I have never worked in an automotive plant. But, thanks to my father working for Ford Motor for 30 years, it almost seemed as if I knew what was going on there. Except for one minor job, I have never worked with a union. But since my father was a UAW member (and I kept reading their monthly newsletter), it almost as if I knew what they were doing as well. That is what 30 years of working in the same place will do - it's almost like a marriage of sorts.
By now, you know the troubles Michigan has been facing with its economy, partially due to all this downsizing automotive companies & suppliers have either done or are talking about doing. Reading some of the accounts in the newspaper, you can easily feel for those losing their jobs, knowing they "got the shaft" from their employer.
The state backed itself into a corner, however, by not working on promoting a second economic resource during the automotive booms. Name one thing Michigan is known for other than its automobiles. Answer: Tourism. (Other than the "U.P.", what draw is there in Michigan for tourists?) So, as the auto industry goes, so goes the state. Everyone is crying red ink and marching it to their nearest bankruptcy retailer.
Coming back to the shared employee/passenger parking lot from work today, I saw at least 500 brand new vehicles (Daimler-Chryslers, I believe) taking up spots in the overflow section of the lot. This is a block south of where 200 Jeep Libertys are parked, and across the street from a virtual Grand Cherokee nirvana. One local Ford dealership even had three overflow lots off-site because the showrooms couldn't handle the glut of inventory.
Who's to know when these cars will even make it back to the showroom due to customer demand? The end result dominoes into lost productivity, cancelled production, and many worker hours lost. Unfortunately, this may be the answer to the problem in the short term: stop making vehicles until people buy what's out there. I know that's not what union workers or their actual unions want to see; they want to see guaranteed work for everybody. The bigger the glut, however, the longer it will take to reduce that glut and make the need for more new vehicles a reality. Whether they have family or not, it is a biting reality that must eventually be accepted.
It's really sad to see: Michigan's treasures being buried in a back lot somewhere, and with no answers as to how they may be unearthed by the consumer and shine light on our economy again.
I couldn't even tell you where to begin. That's what happens when you only "almost" know what's going on.
June 30, 2006
June 29, 2006
License plates lose luster
I was an avid license plate fan growing up, and even managed to collect a few old plates from my parents' cars back in the day. I remember thumbing through what I considered a great reference book from the early 80s, which showed plates for all 50 states and in all the multiple classifications that were possible. And yes, that weak piece of paper flapping around the back of my bicycle/tricycle were hand-drawn "plates".
Michigan, like most other states (presumably), issued new plates year after year until around 1975 or so; when those dreaded stick-um tags debuted. I understood the reasoning (save money on raw materials), but the fun was gone. And since 1983, the main issued plate was the same dull blue & white one. Nobody I knew liked it, since it possessed no character, unlike its predecessors.
Needless to say, I jumped on the bandwagon when the state finally offered second-tier plates commemorating the auto centennial, and now possess the model with the Mackinac Bridge on it. Despite these two, the blue plate endured.
Finally, they are retiring that plate in 2007 in favor of a more reflective material. You would expect me to jump out of my seat in jubilation. Instead, I just read the article and moved to the next page. Why? When I saw a catalog of what custom plates are out there now, I realized there is already too much variety out there that is actually not in massive circulation.
Plates with the Mac bridge in it are great. But when you commemorate lighthouses, college teams, colleges as a whole, and such... it takes away from the uniqueness that such issues demand. I for one was never a fan of the personalized license plates (which promote messages), and to me these offshoot plates are approaching that level too fast, and are taking too much enjoyment out of a one-time hobby.
As if attractions and colleges aren't advertised enough through those damned "naming rights"...
Michigan, like most other states (presumably), issued new plates year after year until around 1975 or so; when those dreaded stick-um tags debuted. I understood the reasoning (save money on raw materials), but the fun was gone. And since 1983, the main issued plate was the same dull blue & white one. Nobody I knew liked it, since it possessed no character, unlike its predecessors.
