I would have titled this "Games We Play," but my husband isn't aware of the game.
My husband has this thing about recycling, yet, he's not very good at it. Well, that's not exactly true. He basically wants to recycle everything that he thinks is recycable. I question some of his recyclables, but he insists you can recycle them. I bet he's driving some person crazy at the recycling center. I seriously think some items should just be thrown away, regardless of whether they are recyclable or not.
Where he's not good at recycling is when he doesn't take the recycling out and we have bags of recycling in our hallway or many cans and bottles and various food containers on the counter. He simply doesn't get that in order to recycle, one must actually take out the recycling. Good intentions doesn't make the environment better.
I try to help out as much as I can (I'm usually the one that gathers all the cans, bottles and various food containers and puts them in a paper bag mind you (although he does insist you can recycle plastic bags that we get from the grocery store -- then why does the grocery store ask you to bring them back to them to recycle? Hmmm...a mystery) and then leave the bag in the hallway -- close to the door. So when he leaves, he can at least take that bag out with him.
Eventually he goes on a recycling and garbage rampage and throws out everything all at once (like today). The garbage actually gets thrown out more often, but there is a stink issue involved with it. So, he's a crazy, good intentioned, recycler.
So you wonder what my game is?
His new thing is when he replaces the toilet paper roll (yes, I've got him trained!), he stuffs the paper cover from the new roll (Costco brand -- hey, it's a good deal) into the old roll's center. And then he just leaves it on the toilet tank. I repeat -- he just leaves it on the tank.
So, at his rate, we'd have about 10 used toilet paper rolls on the tank before they got recycled (which means they'd have to leave the house, not just get placed in the recycle bin), and ideally we could make a fun pyramid out of them or even a castle if we had scissors and tape with us while we do our business.
But instead, whenever I go into our bathroom and see that lonely used toilet paper roll, I just pick it up and throw it away. Ack! Yes, it's true. This is a recent thing with him (he discovers new things to be recycled monthly), and I'm sorry, I'm not going to allow these rolls to pile up in our already tiny bathroom. Our bathroom and the recycling bin are as far apart as you can get in our condo. I don't see him ever taking the rolls away. I just see some weird designer's world of used toilet paper rolls with paper stuffed in them glued to the walls. A new wall art.
So far, he hasn't said anything to me, and I haven't said anything to him. He just keeps on keeping on with his good intentions, and I keep trying to keep my condo clean. I guess it's sabotage, but I'm hoping he'll learn at some point that the used toilet paper rolls keep getting thrown away and that maybe, just maybe, he should walk that baby to the recycling bin ASAP and save us all. (My sanity and the environment.)
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
He's going to blow!
I took a brand workshop class today.
The class was interesting, fast-paced (our instructor spoke fast -- I love that while others hate it) and loooooong all at the same time. She decided to wait on personal introductions until after our one and only break (1 hour into our 3 hours). We started on my side of the room and luckily I made sense because I'm still confused about where I am in the structure of things after being in the same job for 5 years and having a very clear idea where I was in my old structure of things. So I gave my name, rank and serial number and we went on to the next person. There were a whole bunch of people sitting behind all of us at the conference table, so they were the last to go.
Everyone was a vendor until they got to him.
I took a quick glance at him before he started talking because I heard him on the phone during the break and he sounded tall. Don't ask me what tall sounds like, he just sounded tall. He wasn't. He was short and fat and kinda creepy looking. Then he started talking, and I realized we had a live one. He said his name, what he did and then went on to complain about how his group's web site isn't compliant and so now he's working on making it compliant and wah wah wah...whyyyyyy?????
Everyone looked around at each other. Then we looked at him. Then we looked at the instructor.
Luckily, she thought as fast as she talked (we all usually do --- I'm a fast talker myself), and she very diplomatically yet in a very friendly tone (something I've yet to achieve) told this loon that she since she wasn't familiar with his project, she couldn't really give him an answer, but that she appreciated him working on something for his internal customers because they're just as important, blah blah blah.
Oh man.
She should have just said, "Okkkkkkeeeey.....next?" and hoped he'd shut up on his own.
Whatever she said, I think loony thought it was an opening for more complaints. Like we were really all interested in his job stress, and darnit, our instructor must surely intervene -- somehow. If only that were true, she could help me with a few projects I was dealing with. Maybe she could talk to my cats and tell my older one to stop trying to kill the younger one. Hmm.
So this loon began talking again about his stupid web page project and whyyyyyyy did it have to be done in 6 months, and wah wah wah he's behind on his real work. Now, let me stress that most of the people in the workshop were contractors. Now, if I thought he was a loon, then what were these poor contractors thinking of him and the company? Does the company strap its employees to the wall with a computer at reach for 10+ hours a day? Do they not get breaks? Lunch? Perhaps they can't even go home. That was how this loony was making his job out to be.
So our instructor yet again intervened and tried to save us from his tirade. She told him yet again and this time a bit more forcefully that she wasn't familiar with his project, and if he'd like to discuss anything after the workshop was done, she would be more than happy to talk to him. Then she threw in: But I'm glad you're trying to make your deadline! (His project was due in 30 days).
At some point, people need to learn to stop being so positive.
So loony takes this as another open door for complaining and grumbles, "like I'm going to make it." Our instructor cut him off quickly at this point and went on to the next person.
I felt for her because I went through a similar incident when I had to teach a class once. I got verbally jumped by someone, and no matter how many times I told her I didn't know how to fix her problem, and perhaps she should call one of her LAN admins, she just kept attacking me. Like it was my fault, which was furthest from the truth. Luckily for me, her LAN admin was there, and she told this lady that she would look into it since it sounded like an application issue.
You better believe I used the LAN amins as my back-up from that point on. It's always nice to pass the buck when you can.
Back to the loon from today -- he was seriously that one person who never says anything to anyone until that one day...when it all...builds...up. And WHAM! Verbal bombs and hostility fly!
The class was interesting, fast-paced (our instructor spoke fast -- I love that while others hate it) and loooooong all at the same time. She decided to wait on personal introductions until after our one and only break (1 hour into our 3 hours). We started on my side of the room and luckily I made sense because I'm still confused about where I am in the structure of things after being in the same job for 5 years and having a very clear idea where I was in my old structure of things. So I gave my name, rank and serial number and we went on to the next person. There were a whole bunch of people sitting behind all of us at the conference table, so they were the last to go.
Everyone was a vendor until they got to him.
I took a quick glance at him before he started talking because I heard him on the phone during the break and he sounded tall. Don't ask me what tall sounds like, he just sounded tall. He wasn't. He was short and fat and kinda creepy looking. Then he started talking, and I realized we had a live one. He said his name, what he did and then went on to complain about how his group's web site isn't compliant and so now he's working on making it compliant and wah wah wah...whyyyyyy?????
Everyone looked around at each other. Then we looked at him. Then we looked at the instructor.
