My mother lost a battle to cancer 7 1/2 years ago and died. I firmly believe I haven't recovered from it and firmly believe I won't ever recover. Yesterday was Mother's Day. I woke up in the morning with an emptiness in my stomach. I missed her. What's funny, is growing up we never did anything extravagant to celebrate Mother's Day. It was still a guy's day. I remember my Dad playing golf with my uncle and my grandpa while my mom was stuck entertaining my brother and me. I particularly remember one year my mother had the entire family over, my 2 grandparents, and my dad's brother's family, for a full turkey dinner (Thanksgiving in May). She cooked the entire day while my dad played golf and none of us thought anything of it. So it's not like Mother's Day brings back great memories of me spending time with my mom. It's now just a day that reminds me I don't have a mother.
To take my mind off of things, I went into the city and did a nice long run in Central Park. Training for a half marathon, running 7 miles, is not my idea of a good time, but my run was quite enjoyable. It was a gorgeous Spring day and while running through the park, seeing the trees and flowers in full bloom I thought of my mom. Thought of how much I missed her and wondered what she thinks of me now.
In the afternoon, my husband and I took his parents to the Mets game. It was what his mother wanted to do for Mother's Day. It was quite enjoyable, like I said the weather was great, the game was fun, and the Mets won! My cousin Libby had left me a voicemail during the game letting me know she and her son Carter went to my mom's grave and told her how much they missed her and loved her. She said there were quite a few fresh bouquets of flowers on my mom's grave, people must have visited her. Later I spoke to my Aunt who also said she went to see my mom's grave and lastly I spoke to my father who went to see my mom. Everyone misses her. I swear the family hasn't been the same since she died.
I still can't help but wonder what my mother thinks of me now, what I have made of myself. I remember shortly after she died I used to pray to GOD to give me some kind of sign from my mother. Some kind of something showing me that she approved, that she loved me and that she missed me too. I never got the sign I was looking for; my mother never came to me at night and spoke to me nor did I ever see visions of her. However, now I look for the small stuff, like the day my husband and I got married, it was raining the day prior and very gray and cloudy the morning of the wedding. I sat outside on our hotel room balcony and started talking to her, told her how much I missed her and at that very moment, the clouds parted and the sun came out, I knew she was there with me. I wish I had more of those perfect moments, but I take them as they come.
Recently I have been struggling with the definition of happiness. What is it and is happiness really a thing? I've come to the conclusion, no. Happiness is an emotion, it's not a state of life. It's like the shrink game you play. "I feel happy when"... I'm on the beach, or when I'm playing with my dog, or when I'm with my husband, or when I'm eating Mexican food and drinking a margarita. However, am I happy? No. I'll never truly be happy. People that tell you they are honestly happy, are lying or faking it. I compare it to when someone asks me how my day is. I say, "fine" even if I had the worst day of my life, because you know what? I don't think the person that asked me the question really wants to know the answer. Everyone is in a state of disillusionment where they don't want to know about the bad, they only want to see and hear the good. People need to see and hear the good to make themselves feel better. I know that, and that's why I'll always nod my head and tell people I'm fine, I'm happy, and maybe one day I'll get there. Now, I don't see it happening. How can it when the most important person in my life for 22 years is no longer here? People say, "Well, maybe you're not happy because something is missing in your life." Well, they're right, there is something missing, and it's my mom, she's dead, and never coming back. So tell me what you think I should do to solve that one? Move on? I'm trying. It's been 7 1/2 years and I still miss her like she died yesterday. I still don't have a memory of her without her being sick and I still think there was something I could have done better to show her how much I loved her.
Time eases all pain...I'm waiting....
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
A Bottle of Flowers
The other day my new favorite client came in again, for the 2nd time this week. I say favorite client because he reeks of money, but is genuinely nice. He is not only the best looking man I have ever personally met, he is also the most impeccably dressed man I have ever met. The first day he came swaggering into the showroom, his appearance actually startled me. I think I might have mumbled "wow" under my breath. Funny enough, my first thought was he must be gay. I have a few gay friends and even THEY can't top the way this guy was dressed. As we became more acquainted, he mentioned something about his wife and 2 kids, I told him I had assumed he was gay. He told me that was "fucked up" and we instantly became friends. Moreover, I took a liking to him once I gave him my business card, he read it, and called me by my full name, Lynn Anne, and not just Lynn. Nice........
Wait a second. What just happened? Sorry I was in la la land for a second. Don't judge me! Yes, I am married, but a girl is still allowed to think a guy is goodlooking. AND I told my husband about my tiny client crush, so there. Keep your judgement to yourself.
Ok, onto his most recent visit. We were discussing refrigeration, and I showed him our wine cooler, 24" wide, 24" deep, 84" high, stores 106 bottles. Perfect dimensions in the wine refrigeration world. It also has 3 completely separate temperature zones! No one else in the industry has that feature!
Client: Why do I need 3 completely separate temperature zones? I only drink red wine.
Me: Think about the different kinds of reds you drink. You can store all of them at different temperatures.
Client: Have you ever had a Pinot Noir called "Flowers"? It's amazing. Possibly the best Pinot Noir ever.
Me: No. Not familiar with it.
