Tag Stress

Spring Chickens vs The Codger

Michael Leave a comment

With age comes wisdom.  And a bunch of people who don’t care.  We’re sorry, did that seem harsh?  Get used to it because the older you get the harsher reality becomes.

Neither of We is anymore what a spring chicken strives to be, but then Neither of We is at the codger level.  He of We is 5 or 6 years ahead of She of We and he might be starting to see it more.

See, back about 25 years ago He of We was a pretty good looking fellow.  Lots of hair, firm chin (with a dimple), clear eyes, and a dashing figure proclaiming him to be quite in shape.  Today he’s a bit puffy around the face and neck, lots of skin on top of his head, a figure that begs to cry out “but round is a shape.” Back then he didn’t know much more than what he learned in school and everybody knows that’s only 10% of everything anybody needs to know to be successful.  But he routinely was looked to for advice and confirmation and became that person who people listened to when E. F. Hutton wasn’t available. 

Over those 25 years he’s seen lots more of the stuff that makes him quite an invaluable asset to his employer.  Except now that he has the knowledge and wisdom that experience brought, nobody wants to listen to him.  They are all flocking around the new guy with the shirt collar that can be buttoned.

It’s probably not like that in the animal kingdom.  The dogs still follow the alpha male and it’s still the older birds that rule the roosts.  Probably in organized crime and the legal profession a little age and experience are also sought after attributes.  You can’t know a good loophole until you’ve been in one.  And maybe if you’re a dentist you never really want to turn your back on other dentists that have discovered how to keep the patient from biting and still cheerfully fork over outrageously high co-pays.

But by and large, it’s not what’s in your head that people look for at the weekly managers’ meetings.  It’s how that head looks that moves the body to the middle seat at the conference table.  If youth is wasted on the young, then experience is a mockery to the experienced.  But there is a way around this so what one learns in life isn’t wasted and what the men and women beginning their lives can learn without admitting they don’t know everything. 

Ooops, sorry.  Time for our naps.  We’ll get back to you with that at our next meeting.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Road Rage

Michael Leave a comment

He of We lives between 5 and 6 miles north of city center of the major downtown He and She live near.  She of We lives 5 to 6 miles south of that same center of town.  Those ten to twelve miles get a lot of use out of Both of We’s tires.

Last night He of We was travelling those few miles on a dark and rainy night when a shot rang out.  Well, when a pickup truck pulled down an entrance ramp and shot out into traffic like it was a speeding bullet.  No emergency lights, no turn signal, no brake lights indicating he had intended to yield like the sign suggested.  Just shot out into traffic.  But it was ok because he was going about 10 miles an hour faster than the main line traffic which was going about 15 miles an hour faster than the posted speed limit signs suggested.

Every day we’re noticing a disturbing trend.  Nobody is obeying the law.  The traffic laws.  Even the littering laws are routinely broken.  Why do people feel justified to toss empty fast food bags and cups, worn gloves, or half-eaten chickens out their windows?  Is it a sense of entitlement?  Do they feel that since every mile of US highway has been “adopted” by some civic group, local business, or religious order that somebody has to give these volunteers something to do the third Saturday of every month?  (If you are secretly one of these, wait till you get to work to throw out the coffee cup and breakfast sandwich wrapper.  Nobody will think less of you if they spy you tossing trash from one of the billions of fast food drive throughs rather than the artisan bread and breakfast kiosk. That’s how there got to be billions of them.)

But we digress.  What is it about traffic laws that beg to be broken?  Stop and yield signs are there only for the local high school graduates to emblazon with their graduation year.  Speed limit signs are routinely run over but less routinely replaced.  One Way, No U-Turn, and No Left Turn signs are more outdoor art than even suggestions.   No Turn on Red signs might as well not be printed and mounted at all even though they appear at every intersection with a traffic light.

The problem with the traffic law breakers (besides breaking the law), is that they aim their rage when they are thwarted at law breaking by the occasional law abiding sign observer.  They tailgate, weave, and race their way down the road, taking time to turn and mouth obscenities at the ones who are going only 5 to 10 miles faster than the limit which lumps them with the slow moving vehicles.

