past three days

On any given day, there are things to smile about and things to make us unhappy.

The passing of Senator McCain, and our current POTUS's lack of response, is very very sad.

Hearing that a classmate's mother I knew (back when my son was in elementary school)  recently died as a result of ALS (which I didn't know she had) is horrid.

But these are big emotions. Engendered by big events.

I'm talking about the irritants and delights of daily living. The small stuff.

So in the category of little things that have make me unhappy these past three days:

• I earn $60 at work today for 6.5 hours of work. The concept of working for nothing upsets me far more than the dollars represented. It's just wrong.

• My son ignores the advice I give him that I know is good. Like getting his shoulder repaired before it gets worse (it pops out of the socket too easily and too often). There are many more examples but he'd kill me if I wrote about them. But sometimes, mother's do know best. If only children knew that!

• Leg and feet cramps keep me up half the night. Just awful.

• I send an email to an executive at work, recommending a couple of (what I think are) excellent policy changes that would cost the company zero and improve morale. I get no response. I re-send the email again on August 22 and again today. I don't even receive a confirmation of receipt, as requested. His rudeness is disappointing.

• It's so hot and humid outside I'm beginning to feel as if those TV warnings, "elderly people should stay inside," are meant for me.

But then there's the small stuff that makes me smile.

• Friday was a great day at work; I easily cover the $3,000 in returns that I accumulated while on vacation.

• I get in a VIA and my fellow passenger comments on the skirt I'm wearing. The driver insinuates I'm a tourist and the passenger tells the driver, "She's not a tourist. I can tell from the way she's dressed."

• I really like my boss and his boss. They pretty much leave me alone, support me when I need it, and always respond, "yes" if they can.

• My two favorite seasons are fast approaching.

• Netflix is a savior in weather that encourages staying in.

• The Keratin treatment I got two months ago is doing a good job of keeping my hair in check, despite the wretched humidity.

a non-refundable refundable ticket

I was on the Cape in July, having made my flight reservations months ago in May.

During the summer, Jet Blue has a direct flight from JFK to Hyannis. Aside from getting to and from the airports, it's an hour or so flight (vs. a seven hour-30 minute two-bus rides epic journey). But in July, I had to leave a couple of days earlier than planned.

I figured my non-refundable inexpensive  $160 round trip flight was a sunk cost.

When I have to leave a few days early, my  mom suggests calling, as in, "It can't hurt to ask." So I do. And miraculously, I am charged no change fees and am told, "You can use this same flight on your return trip in August." 

So now it's August. The last four days have been dreary and drizzly, and thunderstorms are predicted for Wednesday, the day I am scheduled to fly home. So yesterday I decide to leave. I don't want to fly in a thunderstorm and I don't want to risk not being able to get home. Plus, it's sad to be near a beautiful beach with no hope of the sun.

My mom drives me to Bourne to the bus station there. We arrive, of course, 35 minutes early. But it makes my mom feel good. And besides, her weakness for needing-to-leave-in-plenty-of-time, is tolerable, given that she's so great about everything else. The bus to Boston is an hour; the bus from Boston to NYC is four and a half (and costs $5 less).

Today my mom suggests calling Jet Blue again. "Maybe they can do something?"

I doubt it.

I mean, it's a non-refundable ticket. And, they've already let me change to another flight once. What are the chances they'll do it again? But hey, I have the time. So I call.

The very accommodating supervisor agrees to waive the $75 change fee, and adds a credit to my account (good for a year) for $79. I'll use it next summer.


So Jet Blue, I love you. And I especially love the flexibility you offer on your non-refundable tickets. Thank you.

a very old friend

My friend and I are in line at The Daily Brew. It's our favorite morning coffee place, along with everyone else in the neighboring towns.

Most mornings, the long line (that moves quickly) snakes through the entire little eatery. That's where we are when a woman approaches us. My friend sees her first, and says, "OMG, Tina." Apparently they worked together at Gillette years ago. She was in R&D.

Then the woman looks at me and says, "Linda?" 