Client: Really? You should go to the 4 Seasons up the street and try it. They have it on their wine by the glass list. It's only like $30.
Me: Wow! That's not bad, $30 a bottle at The 4 Seasons?
Client: No, $30 a glass.
Me: (blank stare)
Client: You can get it at a wine store for like $150 a bottle. The 4 Seasons has it there for $300 or so. Definitely go and try it.
Now, here I am, thinking that I'm friends with this guy and he's telling me that I need to go and try a $30 glass of wine at The 4 Seasons? Or go and buy it at a wine store for $150? Doesn't he realize I am selling him his appliances? My friend, ok, I get it, you have money, but I do not. Hell my husband and I have a hard time spending $30 on a bottle of wine in a restaurant, let alone $30 a glass?
This conversation brought me back to a very harsh reality. I work on a daily basis with some of the wealthiest people in NYC, even in the world, and most of them treat me very nicely, some even with respect. However, as much as I try to be a part of their world, the wealthy world that is, I know I'll never really fit in. I don't smell the cork from a bottle of wine once it has been opened. I don't swirl the wine in my glass before I taste it. I don't nod at the sommelier in approval of the wine. I don't hold the glass by the goblet and continue to swirl it as I drink. And I certainly don't pay $30 for a glass of wine. I pour my glass 3/4 of the way full, take a drink, and enjoy. And I'm not ashamed to admit, that I have enjoyed wine from a box too.
Wait a second. What just happened? Sorry I was in la la land for a second. Don't judge me! Yes, I am married, but a girl is still allowed to think a guy is goodlooking. AND I told my husband about my tiny client crush, so there. Keep your judgement to yourself.
Ok, onto his most recent visit. We were discussing refrigeration, and I showed him our wine cooler, 24" wide, 24" deep, 84" high, stores 106 bottles. Perfect dimensions in the wine refrigeration world. It also has 3 completely separate temperature zones! No one else in the industry has that feature!
Client: Why do I need 3 completely separate temperature zones? I only drink red wine.
Me: Think about the different kinds of reds you drink. You can store all of them at different temperatures.
Client: Have you ever had a Pinot Noir called "Flowers"? It's amazing. Possibly the best Pinot Noir ever.
Me: No. Not familiar with it.
Client: Really? You should go to the 4 Seasons up the street and try it. They have it on their wine by the glass list. It's only like $30.
Me: Wow! That's not bad, $30 a bottle at The 4 Seasons?
Client: No, $30 a glass.
Me: (blank stare)
Client: You can get it at a wine store for like $150 a bottle. The 4 Seasons has it there for $300 or so. Definitely go and try it.
Now, here I am, thinking that I'm friends with this guy and he's telling me that I need to go and try a $30 glass of wine at The 4 Seasons? Or go and buy it at a wine store for $150? Doesn't he realize I am selling him his appliances? My friend, ok, I get it, you have money, but I do not. Hell my husband and I have a hard time spending $30 on a bottle of wine in a restaurant, let alone $30 a glass?
This conversation brought me back to a very harsh reality. I work on a daily basis with some of the wealthiest people in NYC, even in the world, and most of them treat me very nicely, some even with respect. However, as much as I try to be a part of their world, the wealthy world that is, I know I'll never really fit in. I don't smell the cork from a bottle of wine once it has been opened. I don't swirl the wine in my glass before I taste it. I don't nod at the sommelier in approval of the wine. I don't hold the glass by the goblet and continue to swirl it as I drink. And I certainly don't pay $30 for a glass of wine. I pour my glass 3/4 of the way full, take a drink, and enjoy. And I'm not ashamed to admit, that I have enjoyed wine from a box too.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Easter
A few weeks ago, being the good practicing Catholics we are (ha ha) my husband and I were on the computer looking up the meaning of Lent, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and pretty much everything that goes along with Easter. Seriously. Why you ask? I was telling him an experience I had in my showroom where during a Friday cooking demonstration 2 guests passed on eating meat. Another guest asked the ladies if they were vegetarians, and they replied, "No, it's Friday during Lent and we can't eat meat." The lady who asked was quite perplexed and asked them to explain to her, as she was a practicing Jew, the meaning of Lent since she wasn't familiar with it. I told my husband, if someone asked me that very question, I am not sure if I would be able to answer them correctly. I would be able to explain Easter, but not the meaning of Lent nor the reason why we can't eat meat on Fridays during Lent. This prompted the online research.