Luckily, she thought as fast as she talked (we all usually do --- I'm a fast talker myself), and she very diplomatically yet in a very friendly tone (something I've yet to achieve) told this loon that she since she wasn't familiar with his project, she couldn't really give him an answer, but that she appreciated him working on something for his internal customers because they're just as important, blah blah blah.
Oh man.
She should have just said, "Okkkkkkeeeey.....next?" and hoped he'd shut up on his own.
Whatever she said, I think loony thought it was an opening for more complaints. Like we were really all interested in his job stress, and darnit, our instructor must surely intervene -- somehow. If only that were true, she could help me with a few projects I was dealing with. Maybe she could talk to my cats and tell my older one to stop trying to kill the younger one. Hmm.
So this loon began talking again about his stupid web page project and whyyyyyyy did it have to be done in 6 months, and wah wah wah he's behind on his real work. Now, let me stress that most of the people in the workshop were contractors. Now, if I thought he was a loon, then what were these poor contractors thinking of him and the company? Does the company strap its employees to the wall with a computer at reach for 10+ hours a day? Do they not get breaks? Lunch? Perhaps they can't even go home. That was how this loony was making his job out to be.
So our instructor yet again intervened and tried to save us from his tirade. She told him yet again and this time a bit more forcefully that she wasn't familiar with his project, and if he'd like to discuss anything after the workshop was done, she would be more than happy to talk to him. Then she threw in: But I'm glad you're trying to make your deadline! (His project was due in 30 days).
At some point, people need to learn to stop being so positive.
So loony takes this as another open door for complaining and grumbles, "like I'm going to make it." Our instructor cut him off quickly at this point and went on to the next person.
I felt for her because I went through a similar incident when I had to teach a class once. I got verbally jumped by someone, and no matter how many times I told her I didn't know how to fix her problem, and perhaps she should call one of her LAN admins, she just kept attacking me. Like it was my fault, which was furthest from the truth. Luckily for me, her LAN admin was there, and she told this lady that she would look into it since it sounded like an application issue.
You better believe I used the LAN amins as my back-up from that point on. It's always nice to pass the buck when you can.
Back to the loon from today -- he was seriously that one person who never says anything to anyone until that one day...when it all...builds...up. And WHAM! Verbal bombs and hostility fly!
Monday, August 29, 2005
Sleeping
It's always nice to know that you can have a really good nap with a complete stranger on BART.
I suppose this can happen on a plane or a bus, but I can't sleep on planes (and I'm usually in the window seat, next to my husband, because I need to watch as the plane crashes to the ground), and I won't sit on a bus unless I have to because even though they don't have a tendency to tilt over on their side, if I was on one, it would. And I'd probably be in the mountains, right next to a steep drop. Or on a bridge when the wind is blowing really hard. Yes, these are my fears.
Every time I have a really good snooze with the person next to me, I think of the Friends episode when Ross and Joey fell asleep on the couch together and didn't want to talk about it until they both realized it was the best nap they both had had in a long time and so they napped together again.
Weirdly enough, that's the kind of nap you can have on BART with some person you'll never talk to or see again.
I suppose this can happen on a plane or a bus, but I can't sleep on planes (and I'm usually in the window seat, next to my husband, because I need to watch as the plane crashes to the ground), and I won't sit on a bus unless I have to because even though they don't have a tendency to tilt over on their side, if I was on one, it would. And I'd probably be in the mountains, right next to a steep drop. Or on a bridge when the wind is blowing really hard. Yes, these are my fears.
Every time I have a really good snooze with the person next to me, I think of the Friends episode when Ross and Joey fell asleep on the couch together and didn't want to talk about it until they both realized it was the best nap they both had had in a long time and so they napped together again.
Weirdly enough, that's the kind of nap you can have on BART with some person you'll never talk to or see again.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Lines
Yet again, I had to deal with idiot people who don't understand the concept of a line. For some reason the lines were really long tonight, and when the Pittsburg/Baypoint train showed up and was only 8 cars in length, most people panicked. There was a bit of pandemonium as everyone tried to rush onto the train and get the one or two seats left. Even after everyone got on, it still wasn't as bad as I've seen in the past, but 8 cars isn't really fair when it comes to Pittsburgh/Baypoint.
After everyone slowly shuffled on and lurkers ran from all directions and cut in front of the line people, I ended up being at the front. A lurker was rushing to the door right when I stopped at the side of the door, and he actually had the nerve to stop, smile and say, "after you." Hello? If I wanted to get on that train, of course it would be after me, you lurker! I told him I wasn't getting on, which confused him, but why the heck would I stand right there and not move as people tried to get onto the train? I'm not that polite.
He darted in and cut some people off. This lady who was in line got off the train and mumbled, "I'm going to wait for the next train," to no one in particular. I was still standing to the side because as I've said before, I wait for the doors to close before I move back in line so that I don't get killed as someone runs into me, knocks me to the ground and there I would lay as everyone stepped on me because they had to get home. She stood in line, right in front of the doors. I was annoyed that she got out and thought it was perfectly okay to just become the first person in line like that, but then, she wasn't going to get on my train, so I let it go.
Then I noticed that everyone followed her lead and got back in line. I was the only one off to the side. The doors took longer than normal to close, so I was getting antsy because technically I'm first even though I was second, and the guy behind me filled in my gap. So I looked like a lurker now. I'm no lurker! I do not lurk!
When the doors finally closed, I moved right back in line, regardless of fat man behind me and pink lady in front of me (side note: the other day there were, like, 10 older ladies (70's or older) getting off the Fremont train, and they were all wearing the same matching pink sun hats. Very cute to look at, but annoying nonetheless because older ladies tend to not have anything to rush to like us young folk -- they held me up getting to the escalator, getting off the escalator and when I was driving out of the parking lot!) didn't take into consideration that I needed to get back in line, and that I was, in fact, the polite one by getting out of everyone's way.
Fat man slowly moved back because he realized I wasn't going to lurk off to the side anymore, and pink lady got annoyed with me because when the Fremont train came, she wouldn't get out of the way (and again, I knew she wasn't getting on this train! Move it, pink lady!). I kept hitting her with my lunch bag. She kept giving me dirty looks. When the Fremont train came, I invaded her space so much that she either had to get out of the way or get on the train with me. She decided getting out of the way was going to work better for her.
Lines are such difficult concepts. The longer they get, the more "every person for themselves" people tend to get. Really dumb. It's like the herding instinct that I've never understood. Have you ever been one out of 10 people in a movie theatre and have someone sit really close to you? I used to work at a movie theatre, I saw it all the time.
After everyone slowly shuffled on and lurkers ran from all directions and cut in front of the line people, I ended up being at the front. A lurker was rushing to the door right when I stopped at the side of the door, and he actually had the nerve to stop, smile and say, "after you." Hello? If I wanted to get on that train, of course it would be after me, you lurker! I told him I wasn't getting on, which confused him, but why the heck would I stand right there and not move as people tried to get onto the train? I'm not that polite.
