looking for a simple answer

My questioning  (my son would say nagging) starts about three weeks ago.

Me:  Hi.  So, do you think you’ll be coming home for Columbus Day Weekend?

Alexander:  Ya, probably.

Me:  Great.  What day will you be coming home? 

Alexander:  I don’t know.  Probably Friday.

Me:  Okay, but if you want to take the Cornell bus (so much nicer, no stops, delivery practically to our front door, but fills up quickly), you better book the bus now.

Alexander:  Okay.  Thanks.

About two weeks ago.

Me:  Do you know when you’re coming home yet.

Alexander:  No.  I haven’t really thought about it.

You’d think my son would want the nicer bus ride home, but that takes a little bit of planning.  The local bus from Ithaca to Port Authority is half the cost of the Cornell bus, but includes many stops, and questionable unbathed characters.

About a week ago.

Me:  I have a couple of movie screenings that I’ll sign us up for when you’re home.

Alexander:  What are they?

Me: Birdman and St. Vincent.

Alexander:  How are they rated?

Me:  R.  (I guess at the ratings and later find out that St. Vincent is PG-13).

Alexander:  What genre?

Me:  I don’t know.

Alexander:  What kind of scores did they get on Rotten Tomatoes and IMDB?

Honestly, you’d think I was asking him to see the 8 ½ hour play, The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby, all in one sitting.

Yesterday.

Me:  So, when are you coming home?

Alexander: I can’t talk.  I AM SO MAD.  Someone stole my backpack with all my notes in it for my test tomorrow..  I had a lot of books in it too and my phone charger.  But luckily my phone and computer weren’t in it.

Me: What about your wallet?

Alexander: No, that wasn’t in it either.

This morning

Me: Did you find your backpack?

Alexander:  No, who makes it?

Me:  Swiss Gear.

Alexander:  Awwwwwww.  I told the police and the library that it was LL Bean (the backpack Alexander used to have, two years ago).  I’ll tell them it's Swiss Gear.

Me:  So, when are you coming home.

Alexander:  I don’t know.  Maybe tomorrow.

Me:  Maybe tomorrow?

Alexander:  Ya, tomorrow.  I gotta run.  My phone is running out of batteries.

So, lesson learned.  Don’t bother asking three weeks in advance or even one day in advance.  The answer will be the same.

I guess I’ll see him when I see him. Probably tomorrow.

can you help?

In 2006, I lost my job.    

After getting a BA from Tufts, an MBA from Kellogg, and working for over 20 years in Marketing (my last position as a Sr. VP) at some of the country’s top companies, any financial security I had ended.  Just like that.

I know I’m not alone, but that’s little consolation.

People my age, and ten years younger, cannot find jobs.  We are too young to retire and too old to be on the yes list of companies hiring or headhunters searching.  We are active and in good health, and are looking at big expenses with nothing coming in.

In fact, I have a few friends who are in similar positions.  We did all the right things and yet have ended up in pretty desperate places.

I’ve gotten by with some consulting jobs.  I’ve started a few businesses (college advising, and photography).  But clients are too hard to find.

Here’s why I’m scared...On November 11^th, Alexander’s 22^nd birthday, I will no longer receive child support.  Or, put another way, it’ll be impossible to continue to pay health insurance and rent (let alone food, phone, electricity and cable) for very long.

And so I am appealing to you.  I am not looking for handouts.  I am looking for introductions.

At my stage in life, the likelihood of getting work is highest through someone I know.  Maybe that someone is you.

Perhaps you know someone who is looking to hire someone like me. 

Maybe you have a friend (or a friend’s child) who is looking to buy, sell or rent an apartment in Manhattan. I am a licensed realtor with one of the biggest firms in NY.

Or maybe you are, or know someone who is, an executive who may have hiring needs (I’ll take full time, part-time, or project work.)

I am open to any scenario where I can earn money. 