What is Easter and why every year does it seem like a drag planning our Easter holiday? Hell we no what our Thanksgiving and Christmas plans are in September, but this year we found out the Monday prior to Easter what those plans were going to be. I remember as a kid going to my Grandma Olson's house every year for Christmas. Grandma Olson was my mom's mom and she lived 3 hours north of where I grew up. Every year on Good Friday the 4 of us and our dog would pile into whatever mini-van we were donning at the time and made the 3 hour trek up north. Once into town we would stop at the local KFC, pick up a bucket of chicken and go see Grandma. The 4 of us, the dog, and Grandma would sit in her living room watching her old TV. You know, the one with the dial, no remote. My Dad would be drinking his beer hanging out with my brother while they discussed sports. My mom and my grandma would sit in the armchairs arguing over nonsense while drinking their wine. And I would sit on the floor next to the dog, coloring. I'm pretty sure I colored at my Grandma's until I was like 16, it's very therapeutic. Easter Saturday was spent running errands with Grandma while my Dad did odds and ends around the house then Saturday night we would go somewhere fun to eat. Easter Sunday morning rolled around, the 4 of us would go to church while Grandma stayed at home preparing food for the family. My mom's sister's family would usually be at Grandma's by the time we came back from church. It was great! I was the youngest and enjoyed being with my older girl cousins. I enjoyed hearing their college stories and couldn't wait until I grew up. However, once I did "grow up" or more over, get older, we stopped going to Grandma Olson's for Easter. Grandma Olson eventually moved out of her huge home and into a retirement community where an Olson family Easter just wasn't possible.
As the years passed Easter became something that we HAD to celebrate and not something that I looked forward to celebrating. It was just that ol' holiday that came once a year. We even stopped doing Easter dinner, and started doing an Easter brunch. Once I moved out to NY and met my now husband I saw that his family took the same approach. One year we did dinner, the next year a random brunch at a ghetto Queens hotel, the next year a lunch, and so on. However this year was a pleasant surprise of a delightful Easter dinner. As I was downing a beer on our trip to the in-laws house my husband and I were discussing the scenarios we could create to get ourselves in and out as fast as possible. And it turned out no scenarios were needed. Easter was a true delight. Everyone was in a good mood. No yelling, no stress, no tension. Yes, there was the occasional bicker in the kitchen over food, but these bickers were almost funny, humorous in a way. Conversation was light-hearted and not from the twilight zone and even the annual card game of Cuckoo was fun!
The sudden change of events makes me wonder is Easter going to turn back into a holiday I enjoy? Are we going to start planning Easter in January like we plan Christmas in September? Or was this Easter just a freak accident of bliss. Regardless, it was one for the record books.
What is Easter and why every year does it seem like a drag planning our Easter holiday? Hell we no what our Thanksgiving and Christmas plans are in September, but this year we found out the Monday prior to Easter what those plans were going to be. I remember as a kid going to my Grandma Olson's house every year for Christmas. Grandma Olson was my mom's mom and she lived 3 hours north of where I grew up. Every year on Good Friday the 4 of us and our dog would pile into whatever mini-van we were donning at the time and made the 3 hour trek up north. Once into town we would stop at the local KFC, pick up a bucket of chicken and go see Grandma. The 4 of us, the dog, and Grandma would sit in her living room watching her old TV. You know, the one with the dial, no remote. My Dad would be drinking his beer hanging out with my brother while they discussed sports. My mom and my grandma would sit in the armchairs arguing over nonsense while drinking their wine. And I would sit on the floor next to the dog, coloring. I'm pretty sure I colored at my Grandma's until I was like 16, it's very therapeutic. Easter Saturday was spent running errands with Grandma while my Dad did odds and ends around the house then Saturday night we would go somewhere fun to eat. Easter Sunday morning rolled around, the 4 of us would go to church while Grandma stayed at home preparing food for the family. My mom's sister's family would usually be at Grandma's by the time we came back from church. It was great! I was the youngest and enjoyed being with my older girl cousins. I enjoyed hearing their college stories and couldn't wait until I grew up. However, once I did "grow up" or more over, get older, we stopped going to Grandma Olson's for Easter. Grandma Olson eventually moved out of her huge home and into a retirement community where an Olson family Easter just wasn't possible.
As the years passed Easter became something that we HAD to celebrate and not something that I looked forward to celebrating. It was just that ol' holiday that came once a year. We even stopped doing Easter dinner, and started doing an Easter brunch. Once I moved out to NY and met my now husband I saw that his family took the same approach. One year we did dinner, the next year a random brunch at a ghetto Queens hotel, the next year a lunch, and so on. However this year was a pleasant surprise of a delightful Easter dinner. As I was downing a beer on our trip to the in-laws house my husband and I were discussing the scenarios we could create to get ourselves in and out as fast as possible. And it turned out no scenarios were needed. Easter was a true delight. Everyone was in a good mood. No yelling, no stress, no tension. Yes, there was the occasional bicker in the kitchen over food, but these bickers were almost funny, humorous in a way. Conversation was light-hearted and not from the twilight zone and even the annual card game of Cuckoo was fun!
The sudden change of events makes me wonder is Easter going to turn back into a holiday I enjoy? Are we going to start planning Easter in January like we plan Christmas in September? Or was this Easter just a freak accident of bliss. Regardless, it was one for the record books.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Girls Day
This past weekend my husband went on a golf get-away. 3 days of guy friends, beer, poker and 18 holes of golf a day. As Tim the Tool Man Taylor used to say, argh argh argh. I am never a big fan of my husband travelling for a few reasons. Well, the first reason being the most obvious, he is my husband and no wife should be happy their husband is leaving, but the 2nd reason is I have this terrible fear of something happening to me while he's gone. I guess you could say I have OCD as my nightly ritual when he is away is to check the front door to make sure it's locked and then check the back door to make sure it too is locked. Then back to the front door, then to the back door and so on...you get my point. After I repeatedly check the doors I then start to walk through the house to check each window (yes on the 2nd floor too) to make sure they are locked. Not only does this routine involve checking each lock on the window, but I also try to open the windows to make sure they don't budge. Once the windows are all done, I put a chair in front of the front door. If by chance the burgular breaks through the screen door lock, the door lock and the deadbolt lock, the chair will then fall over and wake me from my sleep. This is assuming I have fallen asleep because once I finally climb into bed I lie wide awake imagining my escape route with my 75 pound labrador retriever if there is an intruder. I know, FREAK!