He darted in and cut some people off. This lady who was in line got off the train and mumbled, "I'm going to wait for the next train," to no one in particular. I was still standing to the side because as I've said before, I wait for the doors to close before I move back in line so that I don't get killed as someone runs into me, knocks me to the ground and there I would lay as everyone stepped on me because they had to get home. She stood in line, right in front of the doors. I was annoyed that she got out and thought it was perfectly okay to just become the first person in line like that, but then, she wasn't going to get on my train, so I let it go.
Then I noticed that everyone followed her lead and got back in line. I was the only one off to the side. The doors took longer than normal to close, so I was getting antsy because technically I'm first even though I was second, and the guy behind me filled in my gap. So I looked like a lurker now. I'm no lurker! I do not lurk!
When the doors finally closed, I moved right back in line, regardless of fat man behind me and pink lady in front of me (side note: the other day there were, like, 10 older ladies (70's or older) getting off the Fremont train, and they were all wearing the same matching pink sun hats. Very cute to look at, but annoying nonetheless because older ladies tend to not have anything to rush to like us young folk -- they held me up getting to the escalator, getting off the escalator and when I was driving out of the parking lot!) didn't take into consideration that I needed to get back in line, and that I was, in fact, the polite one by getting out of everyone's way.
Fat man slowly moved back because he realized I wasn't going to lurk off to the side anymore, and pink lady got annoyed with me because when the Fremont train came, she wouldn't get out of the way (and again, I knew she wasn't getting on this train! Move it, pink lady!). I kept hitting her with my lunch bag. She kept giving me dirty looks. When the Fremont train came, I invaded her space so much that she either had to get out of the way or get on the train with me. She decided getting out of the way was going to work better for her.
Lines are such difficult concepts. The longer they get, the more "every person for themselves" people tend to get. Really dumb. It's like the herding instinct that I've never understood. Have you ever been one out of 10 people in a movie theatre and have someone sit really close to you? I used to work at a movie theatre, I saw it all the time.
Yep, he's dead
I don't mean to make light of the situation, but as someone who has had a suicide affect their life as well as many others, I just get really annoyed with people who kill themselves. Not only did the BART guy ruins a lot of people's morning commute, but what about all the people that knew him?
And why would you pick this way to do it? Some crazy last statement -- the world will hear me now? No, we're just all annoyed with you.
And why would you pick this way to do it? Some crazy last statement -- the world will hear me now? No, we're just all annoyed with you.
Why?
If you wanted to kill yourself, why would you disrupt tons of people's lives?
Assuming the man who jumped in front of a BART train was trying to kill himself. For all I know, he could have dropped something and dropped down onto the tracks to pick it up -- the whole time not hearing the BART train that was heading his way.
I just feel really bad for the BART operator. That's got to cause some serious mental damage.
Luckily, this all happened while I was at work.
I just hope they get it all figured out before I need to leave.
Assuming the man who jumped in front of a BART train was trying to kill himself. For all I know, he could have dropped something and dropped down onto the tracks to pick it up -- the whole time not hearing the BART train that was heading his way.
I just feel really bad for the BART operator. That's got to cause some serious mental damage.
Luckily, this all happened while I was at work.
I just hope they get it all figured out before I need to leave.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Detour
I took at little detour this morning. I've been in constant motion from 4:40am to 10pm every day this week. Due to unforeseen circumstances yesterday, I had even more things to do after work than I had planned. I'm trying to get some normalcy back in my life so I can go to sleep earlier than 10:30 or 11.
I'm not so much tired at night, but I'll tell you, come morning when I wake up, I just want to keep sleeping. I woke up today and said (half asleep) that I was going to call in sick to work so I could keep sleeping. Sometimes getting up at 4:40am is a daunting task. My husband told me to call. He would if he could (right -- the guy's called in sick 2 times in the past 11 years). I said I had no one to call in to because my manager is out learning to be more creative. I've never called in sick just because I was tired, so I wasn't going to start now.
I slowly woke up, then was awake and ready to get my day started. I got on BART, started reading (Fyodor Dostoyevsky's The Idiot -- while I am enjoying this book way more than I thought I would, Dostoyevsky really should have cut his paragraphs down. I always thought "idiot" meant a real "idiot," but in Dostoyevsky world, an idiot is just a really nice, smart guy -- go figure.) and then quickly fell asleep at some point. I was so tired that I don't even remember when I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I looked out the window, and I saw signs that read "Civic Center." Waiiiitttttt....my tired brain thought. Civic Center? That's 2 stops past mine! I had to play it cool because I didn't want to be that idiot (not Dostoyevsky's idiot, mind you, but a real one) again who rushes off the train, so I acted like I knew what was going to on, continued on to 16th Street, got off and got on the Richmond train to head on back to Montgomery.
And you know what? Not only was I a bit disheartened that my fellow BART riders abandoned me (there had to be one person who could have woken me up), I really didn't care so much that I slept through my stop. I'm tired, darnit. I should have went all the way to the end of the line and back!
I'm not so much tired at night, but I'll tell you, come morning when I wake up, I just want to keep sleeping. I woke up today and said (half asleep) that I was going to call in sick to work so I could keep sleeping. Sometimes getting up at 4:40am is a daunting task. My husband told me to call. He would if he could (right -- the guy's called in sick 2 times in the past 11 years). I said I had no one to call in to because my manager is out learning to be more creative. I've never called in sick just because I was tired, so I wasn't going to start now.
I slowly woke up, then was awake and ready to get my day started. I got on BART, started reading (Fyodor Dostoyevsky's The Idiot -- while I am enjoying this book way more than I thought I would, Dostoyevsky really should have cut his paragraphs down. I always thought "idiot" meant a real "idiot," but in Dostoyevsky world, an idiot is just a really nice, smart guy -- go figure.) and then quickly fell asleep at some point. I was so tired that I don't even remember when I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I looked out the window, and I saw signs that read "Civic Center." Waiiiitttttt....my tired brain thought. Civic Center? That's 2 stops past mine! I had to play it cool because I didn't want to be that idiot (not Dostoyevsky's idiot, mind you, but a real one) again who rushes off the train, so I acted like I knew what was going to on, continued on to 16th Street, got off and got on the Richmond train to head on back to Montgomery.
And you know what? Not only was I a bit disheartened that my fellow BART riders abandoned me (there had to be one person who could have woken me up), I really didn't care so much that I slept through my stop. I'm tired, darnit. I should have went all the way to the end of the line and back!
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Two nutties in a row
There was another bum rusher today. I was second in line. He rushed the Pittsburgh/Baypoint train. The doors were open right up until he got to the them. Then they closed. He stood there, looked left and right and left again while he flapped his arms. The lady in front of me was eyeballing him because he made no motion of moving out of the line since he didn't get on the train. She believes in my philosophy, it seemed, and moved in front of him as best she could, while I moved right behind him (I couldn't get in front of him -- no room, so it was either get behind him or kick him or something). He flapped his arms some more and walked away finally.