I haven't been called Linda since I left for college, but those who knew me before, know me by this name. She reminds me that we met in elementary school, and graduated high school together the same year. We haven't seen each other since high school graduation — an eternity ago. 

I am complimented that this Tina-person recognizes me, though I'm not certain who she is.  We talk a bit and then go to eat separately.

Whoever she is though, she looks fantastic. 

And then, while my friend and I are talking, I suddenly remember. 

Kristina! We met in first grade. She was smart, beautiful, and very popular. 

Tina's the blond with big, enviable dimples. I'm the other one.

We remained friendly through high school.

But then lost touch.

I go back and find her, and tell her that I now remember. Her grandfather was superintendent of all the schools in Brockton, and Tina happens to be eating with her aunt, the daughter of that superintendent. 

She still is beautiful. And oh this gorgeous dimples. I still envy them.

a lot of eating

I don't eat on vacation like I do at home. That is to say, I am eating a lot. Nothing is off limits.

Since arriving, I've eaten at the best restaurants around. Some have maintained their favorite-status, while a couple have slipped.

So for those who care:

C-Salt, my favorite, is just so-so when I eat there on Tuesday. My burger is great, but not exceptional. The truffle fries, usually cooked to perfection, are not as crispy as usual. My friend's mussels in a coconut broth lack any flavor of coconut. But the fried calamari still reigns supreme. 

Dinner at Chez Jean (my sister's house) on Wednesday is, as always, exceptional. Tonight she makes portobello burgers with a million variety of add-ons. She effortlessly creates a last-minute dinner for seven that would take most mortals days to prepare.

A friend of mine from Boston comes down and three of us go to Osteria La Civetta on Thursday. It's a small Italian restaurant in downtown Falmouth and feels nothing like the Cape. It could as easily be located in Little Italy. The food is excellent.

Bleu, a French restaurant in Mashpee Commons, is always outstanding. I always order the duck and it never disappoints. My friend and I go there on Friday. We both get the New Zealand roasted rack of lamb with a white truffle cream sauce. Forget the beach, it's worth a trip to the Cape just for this dish. And the pistachio Creme Brulee we split for dessert is incredible.

The Cape Grill on Saturday is good, but the service is atrocious. We sit down at 7, and get our appetizers about an hour later. My mom and I split a goat cheese and beet salad, and it comes plated separately. Our split serving is larger per person than my friend's non-split salad. My mom and T order pork chops but the waiter tells us that the kitchen has only one serving left. So T orders it. But then, five minutes later, the waiter comes by to tell us that even that one remaining pork chop has been claimed. Everyone around us who has come in after us has been served before we are. My shrimp dish is very good, but the shrimp are over-salted. Then we split two desserts among the four of us. The chocolate mouse something is outstanding. Our tea for three people arrives in two teapots. We have to ask for a thrid before being told, "I'm sorry, we ran out of teapots, but if you need more hot water, just ask."

It's The Chart Room on Sunday. The restaurant is loud, boisterous, a touristy type place, and easy to dislike (my dad hated it). But the views are gorgeous, and the stuffed lobster (the claw meat is stuffed back into the lobster) is outrageously good. The lobsters are big, and no cracking is required. It's all I ever get here and it really is excellent. Five of us dine and everyone leaves sated.

another cloudy day

So after three days of beachy weather, we've had two days of clouds and rain. 

A couple of friends and I decide to drive to Hyannis to go to The JFK Museum. 

The exhibit includes photos taken by Jacques Lowe, Kennedy's personal photographer. The exhibit showcases Jack Kennedy and his family.

As we tour the small museum, it's sad to remember a time when a President was truly inspirational. The photos are beautiful, and reminiscent of an era when people loved and respected their leader. Kennedy certainly had his flaws, but he was able to accomplish much in his three short years as President.

Although we are explicity told not to take photos, my friend can't resist sneaking one.

If John Adams is looking down today, he must be mortified.

kids of summer

My parents built their summer house in Wild Harbor in 1978. Quickly it became their all-year-round house.

I never lived in it, but every summer now, for 40 years, I've been a frequent visitor.

My parents formed quick friendships with many of the other homeowners, and their already large circle of friends grew.

