Tuesday, October 31, 2017

again

Another cloudless fall day.

Another Tuesday.

I get a news alert saying something about a truck and maybe someone killed in lower Manhattan. 

An accident is my first thought. Just like it was sixteen years ago on that other sunny Tuesday.

But it isn't an accident.

It's another deliberate act of terror.

Innocent people going about their day. Totally unsuspecting.  Murdered. Maimed.

There is no comparison in the magnitude of the two days. 

Our innocence was lost on September 11, 2001.

I remember being so scared that I would never feel safe again.

I thought of moving.  Even looked at homes in Connecticut.

I worried that I couldn't protect my 8 eight-year old son.

Eventually that fear subsided, though it took a while.

I no longer exited busses when I saw someone who looked strange.

I didn't run from the city every weekend.

I stopped sleeping on friends' couches.

Life continued.

Today is just another reminder; no one is ever safe anymore. Not really.

Sick minds are one thing, but calculated murder on complete innocents, under the guise of religion or politics? That I don't understand.

I will still ride the subway. Go to Times Square. Eat in restaurants. And live life as it should be lived.

Because I can. 

My heart breaks for today's eight people who cannot.

Monday, October 30, 2017

return on investment

This past week was not a good one. 

This is what I provided to my company:


  • Helping dozens of customers.
  • Answering hundreds of questions, such as:
    • Where's the bathroom? (Winner of the most frequently asked).
    • Do you sell brand X here?
    • How do I clean this garment? (I don't know; I always check the label).
    • Where's the cheapest floor? (At Macy's).
    • Can you hold this until next week; I'd like to think about it? (No, we can't).
    • You really don't have this dress in a size 6; why not?
    • Where would I find brand Y?
    • When is this going on sale?
    • Can I return this if I change my mind? (My least favorite question).
  • Lugging armfuls of clothes to the area where someone else will sort them.
  • Cleaning dressing rooms of inside out, on the floor, left-behind clothes.
  • Processing new credit cards.
  • Handling returns.
  • Researching items we don't stock in the store.
  • Trying to find hundreds of items that cover a square city block.
  • Oh, and selling a few things, where likely 30% will be returned.

And this is what I received for my three-day, 20.36 hour, work-week.

  • Some exercise;  I walked about 25 miles.
  • Meeting some very nice people.
  • Working with a team I really like.
  • Being surrounded by gorgeous clothes, with the opportunity to buy them at a nice discount.
  • Oh, and a gross paycheck of exactly $60.66 (My returns were 72% of my sales). That's an hourly wage of $2.98.

Admittedly, this was a very bad week. One of the worst since I've been working. And I do have good weeks. But still. 

Overall for the year, I'm up 22% in net sales; half that in net pay.  I'd say I'm an excellent investment for the company. 

I love Mondays. Four full days ahead to rest my aching feet.

Friday, October 27, 2017

what's wrong with this picture?

So many things happen in a day that are frustrating.

I get in and see I've had almost $4,000 in returns since leaving on Sunday. And today is a very slow day.  When I total my returns together with last Sunday's sales and today's, I am still well below zero. So basically, I have now worked for two days and earned nothing.

The computers we use are ages old, and are constantly not working. Or working so slowly it's as if the company is still on dial-up.

I call Customer Service to ask for help on a customer issue and after 20 minutes on hold I just give up.

The scissors I need to cut some ribbon don't cut. I've bought many scissors in a lifetime and I can't remember ever having one that doesn't cut.

I try to help a customer make an online purchase and she is charged for shipping because I didn't enter a code, which up until today I've never had to.  I click the link to cancel the order and it doesn't work.  

My director prints out the new month's schedule which is barely legible. I suggest maybe getting some toner. He's requested it, but so far has been unsuccessful in receiving it.

About half the letters on the keyboard near the terminal I use are missing. Today I wrongly guess at where the N, B and U are.

I lose my photo ID and report it missing a few days ago. K, the very-nice person in charge of ID's, tells me where to pick up my replacement. Today I go to the designated area and it's not there, despite K having delivered it. K says she'll re-do it.

I follow K to the area where the ID's are processed.  It's taking a while so  K kindly offers to bring it to me when it's ready.

Sometime later K brings me my new PHOTO ID. 









"It'll still work," says a red-faced K. But I guess next week we should re-take your picture."

Darn; the last one was so good.