The next nutty was this lurker-man off to the side of me. He had headphones on and coffee and food in hand. I don't know why, but my first impression of someone with headphones is that they are okay. Would a homeless person have headphones? Unless he found them in the garbage and was just wearing them because of the fashion statement. So there he was, lurking away, and I figured he was going to try to cut in front of everyone because that seems to happen more and more lately. Again, the lady in front of me follows my, shuffle to the side, turn, wait while people get off the train, always blocking sneaky lurker until they somehow slip in after me. We both did the same move, so lurker-man got in a couple people behind us.
There were several empty benches, so I sat in the back. I had the forethought of putting my lunch and Macys bag on the bench as I innocently adjusted my iPOD. I noticed lurker-man paused at my bench and then sat behind me next to a man.
Luckily I did what I did because this man STUNK. I refused to take the bags off the bench until I knew a new person would sit down. With my luck, stinky lurker-man would actually move next to me and trap me with his stench. A lady got on at Embarcadero, so I removed my bags as soon as she eyeballed my bench.
Even though stinky wasn't sitting next to me, his stinky stinkiness was wafting to my nose. I couldn't believe the man next to him didn't move. He got off 4 stops later, though. Probably held his breath most of the way. So then what does stinky do? He moves to the window seat. So he's now directly behind me. Ugh. And there wasn't any air circulation in my car for some reason. The only reprieve I got was when the doors opened.
The lady next to me moved at some point, and then the guy in front me got off, so I high-tailed it to his bench to save my nose, stomach and sanity. Stinky rode all the way to Fremont, and then didn't get off. I guess he was just relaxing while sporting his headphones that probably weren't connected to anything.
The next nutty was this lurker-man off to the side of me. He had headphones on and coffee and food in hand. I don't know why, but my first impression of someone with headphones is that they are okay. Would a homeless person have headphones? Unless he found them in the garbage and was just wearing them because of the fashion statement. So there he was, lurking away, and I figured he was going to try to cut in front of everyone because that seems to happen more and more lately. Again, the lady in front of me follows my, shuffle to the side, turn, wait while people get off the train, always blocking sneaky lurker until they somehow slip in after me. We both did the same move, so lurker-man got in a couple people behind us.
There were several empty benches, so I sat in the back. I had the forethought of putting my lunch and Macys bag on the bench as I innocently adjusted my iPOD. I noticed lurker-man paused at my bench and then sat behind me next to a man.
Luckily I did what I did because this man STUNK. I refused to take the bags off the bench until I knew a new person would sit down. With my luck, stinky lurker-man would actually move next to me and trap me with his stench. A lady got on at Embarcadero, so I removed my bags as soon as she eyeballed my bench.
Even though stinky wasn't sitting next to me, his stinky stinkiness was wafting to my nose. I couldn't believe the man next to him didn't move. He got off 4 stops later, though. Probably held his breath most of the way. So then what does stinky do? He moves to the window seat. So he's now directly behind me. Ugh. And there wasn't any air circulation in my car for some reason. The only reprieve I got was when the doors opened.
The lady next to me moved at some point, and then the guy in front me got off, so I high-tailed it to his bench to save my nose, stomach and sanity. Stinky rode all the way to Fremont, and then didn't get off. I guess he was just relaxing while sporting his headphones that probably weren't connected to anything.
Macys
I went to Macys this morning to look for a throw to save my love seat from my cats' claws of destruction. I was really excited to use my new credit card that will some day pay down my mortgage. I'm going to use it everywhere from this point on. I used to use my ATM. No way. Not unless I need to buy a BART ticket, have no money and the machine won't take my cards. Then it's off to Walgreens to buy candy bars to get cash over.
So there I was, all excited to use my card again, and as I was swiping it through the machine on the counter, the cashier asked me if I was going to use my Macys card today.
Uh oh.
I had flashbacks from last December when I bought boots, and the (I'm assuming) seasonal employee almost killed me because I wouldn't sign up for a stinkin' Macys card. She wouldn't even give me a bag! I had to ask for it. And never mumble, "when customer service goes bad," when you get a loony cashier. Apparently they don't like it.
Her name was Cassandra. I remember because she told me several times in her special breathy way: "I'm Caaaassssaaaaannnnnnddddrrrraaaaaaa." Perhaps she shouldn't have, but I'm not one to call and complain about employees. We all have our weird days.
I told her no. Nope. No Macys card for me. And I was hoping she would have seen that I already swiped my card. I'm sure it could have been cancelled, although I wasn't given the option. She did inform me that I could get a 10% discount today and tomorrow if I signed up (it only takes minutes!). Let's see, 10% discount on a throw vs. getting free money to pay off my mortgage. I'll take the latter. Especially since I shop at Macys maybe 3 times a year.
Since I wasn't expecting another Macys card attack, I was looking around at all the lovely things I couldn't afford in the bed and bath floor. They have some really nice stuff. I can dream.
Then the cashier said to me, "Are you in a hurry? Are you rushed?"
Was I rushed? No, not really. I didn't think I was acting particularly rushed either. If I was rushed, I don't think I'd be glancing around so much in a leisurely manner.
"No, uh, not really, I mean, I have to go back to work."
Then I got it -- she was still pushing the stupid Macys card. Playing psychological games with me. I'm too rushed to fill out an application and acquire more credit card debt, am I? I'm a free-spending crazy chick who doesn't care if she's passing on 10%, is that so? Well. You must be rushed.
She said, "Oh, well, that's a good reason."
Not really. Considering my boss doesn't really watch my time. And I was planning on going to Crate and Barrel afterwards to look at their throws and see if I can get a better deal. And I was pondering who would have a good supply of Baby Gunds in the area because I can't seem to find a good supply anywhere.
Then she topped off my shopping experience by telling me her name (Joy), writing it on the receipt and asking me to please go to Macys.com and tell them about my shopping experience. Oh man, if only they were doing this when Cassandra was around. See, Joy was actually very nice and friendly, and I didn't expect the extra Macys card shove. Cassandra, on the way other hand, was a loon from the beginning to the end, and I knew I was in trouble.
Macys.com, here I come!
So there I was, all excited to use my card again, and as I was swiping it through the machine on the counter, the cashier asked me if I was going to use my Macys card today.
Uh oh.
I had flashbacks from last December when I bought boots, and the (I'm assuming) seasonal employee almost killed me because I wouldn't sign up for a stinkin' Macys card. She wouldn't even give me a bag! I had to ask for it. And never mumble, "when customer service goes bad," when you get a loony cashier. Apparently they don't like it.
Her name was Cassandra. I remember because she told me several times in her special breathy way: "I'm Caaaassssaaaaannnnnnddddrrrraaaaaaa." Perhaps she shouldn't have, but I'm not one to call and complain about employees. We all have our weird days.
I told her no. Nope. No Macys card for me. And I was hoping she would have seen that I already swiped my card. I'm sure it could have been cancelled, although I wasn't given the option. She did inform me that I could get a 10% discount today and tomorrow if I signed up (it only takes minutes!). Let's see, 10% discount on a throw vs. getting free money to pay off my mortgage. I'll take the latter. Especially since I shop at Macys maybe 3 times a year.