Needless to say, I jumped on the bandwagon when the state finally offered second-tier plates commemorating the auto centennial, and now possess the model with the Mackinac Bridge on it. Despite these two, the blue plate endured.
Finally, they are retiring that plate in 2007 in favor of a more reflective material. You would expect me to jump out of my seat in jubilation. Instead, I just read the article and moved to the next page. Why? When I saw a catalog of what custom plates are out there now, I realized there is already too much variety out there that is actually not in massive circulation.
Plates with the Mac bridge in it are great. But when you commemorate lighthouses, college teams, colleges as a whole, and such... it takes away from the uniqueness that such issues demand. I for one was never a fan of the personalized license plates (which promote messages), and to me these offshoot plates are approaching that level too fast, and are taking too much enjoyment out of a one-time hobby.
As if attractions and colleges aren't advertised enough through those damned "naming rights"...
June 28, 2006
Bad habits just get passed on
Not too long ago I was forced into a housing situation that, under normal circumstances, would not have occurred. My grandmother was over 90 and needed nursing home care after being virtually impervious to age up to that point. After the initial shock wore off, I was volunteered to live in her house & to keep it up in case she became well enough to come home.
She never left the nursing home & died sixteen months later. Meanwhile, I lived there for a year, and every time I had visitors, they complimented me on how great the house looked. I would just shrug my shoulders. My grandmother was an impeccable housekeeper - one of those houses where you were afraid to touch or move anything because it would look so out of place.
Eventually, the shrugged shoulders were replaced with appreciation. It hadn't been that long ago since I was a bonafide pack-rat; never throwing anything out, and leaving everything out in the open. I was a typical teenage slob whose untidiness extended into my 20s. Through running a household, I gained an appreciation for uncluttered surroundings and began to take pride in always cleaning. It was partially due to my grandmother's influence, but I also began to mature and be responsible.
Now my former "gift" for untidiness passes onto my roommate, who is nearly 40 and still can't clean up after himself. The roles have changed; now I am the "parental figure" always complaining, and he has my former role of not doing anything about it.
Three days after a massive cleaning of the front of our current house, what did I come home to today? Chicken pieces from KFC two days ago, used silverware, cigarette pack wrappers, DVDs all over the place, and ashtrays filled to overflowing, really giving the house a musty smell (he smokes like two smokestacks put together).
I wonder how much longer I have to pick up after a grown adult. Truth be told, he's dragged me down to where I no longer use the energy to be as spotless as a few years ago. The pride I had gained has never left me, but is as covered over with mental muck as the carpets are with regular muck. If I yell at him, he'll do a five minute spurt, but that's about it.
Now I was still relatively young enough in my mid-20s to have it proven to me how much cleanliness means. This man is almost double that age, and I suppose bad habits don't even die at all once you hit a certain age.
I wish this was one habit from my past that I didn't figuratively pass on. Now I can adequately explain half the gray hairs on my father's head.
She never left the nursing home & died sixteen months later. Meanwhile, I lived there for a year, and every time I had visitors, they complimented me on how great the house looked. I would just shrug my shoulders. My grandmother was an impeccable housekeeper - one of those houses where you were afraid to touch or move anything because it would look so out of place.
Eventually, the shrugged shoulders were replaced with appreciation. It hadn't been that long ago since I was a bonafide pack-rat; never throwing anything out, and leaving everything out in the open. I was a typical teenage slob whose untidiness extended into my 20s. Through running a household, I gained an appreciation for uncluttered surroundings and began to take pride in always cleaning. It was partially due to my grandmother's influence, but I also began to mature and be responsible.
Now my former "gift" for untidiness passes onto my roommate, who is nearly 40 and still can't clean up after himself. The roles have changed; now I am the "parental figure" always complaining, and he has my former role of not doing anything about it.
Three days after a massive cleaning of the front of our current house, what did I come home to today? Chicken pieces from KFC two days ago, used silverware, cigarette pack wrappers, DVDs all over the place, and ashtrays filled to overflowing, really giving the house a musty smell (he smokes like two smokestacks put together).