After a night of pretty much no sleep on Friday, I am happy to speak to my best friend (whose husband is also on the guys weekend trip) on Saturday morning where we plan a day of shopping! I have always been an avid shopper and can enjoy a day at the mall, but my friend Sarah, can shop me under the table! I never thought I would meet someone who could make me shop 'til I drop and this girl can. It's great! It's one of the reasons we became such good friends. We meet in the afternoon and make our way up to the White Plains mall. For a mall, it's the mecca of shopping. We briefly cruise the first floor that we term as the expensive floor. We pass by the Stuart Weitzman, Juicy Couture, Coach, Dooney & Bourke stores and take the escalator up to the 2nd floor, the more affordable floor where the shopping really begins. However after 3 hours and 7 minutes of shopping we leave the mall feeling slightly defeated. We both went there with great expectations of coming home with a new Spring wardrobe and all Sarah ended up with was a frame and some bottles of soap and I bought a pair of Converse and 2 skirts. Now to the average shopper you might think this sounds like a success, but not to my best friend and I. I mean, we had a 25% off coupon to JCrew where we bought NOTHING! We didn't even try anything on?!? Has my guilty conscience gotten the best of me? Should I feel badly that people I know are getting laid off from their jobs right and left around me and I am upset that I only spent $150?
With our feet aching and feeling kind of bummed about our shopping experience, we head back to my house. The conversation on the way home is light, we debate on where to go to dinner and what time. We're both starving and decide to go for a snack when we get back to my house. I offer Sarah a soda and she says, "Actually, I think I'll take a beer." Now we're talking! 4 beers later the conversation has covered all spectrums and we decide to head to a local Mexican joint for dinner. The hostess tells us it's going to be just a moment and instead of waiting at the hostess stand, we take a seat at the bar. "2 Cadillac Margaritas please! On the rocks, one with salt the other without." We toast to a great day and take our first swig. Whew! Pure tequila and pure heaven! 4 margaritas, some guacamole and some burritos later we head back to my home where we crack open 4 more beers and proceed to have the best night ever. I told my husband this morning last night was the best time I probably have ever had with Sarah. There was not one lull in the conversation and we pretty much covered any topic you could possibly imagine, from work to friends to family to our husbands to sex to music to love to babies and to death. We cried when we talked about death and in the next moment we giggled like two 12 year old girls at a slumber party. It was the best night I have ever had hanging out with a friend.
At one point in the evening I told Sarah I have this awful fear of death. She asked me if I knew why and I told her I think it's because I am scared I am going to die and not have said everything I wanted to say to people. I am scared my brother won't know how proud I am of him. I'm scared my husband won't know how much I love him, and I'm scared my best friend won't know how much I appreciate our friendship. Sarah, in her infinite wisdom said, "Well, you have to make sure you tell all of these people how you feel. So they will know when you're gone." So, Sarah, thank you for being the best friend possible. I hope you know how much I appreciate our friendship! Last night I went to bed only checking the doors once, no chair next to the front door and no multiple laps around the house making sure the windows were locked. I slept like a baby.
After a night of pretty much no sleep on Friday, I am happy to speak to my best friend (whose husband is also on the guys weekend trip) on Saturday morning where we plan a day of shopping! I have always been an avid shopper and can enjoy a day at the mall, but my friend Sarah, can shop me under the table! I never thought I would meet someone who could make me shop 'til I drop and this girl can. It's great! It's one of the reasons we became such good friends. We meet in the afternoon and make our way up to the White Plains mall. For a mall, it's the mecca of shopping. We briefly cruise the first floor that we term as the expensive floor. We pass by the Stuart Weitzman, Juicy Couture, Coach, Dooney & Bourke stores and take the escalator up to the 2nd floor, the more affordable floor where the shopping really begins. However after 3 hours and 7 minutes of shopping we leave the mall feeling slightly defeated. We both went there with great expectations of coming home with a new Spring wardrobe and all Sarah ended up with was a frame and some bottles of soap and I bought a pair of Converse and 2 skirts. Now to the average shopper you might think this sounds like a success, but not to my best friend and I. I mean, we had a 25% off coupon to JCrew where we bought NOTHING! We didn't even try anything on?!? Has my guilty conscience gotten the best of me? Should I feel badly that people I know are getting laid off from their jobs right and left around me and I am upset that I only spent $150?