Thursday, October 26, 2017

a couple of things maybe worth knowing about

This morning I hear a tech expert from Consumer Reports on The Today Show

For those who shop online, he recommends downloading two browser extensions (didn't even know browser extensions were a thing).  One, is called invisible hand and the other is called honey

Invisible hand  will automatically tell you if the product you are buying is available for less anywhere else, and honey automatically scans the internet to find those discount codes for an item you are purchasing. I download both and hope they'll be useful.

The other thing worth knowing, if you are in the market for a printer, is to boast about mine. A couple of months ago I got an HP wireless laser (B&W) printer (Laser Jet Pro M402dw); it's now $40 less than when I purchased it.  It is fast, easy to set up, and can do two-sided copying in seconds, with one click. It's weird to be in love with a printer, but I use it many times daily and it's nice to like something you use so often.

Okay. That's it. Nothing too interesting, but maybe helpful.


Tuesday, October 24, 2017

dinner and theater

I'm sure I've said it before, but fall is my favorite time of year. It's also when 90% of my socializing is done.

Screening season takes up a lot of time. But I love it. Two or three screenings a week leaves little time for anything else. But writing about the movies I see is not compelling —  especially when there are professionals who are far better at critiquing films than I am. And, I've yet to see anything this season that requires a must-see endorsement.

Tonight, though, I am attending a new play by Amy Herzog called Mary Jane.  Susan and I are meeting for dinner first, and Jill is joining us at the theater.

I chose a place nearby with good YELP reviews.

Susan and I meet at Atlas Cafe in the East Village. It's a big name for a tiny restaurant. But the menu is huge and healthy. Lots of vegan, gluten-free items to choose from. It's shocking that such a small place can accommodate such a big offering of varied fresh foods — sandwiches, pasta, crepes, eggs, and soups.

Susan and I both order a tuna/avocado sandwich. She orders a celery-spinach-apple juice and I order a coke. Susan, who is non-judgmental, apparently can't help herself. "How can you order a coke in such a healthy place?" she asks. I change my order to an ice tea.

The play, while heartbreaking, is excellent. Nuanced performances by five great actors (most playing multiple roles) and a stunning set change make for a night of great theater. But the story, of a barely-functioning three-year-old, is too sad to be truly enjoyable. Especially when the unseen little boy shares the same name as my son.

Saturday, October 21, 2017

fight in a via

It's been a long (but good) day.

My knee is hurting.

My feet are on fire.

My back aches.

But I both walked (about 10 miles, over 20,000 steps) and sold a lot.


I'm anxious to get home.

I text a Via; it'll arrive in two minutes. Perfect.

I get to the corner of 50th and Madison.There's a small group of people standing there.

The Via car comes, and is filled with one person in the front seat, two in the back, and an empty (undesirable) two seats in the rear.

Without asking, one woman in the middle section generously moves to the back to let me in. So nice of her, though I think how awkward it'd be to have to hobble to the rear with my aching everything.

As we are about to pull away, there's a knock on the window. Apparently one of the people in the small group was also waiting for this Via. A witch of a woman, as it turns out.

I get out to let her in.

"Can you move to the back?" she asks in a demanding tone.

Really? I'm already sitting in the second row. Why should I be the very uncomfortable rider when I'm already seated?  I'm not as nice as the young woman who had moved for me.

"No," I respond.

"You are a wretched woman," she says.  "You do this every time."  I don't remember ever having ridden with her before, but I suppose it's possible.

And so she clumsily climbs to the back and keeps on berating me.

"You're so rude. I was at the stop before you. You should let me ride int he middle," and on and on.

I ignore her and the car quiets.

At the next stop, the three other passengers get out, and one (the one that actually climbed to the back, unasked, for me) turns to me and says, "She's nuts."

I get back in the car.

"Is your next stop 79th and First?" I ask the driver.

But the woman jumps in before the driver has a chance to respond.

"No; it's 78th and First. Just relax. You are so obnoxious," shouts the witchy woman.

I can't help myself.  "Even the other riders think you're crazy. Just stop talking to me," I tell her.

She starts going on more now. About how awful I am. How rude. How a lot of other unkind things.

We approach 78th and I say to the driver, "I can get out here as well."

"Now you're trying to take over my stop," she shouts.

After a long day all I want is a quick and quiet ride home.  Today, anyway, that's not what I got.




Tuesday, October 10, 2017

not recognizing the signs

First I needed my baseboards finished. That took a year.

Then I needed my apartment painted. That was in early June.

It's been four months and I still have nothing hanging on the walls. I don't want most of the stuff that had been there back again. I want change.  So I've decided to hang just four large  photos I've taken of Central Park during each season. 