Imagine if somebody suggested that breaking traffic laws is the gateway crime.  We’re not sure we agree with that.  We don’t believe that once you get over the thrill of turning on red it’s just a matter of time until you want to pull tags off mattresses or smoke in elevators.  We are sure that breaking the traffic laws doesn’t come without some penalty.  You don’t have to watch too many editions of the evening news before you hear of somebody who launched a car over a guiderail and into a grove of trees ejecting the driver and killing the passengers.     

Some people say it’s the boom of cell phones, GPS units, radios with multiple bands, MP3 players with thousands of songs, and other distractions that make people drive fast and recklessly.  Some believe it’s because Drivers’ Ed has disappeared from the high schools and is replaced by Moms and Dads who (sorry) are part of the problem themselves. 

Whether it’s distraction, knowledge deficit, the thrill of handling 2,000 pounds of anything, or enjoying that last morsel of sausage, egg, and cheese on a muffin before tossing the wrapper out of a vehicle moving faster than a last century’s high speed trains, breaking the law is breaking the law.  So slow down, read a bumper sticker, and arrive alive.  That’s a rage that’s all the rage that we can live with. 

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Quantities May Be Limited

Michael Leave a comment

You go to the store to get that great sweater on sale you saw in yesterday’s paper.  You go to the department, then to the aisle, then to the rack.  You see the sign.  “Great Sweaters.  Regular $49.99. Two Day Sale $1.78.”   You reach for it and find . . . a picture of the sweater with a banner across it that says “Sold Out.”

No, this never happens at the store.  Not a brick and mortar store, that is.  But it happens all the time on line.  You get an e-mail that says for tonight only, all housewares are 99% off.  You click on the link, the page opens, you see the counter in the corner, “Page 1 of 24; 20 of 480 Items.”  Page 1 has a couple things you like.  That Ice Crusher would be a real centerpiece for the counter but it’s “Sold Out.”  Page 2 has a few more things of interest, and a few more “Sold Out” banners. 

By the time you get to Page 5 you’re seeing more “Sold Out” masks than items of any real interest.  You brace yourself for the long ride and decide to hit all 24 pages.  The final count.  Two things actually worth considering, one of them actually at a good price, and 307 items with a banner across their pictures announcing them to be “Sold Out.”  Is that fair?

If they can put a banner on the picture why can’t they remove the picture?  Or are the on-line stores trying to tell us that if we had less of a life and could spend all day with our e-mail open and hop on the announcement as soon as it was posted we too could be proud owners of a solar powered ice crusher?

Yes, we know that sometimes things go fast on line.  Better to know they are sold out than to try to put a pair of chinchilla bowling gloves in your shopping cart only to find out later you aren’t getting them.  Still, a little site maintenance would probably end up in better sales.  We’d get less frustrated and actually go through all 24 pages – now reduced to 4.

Brick and mortar stores found out the hard way through consumer backlash that if they plan on advertising a fabulous deal but only put 2 or 3 copies in each store that they better say that in the ads.  Then we know that when we get to the $1.78 sweater rack and we see an empty space that we missed out.  We don’t need a picture to remind us of what we didn’t get.  Maybe the on-line shops should take heed. 

“All housewares on sale.  Seven to choose from.”

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Tax and Fees Extra

Michael Leave a comment

“And of course because this is a foreign check we’ll have to hold it for 5 days.  Which account would you like it held against?”  The question was absolutely serious.  And He of We was absolutely dumbfounded.  “Foreign?  Well yes, it does come all the way from Kentucky.”  And thus he found himself on the receiving end of a lecture, a real honest to gosh lecture, about how the banking industry works to protect our deposits.

She of We got her own lecture two weeks later when her credit union debit card was refused by a merchant because the bank had inactivated it.  It was very good of the bank to do so since it appeared that someone had possibly stolen her card numbers and attempted to buy something out of country.  But nobody told her.  She found out 3 days later.  During that time she attempted two local purchases which were refused and called the credit union.  She spoke with a live operator who suggested she try her card again in an ATM.  After the ATM was no more help than the live telephone version she went to the branch to inquire and was then told that her card had been suspended.

