walter's funeral

Death is never a happy occasion. 

But when someone lives a full live, graduates Harvard Law at age 22, raises a family, has a long and good marriage, is immensely successful, is revered in his field, is a published author (his last book was published when he was 91), is a founder of Albert Einstein College of Medicine, is mobile and articulate to the very end, suffers little, and dies at 95 — well, that deserves more celebration than mourning.

Today I go to the funeral of Walter, my brother-in-law’s brother-in-law’s father.  It ‘s too bad there can’t be pre-funerals.  Everyone deserves at least one day in their life to hear the good things people think about them — the stories that stand out, the influencers they’ve had, the small anecdotes that contribute to the being of a person.

Walter was brilliant.  The more intricate the problem, the more he liked dissecting and solving it.  He was a businessman’s lawyer, and no deal was too difficult for him to negotiate.

He loved his wife Lucille, who died thirteen years ago.  But at age 83, he befriended a bevy of woman twenty or so years his junior.  One of them spoke today; they had become, as she put it, “best friends.”  When he turned 90, they planned a party for him at the Friar’s Club.  The guest list included 28 woman and Walter.

Those who spoke all described him as having a sharp wit and a commanding personality.  He was the master of every ship he sailed, and he sailed many.

I knew Walter, but not well.  Today I got to know him better.

sold out

I’m tired of doing nothing waiting for Monday when I can wash my hair.

It’s too hot to hang around outside.

I don’t’ want to be in or near any stores where I could be tempted.

There are no movies I really want to see.

If I’m going to go to a museum, I’ll go during the week when it’s not that crowded.

So what can I do? 

Well, there is a play I want to see but it’s sold out for the entire run.  I decide to go anyway and hope someone cancels.  The last time I did this was in 1999, and the play was Bash by Neil LaBute.  It worked out well.  I got a ticket, and still remember every one of the play’s three, very-dark vignettes.  

I arrive an hour before curtain, and end up talking to an interesting woman who is a playwright, novelist and is also waiting for a cancellation.  We both get seats.  Mine is fourth row, dead center.

The play, A Kid Like Jake, centers around a four-year old boy (unseen on stage) and his parents’ attempts to get him into a top NYC private school.  That the young boy likes to wear dresses and prefers being Snow White to a skeleton for Halloween adds to the family’s anxiety.  Though it drags a little, the dialogue rings true and the four actors are all fabulous.

And, at $20 a ticket, it’s a nice way to spend an afternoon on a sweltering summer's day.  

what is good customer service?

Recently Alexander was asked this question on an interview.  I wish I could have answered for him.  I'd have said,  “Try buying something from Brooks Brothers.  There you'll see the best and worst of it.”

Alexander has no dress shirts.  The Brooks Brothers sale offers two shirts for 25% off or four shirts for 40% off.  I prefer to buy shirts online, but I don’t know Alexander’s size.  I ask him to go to BB today to get measured, and to also to go to Charles Tyrwhitt and get measured there. He comes home and summarizes his experience this way: “The BB shirts fit me a lot better, but the sales people at Charles Tryewhitt are way nicer and more helpful.”

Alexander is an extra slim fit, and there are few style options in store.  So I go on the BB site and spend a long time filtering, finally finding four shirts that Alexander likes.

I go to check out and see a charge of $14 for shipping.  Ridiculous.  I call the online number and am told to call the store, “They can place the order for you with no shipping charge.”  I call the store.  I’m on hold for about ten minutes before I reach someone.  That someone is insistent that the online person is wrong, and that shipping from the store is a flat $9.  I ask to be connected to their Customer Service Department.  I reach someone’s voice mail.  Again, ridiculous.  I leave my number and no one calls me back. 

I give up and decide to pay the shipping fee as I have no patience left to deal with the store.  I go back online to place my order.  I get as far as entering my address.  Then I get this message:

PLEASE ENTER A VALID ADDRESS NAME WITHOUT UMLAUTS AND ACCENTS

My address has neither umlauts nor accents.  I try several times unsuccessfully.  Buying shirts should not be this difficult.

I call the online Customer Service, and find Marie; she is the answer to Alexander’s question, “What is good customer service?”

I explain my frustration. I tell her about the unhelpful, unpleasant in-store people.  I expect her to give some kind of scripted response, like, “I am sorry you had a bad experience.  But how can I help you now?”  Instead, she surprises me by saying, “I know.  I’m in Connecticut and we complain about the people in New York at the flagship store all the time.  They are horrible.”  I immediately fall in love with Marie.  She agrees to waive the $14 shipping charge.  She tries to place the order herself, since I can’t get past the address window.  But now one of the shirts I want to order is no longer available.  That means I’m back down to three shirts at 25% off, and I have already done a thorough search and there isn’t a fourth shirt I want to buy.

Anticipating my frustration, before I say anything, Maria quips, “Don’t worry.  Since this has been such an awful buying experience, I’ll give you 40% off on the three shirts.”   

I wish Marie could take a trip to the midtown store and re-train the first-floor salespeople.  They could learn a lot from her.  But then again, they probably wouldn't listen.

another hair story

The most basic principle of microeconomics is supply and demand.  When demand remains unchanged and supply increases, prices fall.

Take TV’s for example.  In December 2003, I paid $1,650 for a state-of-the art 34 inch, Sony TV.  I couldn’t afford a flat panel, but this was the next best thing. 

Four years later I sold my TV for $250 on Craig’s List, and upgraded to a 40 inch, flat panel Sony.  I paid $300 less than I had paid in 2003, for a bigger, better TV.  A comparable Sony today sells for under $400.

Surprisingly, the same happens to be true for hair straightening. 

In 2007, I had my hair straightened for the first time using keratin.  It cost $350, and took about four hours. Still, it was worth every penny to have no-frizz, shiny hair that even I could blow-out.   Today I  get the same process done with a safer formula for $107, and it only takes an hour.

I love when economics works in my favor.

I go to see Julie at Sergio Limpopo, a little salon in an office building on Madison Avenue.  I found Julie last year through a Groupon. Julie did a great job then, and she does a great job today. 

BEFORE

AFTER

I don't dare show myself from the front, as I look quite horrid in stick-straight hair.  In three days I'll wash it and it will be great.  Until then, I'll be in quarantine.  

I like my doctor, but…

I see my endocrinologist about twice a year.  She’s the one responsible for making sure my bones stay strong.  Every time I go I know it’ll be a long wait. So I arrive prepared with today’s paper, a book, and games on my phone.  But within twenty minutes, I am weighing the pros and cons of getting up and walking out.

Today’s appointment is for 11:30.  I arrive at 11; my bus is surprisingly fast.  I am asked to fill out a form listing any medications or supplements I am taking.  “Nothing has changed since my last visit, so I shouldn’t have to fill this out,” I tell the receptionist, who turns out to be a temp.   “The doctor requires that you do; I’m sorry,” she replies, though she’s clearly not.

I am the only patient waiting.  “Do you know how much longer it’ll be?” I ask.   Another receptionist overhears me and answers for the temp.  “C’mon, you’ve been here before.  You know she’s never in before noon."  THEN SHE SHOULDN'T SCHEDULE 11:30 APPOINTMENTS, I want to scream.

My doctor is at the hospital doing rounds I’m told.  At noon she comes in, no apologies. 

But my doctor is good.  After all, she was listed in 2012’s New York magazine’s Best Doctors’ issue last June. 

I come home, check my mail, and find New York’s new issue of Best Doctors.  I look her up.  She’s gone. Maybe keeping patients waiting has pushed her off the list.  At least I hope that’s  the reason.