I wonder how much longer I have to pick up after a grown adult. Truth be told, he's dragged me down to where I no longer use the energy to be as spotless as a few years ago. The pride I had gained has never left me, but is as covered over with mental muck as the carpets are with regular muck. If I yell at him, he'll do a five minute spurt, but that's about it.
Now I was still relatively young enough in my mid-20s to have it proven to me how much cleanliness means. This man is almost double that age, and I suppose bad habits don't even die at all once you hit a certain age.
I wish this was one habit from my past that I didn't figuratively pass on. Now I can adequately explain half the gray hairs on my father's head.
June 27, 2006
If you can't stay true to the plot...
I'm not a movie-goer. On the rare occasions I do go, it's as much for theatre ambience as it is the plot I'm witnessing on-screen. I usually leave discussions about questionable scriptwriting to the "experts".
I subscribe to the release-on-DVD theory, and yesterday I did rent a movie that sparked my interest: the revival of the Pink Panther franchise with Steve Martin, with a dash of classic Panther cartoons on the side. I didn't have to watch far to find that the cartoons gave me more of a laugh than the latest movie remake did.
Martin got Inspector Clouseau's French accent down to a "T". But from that point, it was the only drawing card. The overall plot was watered down and did a disservice to the memories of the late Blake Edwards & Peter Sellers. For one thing, no effort was attempted to make the characters of Clouseau and Inspector Dreyfuss look like their previous counterparts. Okay, Clouseau had gray hair in this one... but he's now being made an inspector for the first time? And the actual Panther jewel is now just a pink ring? The die-hards know that the original jewel resembled a diamond that was always in a museum display case.
These die-hard fans (like me) cannot be ignored and will immediately point out discrepancies in continuity over the life of a film franchise. In getting the new generations into old franchises, producers have sacrificed logical continuity for flash. The older films focused more on Clouseau's clumsiness & the gradually lost nerves of Dreyfuss, who wants nothing more than to see Clouseau in a straitjacket. The scenes had a little more buildup and kept you riveted to the screen, waiting for that bellylaugh. And here they start out as friends? Didn't impress me much. "Prequel" won't be the word I'm using to describe it.
Therein lies a reason why reviving franchises these days don't seem to work: the new films claim to owe nothing to what came before them. The franchise doesn't start with the 2006 film; they started many years ago, and to discredit them is not showing the newly converted fan what the characters really meant. Timeless humor is not important to the producers these days. And oftentimes, this really buries their latest efforts which are seen as hollow.
Panther is a recent example, and I'm currently reading a preview for the new Superman movie due out this week. The reviewer basically said that the Christopher Reeve model should have been left alone to stand by itself as the franchise leader. We've never even heard about the new actor playing Superman. It's likely to be more about glitz & sex than before. Is this all writers can come up with? Reeve's Superman shared tender moments with Margot Kidder's Lois Lane. Expect a romp in the sack with this one, which the franchise had never stressed before - it's not part of who the character is.
When The Dukes Of Hazzard came out last year, what did we see in the trailers? Jessica Simpson getting all turned on with the Enos character. The old TV series preached good underlying values in spite of the corrupt Hazzard happenings. Did we really need to see Daisy & Enos get it on just to give Simpson some positive reviews? No wonder fans said never to see the movie... and I've not been tempted.
Whatever happened to the idea of just re-issuing the older movies; you know, "digitally remastered"? There's nothing wrong with what came out before; provided the new generation even finds out about it. You can just smell a cover-up by the studios.
Martin was originally talking about a Panther sequel. For those who know better, feel free to relax: the "sequel" I know came in the early 1980s.
Save that popcorn for the next chair.
I subscribe to the release-on-DVD theory, and yesterday I did rent a movie that sparked my interest: the revival of the Pink Panther franchise with Steve Martin, with a dash of classic Panther cartoons on the side. I didn't have to watch far to find that the cartoons gave me more of a laugh than the latest movie remake did.