While She of We was waiting at the teller window another patron at the next window was having his own issues with cards and funds.  It seems he stopped at a gas station and “Paid at the Pump” with his debit card.  Forty-five dollars.  But his computer statement told him the account had been debited $70.  Where was the other $25?  And why was it not in his account where it would have stopped a check of his from being returned unpaid for which the institution charged him another fee.

If we remember all the details, a foreign check is one drawn against an account from any bank other than the one to which He of We was attempting to deposit it.  If that check should not clear we will be charged a fee for depositing a check that is not backed by sufficient funds and we’d be charged a fee immediately and thus place our account balance in jeopardy.  So it’s for our safety. 

Purchases against a debit card are transferred to the bank for approval and if it will be paid or not the merchant is apprised of that by electronic message.  Anywhere in the world.  Immediately.  For our safety.

Unspecified cash total purchases, such as a “pre-approval” to buy gasoline sometime in the future (and apparently sometime in the next 30 seconds of the pump reset is “the future”), is transmitted to the gas pump’s mini-computer with a predetermined spending limit.  Eventually, the predetermined already debited amount is re-credited to the account.  Probably for somebody’s safety.

It’s commendable that a bank would want to protect its customers from fraudulent transactions but we have some questions.  What if the debit card number thief had try to make a purchase in Hartford Connecticut rather than Hamburg Germany?  Was somebody ever going to contact She of We that she was walking around with a useless piece of plastic in her wallet?  Why isn’t the card holder made aware of the amount of held funds for pre-approved purchases and for how long they will be held?  And explain again why Kentucky is foreign? 

These are all accepted US banking practices protected by US and individual states’ banking laws.  A bank can hold funds guaranteed by a check for 5, 7, or 10 days until the issuing bank confirms there is money in the account against which the check is written.  That’s only good practice.  Good practice to hold the check until the receiving bank finds out if the issuing bank has the money.  Good practice for it to take 10 days if the receiving bank is planning on sending a representative by stagecoach to the issuing bank to collect the money. 

The rules were written before electronic funds transfers were common, before the average American had 3 phones and 5 e-mail addresses, before people traded in their folding money for a piece of plastic that is easier to carry, and if lost or stolen easier to report, manage and recover.  Why would anybody want to re-write the rules?  They provide the bank with the opportunity to use somebody else’s money for 3, 5, 10 days to collect additional interest for their accounts.  And after all, they protect our accounts.

When the banks can’t get enough by squirrelling away our money for a week or so they charge fees.  ATM fees, teller fees, call center fees, credit card fees, debit card fees, paper statement fees.  We read recently of a bank that tried to establish fees for using their website.  It was a monthly electronic access fee. The banking is free.  The accounts are “service charge free.”  However, if you want to find out how much money you have on deposit you have to pay a fee.

Used to be all banks were worried about was someone holding up the stage coach.  A banks real challenge now is measured by how to creatively phrase the next fee they will charge you and convince you that by paying these small fees translates into large balances later.  If you believe that, we have a bridge we’d like to sell you. 

But you have to pay the closing cost fees.  It’s for your safety.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Till Death Do Us Part

Michael Leave a comment

She of We asked He of We if he saw the story about the feuding children who were posting competing obituaries.  Oddly enough, He of We who seems invariably to come across only the most bizarre news while trying to find the local weather, sports scores, or lottery numbers, hadn’t.  Since he can’t let much get by him he went in search and found not only that which She of We had referenced, but several other articles decrying bad behavior in the world of remembrances.  Let’s catch you up on what we found.