In January, 2015, I took winter. Today, I finally take winter to be framed.




I had researched places that frame, had considered an inexpensive place online, but ultimately decided on Metropolitan Graphic Art Gallery nearby. Their YELP reviews were great and, they do framing for the MET. They are well-credentialed.

I go inside and no one is there. I call out, "Hey, is anyone here?" I have visions of the workers locked up in some back room with a gunman standing over them whispering, "Don't say a word." What's wrong with me to even think like this? Too much Dateline I 'spose.

Finally, a pleasant, 40-ish guy comes out. Filipino, I'd guess. 

I pretty much know what I want going in — a double white mat against a white wooden frame. I want the photo to be the focal point. I even opt for the museum-quality, non-glare, UV protected glass.

"Do you offer any Groupons?" I ask.

"No, but I can give you 5 or 10% off."

"Okay, thanks, I'll take the 10%." (Would anyone chose 5?)

"Can I get anything off for being old?" I ask, thinking of my eyeglass place where they give AARP members 20% off.

He looks up at me and very seriously says, "Don't say that. You don't look old at all."

Jokingly I respond, "Well, you wouldn't say that if you knew I was 32."

He continues.

"It doesn't matter how old you are. You look amazing." 

It's been so long that I don't realize that he might be trying to pick me up.

"I bet you have guys lined up to ask you out."

"I do," I say, not wanting this conversation to continue.

 I'd take you out to dinner if you'd go with me."

I don't know what to say. 

So I say nothing.

Just kind of smile, but it's more a no-thank you smile than a yes, let's go out to dinner smile.

Monday, October 9, 2017

unexpected response

I'm on the crosstown bus to meet Jill for a screening of Goodbye Christopher Robin.

It's been raining all day, and the bus is pretty empty.

The woman a few seats in front of me is on her phone. I can't see her face but I can hear every word of her chatty conversation. Her words reverberate throughout the bus. It is very distracting.

I can't help myself. I shout out, "Please speak softer. We can hear your entire conversation."

She quickly ends her call, and turns to look at me.

She then gets up and moves her seat to one closer to mine.

"Thank you," she begins. "I can't stand when people speak loudly on their phones and I had no idea that I was."

This is not the reaction I expected.

She then begins a conversation with me about NY and how the world is changing. Turns out she is a smart, interesting, liberal New Yorker. I would guess her to be early 70's. 

Before I reach my stop she says, "Again, thank you. My husband never believes me when I tell him about my many bus friends."

Nice that a reprimand can turn into a friendship. Even if that friendship is only a few blocks long.

weekend warrior

I work all day Friday, walking 19,046 steps.

In the Via coming home, I start to feel nauseous. Was it the flu shot I had on Wednesday? Was it eating only a muffin and a banana all day? Am I getting sick? Not sure what the cause is, but I feel lousy and immediately fall onto the top of my bed and just lie there when I get home.

None of the food I have in the house is appealing. I call the local bagel shop for a bowl of chicken soup. I eat it in three sittings, in between bed rest. I feel like such a wimp, but don't really care.

Around 9:30 I hear a loud banging on my door. None of my neighbors would come by this late. And none would knock loudly. Turns out it's Alexander. Nice surprise, though I barely see him in the 24 hours he's home.

Saturday I feel a lot better. Go to work and check my sales. My overnight returns have eaten up all my sales from the day before. I mean, all of them. I'm depressed before the day even starts.

But Sunday is the worst. Twelve of us are working in our one area, making it really difficult to sell anything. And like most of my colleagues, I have an awful day.  I stay late (the store is open an extra hour).  And walk another 18,155 steps. 

By the time my three-day work week ends, I feel physically battered. I've  walked 55,474 steps, about the equivalent of a marathon. My back and feet are killing me (maybe I really am too old to do this). And I have little to show for it, as my returns have eaten up 37% of my sales. Just imagine working all week and when you get your paycheck, you see almost 40% is deducted (and that's before taxes).

The indignities of this job keep me up at night. Last night I awoke at 2, and couldn't go back to sleep. I hate the feeling of being taken advantage of.

I know this is not the first time I've written about this. Probably won't be the last. And I know what my choices are: stay or leave. I should probably just shut up, but I do feel just a small bit better writing it down and getting it out. 

And the good news is that today is Monday.

I have four long days ahead of me to rest, read, relax, and see some screenings and friends. I really do appreciate my days off.

Friday, October 6, 2017

best man in the morning

I work most Fridays. And most Fridays my routine begins the same.