Since I wasn't expecting another Macys card attack, I was looking around at all the lovely things I couldn't afford in the bed and bath floor. They have some really nice stuff. I can dream.
Then the cashier said to me, "Are you in a hurry? Are you rushed?"
Was I rushed? No, not really. I didn't think I was acting particularly rushed either. If I was rushed, I don't think I'd be glancing around so much in a leisurely manner.
"No, uh, not really, I mean, I have to go back to work."
Then I got it -- she was still pushing the stupid Macys card. Playing psychological games with me. I'm too rushed to fill out an application and acquire more credit card debt, am I? I'm a free-spending crazy chick who doesn't care if she's passing on 10%, is that so? Well. You must be rushed.
She said, "Oh, well, that's a good reason."
Not really. Considering my boss doesn't really watch my time. And I was planning on going to Crate and Barrel afterwards to look at their throws and see if I can get a better deal. And I was pondering who would have a good supply of Baby Gunds in the area because I can't seem to find a good supply anywhere.
Then she topped off my shopping experience by telling me her name (Joy), writing it on the receipt and asking me to please go to Macys.com and tell them about my shopping experience. Oh man, if only they were doing this when Cassandra was around. See, Joy was actually very nice and friendly, and I didn't expect the extra Macys card shove. Cassandra, on the way other hand, was a loon from the beginning to the end, and I knew I was in trouble.
Macys.com, here I come!
Bomb detectors
Did you know that BART thinks my eyes are their bomb detectors? Yup. It's very true. True and BART's new advertising campaign. Every time I see the posters in the station or on the trains, I think how ridiculous it is that they think I can detect bombs by simply having eyes. What if a bomb is in a bag? How do I know that bag is suspicious? Do I have x-ray vision?
How about hiring more BART police or installing x-ray machines instead of paying for advertising that places responsibility on me? Hey, I pay my $9.70 a day -- last time I checked, paying someone for something doesn't mean I'm working for them. It's vice versa. They should be paying me!
How about hiring more BART police or installing x-ray machines instead of paying for advertising that places responsibility on me? Hey, I pay my $9.70 a day -- last time I checked, paying someone for something doesn't mean I'm working for them. It's vice versa. They should be paying me!
Friday, August 19, 2005
Test...this is a test
By now most of you have heard about the explosion in the financial district / downtown SF. The lights at my work flickered a bit when it happened, but no one knew it happened. 20 minutes later I looked at the news online, and there you go -- explosion in SF. It took over an hour but now we all know what happened, and as my dear momma said over and over, it was "nothing to worry about" (unless you were the lady that got burned -- I'm sure she's got some worries).
I called my husband when I first saw the news and asked him if he had been watching the news at all. He said no. I told him what I knew, so he turned on the TV. At this time, it was just rumored that it was PG&E's fault.
He called me later on and asked if I knew anything else. I said what I knew, he confirmed he heard the same thing. Then he innocently pondered, "I wonder if the SBC girl is okay?"
?
So you started reading this and thought I was going to complain about the explosion, how it could have affected me, blah blah blah, right? Nope. This is a story about my dear hubby, who has the kindest heart in the world, but sometimes doesn't quite get what he says. My hubby started school this week. Last night he had to introduce himself to someone, so he made a new friend - the SBC girl. They chummed it up, passed stories back and forth about jobs and stuff. She works in SF by SBC, takes BART. Oh hey, he tells her, my wife takes BART too; she writes about her BART stories. He then proceeded to tell her a few of the more memorable ones (mostly dealing with men), to which she told him about how some old man likes to sit next to women and, uh, "pleasure himself." (That got a jaw-dropping, "you're kidding me???!!!" from me -- that would be worse that the crazy lady choking me, I would have to say.) So they're great pals now. My husband can pretty much make friends with anyone being the nice guy that he is (unless you're dumb -- he doesn't like the dumb ones).
So this entry is to express my love for my wonderful hubby and his concern about others, especially the SBC girl who also takes BART and who also works in SF. And to see, yet again, if he's reading my blog because I'm pretty sure he isn't. And I can pretty much guaranty any female reading this is cringing at the thought of their husband showing concern about a perfect female stranger instead of asking his wife how she's doing -- but then, obviously I was okay because I was talking to him on the phone.
When I asked, "What about me?," he said, "But you work closer to BART. She has to walk farther."
Gotta love that fellow.
I called my husband when I first saw the news and asked him if he had been watching the news at all. He said no. I told him what I knew, so he turned on the TV. At this time, it was just rumored that it was PG&E's fault.
He called me later on and asked if I knew anything else. I said what I knew, he confirmed he heard the same thing. Then he innocently pondered, "I wonder if the SBC girl is okay?"
?
So you started reading this and thought I was going to complain about the explosion, how it could have affected me, blah blah blah, right? Nope. This is a story about my dear hubby, who has the kindest heart in the world, but sometimes doesn't quite get what he says. My hubby started school this week. Last night he had to introduce himself to someone, so he made a new friend - the SBC girl. They chummed it up, passed stories back and forth about jobs and stuff. She works in SF by SBC, takes BART. Oh hey, he tells her, my wife takes BART too; she writes about her BART stories. He then proceeded to tell her a few of the more memorable ones (mostly dealing with men), to which she told him about how some old man likes to sit next to women and, uh, "pleasure himself." (That got a jaw-dropping, "you're kidding me???!!!" from me -- that would be worse that the crazy lady choking me, I would have to say.) So they're great pals now. My husband can pretty much make friends with anyone being the nice guy that he is (unless you're dumb -- he doesn't like the dumb ones).
So this entry is to express my love for my wonderful hubby and his concern about others, especially the SBC girl who also takes BART and who also works in SF. And to see, yet again, if he's reading my blog because I'm pretty sure he isn't. And I can pretty much guaranty any female reading this is cringing at the thought of their husband showing concern about a perfect female stranger instead of asking his wife how she's doing -- but then, obviously I was okay because I was talking to him on the phone.
When I asked, "What about me?," he said, "But you work closer to BART. She has to walk farther."
Gotta love that fellow.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Yet another bum rusher
There was another person bum rushing the train tonight. The amazing thing was that the doors were already closed and had been closed for a while. Not sure why the train didn't take off as quickly as it normally does, but it didn't.
So here came this man from the escalator, running down the middle of the lines of people, right to the doors of the train, where he stood and stared at them, like through the his super brain power, he was going to force the doors open. He stood, the train stayed and then the train slowly moved out of the station. The man still stood there. Finally, after I guess whatever brain synapse that was going on, he realized the doors weren't going to open for him, that he was, in fact, not special and so he walked away.
I, personally, would feel really stupid if I did that.
So here came this man from the escalator, running down the middle of the lines of people, right to the doors of the train, where he stood and stared at them, like through the his super brain power, he was going to force the doors open. He stood, the train stayed and then the train slowly moved out of the station. The man still stood there. Finally, after I guess whatever brain synapse that was going on, he realized the doors weren't going to open for him, that he was, in fact, not special and so he walked away.