That which started it all started in of all places, Florida.  The Sunshine State wasn’t sporting very bright people when a seemingly doting son decided he was going to vent his resentments with his siblings in mom’s printed 15 Minutes.  His paid tribute billed himself as the loving son and the other two children as the daughter who betrayed her and the son who broke her heart.  Such a close family.  Word is that the daughter wrote a second obituary but that one seems to be unavailable for viewing to the Internet world.  There was one article that said it contained basically the same information as that of the first without the colorful descriptions of the siblings.  And mom’s age was different.  Maybe they weren’t so close.

It got us to thinking about the etiquette behind obituaries.  We’ve written about workplace etiquette (Fire Them All), shopping etiquette (Clean Up on Aisle Ten), restaurant etiquette (Terms of Appreciation, You want fries with that?), even parking lot etiquette (Parking Wars).  We didn’t think we’d have to ever discuss death etiquette.  Apparently we do.  Not only have we now seen how people can’t keep their pettinesses out of the paper, we’re also aware of viewings, wakes, and services which have been interrupted by arguments, fights, and visits by the police who weren’t there visiting the deceased.

Clearly the best way to approach this issue is proactively.  We plan to write our own obituaries.  And while we’re at it, plan the rest of the party as well.  Who knows us better?   We’ve all read obituaries that just aren’t quite right.  Is the surviving son in Sonoma Sam or Sid?  Didn’t daughter Debbie divorce Dick the dolt?  Since when did he belong to the Loyal Order of the Goose?  It’s understandable.  Obituaries get written in times of extreme stress and grief.  And apparently nobody is checking them too closely for content.  We’ll get the details right.

Some other details about our last hurrah need to be worked out also.  It’s not that we want to celebrate death but we both are of a faith that looks forward to an afterlife with our God and those who have already gone.  You guys left behind have to learn to suck it up and wait your turn.  So no mournful music, no dreary dress, no dull visitations.  We prefer lots of light, pictures, upbeat music, and something spiffy to wear.  We don’t want to look like we’re going to a funeral at our funerals.   We think perhaps a bright blouse, tropical print shirt, and maybe a straw hat at a jaunty angle is a good tone to set for the rest of the crowd.   

Speaking of tone, no organ music at the funeral home.  There are stacks of jazz CDs in both of our cars.  Pick out a couple of handfuls and hustle them over to the mortuary.  If they can’t figure out how to work a CD, find someone under the age of 30.  He or she will be able to download them all onto an MP3 player to make it go on through 2 or 3 visitation sessions without having to change it.  At the church we’d like to hear some upbeat scripture readings.  David chatted about topics plenty more upbeat than “the valley of the shadow of death.”  Fast forward a couple of psalms to “remember your love and kindness…not my sins from when I was younger” for something more chipper and probably a little more accurate where we’re concerned.

Now, getting us around on that last day.  Do we really have to use a hearse?  Dull, dull, dull.  There’s a perfectly good red convertible in He of We’s garage.  Prop up Whichever of We in the passenger seat and let’s go out for a spin.  That just leaves the closing music.  Everybody has passed on by, said “see you later,” and now we need some final travelling music.  She of We thought perhaps, “And now, the end is near, and so I face the final curtain” sung by nobody other than Frank.  It is a terrific send-off for her with the living a full life, tasting it all, and doing it her way.  He of We is leaning more toward keeping the party going and is calling on Irving Berlin to pave the way with Alexander’s Ragtime Band.  We have to wait until halfway through the chorus but there the lyrics say it all, “Come on along, come on along, let me take you by the hand. Up to the man, up to the man, who’s the leader of the band.”  

We know it’s not a terribly original idea.  People have been making their own final arrangements for some time.  You take away a lot of stress at an already stressful time for stressed out people who aren’t always thinking their best.  We figure we’ll pick the mid-price packages all the way around preserving as much of the inheritance as we can and nobody has to feel guilty about taking the cheap way out.  Between the cool clothes, upbeat music, optimistic readings, and cheery bon voyage, nobody will notice we’re going in little more than a high class pine box.  And if they do, nobody can blame anybody but us.  And frankly, we really won’t care.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

The Road Untraveled

Michael Leave a comment

“Do you know there’s an alternate security area? Right through those doors, go to the end of the hall.  You’ll walk a little farther but there won’t be any lines and when you go through you’ll come right out at the tram.”  It was the most He of We ever heard a TSA agent speak at one time.  But who would know better how to beat the crush of early morning flyers?  And that was a real smile on his face and he even wished He of We a good day and a safe flight.  What a pleasant, early start to what was going to be a long, apprehensive day.