Though I'm not scheduled to  be in until 10:45, I like to arrive early and see how many sales I've lost while I was out.  Checking can ruin a day, but I like to know. People who absolutely love a dress one day, may decide the next that it's too small, too big, too expensive, too short, too tight, too redundant, or that her husband, daughter, boyfriend, mother, friend, doesn't like it.

But before arriving at work Friday, I stop by and see Gus. 



Gus doesn't work weekends. He parks his mobile food stand at the SE corner of 51st and Park. He's easy to spot as there are always people waiting for their breakfast orders to be finished.



It only took a few times before Gus knew me and knew my order — large black coffee with a splash of half-and-half. No sugar.   

Now I just approach the window, and within seconds, Gus hands me my exact order and I hand him a reasonable two dollars in exchange.

His coffee is great. I suspect everything he serves is. And his smile is infectious. Seeing Gus is a great way to start any day.







Thursday, October 5, 2017

why I love lico

It was through a YELP search four years ago this November that I found Lico. She was then working at a little Japanese-named salon, just a few blocks from my apartment.



I think I knew from the start that I'd follow this colorist anywhere.

After the first salon, Lico briefly worked somewhere else. Also nearby. But then she left there and now works at Blu Bocker, another Japanese salon, also in my neighborhood. 

Blu Bocker is small and unassuming, with a very cool vibe.



I think Lico is the only stylist there whose hair is not one of the primary colors.

I love this place, and I love Lico too.

First, and most importantly, Lico is exceptionally talented. She knows what she's doing. And she does it well and efficiently.

I trust her completely. If Lico recommended my getting pink highlights (something I've been toying with), I would do it. She has talked me out of the blue highlights one of her co-workers has, telling me that blues absorb shine (and I can't afford to lose the little shine I occasionally have). 

She is professional, knowledgeable, interesting, and nice. I can't even picture this girl ever getting angry or impatient.

She is always always on time. 

And I love that she cares for her customers from beginning to end.

As soon as you walk in, she greets you and takes your coat (if you're wearing one).

She gets you ice tea, or hot tea, if that's what you want. Even puts it in a glass jar/cup with plenty of ice. She has too much style to even consider tea in styrofoam.

She mixes the hair formula.

She meticulously and efficiently colors or highlights your hair.

And then, she doesn't hand you off to someone else for the wash.  She once told me that in Japan you are trained for two years on how to wash hair. And it shows. The shampoo/gloss treatment/head massage is about 15 minutes. Maybe longer. And it is pure bliss.

And finally, Lico doesn't seat me in a chair and hand me a blow dryer. Nope, she finishes the job she started.

I always leave feeling good. And typically in less than an hour.



It would be impossible to not love Lico.

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

nice escape

Not as good as going on vacation.

Not as much fun as sitting around a college dorm smoking weed.

Not quite as relaxing as a facial or massage.

But getting high on nitrous oxide while getting my teeth cleaned isn't a bad way to spend a half hour.

The only pain is the $170 bill.



Sunday, October 1, 2017

just saying...

Okay, this isn't going to happen, ever. But let's imagine it does.

I am made CEO of a major public company.


And in the first nine months of my divisive appointment, I accomplish nothing. My supporters, who were once enamored with me, now question my leadership and ideas. And every major overhaul that I promised the Board when they were considering me, I can't get done. 


Increasing shareholder wealth is my number one priority.  But I am making my customers unhappy with my many bad decisions and uncensored comments (unbefitting a CEO). So in the end, I am making the shareholders unhappy too.

And it's not just the customers and shareholders who are unhappy. My staff is none too pleased with me either. 


In nine months, I've lost many top people. Either they've resigned, or I've fired them. And every one of them I hand-selected.


Oh, and on top of that, I have continually made inappropriate and offensive comments to and about— my customers, other industry leaders, my own employees — and just about anyone else you can think of.

My shareholders would be screaming for change and I would be out.

But then, that's just a company, albeit a big, important public one.


And that was an imagined scenario. 

This other one is real.

In nine months the President of our great country has lost or fired his:


  • chief of staff
  • chief strategist
  • national security advisor
  • press secretary
  • two communications directors
  • a deputy chief of staff
  • a deputy national security advisor
  • the director of the FBI
  • the secretary of Health and Human Services
  • numerous other aides and advisors

And what happens?

Nada.


The likelihood of my becoming CEO of say, Amazon, is probably greater than anything good coming out of this presidency.

So sad.