I, personally, would feel really stupid if I did that.
Are you registered to vote?
I heard something on the news the other day about some election thing and Arnold and firemen and everyone being mad at each other. This normally strikes massive fear in my heart, but this time it just went into one ear and out the other.
Why does this strike fear in my heart? Am I particularly afraid of elections? Arnold? Firemen? No. Simply put, elections = the "Are you registered to vote?" lady at the BART station.
She is my forgotten nemesis.
She looks like a troll in her hippy skirts and long tunic blouse, long hair, bangles and necklaces and sandaled-up feet. She's shorter then me, so that probably makes her about 5 feet, and she goes to person after person while carrying her clipboard of evil, asking them if they are registered to vote.
When this first happened to me years ago, I followed the last person's path, and I simply said, "no." That's easy enough. For whatever reason she goes away pretty quickly then. She seems to only care if you have registered and therefore, have the capability of voting, and even more therefore, you can sign her clipboard of evil. But she doesn't seem to care enough to sign you up to vote if you say no.
So I said no, she shuffled a few steps over to the next victim and then finally disappeared (or I got on a train -- luckily she doesn't get on the train). Then the next day, there she was again, asking me if I was registered to vote. I sighed, said no, and basically the day before was repeated.
On the third day, I got annoyed. Here she came again, asking me again if I was registered to vote. I thought to myself, I'm going to take a stand. I'm not going to put up with this. I don't feel like I have the right to go up to strangers and ask them the same question, or their religious affiliation, or how much money they have in the bank, so what gives her the right to ask me three times if I'm registered to vote? So I told troll-lady that she already asked me this question the two days previous, so I wasn't going to answer her.
Troll-lady didn't like that.
She sorta spat on me (I believe accidentally since it wasn't a good wad of spit) and yelled that she can't remember everyone, everyday, and that I was the millionth white, brown-haired lady she's seen just today.
I just looked at her. What are you going to say to that? She does have a point, but she's also got to realize she's doing something that will annoy the average person. It was her decision, not mine. My decision was that I wouldn't become a clipboard of evil carrying troll-lady who bothers people daily about being registered to vote. Instead, I am invisible girl (although, as you can see, it doesn't work all the time).
At this point, I should add, the clipboard of evil is for signatures to get things on the ballot. Just in case you didn't get that from the beginning.
So there I was yesterday with my ear buds (yes, the cheap $7.99 ones) in and book in hand when -- low and behold -- here comes troll-lady! As soon as I heard her, I thought, man....I should have known! Darn you Arnold and the fireman! And I could hear her because of my cheapo $7.99 ear buds -- sorta like listening to music in a tin can.
She shuffled up to me and asked, "are you registered to vote?"
I kept my eyes down at my book, hoping she would notice the wires coming out of my ears and then leave me alone. But no. Troll-lady doesn't take crap from anyone. And I simply cannot be invisible all the time -- only when it doesn't benefit me.
"ARE YOU REGISTERED TO VOTE?????" she asked me louder.
I kept staring at my book and ignoring her and hoping my invisible shield would pop up. Finally she moved away.
If only someone would accidentally knock troll-lady onto the track way. If only my cell phone worked underground and I could call the BART police and say she's bothering me. Sigh. And from the way the news made it sound, I think I have plenty of time to encounter troll-lady until the election. I think. Not sure. I should probably pay more attention to that than when the next spare the air day will be upon us.
Why does this strike fear in my heart? Am I particularly afraid of elections? Arnold? Firemen? No. Simply put, elections = the "Are you registered to vote?" lady at the BART station.
She is my forgotten nemesis.
She looks like a troll in her hippy skirts and long tunic blouse, long hair, bangles and necklaces and sandaled-up feet. She's shorter then me, so that probably makes her about 5 feet, and she goes to person after person while carrying her clipboard of evil, asking them if they are registered to vote.
When this first happened to me years ago, I followed the last person's path, and I simply said, "no." That's easy enough. For whatever reason she goes away pretty quickly then. She seems to only care if you have registered and therefore, have the capability of voting, and even more therefore, you can sign her clipboard of evil. But she doesn't seem to care enough to sign you up to vote if you say no.
So I said no, she shuffled a few steps over to the next victim and then finally disappeared (or I got on a train -- luckily she doesn't get on the train). Then the next day, there she was again, asking me if I was registered to vote. I sighed, said no, and basically the day before was repeated.
On the third day, I got annoyed. Here she came again, asking me again if I was registered to vote. I thought to myself, I'm going to take a stand. I'm not going to put up with this. I don't feel like I have the right to go up to strangers and ask them the same question, or their religious affiliation, or how much money they have in the bank, so what gives her the right to ask me three times if I'm registered to vote? So I told troll-lady that she already asked me this question the two days previous, so I wasn't going to answer her.
Troll-lady didn't like that.
She sorta spat on me (I believe accidentally since it wasn't a good wad of spit) and yelled that she can't remember everyone, everyday, and that I was the millionth white, brown-haired lady she's seen just today.
I just looked at her. What are you going to say to that? She does have a point, but she's also got to realize she's doing something that will annoy the average person. It was her decision, not mine. My decision was that I wouldn't become a clipboard of evil carrying troll-lady who bothers people daily about being registered to vote. Instead, I am invisible girl (although, as you can see, it doesn't work all the time).
At this point, I should add, the clipboard of evil is for signatures to get things on the ballot. Just in case you didn't get that from the beginning.
So there I was yesterday with my ear buds (yes, the cheap $7.99 ones) in and book in hand when -- low and behold -- here comes troll-lady! As soon as I heard her, I thought, man....I should have known! Darn you Arnold and the fireman! And I could hear her because of my cheapo $7.99 ear buds -- sorta like listening to music in a tin can.
She shuffled up to me and asked, "are you registered to vote?"
I kept my eyes down at my book, hoping she would notice the wires coming out of my ears and then leave me alone. But no. Troll-lady doesn't take crap from anyone. And I simply cannot be invisible all the time -- only when it doesn't benefit me.
"ARE YOU REGISTERED TO VOTE?????" she asked me louder.
I kept staring at my book and ignoring her and hoping my invisible shield would pop up. Finally she moved away.
If only someone would accidentally knock troll-lady onto the track way. If only my cell phone worked underground and I could call the BART police and say she's bothering me. Sigh. And from the way the news made it sound, I think I have plenty of time to encounter troll-lady until the election. I think. Not sure. I should probably pay more attention to that than when the next spare the air day will be upon us.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Oh no
I forgot my ear buds today.
No worries; this probably helped me not miss my stop because of yet another restless, too many thoughts running through my head night, and then my crazy cat decided to lounge on her cat condo while aimlessly knocking things off the night stand (things she could easily reach while lounging, mind you) at 4am this morning.
And, I have an ATM card and the ability to walk to a Walgreens and suffer through bad customer service (me looking at earphones behind counter, girl at register, I approach register, she says, "what?," like I'm interrupting her, and so I pathetically ask for the cheapest ear buds and slink away like a beaten dog) in order to save myself from a day of extreme quiet and boredom and no white noise and no Death Cab songs....