And it was early.  Sometime not quite yet 4:30.  In the morning.  How many flyers could there be at the main screening area?  Still, he was right there and the agent seemed earnest in getting people to use the alternate site.  So through the doors He of We pushed, down the hall, over the bridge, around the bend (he was indeed walking farther), down another hall, to the head of the line.  And all by himself.  Not bad.

After a quick run through the scanners, pat down, and carry on inspection, he was down the escalator and onto the people mover. Which was packed!  At still not 4:30.  In the morning.  Apparently a lot of people travel this early.  He of We wasn’t usually one of them.  His preferred travel time was anytime between sun up and sun down.  And his usual companion was She of We and she wasn’t one of the early travelers.  He of We would be navigating three airports, one plane change, 3 time zones, and a “commuter jet” alone this day.

Airport One was turning out to be pretty good thanks to the helpful man from the TSA.  He already knew the landing and departing gates for Airport Two and knew they were a 15-20 minute walk apart and he’d be there for 90 minutes so even the dreaded connection should be ok.  But he had to get from here to there on the dreaded “commuter jet.”  A lifetime of travelling and he’d never flown on one of these compacts of the airplane world.  After getting used to the idea that he was in a plane that could not fit his carry-on of half the size of a standard roll-aboard, and that the emergency card advised in the event of an emergency to step out of the emergency exit (what, no inflatable slide?), he settled his 20 inch bottom into the compact 18 inch seat and enjoyed the hospitality of the single flight attendant while she pushed the compact refreshment cart through the compact aisle.

A bit over an hour later they were at Airport 2 and after another hour He of We was listening to the boarding instructions of the gate attendant.  After pre-boarding the first class passengers, the diamond level frequent flying “partners,” the sapphire and emerald members, the lowly platinum and gold people, and the run of the mill priority flyers, the 40 of us who were left got to climb onto the Boeing 737 for another 4 hours of above cloud commuting.  He was quite thrilled to see an empty seat next to him, flight attendants who smiled, and that he remembered to put a set of ear buds in his carry-on which was now nestled under the seat in front of him.  It was going to be a reasonably pleasant 4 hours.

Those hours went fast enough and soon they were above a body of water that led to Hawaii and points west as they circled to get into position for their approach to (at last!) ground transportation.  To make a short story long, having only to wait 10 minutes for said transportation he was soon standing in front of the desk clerk at the hotel saying “of course you can check in early.” And thus it was that after 10 hours since he pulled in the parking lot of Airport 1 He of We was ready to open the door to his room and close the door on the Trip Not From Hell.

It was one of the first that had gone nearly hitch free for many thousands of miles.  While he thought of that he thought of the smiling TSA agent who wished him a good day.  Perhaps wishes do come true.  Naw, it was just a coincidence.  Of course, if She of We appeared on the other side of that door he was ready to change his mind.  

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

Be It Resolved

Michael 6 Comments

Today is January 2, the day resolutions die.  It might be more effective to make annual New Year’s Indecisions.  January 2.  It used to be the start of white sales.  Then they got pushed deeper into January and we’re not terribly sure anybody even still has white sales as we once knew them.  So even that inauspicious occasion has deserted the second day of the year.  Deserted it, just like all those resolutions. 

And why shouldn’t’ they.  Be real people, January is a terrible time to start a new year.  There is no astronomical occurrence that coincides with it.  There is no historical or pre-historical event that occurs with it.  It’s only claim is that it falls a week after Christmas and with most workers getting a couple days off for each of the holidays, if one was so inclined one can manage to take a whole week off without burning a whole week’s worth of vacation days. 