The majestic beach and surrounding geography remain unchanged.

Though everything else has changed. 

New neighbors. New beach dynamics. Divorces. Marriages. Deaths. Moves. New Houses; old ones torn down. Pets that have come and gone. Children and grandchildren. 

And visiting only summers makes the changes more apparent.

The little girl that lived next door now lives in Dallas, is married, and the mother of three kids.

The small children that used to play with Alexander are grown and married, with one even now a practicing doctor.

Friends of my mother's kids are grown too, of course. On the beach today I talk to a handsome, successful, 49-year old man whom I've known for 40 summers. He now lives in Chicago with a beautiful wife and four kids, one soon applying to college. And his mother, my mom's good friend, has barely aged in all the time I've known her.

My mom's friends (some of whom are my age) all look great. Pretty much unchanged from summer to summer.  

It's just the children that are growing up.

bolt bus, what happened?

I love the Bolt Bus.

It's inexpensive.

Clean.

Decent fellow riders.

Pleasant and capable drivers.

And a convenient pick-up location.

So when I take it on Tuesday to head up to the Cape, I'm not expecting it to be anything other than that.

My first disappointment comes when I try to book a ride on the east side, and learn that the pick-up location nearest my home no longer exists during the week. Damn. I now have to go to 36th and 7th (vs. 36th and First). That's a big time difference.

I take a Via at 7am and barely make it to the stop on time. The driver goes in the opposite direction to pick someone up, and then takes a ridiculous route through midtown to pick up and drop off another two passengers. I am so anxious the entire trip; the subway would have been faster.

But I do make it on time, and by 8, everyone is boarded. The gruff-looking/gruff-speaking driver gets on, stands in the front of the bus, and asks, "Who was just using the bathroom?" A man, clearly embarrassed, raises his hand. "Here's some toilet paper," the bus driver says as he hands the man, who is in his seat, a roll of toilet paper. I mean really. So many things wrong with this scenario I won't even bother to list them.

We stop in New Haven where a couple of passengers get on and off. Then we sit there. For 20 minutes. The bus driver never announces that we'll be on hold until 10:15. No announcement about stretching legs or anything else. 

And then, some ignorant, tough-looking guy decides to stand in the middle of the aisle, and carry on a conversation in another language, loudly. 




When I ask him if he could step outside while he's conversing, he looks at me and says, "It's none of your business." If he could, he looks like he'd hire a thug to take me out. And then I wonder, am I the only one on this very-full bus who cares?

We arrive in Boston and the driver makes zero attempt to help passengers retrieve their luggage. The whole experience has not been a pleasant one. So much so, that I decide to tell Bolt management.

So, here's a good customer service hint. If you ever want a response from customer service, do not write to them. Find the name and email of the CEO or President and write to that person.

That's what I do.

I email Dave Leach — President and CEO of Greyhound (parent of Bolt Bus) — at 9:44 am. I get a response from his office at 10:36 am, less than an hour later.

In the letter, my specific complaints are addressed and I am told I will get a full refund (despite not asking for one).

Sometimes it pays to speak up.

day after

It really was an amazing wedding. And today some of us have to return to real life.

We are packed up and having brunch by 10am. The breakfast choices, like the food all weekend, are abundant and excellent: fruits, pastries, yogurt, eggs, french toast, bagel and lox, bacon, ham, and anything else you can imagine having for breakfast.

Surprisingly, everyone looks pretty rested, despite some heavy partying after the wedding by some (including my mom and Rita).

jack and michael

jason

carolyn, phyllis and peter

The sun is out just as we are leaving this gorgeous resort.

Alexander and I take the Jitney back to the city; it takes two hours less than it took to get out to Montauk. 

I am supposed to go up to the Cape on Monday but switched it to Tuesday. I need a day to recover, and I was just a non-heavy-partying-guest.

adam and rachel get married

The weather is cloudy and rainy. Again, no lazy lounging beachside.

My mom and I visit with the gorgeous little Isabel in the morning; at almost 5-months old she never stops smiling.

Then comes a quick lunch with Alexander, followed by hair and makeup.