I am exceptionally well-organized, creative, strategic, energetic and fun.  I am a strong communicator both verbally and in writing. 

And I hate writing this.

In case you are wondering, I didn't write this post earlier, for one simple reason, I didn't want to.  This blog is not about asking for help.  But I've not been successful after years of trying  the more traditional routes, and so I am appealing to you.

Please think about it.  If you know someone I could meet that could possibly lead to income, I would love to talk to him or her.

I won’t blog about your involvement unless you want me to.  But I would be immensely grateful.

Thank you. 

And I promise, future posts will be more entertaining. 

am I a bad Jew?

Today is Yom Kippur.  The holiest day on the Jewish calendar.  And though I will fast, I will also work.

On Thursday, my manager hands me a rental client who is from another state; she will be here this weekend.  I make myself available.

So instead of going to temple, or breaking fast with my family in Rye, I am traveling up and down the eastside of Manhattan looking at one-bedroom apartments in mostly walk-ups on a very rainy day.

We see 10 apartments.  Seven are either too cramped, too gloomy, or not suited for anyone with more than one coat, one set of linens, one towel, one dress, and no shoes. Three are possibilities, but the first choice is gone by the time I get home and write to the co-broker with a question. 

All this running around keeps my mind off food. I don’t eat until well after sundown. 

I shouldn’t have worked, but I need to.  Given the circumstances, I hope G-d will understand.

and finally, day three of three

My mom is not a big theater lover.  Ten years ago I took her to see Hugh Jackman in The Boy from Oz.  I thought it was amazing.  My mom’s assessment was less enthusiastic. “It was okay,” was her review.

But Valerie is insistent that we see a matinee.  “You can’t come to New York and NOT see a show.” 

We know my mom would not enjoy a drama, and there are no decent comedies playing that we think she would like.  That leaves musicals.

Valerie and I go to theater often. So finding a good show that neither of us has seen, or a show we’ve seen and would see again, is a challenge.

The ONLY musical neither Valerie nor I have seen is Wicked, and that's because neither of us has a strong interest in it.  M saw it recently and texted me every ten minutes through the entire 2 hours and 45 minutes of the show, updating me as her level of boredom escalated. 

We consider everything worth seeing.

Book of Mormon?  Tickets are impossible to get, and Val and I have both seen it.

Jersey Boys?  Everyone, including my mom, has seen it.

Kinky Boots?  Valerie saw it and has no interest in seeing it again.

Beautiful?  Valerie and I have both seen it.  Valerie thinks my mom would love it. We try, but can’t get tickets.

Cabaret?  I saw it in 1998 but would see it again.  My mom has an interest in anything Nazi-Germany related.  Valerie is lukewarm (at best).

I suggest a private tour of lower Manhattan instead but Valerie has zero interest.

Finally, we choose Motown.  Valerie has seen it, but thinks my mom will enjoy it, as she’ll be familiar with much of the music. 

And Valerie is right.  

We have a great lunch at the iconic Joe Allen's, and then see Motown. We all love it.  The book is flawed, but the music is sensational.  At one point in the packed theater, everyone is holding hands and swaying in their seats as a dead ringer for Diana Ross sings Reach Out And Touch (Someone’s Hand).  During the curtain call, it is announced that Stevie Wonder will perform, and for a second, Jean and I actually believe it’s the real Stevie Wonder.

My mom easily adapts to New York living, and with no argument, agrees to a 7:30 reservation at Ethos Gallery, an excellent Greek restaurant on the eastside.

The restaurant is loud, but my mom loves all the energy.  We are given a choice booth near the front of the restaurant. 

My favorite dish there is the outstanding langoustines.  But everything we order is fantastic.

The restaurant makes a lot out of birthdays, and when dessert comes it is with a big sparkler in a piece of baklava, accompanied by very loud, conversation-stopping music.  My mom is happy to be with her girls.  It’s a great end to a fabulous three days.

We have already begun talking about my mom's 86th.  The bar keeps getting higher.