" I text. The immediate response is yes.


Alexander and I watch an episode of Law & Order. Eat dinner. Discuss the moral dilemmas the show always raises. And talk about life — his, not mine. After dinner Alexander meets up with some friends.

Saturday morning Alexander is up early. Before leaving for work, I enlist his help and that of my very nice and very strong neighbor in flipping and rotating my mattress. It's been about five years since this was last done so I'm way overdo. 



Saturday night Alexander and I again have dinner together. When my son suggests having our sandwich, I know exactly what he means.  Our sandwich is something we created at Agata's deli counter — prosciutto, arugula, mozzarella, and avocado,with honey mustard and balsamic on a roll. 

Alexander has a friend over later and they go out long after I'm asleep. I don't realize he's even gone out until he tells me he's home around 3:30. I'm glad I didn't know or I'd have been worried.

Today is Easter and Alexander is meeting his grandparents for brunch.  He has a special relationship with them, and I am so grateful for their involvement in his life.

My son seems happy, and therefore so am I.

new low in public service etiquette

I go to the post office to mail in the taxes I owe. $9,045. So painful.

I am close to the filing date so I am sending my checks via certified mail.

I get to the window.

I come here regularly and know most of the mail clerks by face. Most look glum and bored.

"Good morning," I start.

"How are you sending this," is the response — not unexpected.

"I think I'll send it certified so I can track it."

"They're all horrible. All of them. Anyway, how is your kid?"

I don't recall ever engaging this woman in enough conversation for her to be asking about Alexander. And who are all horrible, I wonder.

I look up at my postal clerk. She's not in any rush to process my certified letter.

Nope. 

She's wearing partially hidden small ear buds and is engaged in a conversation with her friend. 

I say nothing and leave. No sense in testing the going postal cliche.

second night at Valerie's

I'm not sure how common it is, but in my family, we always celebrate the first two nights of Passover.

We are not a religious family, as evidenced by the brevity of the actual Seder rituals. But we do love the idea of celebrating Jewish traditions (and holidays in general), and Passover is an important one.

Tonight, 19 of us meet at Valerie and Abbey's. No one table can fit all of us, so my sister has beautifully set two.

Val and Abbey's stunning home is filled with people. Some are first-timers, as our family continues to grow.  It is nice to see the core family seamlessly expand with people who add humor, vibrancy and fun to the mix. 

But not everyone from our family can come. Jean and Jim are moving. Jack's in college. Sally's still living in Spain. Michael is in LA. Alexander is in Philly. And my dad is no longer with us. But here's a Passover that some of the missing did attend — also at Val's in 1993.

Hard to tell who's changed the most since then — maybe Adam.

Tonight I choose not to impose on people with my camera, but the faces are all beautiful and of all ages — from adorable little Chloe who is 18 months, to the great grandmas (Rita and Phyllis) who are a youthful 93 and 87 respectively. 

As usual, my sister has prepared the delicious food, all impeccably presented. 

The conversation flows and covers everything from new homes, the inauguration (that two attended), real estate, the retail business, an upcoming wedding, and much in between —though nothing too serious or controversial.

For a few hours, the rest of the world is kept at bay, as we celebrate another joyous Passover.

first night

Passover begins tonight, and we are celebrating at Jill's in Westchester.

Tonight there will only be nine of us. 

For my family, Passover, like other holidays, is mostly a great excuse for getting together. The tradition of the holidays is not lost, but it's secondary to family. 

Dinner is called for 5:30, so a plan is set (for those of us in Manhattan) to meet at 4:30 under the clock at Grand Central.

"What time should we leave?" my mom asks.

"If we leave at 3:30, that'll give us more than enough time. It shouldn't take more than a half hour to get to Grand Central?" I respond.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Won't there be a lot of traffic today?"

"There might be, but even if there is, if we leave an hour early we'll be there in time."

I think my mom would prefer to leave at 2 — just in case.

At 3, my mom is ready to leave. And at 3:15, she does.

I meet her at the bus stop at 3:35 or so, and we're at Grand Central at 4, a half hour before anyone else we're meeting.

As usual, Jill has prepared an abundance of great food. Matzo, chopped liver, creamed herring, vegetables and dip, and cheese for appetizers. Soup, beef tenderloin, salmon, chicken, spinach soufflé, butternut squash soufflé, yams, potatoes, and asparagus for dinner. Multiple cakes, cookies and fruit for dessert. There are only nine of us but there is enough food for twenty.

While the Seder ritual keeps getting briefer and briefer, it doesn't detract from the best part of Passover — family.

my new work space

Since last August, the fifth floor where I work has been under a major renovation.

On Thursday it opened.

It is modern, youthful, and energetic. Bright lights (literally), music, gorgeous large dressing rooms (and many throughout the floor), lots of new merchandise, great seating for husbands and children and tired shoppers, art I'd like for my apartment, an open floor plan, and even  a new name (from Contemporary to The Collective).

Every associate wants to be situated near the front of the floor. That way, you can approach customers as soon as they come onto the floor. The closer to the escalators, the better.