With our feet aching and feeling kind of bummed about our shopping experience, we head back to my house. The conversation on the way home is light, we debate on where to go to dinner and what time. We're both starving and decide to go for a snack when we get back to my house. I offer Sarah a soda and she says, "Actually, I think I'll take a beer." Now we're talking! 4 beers later the conversation has covered all spectrums and we decide to head to a local Mexican joint for dinner. The hostess tells us it's going to be just a moment and instead of waiting at the hostess stand, we take a seat at the bar. "2 Cadillac Margaritas please! On the rocks, one with salt the other without." We toast to a great day and take our first swig. Whew! Pure tequila and pure heaven! 4 margaritas, some guacamole and some burritos later we head back to my home where we crack open 4 more beers and proceed to have the best night ever. I told my husband this morning last night was the best time I probably have ever had with Sarah. There was not one lull in the conversation and we pretty much covered any topic you could possibly imagine, from work to friends to family to our husbands to sex to music to love to babies and to death. We cried when we talked about death and in the next moment we giggled like two 12 year old girls at a slumber party. It was the best night I have ever had hanging out with a friend.
At one point in the evening I told Sarah I have this awful fear of death. She asked me if I knew why and I told her I think it's because I am scared I am going to die and not have said everything I wanted to say to people. I am scared my brother won't know how proud I am of him. I'm scared my husband won't know how much I love him, and I'm scared my best friend won't know how much I appreciate our friendship. Sarah, in her infinite wisdom said, "Well, you have to make sure you tell all of these people how you feel. So they will know when you're gone." So, Sarah, thank you for being the best friend possible. I hope you know how much I appreciate our friendship! Last night I went to bed only checking the doors once, no chair next to the front door and no multiple laps around the house making sure the windows were locked. I slept like a baby.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Who Wears the Pants in this Relationship?
I realize that I have recently neglected the word 'dishwashers' in my blog title. Work has proven to be fairly mundane over the past few weeks, but this week has definitely been something to write about. Without boring you with the details of my job, the showroom in which I manage, is just that, a showroom. There is no pressure to buy, no deal making, strictly a resource center for people to come and learn about the appliances prior to purchasing or if they have already purchased, many people come to learn how to better USE their appliances. (AKA, "I haven't nor will I ever read my manual, so please tell me how the F to operate these things!")
It seems the economy is either taking a turn for the better OR the clients in which I deal with haven't been effected by the "recession" because I had quite a few couples come into the showroom and tell me they recently purchased all of our appliances and need help using them. I am happy to oblige. However, the clients this past week have been animals! Granted, I am in the customer service field and I see all types of personalities on a daily basis, but what is it with people thinking I am a marriage counselor? For example, a client made an appointment the other day for her and her husband to come in and get an overview of all of the appliances they just installed in their kitchen. They walk in looking almost like Ken & Barbie (well Barbie being 8 months pregnant), and even more, he's Australian. They appear to almost be angelic. We begin with reviewing the washer and dryer. They immediately start firing questions at me, right and left, but talking over each other. I know the answers to each question, but find it hard to answer them because I'm not sure which question to answer first. Then when I do answer one of their questions, the other one gets pissed off because I didn't answer their question first. What is this, kindergarten? I find the tension between the two of them rapidly increasing and then, BOOM, it finally comes to a blow. The wife, turns to ask me a question about something else, and her husband tells her to "focus and stop getting off track" (in a bit of a raised voice). She literally, stops, slowly turns back to face him and screams, I mean screams like the chandeliers in our showroom rattled, screams, "I AM FOCUSING! THIS IS IMPORTANT TOO!" At this point, I wonder what I should do. Do I walk away? Do I act like this is normal? Do I call 911? What do I do? I am so dumbfounded by her reaction that I stand there, I believe with my mouth dropped open. We continue with the demo, but I couldn't help but wonder if this is normal behavior for this couple? Maybe it's just her horomones being that she's 8 months pregnant, but something tells me it's not. I initially think that I can't even imagine what they are like at home if they are like this in public, but on the other hand, they are probably no different. I imagine they act the exact same way in public as they do in the comforts of their own home, since screaming at him seemed so second nature to her.
In another situation, I had a husband and wife come into the showroom with their designer where the wife decided she wanted to add an additional appliance to their kitchen layout. The designer and the husband both tell her they don't have the space and it's too late because the cabinets have already been ordered. And unlike anything I have ever seen before, this 30 something year old woman, starts flapping her arms and stomping her feet. Seriously, stomping around whimpering that they can't tell her no and she has to get what she wants. Again, I stand frozen in amazement wondering if I should walk away or laugh. The husband and designer seem humiliated so I decided laughing was probably not the best idea. I told them I was going to leave them to discuss their options. I mean, come on! Who behaves like that except for a 5 year old child who has just been told no to their favorite piece of candy?
I have been married for a mere 7 months, but like to think that my husband and I make joint decisions. Sure there are times when we don't agree with each other, but we make compromises, we discuss things, and come up with the best solution. We never argue in public, in fact, we very seldom argue, but when we do, it is behind closed doors. However, seeing these couples and I only named 2 of them, there were more, I wonder what is the best way to behave? The first couple I encountered appeared to be like Barbie & Ken, but after spending 10 minutes with them, they were more like Heidi & Spencer. I immediately knew who wore the pants in that relationship. The 2nd couple, I knew the husband was more like the father in that relationship, but assumed that the wife was going to get what she wanted in the long run. Is it wrong to put on a front for people when out in public? Is it fake? Or is it about making your company feel comfortable and having them wonder who wears the pants? And moreover, what's so wrong if my husband and I both wear the pants?