Yes, the only thing New Year’s Day is really known for is for continuing the stress of the holiday period.  We’re already overwhelmed with traditional foods and customs of one holiday and now we’re tossing in a whole different set of superstitions and menu restrictions to heighten our anxiety. What can we eat?  What can’t we eat?  Is the first person through the door carrying the right kind of bread with him?  Is the first person through the door a him?  Donuts, pretzels, or grapes?  Should the host drink first?  Do we need more gifts?  Which way is the wind blowing?  And on top of all that you want resolutions, too?  Yeah, right.

If New Year’s Day came later in the year, perhaps when the days are getting warmer and flowers are starting to bloom, then we can come up with some good resolutions.  Come see us when we’re not standing knee deep in used gift boxes trying to remember if they are recyclable, reorganizing our closets to make way for this winter’s post-holiday sizes, cleaning out the refrigerator of all the traditional holiday foods that everybody wanted but nobody ate.  Ask us to set goals when Mother Nature is setting some of hers, not when Old Man Winter is threatening to make a comeback from an overly mild December.

The ideal time for New Year’s would be late March, just about when spring is springing.  It’s far enough away from Valentine’s Day and Easter that we can use a holiday then.  The long depressing nights are over so our resolutions can be positive and begin with “we resolve that we will do this” like the start of a real goal rather than “we will never again do that” like the opening for a bad excuse.  Actually, up until a couple hundred years on the BC side of year counting, the beginning of the year was celebrated at the Vernal Equinox.  It wasn’t until the Ancient Romans with their penchant for tinkering with the calendar pushed it around to where it is today.

So our resolution for this year is to make our resolutions this spring.  Come see us then, but make sure you have a loaf of bread, a piece of coal, and a bag of money.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Walk This Way

Michael Leave a comment

This is it.  Today is the last shopping day before Christmas.   We know tomorrow is only Christmas Eve but you can hardly count that as a shopping day.  Christmas Eve we’re going to relax.  Even if it kills us.  And don’t forget, Christmas Eve is a Saturday this year so every clueless male in America, maybe in the world, (as opposed to almost every clueless male) will be at the mall still unsure of what to get for his wife, mother, girlfriend, daughter, secretary, AA, paramour, clerk, grandmother, personal assistant, or Aunt Whatshername in Mineola. 

However you want to count, there are only two days until Christmas.  And each is going to be filled with people filling sidewalks, and stores, and restaurants, and bars.  Probably especially bars the later it gets but that’s a different post.

All those people out there and sometimes it seems not a single one of them schooled in the pedestrian law of walking in public.  Even He of We sometimes gets a little distracted when allowed to push the shopping cart and wanders down a different aisle than She of We.  But what we’re talking about here is different.  Many people are distracted in stores but add the glitz and the shimmer of the holiday decorations and even those never distracted lose focus.  And the extra traffic isn’t helping.  We think part of the problem is that nobody ever puts that cell phone away.  It wouldn’t be so bad if people were talking on the phone while trying to wind their way through the cosmetics counters at the department store.  No, they are texting while trying to wind their way through that maze.  Add three shopping bags, two trailing children, and a clerk spraying fragrance samples on passersby and oncoming traffic doesn’t stand a chance.  But we digress.

As long as we brought it up, what it is with people and their shopping carts.  First of all, a shopping cart is not a suitable substitute for a wheeled walker, particularly if you don’t use one with which to walk under normal circumstances.  Both of We have informed our children that if any of them sees either of us hunched over a shopping cart, arms resting on the handle about the elbows, propelling it forward at a pace a that would cause a snail to die of boredom, we are to be shot and/or sent directly to the nursing home at the bottom of their lists.  If you are one of those please leave our blog now and nobody will get hurt. 