Martin got Inspector Clouseau's French accent down to a "T". But from that point, it was the only drawing card. The overall plot was watered down and did a disservice to the memories of the late Blake Edwards & Peter Sellers. For one thing, no effort was attempted to make the characters of Clouseau and Inspector Dreyfuss look like their previous counterparts. Okay, Clouseau had gray hair in this one... but he's now being made an inspector for the first time? And the actual Panther jewel is now just a pink ring? The die-hards know that the original jewel resembled a diamond that was always in a museum display case.
These die-hard fans (like me) cannot be ignored and will immediately point out discrepancies in continuity over the life of a film franchise. In getting the new generations into old franchises, producers have sacrificed logical continuity for flash. The older films focused more on Clouseau's clumsiness & the gradually lost nerves of Dreyfuss, who wants nothing more than to see Clouseau in a straitjacket. The scenes had a little more buildup and kept you riveted to the screen, waiting for that bellylaugh. And here they start out as friends? Didn't impress me much. "Prequel" won't be the word I'm using to describe it.
Therein lies a reason why reviving franchises these days don't seem to work: the new films claim to owe nothing to what came before them. The franchise doesn't start with the 2006 film; they started many years ago, and to discredit them is not showing the newly converted fan what the characters really meant. Timeless humor is not important to the producers these days. And oftentimes, this really buries their latest efforts which are seen as hollow.
Panther is a recent example, and I'm currently reading a preview for the new Superman movie due out this week. The reviewer basically said that the Christopher Reeve model should have been left alone to stand by itself as the franchise leader. We've never even heard about the new actor playing Superman. It's likely to be more about glitz & sex than before. Is this all writers can come up with? Reeve's Superman shared tender moments with Margot Kidder's Lois Lane. Expect a romp in the sack with this one, which the franchise had never stressed before - it's not part of who the character is.
When The Dukes Of Hazzard came out last year, what did we see in the trailers? Jessica Simpson getting all turned on with the Enos character. The old TV series preached good underlying values in spite of the corrupt Hazzard happenings. Did we really need to see Daisy & Enos get it on just to give Simpson some positive reviews? No wonder fans said never to see the movie... and I've not been tempted.
Whatever happened to the idea of just re-issuing the older movies; you know, "digitally remastered"? There's nothing wrong with what came out before; provided the new generation even finds out about it. You can just smell a cover-up by the studios.
Martin was originally talking about a Panther sequel. For those who know better, feel free to relax: the "sequel" I know came in the early 1980s.
Save that popcorn for the next chair.
June 26, 2006
Sometimes it begins with the smile
Eight ex-girlfriends in thirteen years may seem like chump change to some; a vision of confused thoughts & indecision to others. For those eight, I must admit about twenty crushes which never seem to have any indication of progressing further.
Now the question is: Twenty-one or nine?
They usually begin with a smile from the girl, although it can be counted on one finger how many of those smiles were not genuine. Perhaps I need another finger. And no, it's not Raquel, who reminds me too much of my first girlfriend who needed a tele-prompter to talk. This is a cheerful, talkative, huggable sort who I've known two years, but have not thought of seriously until now. She's a redhead named Lisa who works for (horrors) a competing airline at work.
Now since my disastrous, abuse-laden relationship I had in 2001-02, I have been very careful about who I've been with. Many times since, that realization has resulted in the mental blocks which help create the date vacumn I've had. So I approach this with great trepidation. Unlike Raquel, who was brought to my attention by others at the snack bar who acted as coaches, Lisa was found on my own, with no middleman. She certainly doesn't shy from the attention and has been real nice to me. I've not even had time to pull out the lame one-liners & act like a jerk yet. The smile disarms, and that's a good start.
At the risk of a jinx, I will leave it at that. I have always hoped for something nice in the realtionship department, and I can say it has already started out better than most, in spite of it being all small-talk to this point.
You need a solid foundation to build a good relationship. When the so-called "good times" fade out and there's nothing underneath, it's a hollow feeling. I hope for some substance here.
Now the question is: Twenty-one or nine?