I don't suggest buying $7.99 ear buds unless absolutely necessary. Not the best quality, although they did come with a 90-day warranty.
No worries; this probably helped me not miss my stop because of yet another restless, too many thoughts running through my head night, and then my crazy cat decided to lounge on her cat condo while aimlessly knocking things off the night stand (things she could easily reach while lounging, mind you) at 4am this morning.
And, I have an ATM card and the ability to walk to a Walgreens and suffer through bad customer service (me looking at earphones behind counter, girl at register, I approach register, she says, "what?," like I'm interrupting her, and so I pathetically ask for the cheapest ear buds and slink away like a beaten dog) in order to save myself from a day of extreme quiet and boredom and no white noise and no Death Cab songs....
I don't suggest buying $7.99 ear buds unless absolutely necessary. Not the best quality, although they did come with a 90-day warranty.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Totally chicken
So there I stood, first in line to catch the Fremont train, when the Pittsburgh/Baypoint train doors were just beginning to shut. I was still standing off to the side a bit to allow the rushing loonies room to run towards the train, when this skinny tall lady ran towards the door.
Instead of being brave like all the other idiots, she just stuck a stick arm and a stick leg in the door (which will not stop it from closing), flayed them around and then jerked them back out before the door closed on them. This took 5 seconds at the most to do. Most people figure if they've made that much of a scene, they may as well go all the way and keep their appendages in the doorway, allowing the doors to close on them and then push the doors open as best they can with whatever they have left that is moving. This lady only tempted the doors.
When she jerked her arm and leg back out, she proceeded to stand in front of the closed door and made a mewing noise and then looked around at the people in line like we were were either on her side or she was mad at us for not bum rushing the train to help her get on.
Just so she knew her failed attempt at keeping the doors open didn't mean she could now stand in the front of the line, I slid to left and basically pushed her out of the way without ever touching her. She left after that.
Better luck next time.
Instead of being brave like all the other idiots, she just stuck a stick arm and a stick leg in the door (which will not stop it from closing), flayed them around and then jerked them back out before the door closed on them. This took 5 seconds at the most to do. Most people figure if they've made that much of a scene, they may as well go all the way and keep their appendages in the doorway, allowing the doors to close on them and then push the doors open as best they can with whatever they have left that is moving. This lady only tempted the doors.
When she jerked her arm and leg back out, she proceeded to stand in front of the closed door and made a mewing noise and then looked around at the people in line like we were were either on her side or she was mad at us for not bum rushing the train to help her get on.
Just so she knew her failed attempt at keeping the doors open didn't mean she could now stand in the front of the line, I slid to left and basically pushed her out of the way without ever touching her. She left after that.
Better luck next time.
Hey, now -- Spare the Air
Have you seen the "Spare the Air" commercials? I have. It's August 15th. I think we need to spare the air again.
I just looked up on the Spare the Air web site that we have until 10/14 to pollute our air and get free BART rides. Come on, people, get cracking. I don't want to get just one free ride this year.
I just looked up on the Spare the Air web site that we have until 10/14 to pollute our air and get free BART rides. Come on, people, get cracking. I don't want to get just one free ride this year.
Almost
Today was my first day back on BART after having a lovely (although sort of boring) week off. As I knew I would, I quickly passed out around Bay Fair (I woke up at 3:15am this morning and couldn't go back to sleep again -- I'm getting a new kitty!). Someone sat next to me somewhere in Oakland. Rather gentle sitting, so I figured it was a lady.
I somehow woke myself up in the tunnel when the train started slowing down, and I noticed that the person sitting next to me was not, in fact, a lady. It was a man. A man reading a newspaper. You guessed it, Red Haired Guy. I was immediately annoyed, but then I realized he wasn't being annoying like he normally was. He was holding his newspaper in a rather considerate manner -- off to the side and away from me. I realized I was never jabbed by elbows. And he sat so...softly. Maybe he forgot what I looked like? I have been MIA for a week.
So I decided I shouldn't show my annoyance about him sitting next to me, and I began my normal routine of situating myself for a blocked-out walk to work (iPod out of bag, into pocket, earbuds out, badge over head, earbuds back in). I figured Red Haired Guy would keep me captive until the last minute, as usual, but no, he actually got up and moved to the door before the train stopped at Montgomery.
That was when I really looked -- that was no Red Haired Guy! It was the baseball cap-wearing guy who also wears a suit and never looked right wearing a baseball cap. Although he's no longer wearing his baseball cap. Maybe he was gardening hair plugs during that time.
No wonder I wasn't annoyed.
And guess who bypassed me going up the escalator? The real Red Haired Guy. I wanted to give him a kick just because. But I didn't.
I somehow woke myself up in the tunnel when the train started slowing down, and I noticed that the person sitting next to me was not, in fact, a lady. It was a man. A man reading a newspaper. You guessed it, Red Haired Guy. I was immediately annoyed, but then I realized he wasn't being annoying like he normally was. He was holding his newspaper in a rather considerate manner -- off to the side and away from me. I realized I was never jabbed by elbows. And he sat so...softly. Maybe he forgot what I looked like? I have been MIA for a week.
So I decided I shouldn't show my annoyance about him sitting next to me, and I began my normal routine of situating myself for a blocked-out walk to work (iPod out of bag, into pocket, earbuds out, badge over head, earbuds back in). I figured Red Haired Guy would keep me captive until the last minute, as usual, but no, he actually got up and moved to the door before the train stopped at Montgomery.
That was when I really looked -- that was no Red Haired Guy! It was the baseball cap-wearing guy who also wears a suit and never looked right wearing a baseball cap. Although he's no longer wearing his baseball cap. Maybe he was gardening hair plugs during that time.
No wonder I wasn't annoyed.
And guess who bypassed me going up the escalator? The real Red Haired Guy. I wanted to give him a kick just because. But I didn't.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Morning snooze
No, no....someone didn't wake me up this morning. I've been managing to get myself up lately.
However, that lady that did wake me up the other day has been noticeably MIA on the train. Granted, I don't pay that much attention to people to know how often they take the train (unless you get on at Fremont, then you're fair game for my nutty thoughts), but I'm pretty certain she was a regular. I thought she was sitting in front of me going to work yesterday, but it turns out it wasn't her.
Today someone sat down next to me and jabbed me in the side. I opened my eyes to get a side glance of the person, who turned out to be female, and I swear it was the same lady who woke me up. Seems she was taking up knitting (hence the jab -- jabbed once and not again, thank goodness). I went back to sleep knowing that if I didn't wake up, then she would wake me up. She's my Florence Nightingale.
I woke up and started getting my stuff together, when the lady said something to me. I was thinking, oh no....it was nice and great of her to wake me up that one day, but I'd kinda like to leave that in the past. Obviously she wasn't talking to me to wake me up. I had my earbuds in, so I took out the right one so I could hear her, and she repeated what she said to me.