There are many associates on the floor to help. Many associates to quickly offer assistance. It is unusual for a customer to not link up with an associate within minutes of being on the floor.

It used to be that the department I worked in was in the front of the store. It also used to be that there were many common areas in which any associate could approach a potential customer. But all that has changed.

In the new environment, everything is zoned. There is no more common space — no more open aisles. And, associates can only approach customers within their zoned area. Great if your zone is toward the front of the store, horrible if it's not.

Vince, the department where I work, is located in the very back. Saturday and Sunday combined I earned $57.90 (before taxes). 

Marlin (my great boss) is aware of the situation and is looking for a long-term solution. it's only been a week. I am trying to be optimistic. 

But after working so hard and earning nothing, it is very upsetting. It's not just the money (although that's a big part of it) — it's the idea of working hard in a physically strenuous job, and then having absolutely nothing to show for it. 

This weekend I earned far below the minimum wage. $3.62 to be exact. And while some days I earn a lot more, it doesn't make the awful days any better. And lately the awful days have been outweighing the good ones. In the past two weeks, I've had over $12,000 in returns, thus wiping out all my sales for two weeks.

But on the plus side, I am thin and my legs are in great shape. And, my beautiful mom is in town for Passover. Now that's something to be happy about.

changing tastes

I remember when I first saw this table.

It was at Bloomingdales, a very long time ago. I fell in love with its great, Country French look, polished walnut top and skirted edge. The table was made by Pierre Deux and priced at $3,100; I still have the tags.  I'm sure I paid a lot less than that as it was the floor model, but still, it was probably the most I'd ever paid for a piece of furniture.

It's been in my life longer than my son. I found this picture of my friend Scott. The table in the background was primarily used as a place to dump my coat and bags. This photo was taken at my first NYC apartment on East 56th Street in early 1992. It was a time when both phones and speakers were huge. 

The table would fit six comfortably with one leaf.  The most guests ever seated around this table at one time were two year olds, here to celebrate Alexander's momentous birthday.

The table rarely got used for our meals. More often than not, Alexander and I would eat in front of the TV on a coffee table, while watching Jack Bauer save the world or Carrie Mathison prevent some terrorist attack or Jessie grow stronger while hating Walter more and more.

The table was perfect as a place to play gin when my mom visited.

Or as a desk for doing homework. 

Alexander made a game for some life skills class in sixth grade.

And later conducted some sort of science project for 8th.

And every now and then someone would actually eat at the table.

Like when Sally visited after high school graduation in 2011, and I actually cooked dinner.

But tastes change and I now want a more contemporary apartment look.

I call the Salvation Army weeks ago and schedule a pick up for today, somewhere between 7:15 and 3:30. I get up early and call. "Someone will be there today in the afternoon, ma'am." To further qualify the time frame I ask, "So I should be home from noon on?" "Exactly."

The men arrive at 10:30. 

I am hoping my table and chairs find a good home, and that the new memories made are as good as the ones left behind.

bigger, smarter, cheaper

In the last ten years, real estate prices have risen. Phone bills have increased. Food costs have gone up. Along with electricity. Cable. Insurance. And just about everything else. 

Except for TV's.

In the 80's (likely before) I had a great 19 inch CRT TV. I watched three networks and was totally content. You plugged it in and it worked. There was nothing else to do.

Back then, hair was big and screens were small.

I later upgraded to a TV called Protron that was, at the time, top of the line. M had one; I loved it; I got one too. 

By 2003 HDTV was becoming widespread and affordable. My dad gave me $500 toward the purchase of a $1,650 new HD Sony. It was a flat screen (not flat panel, still a CRT), but huge, at 35 inches.I loved my new TV.

But five years later I sold it on Craig's list for $250.


Sony TV at a stupidly low price: Model no KV 34HS510

TV I'm selling was purchased almost 5 years ago from Circuit City for $1,650. It's a great Hi-Def, 1080i, widescreen, flat screen TV that works PERFECTLY. It is a CRT (weighs 206 pounds).  Color is sensational.  Need two people to carry.

My next (and current) TV was a flat panel, huge at 40 inches, and less than I paid for the TV I was replacing — just $1,395. It has spectacular color. Is thin; or I guess thin-ish would be more appropriate. And has never given me any problems at all. 

But alas, it is not smart. That's the only thing wrong with it. But that's a lot. I like smart.

 And then  I read a NY Times article that I swear was written just for me.

Should you buy now or wait?

Consider upgrading now if you have not bought a television in the last two years...

“It is pretty clear that 2017 is going to be the most compelling year” since the introduction of flat-panel models to get a new television.

So I research. The largest I can get in my bedroom is a 43 inch, unless I want to remove a mirror and hang it on a wall. I don't.  I settle on the Samsung, smart, 4-K  UN43KU7000FXZA model for $650. It's more than half what I paid for my last TV.



I now have so much to keep me entertained at home ...  I just need to be careful I don't become too content and never go out.