It seems the economy is either taking a turn for the better OR the clients in which I deal with haven't been effected by the "recession" because I had quite a few couples come into the showroom and tell me they recently purchased all of our appliances and need help using them. I am happy to oblige. However, the clients this past week have been animals! Granted, I am in the customer service field and I see all types of personalities on a daily basis, but what is it with people thinking I am a marriage counselor? For example, a client made an appointment the other day for her and her husband to come in and get an overview of all of the appliances they just installed in their kitchen. They walk in looking almost like Ken & Barbie (well Barbie being 8 months pregnant), and even more, he's Australian. They appear to almost be angelic. We begin with reviewing the washer and dryer. They immediately start firing questions at me, right and left, but talking over each other. I know the answers to each question, but find it hard to answer them because I'm not sure which question to answer first. Then when I do answer one of their questions, the other one gets pissed off because I didn't answer their question first. What is this, kindergarten? I find the tension between the two of them rapidly increasing and then, BOOM, it finally comes to a blow. The wife, turns to ask me a question about something else, and her husband tells her to "focus and stop getting off track" (in a bit of a raised voice). She literally, stops, slowly turns back to face him and screams, I mean screams like the chandeliers in our showroom rattled, screams, "I AM FOCUSING! THIS IS IMPORTANT TOO!" At this point, I wonder what I should do. Do I walk away? Do I act like this is normal? Do I call 911? What do I do? I am so dumbfounded by her reaction that I stand there, I believe with my mouth dropped open. We continue with the demo, but I couldn't help but wonder if this is normal behavior for this couple? Maybe it's just her horomones being that she's 8 months pregnant, but something tells me it's not. I initially think that I can't even imagine what they are like at home if they are like this in public, but on the other hand, they are probably no different. I imagine they act the exact same way in public as they do in the comforts of their own home, since screaming at him seemed so second nature to her.
In another situation, I had a husband and wife come into the showroom with their designer where the wife decided she wanted to add an additional appliance to their kitchen layout. The designer and the husband both tell her they don't have the space and it's too late because the cabinets have already been ordered. And unlike anything I have ever seen before, this 30 something year old woman, starts flapping her arms and stomping her feet. Seriously, stomping around whimpering that they can't tell her no and she has to get what she wants. Again, I stand frozen in amazement wondering if I should walk away or laugh. The husband and designer seem humiliated so I decided laughing was probably not the best idea. I told them I was going to leave them to discuss their options. I mean, come on! Who behaves like that except for a 5 year old child who has just been told no to their favorite piece of candy?
I have been married for a mere 7 months, but like to think that my husband and I make joint decisions. Sure there are times when we don't agree with each other, but we make compromises, we discuss things, and come up with the best solution. We never argue in public, in fact, we very seldom argue, but when we do, it is behind closed doors. However, seeing these couples and I only named 2 of them, there were more, I wonder what is the best way to behave? The first couple I encountered appeared to be like Barbie & Ken, but after spending 10 minutes with them, they were more like Heidi & Spencer. I immediately knew who wore the pants in that relationship. The 2nd couple, I knew the husband was more like the father in that relationship, but assumed that the wife was going to get what she wanted in the long run. Is it wrong to put on a front for people when out in public? Is it fake? Or is it about making your company feel comfortable and having them wonder who wears the pants? And moreover, what's so wrong if my husband and I both wear the pants?
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Do I have Something in my Teeth?
Yesterday while at work 4 colleagues of mine came into the showroom. They came in pairs. The first 2 and I decided to order lunch for everyone, knowing the other 2 were on their way. 2 of the 4 colleagues I'm friends with, one friend, the other very good friend. (I promise I'm getting at something here, just bear with me.) The one very good friend and I walk to the Thai restaurant to pick up our lunch order. It's a 2 block walk and we chat the whole way there, chat while we stand in the foyer waiting for our food, and chat on the way back. My other 2 colleagues have arrived in the showroom when we return, I say hello, give my other friend give him a kiss on the cheek and he immediately points to my teeth and says, "You have something stuck in between your teeth." I gasp! I'm humiliated! I take my finger and start scraping at whatever particle is sitting there rotting away in my mouth. He's watching me the entire time. I flash my not so pearly whites again and he says, "Nope, it's still there." I'm back to the scraping, this time really digging, not caring at all what I'm doing to my fingernails or to my teeth. I give him one more huge cheesy grin and he tells me I got it! Phew! Victorious! I later say to my colleague, the very good friend who I had talked to all morning, "Why didn't you tell me I had something stuck in my teeth?" He says, "I didn't want to embarrass you." I politely thank him, thinking that I was embarrassed when my other friend pointed the grotesque piece out to me. However, after thinking about all the clients I had talked to that morning with this object stuck in my teeth since, most likely breakfast, I get even more angry! Isn't that what friends are for? Shouldn't we all tell each other when we have something stuck in our teeth?