"Is this your stop?"
I looked at her, and I realized she wasn't the same lady. Just a lady who looked like that lady. Sigh. It's terrible to be torn between not wanting to see someone but also wanting the reassurance that that someone will wake you up when you're sleeping. This lady could have been the other lady's daughter -- same hair and features, just younger. I told her it was the next one, and she told me to tell her when to get up.
Because she was so nice, I actually risked life and limb and got up before the train stopped. Why prolong the inevitable? She had packed away her knitting supplies just to let me out, I guess I'll risk falling over for her. Darn those nice people.
However, that lady that did wake me up the other day has been noticeably MIA on the train. Granted, I don't pay that much attention to people to know how often they take the train (unless you get on at Fremont, then you're fair game for my nutty thoughts), but I'm pretty certain she was a regular. I thought she was sitting in front of me going to work yesterday, but it turns out it wasn't her.
Today someone sat down next to me and jabbed me in the side. I opened my eyes to get a side glance of the person, who turned out to be female, and I swear it was the same lady who woke me up. Seems she was taking up knitting (hence the jab -- jabbed once and not again, thank goodness). I went back to sleep knowing that if I didn't wake up, then she would wake me up. She's my Florence Nightingale.
I woke up and started getting my stuff together, when the lady said something to me. I was thinking, oh no....it was nice and great of her to wake me up that one day, but I'd kinda like to leave that in the past. Obviously she wasn't talking to me to wake me up. I had my earbuds in, so I took out the right one so I could hear her, and she repeated what she said to me.
"Is this your stop?"
I looked at her, and I realized she wasn't the same lady. Just a lady who looked like that lady. Sigh. It's terrible to be torn between not wanting to see someone but also wanting the reassurance that that someone will wake you up when you're sleeping. This lady could have been the other lady's daughter -- same hair and features, just younger. I told her it was the next one, and she told me to tell her when to get up.
Because she was so nice, I actually risked life and limb and got up before the train stopped. Why prolong the inevitable? She had packed away her knitting supplies just to let me out, I guess I'll risk falling over for her. Darn those nice people.
Spare the air?
From what I've been told, it's rather warm in the east bay. Since I work in SF, I wouldn't really know about that. It usually tops about 65 degrees here. As I write this right now, I'm wearing my overcoat because I'm freezing. It's not warm enough here for the air conditioning to be on, but alas, it is and right above my head.
Anyway, since it's supposedly so warm this week, I'm thinking we should have a spare the air day and get free BART rides again. They only give them out 5 times during the summer, and last year we didn't get to use our 5 free rides up. I guess there was enough air to spare last year. Doesn't the heat and traffic have something to do with air quality? I think a free ride on BART would take care of this nicely.
Come on you air quality guessing wizards! Predict another spare the air day before August passes us by. We've only used one free day this summer. We're running out of time.
And if you think about it -- does the lack of spare the air days means our air quality is actually good? So all this talk about air quality -- is it just bunk?
Oh, by the way, since I'm talking about free rides....since I've had to turn my Translink card in twice in the past 4 months to get "fixed," this has cause a major funds back-up on it. And since I'm taking a week off next week, which means I won't be using my card, I'm really going to be backed-up. This basically means I have a surplus of money being stored away for BART rides. If I have to turn the card in again to get "fixed," I'll be set for 3 months of BART rides on one card.
Good....bad...who knows. Let's hope I don't lose it again. Or someone figures out who I am and mugs me (that's if anyone's reading this thing!).
Anyway, since it's supposedly so warm this week, I'm thinking we should have a spare the air day and get free BART rides again. They only give them out 5 times during the summer, and last year we didn't get to use our 5 free rides up. I guess there was enough air to spare last year. Doesn't the heat and traffic have something to do with air quality? I think a free ride on BART would take care of this nicely.
Come on you air quality guessing wizards! Predict another spare the air day before August passes us by. We've only used one free day this summer. We're running out of time.
And if you think about it -- does the lack of spare the air days means our air quality is actually good? So all this talk about air quality -- is it just bunk?
Oh, by the way, since I'm talking about free rides....since I've had to turn my Translink card in twice in the past 4 months to get "fixed," this has cause a major funds back-up on it. And since I'm taking a week off next week, which means I won't be using my card, I'm really going to be backed-up. This basically means I have a surplus of money being stored away for BART rides. If I have to turn the card in again to get "fixed," I'll be set for 3 months of BART rides on one card.
Good....bad...who knows. Let's hope I don't lose it again. Or someone figures out who I am and mugs me (that's if anyone's reading this thing!).
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
BART problems
BART's been having problems since Friday. Friday I was a half an hour late going home (got booted off the train at S. Hayward, then had to wait a million years for the next Fremont train to be allowed to leave the station), Monday and Tuesday there were slowdown issues at Union City, and then Tuesday I was stuck on the train right above Mowry. For 20 minutes.
For those of you who may not know Fremont, Mowry is a major street next to the BART station. Being stuck on the train above Mowry means I was less than 10 seconds into the station. But there were switching problems at the Fremont station, so there I sat watching the cars drive by in both directions.
When BART goes bad, it goes very bad.
For those of you who may not know Fremont, Mowry is a major street next to the BART station. Being stuck on the train above Mowry means I was less than 10 seconds into the station. But there were switching problems at the Fremont station, so there I sat watching the cars drive by in both directions.
When BART goes bad, it goes very bad.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Phone Calls
I don't understand this one, and it happens a lot to me.
The phone rings.
I answer it by saying "hello" like most people do.
The person on the other end says "hello?"
So I say "hello?" right back.
They're calling me. I'm not giving up who I am before they give up who they are.
This can go on for ages.
At work, I answer my phone by stating my name (albeit a little slurred -- sometimes I sound drunk, but my name isn't so easy to say all the time -- or perhaps I'm lispy). So today I had someone call, and so I said my spiel (including my lovely slurry name), and the person responds with - you guessed it, "hello?"
I said, "hello?"
Silence.
Then, "hello?"
I said, "hello...?"
And then they asked for some person whose name I can't pronounce no less slur, and I said, "noooooooo....."
"Oh, sorry."
And I hung up.
I like hanging up on people rather abruptly because, hey, you called me and I don't know you.
The phone rings.
I answer it by saying "hello" like most people do.
The person on the other end says "hello?"
So I say "hello?" right back.
They're calling me. I'm not giving up who I am before they give up who they are.
This can go on for ages.
At work, I answer my phone by stating my name (albeit a little slurred -- sometimes I sound drunk, but my name isn't so easy to say all the time -- or perhaps I'm lispy). So today I had someone call, and so I said my spiel (including my lovely slurry name), and the person responds with - you guessed it, "hello?"
I said, "hello?"
Silence.
Then, "hello?"
I said, "hello...?"
And then they asked for some person whose name I can't pronounce no less slur, and I said, "noooooooo....."
"Oh, sorry."
And I hung up.
I like hanging up on people rather abruptly because, hey, you called me and I don't know you.
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