A shopping carts are proliferating.  Once found only in supermarkets these little wheeled obstructions are now in almost every store across the globe.  Clearly someone is making a killing in the shopping cart market.  Hopefully whoever that someone is has gotten a killer Christmas bonus this year.  But given that shopping carts are flourishing so, we’d think people would be able to drive them better.  We find carts left at the end of aisles, in the middle of aisles, with children left to guard the last of the boxed fruitcake, blocking the animated Christmas hats (sorry, we’ll probably not get to that topic this year but we have it on our list for next year’s holiday posts), and left in the line to the checkout counter with a note that the driver has made a quick trip to housewares and will return at 1:30.  Those actually pushing carts often have their eyes either glued to the top shelf as they pass by at warp speed or on their latest text.

Once shopping is done at Store #1 it is traditional to leave their cart in their custody.  Clearly we must be unaware of some “winter rules” that allow people to keep that cart for their entire shopping day.  He or We was out just yesterday in a local mall and he noticed someone pushing a cart from a store in the shopping center two miles away.  Curious, most curious.   

Eventually even those people will finish up for the day and head to the car with their holiday haul.  Our advice to everybody who ever pushed a shopping cart through a parking lot is to please remember that most cars are bigger and heavier than your shopping cart.  One should not consider playing chicken with a family of four in a minivan loaded with Christmas presents on Christmas Eve Eve.  Not a good idea.  Our second piece of advice is once you empty your packages into your vehicle, please return you cart all the way to the cart corral.  Parking is already at a premium this time of year (we know, we already did that post).  Don’t make it worse by just leaving your cart in the spot that used to be your car.  Walk the extra 50 paces there and back and put it where it belongs.

As long as we’re walking out in the parking lot please watch where you are going.  Every mall and shopping center, every mega-mart and restaurant now have those striped lines from parking land to sidewalk land urging drivers to stop for walkers but not saying anything to the walkers.  It’s true every state now has a law that drivers must yield to pedestrians in a crosswalk.  That’s in a crosswalk, not approaching a crosswalk, close to the crosswalk, or anywhere in the same parking lot as a crosswalk.  It’s still a good idea to look both ways before crossing.  We understand looking both ways may mean not finishing the text but the life you save may be your own.  Make it worth the effort.

Two more days, each an adventure in negotiating through the aisles of the Christmas sale remnants, fighting your way to the checkout counter, and dragging it all across the parking lot to your car, if you can find it on the first try.  

We suggest you relax on Christmas Eve.  Even if it kills you.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

Parking Wars

Michael 1 Comment

 

Hello again!  Regular followers following our irregular blog that we routinely post twice a week on Monday and Thursday know that last week we discovered a wealth of topics suggested by the week before Christmas that just can’t wait for a half dozen Christmases to post.  And some of those topics can be discussed in shorter sentences.  So, from then until Christmas you can check us out for our take on the real reality that we keep coming across every day.  You can even go back and read the ones we already posted, or re-read them, or mark them to read later.  And again remember, The Real Reality Show Blog makes a great gift.  It’s absolutely priceless.  We don’t charge a dime!

 

——————————————-

 

If there is one thing that we absolutely don’t agree on it is parking.  We can travel thousands of miles together over highways, parkways, back roads, and toll roads for hours at a time and never tire of each other’s company.  But once that trip is over and we have to find a parking space it gets a little stressed.  And during the holiday shopping season when parking lots are filled to overflowing we really get a chance to practice tolerance of one another.  We can agree, disagree, or remain neutral on every other aspect of life from politics to religion to fruitcake but parking is – well, read on.

 

You’d not think the simple act of putting a vehicle away for a while would cause strife but we have very specific ideas of where to park, how to park, what to park next to, and what not to park anywhere near.  He of We is particularly fond of spots in a straight line from the door and with one side protected from other vehicles such as at the end of a row or next to a shopping cart corral.  She of We is happiest when she can pull into a space with another open space directly in front of that one, pull through and avoid backing out when it is time to un-park.  She prefers not to park next to a shopping cart corral.  The end of a row can be tricky.  A row’s end spot offers the one-sided protection he prefers but may be bordered by a raised bed of what’s supposed to be grass or flowers but is usually mud or muck.  This is inevitably on she’s side forcing her to leap muddied waters in a single bound.  He of We is quite happy making a trip down one aisle and up the next in search of a spot that meets his requirements.  She of We spots the most advantageous spot upon entry and heads directly for it.  They are probably all good strategies that might even work together.  But parking time is just not together time for us.  We swoop in getting it done quickly and usually in a spot neither one would select if alone.  Fortunately, we know that as we approach our destination’s door we also approach normalcy and once again we’ll be our usual happy selves. 