This morning on the train into the city, it's cold outside, so I'm all bundled up, hat, scarf, gloves, the works. I sit down in my train seat, a 2 seater facing a 3 seater. It's now warm on the train so I take off my hat and gloves. I see the guy sitting across from me, decent looking guy, sort of, you know, staring at me. I'm slightly flattered, but listen buddy, back off! I'm married! He obviously hasn't noticed my ring. I politely give him a half-smile and crank up the tunes on my iPod. He looks as if he is going to say something to me so in order to avoid an awkward conversation, and actually, conversation in general on the 8 AM train, I adjust my earphones and close my eyes for the next 30 minutes into Grand Central. Upon arrival into the station, I open up my eyes and the guy is still looking like he has something to say! The train comes to a stop, we both stand up at the same time and he finally says, "You have something stuck in your hair!" Again, humiliation. Is this the reason the guy has been staring at me? Immediately I grasp for my hair, but find nothing. He says, "No, it's still there." I try again, but this time, he moves my hand, reaches for my hair and gets it himself! Uh....what is going on? He was right, it was a large white fuzz from my winter hat, but is it me or does anyone else agree that it was pretty weird for him to remove the item from hair? I think I turned at least 37 different shades of red before I thanked him and ran off the train. (Careful, to watch the crack between the train and the platform.)
This brings me to my question. Is the proper thing to tell a perfect stranger if they have something in their teeth, their hair, etc? Or is that something that should be left to a friend? Like the other day in the showroom, a man walked in with his zipper completely down. Yep, wide open. I was tempted to tell him, but refrained, thinking that telling a man his zipper was down might be construed as inappropriate. Another day on the train, I was sitting across from a woman who had an obvious black mascara smudge on her face. She was a cute, huge pregnant woman, who I probably should have told that she had mascara on her face, but didn't because again, I was a stranger. But the more I think about it, as weird as the moment was, I truly did appreciate the stranger on the train removing the white fuzz from my hair.
My solution is, for now, I am going to say it would be okay if I had told the man about his zipper as long as I didn't zip it up for him. Or if I told the woman about her mascara, as long as I didn't lick my thumb like my mother used to do and wipe it off her face. People say, carrying mirrors in pockets is a sign of vanity. I think it's a sign of intelligence. One never knows when they might have something stuck in their teeth.
This morning on the train into the city, it's cold outside, so I'm all bundled up, hat, scarf, gloves, the works. I sit down in my train seat, a 2 seater facing a 3 seater. It's now warm on the train so I take off my hat and gloves. I see the guy sitting across from me, decent looking guy, sort of, you know, staring at me. I'm slightly flattered, but listen buddy, back off! I'm married! He obviously hasn't noticed my ring. I politely give him a half-smile and crank up the tunes on my iPod. He looks as if he is going to say something to me so in order to avoid an awkward conversation, and actually, conversation in general on the 8 AM train, I adjust my earphones and close my eyes for the next 30 minutes into Grand Central. Upon arrival into the station, I open up my eyes and the guy is still looking like he has something to say! The train comes to a stop, we both stand up at the same time and he finally says, "You have something stuck in your hair!" Again, humiliation. Is this the reason the guy has been staring at me? Immediately I grasp for my hair, but find nothing. He says, "No, it's still there." I try again, but this time, he moves my hand, reaches for my hair and gets it himself! Uh....what is going on? He was right, it was a large white fuzz from my winter hat, but is it me or does anyone else agree that it was pretty weird for him to remove the item from hair? I think I turned at least 37 different shades of red before I thanked him and ran off the train. (Careful, to watch the crack between the train and the platform.)
This brings me to my question. Is the proper thing to tell a perfect stranger if they have something in their teeth, their hair, etc? Or is that something that should be left to a friend? Like the other day in the showroom, a man walked in with his zipper completely down. Yep, wide open. I was tempted to tell him, but refrained, thinking that telling a man his zipper was down might be construed as inappropriate. Another day on the train, I was sitting across from a woman who had an obvious black mascara smudge on her face. She was a cute, huge pregnant woman, who I probably should have told that she had mascara on her face, but didn't because again, I was a stranger. But the more I think about it, as weird as the moment was, I truly did appreciate the stranger on the train removing the white fuzz from my hair.
My solution is, for now, I am going to say it would be okay if I had told the man about his zipper as long as I didn't zip it up for him. Or if I told the woman about her mascara, as long as I didn't lick my thumb like my mother used to do and wipe it off her face. People say, carrying mirrors in pockets is a sign of vanity. I think it's a sign of intelligence. One never knows when they might have something stuck in their teeth.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Beauty is Pain
This past Friday I did something I haven't done in a very long time. I called in sick AND I wasn't even sick. Gasp! I know you all must be so disappointed. The funny thing is, growing up I used to always play "hookey" from school. So much to the point that I had to have a parent teacher conference with the principal of the school saying that I had to come to school or they were going to have to hold me back. Hellz no! There was only one thing worse than going to school and that was repeating a grade. Once my parents actually switched me into a school that I liked I stopped playing hookey until I got to college. Here is where I realized I didn't even have to play sick, I could just NOT go to class. However, this time, there were no parent teacher conferences, just the tell tale grades I received after my first semester. "Oh, so this is what happens when you don't go to class?" I realized now being old and wise that when I enjoy something whether it's school or a job, I go to it and will excell at it, but when I don't enjoy it, I could really care less. Sorry, all of this leading up to why it was shocking that I actually called in sick this past Friday. I had a scheduled doctor's appointment, but didn't want to use my personal/sick days for a measley doctor's appointment. I also needed a well-deserved break from my job, yes selling dishwashers can be stressful.