It rains intermittently all day. The ceremony is outdoors.

We meet early for family photos.

The weather is not great. The hotel keeps wiping down the seats and as soon as they do, more rain comes.

The ceremony is to start at 5:30. We are all sitting with umbrellas.

But it doesn't dim the beauty of the participants.

The ethereal bride is protected from the drizzle.



And soon her walk down the aisle begins.

Everyone is watching.

And the expectant groom is bursting with pride and love as he watches his bride approach.

Soon the clouds part and a bit of sun peeks out. This is a couple who is blessed with light.



The ceremony is, as expected, beautiful and umbrella-free.

And then the real partying begins.

The indoor-outdoor-rain-free setting is perfect. As is everything else: the food, the band, the flowers, and the toasts. Michael and Jason produce a hilarious slide show and script of Adam-highlights. Then Charles, Rachel's father, and Sophia, Rachel's younger sister, tell heart-melting stories of Rachel (and Adam).

It's quite a night. 

Congratulations, to a couple whom I adore and love.

day before the big event

Tomorrow Rachel and Adam (my oldest nephew) are getting married, and tonight the celebration begins.

Alexander arrives home late last night and informs me that he's forgotten his tie and bathing suit. And his planned attire for tonight is probably too formal. The invitation suggests, Beach Chic - your toes will definitely be in the sand!  He's brought dress pants and a jacket. 

We meet my niece Sally who's come back from Spain for the wedding; we all take the Hampton Jitney. Our trip out to Montauk (on the tip of Long Island) probably takes the same amount of time as it took Sally to fly from Barcelona — a long six hours in weekend traffic.

Our first stop, upon arriving, is clothes shopping. It's hot and sunny and there are better places to be. We are staying at Gurneys — it's right on the water. Instead of relaxing in beach chairs, we are shopping in downtown Montauk (no good men's clothing stores there) and then Gosman's Dock.

But the night is beautiful. About half the 300 guests attend the pre-wedding dinner. It's on a deck overlooking the ocean.

It's a joyous occasion. Guests have arrived from as far away as Israel, and everyone is honored to be here.

the two grande dames: Grandmas Phyllis (88) and Rita (95)

with Alexander in his new clothes

with Chloe, Jen and Carolyn

And as promised, dinner is on the beach with many toes literally in the sand.

There are many toasts; all heartfelt, many hilarious. But the sentiment in all of them is the same — these are two extraordinary people, and their obvious love and happiness in having found each other is palpable.

...while these arrivals make me sad

August is a slow month in retail. I get that.

People are on vacation.  Summer clothes buying is over, and fall-buying hasn't begun.

My sales are low. My returns are not low. And I am still working off the deficit I accumulated while on vacation. A vacation should be a vacation. In a commissioned-retail environment, it really isn't. Returning from one means a couple of weeks of earning next to nothing as I "pay off" the accumulated returns that occurred while I was sitting on a Cape Cod beach. 

Here's an idea. When you are out on vacation/sick leave, why not have an option to have returns be spread out over the number of weeks you are gone. So if', for example, my returns are $6,000, rather than have them all appear the week I return, why not spread them out spread over two weeks.  It would certainly make returning less punishing.

Sales associates get paid solely on commission, which makes for a very aggressive environment. Everyone is vying for the same small pool of customers. But what makes me sad (angry might be a more appropriate word) is when that pool keeps getting divided into smaller and smaller pieces.

Last August, there were 11 sales associates in the area where I work. That's a lot. Especially considering that one of those associates is one of the top sellers in the company, has an assistant, and generates a huge percentage of the total. 

But this August, we have 17 people. That's a 55% increase over last year. Sales have increased over last year, but not nearly that much. And, that increase also includes all the merchadise that is sold by associates throughout the company.  17 people in one area is making it increasingly more  difficult and frustrating to have a decent day. 

And this weekend was particularly dreadful. One customer even asked, "What happened to this store? Where are all the people?" I answer truthfully. "It's summer." But even having an answer doesn't help when my paycheck barely reflects a day's work when I've worked three.

It's been a most depressing week-end.