 

And it’s not only the act of parking one of our own vehicles that raises ire and eyebrows.  We are quite willing to critique others’ parking practices.  There are as many different methods of parking as there are parkers.  There’s the “The Waiter,” seeking someone loading packages into a parked car, willing to sit in the aisle for as long as it takes for the shopper to load up and move out so he can take that spot.  Even when others are pulling out in two’s and three’s further down the lane, this driver isn’t going to budge.  Closely resembling he who lies in wait is “The Stalker.”  This driver spots someone coming out of the store and follows close behind to claim the spot that will soon be vacated.  Hopefully the shopper isn’t walking all the way home.  Then there is “The Jumping Bean” who pulls into a space, sees someone leaving a spot closer to the store entrance, backs out, drives up, and claims that space.  This can be repeated several times up to and past closing time.  And then there is “Who? Me?”  This opportunistic parker doesn’t wait for a space.  He makes his own spot in the fire lane right next to the store entrance.

 

Who would have thought parking could be such a complex act.  Actually, if you don’t think about it, it isn’t.  But a week before Christmas with spaces at a premium we find ourselves with a lot of time to think while circling the lot looking for any spot available, hoping always for Rockstar Parking.  But that’s a whole different post.

 

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Buy the Way

Michael 5 Comments

For us, the holiday season sometimes has its own special stress.  Both of We have pretty classic 9-5 jobs.  Our only time to shop, dine, do movies or theater, see concerts or sporting events is in the evenings or on weekends.  If Either of We wants to take advantage of smaller (or no) crowds it means burning a vacation day and going back to work the following day with the off day’s work still waiting to be done.  So we usually end up shopping, dining, entertaining, or being sports in the evenings and on weekends.  Or we turn to the Internet and to catalogs.

She of We is a little more adventurous when it comes to non-hands-on shopping.   The choices of what to buy are a bit limited.  Let’s face it, some things you have to touch.  But where to buy can be on line, by flyer, via catalog, or even a Sunday newspaper supplement.  He of We sometimes to his regret is little more forgiving of what but a bit more selective of where.  Oh there will be the occasional Internet purchase and once even from an infomercial, but purchases outside of a store will more likely be from an old fashioned print catalog.  And there they share the same passion though not the same mailing lists.  Catalog shopping.

You can buy anything in a catalog – clothes, electronics, books, cookware, food, furniture, novelties.  We’ve even seen walking sticks and a duct tape tie.  If you want it you can buy it from the comfort of your own living room.  But last night, tucked between the double barreled marshmallow shooter with dishwasher safe magazines ($39.95) and the luxurious double napped genuine Irish flannel men’s pajamas ($99.95) we found the most outrageous catalog offering yet.  The Optimal Resonance Audiophile Four-Way Three-Dimensional Soundstage Quality Speakers.  These little gems can be yours for the low price of $60,000 for the pair.  Yes, there are four (4!) zeros.  Plus shipping.  And did we mention that each speaker requires four amplifiers, not included. 

Maybe the local concert hall needs $60,000 speakers.  Your family room does not.  Please consider this very carefully if you really can afford $60,000 speakers.  If you can afford $60,000 speakers we encourage you to make a donation to your local symphony, opera company, musical theater, struggling musician, or local rap artist instead.  Get your name on a brick in the wall on the side of the building and ask for two tickets, orchestra center, for the next few years of productions.  Your money will be much better spent, you’ll get to see some great musicians actually playing great music, and if you limit your gift to only $50,000 you’ll have enough left over to buy a used car with a killer stereo.

 Sixty thousand dollar speakers.  Didn’t somebody recently say these are tough economic times?  And He of We was worried that $15 for a duct tape tie was extravagant.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?