So, first stop, Westport Connecticut, to see my dermatologist. I have been seeing this dermatologist for the past 4 years now and feel I have established a small bond with him. He's a great guy, young, not overly handsome, but his personality makes him adorable, very charming. My visit today was due to a small breakout of pimples on my cheek. Granted, all my life I have been blessed with good skin, of course an occasional zit will appear, but nothing drastic. So my doctor laughs when I tell him the reason for my visit is a bad breakout, according to him it's nothing. He takes a quick look at my face, writes up a few prescriptions, one a pill, the other a topical cream and tells me he can get rid of the biggest zit that is sitting in the middle of my cheek. I say, "Get rid of it?" He says, "Yes, darling. I'll inject it with a needle, pop what's inside of there and dry it up. It will be gone by tomorrow morning." Llaaaahhh (read this word while imagining my cute doctor enveloped by a bright light behind him)! This doctor truly is a miracle worker! Who knew you could get rid of a huge zit in less that 24 hours by injecting it with a needle. Wait! Did he say needle? I hate needles! So I ask, "Does it hurt?" He smirks and says, "Beauty is Pain, my dear, beauty is pain." My vanity takes over and I decide to go for the injection. While I'm waiting for the good doctor to come back into the room. I'm reading a sign on the wall advertising the services of my dermatologist's office: Restylane, Botox, Spider vein removal, some other items I don't remember, and laser hair removal. I have always had what I like to call "peach fuzz" so after I am shot in the cheek with a needle to get rid of my zit (During which my doctor tells me how 14-16 year old girls come into his office on almost a daily basis to have this procedure done because not only are they in their teens and breaking out with pimples, they also, well, live in Westport. Unreal.) I decide to broach the subject of laser hair removal. He in his very charming way (use of sarcasm here) tells me that laser hair removal works wonders on people with dark hair, but does not do anything for peach fuzz. He says "for peach fuzz, you need to wax." He grabs my chin, turns my head to the left then to the right and says, "wax, wax, wax!" Here's the real kicker, he then tells me however he has another injection he can use on me to get rid of my frown lines around my mouth! What??
"How old are you" he asks.
"I'll be 30 in July" I reply.
He kindly says, "Yep. It's about that time. I don't know what it is, but something is going on with your body, excess peach fuzz, zits, and lines around your mouth. Come back in a few months if you want to take care of those lines."
Beauty is pain I remind myself as I check out with the receptionist and make an appointment to come back in a few months...Beauty is Pain.....
So, first stop, Westport Connecticut, to see my dermatologist. I have been seeing this dermatologist for the past 4 years now and feel I have established a small bond with him. He's a great guy, young, not overly handsome, but his personality makes him adorable, very charming. My visit today was due to a small breakout of pimples on my cheek. Granted, all my life I have been blessed with good skin, of course an occasional zit will appear, but nothing drastic. So my doctor laughs when I tell him the reason for my visit is a bad breakout, according to him it's nothing. He takes a quick look at my face, writes up a few prescriptions, one a pill, the other a topical cream and tells me he can get rid of the biggest zit that is sitting in the middle of my cheek. I say, "Get rid of it?" He says, "Yes, darling. I'll inject it with a needle, pop what's inside of there and dry it up. It will be gone by tomorrow morning." Llaaaahhh (read this word while imagining my cute doctor enveloped by a bright light behind him)! This doctor truly is a miracle worker! Who knew you could get rid of a huge zit in less that 24 hours by injecting it with a needle. Wait! Did he say needle? I hate needles! So I ask, "Does it hurt?" He smirks and says, "Beauty is Pain, my dear, beauty is pain." My vanity takes over and I decide to go for the injection. While I'm waiting for the good doctor to come back into the room. I'm reading a sign on the wall advertising the services of my dermatologist's office: Restylane, Botox, Spider vein removal, some other items I don't remember, and laser hair removal. I have always had what I like to call "peach fuzz" so after I am shot in the cheek with a needle to get rid of my zit (During which my doctor tells me how 14-16 year old girls come into his office on almost a daily basis to have this procedure done because not only are they in their teens and breaking out with pimples, they also, well, live in Westport. Unreal.) I decide to broach the subject of laser hair removal. He in his very charming way (use of sarcasm here) tells me that laser hair removal works wonders on people with dark hair, but does not do anything for peach fuzz. He says "for peach fuzz, you need to wax." He grabs my chin, turns my head to the left then to the right and says, "wax, wax, wax!" Here's the real kicker, he then tells me however he has another injection he can use on me to get rid of my frown lines around my mouth! What??
"How old are you" he asks.
"I'll be 30 in July" I reply.
He kindly says, "Yep. It's about that time. I don't know what it is, but something is going on with your body, excess peach fuzz, zits, and lines around your mouth. Come back in a few months if you want to take care of those lines."
Beauty is pain I remind myself as I check out with the receptionist and make an appointment to come back in a few months...Beauty is Pain.....
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