They usually begin with a smile from the girl, although it can be counted on one finger how many of those smiles were not genuine. Perhaps I need another finger. And no, it's not Raquel, who reminds me too much of my first girlfriend who needed a tele-prompter to talk. This is a cheerful, talkative, huggable sort who I've known two years, but have not thought of seriously until now. She's a redhead named Lisa who works for (horrors) a competing airline at work.
Now since my disastrous, abuse-laden relationship I had in 2001-02, I have been very careful about who I've been with. Many times since, that realization has resulted in the mental blocks which help create the date vacumn I've had. So I approach this with great trepidation. Unlike Raquel, who was brought to my attention by others at the snack bar who acted as coaches, Lisa was found on my own, with no middleman. She certainly doesn't shy from the attention and has been real nice to me. I've not even had time to pull out the lame one-liners & act like a jerk yet. The smile disarms, and that's a good start.
At the risk of a jinx, I will leave it at that. I have always hoped for something nice in the realtionship department, and I can say it has already started out better than most, in spite of it being all small-talk to this point.
You need a solid foundation to build a good relationship. When the so-called "good times" fade out and there's nothing underneath, it's a hollow feeling. I hope for some substance here.
Chain me, chain my money
I espoused the benefits from being thrifty in the last entry. But as with anything else, there is not so much a breaking point as there is a point of weakness; the exception to the rule.
I exercised some guts and moxie a few days ago in going to the one place I will spend everything on: Bed, Bath & Beyond.
Mind you, I had just received my (weak) paycheck and had money in tow. Everyone here knows about my like for that store and let me go in on one condition: that the roommate handle my money so I wouldn't go spending. Well, there's no logic in that, since I still have yet to see $100 he borrowed from me two months ago. We were headed to Best Buy to look for a printer, and I to look for a simulation game I've been eyeing for years (and is obviously out of circulation: Airport Tycoon.
No luck in either, but my roommate wanted to see for himself what BB&B was like, so we went inside. I was amazed by the tracks we were covering. We got thru the first half of the store in less than five minutes, and were literally running through the back end of the store, thinking this might not result in a pocketbook hit after all.
Then we hit the picture frame department. Oops.
Three figures later, I was walking out of there with three real nice pictures for the living room, allbeit with looks from the roommate because I couldn't resist them. Walk into my living room and you'll see over $400 in new art I've picked up since 2004. Give me some credit, though... it's my first visit there since that 2004 day, so you can say I have displayed some control over that weakness.
Then we get home and the thought turns to birthday presents for a girl I know at work, and I talk about the used styrofoam cup I saw in the break room yesterday. We laugh and the cycle starts all over again. Call me a hypocrite, but when you've been a good soldier like I have at work all week, what's wrong with some play mixed in with the work?
I exercised some guts and moxie a few days ago in going to the one place I will spend everything on: Bed, Bath & Beyond.
Mind you, I had just received my (weak) paycheck and had money in tow. Everyone here knows about my like for that store and let me go in on one condition: that the roommate handle my money so I wouldn't go spending. Well, there's no logic in that, since I still have yet to see $100 he borrowed from me two months ago. We were headed to Best Buy to look for a printer, and I to look for a simulation game I've been eyeing for years (and is obviously out of circulation: Airport Tycoon.
No luck in either, but my roommate wanted to see for himself what BB&B was like, so we went inside. I was amazed by the tracks we were covering. We got thru the first half of the store in less than five minutes, and were literally running through the back end of the store, thinking this might not result in a pocketbook hit after all.
Then we hit the picture frame department. Oops.
Three figures later, I was walking out of there with three real nice pictures for the living room, allbeit with looks from the roommate because I couldn't resist them. Walk into my living room and you'll see over $400 in new art I've picked up since 2004. Give me some credit, though... it's my first visit there since that 2004 day, so you can say I have displayed some control over that weakness.
Then we get home and the thought turns to birthday presents for a girl I know at work, and I talk about the used styrofoam cup I saw in the break room yesterday. We laugh and the cycle starts all over again. Call me a hypocrite, but when you've been a good soldier like I have at work all week, what's wrong with some play mixed in with the work?
June 20, 2006
Always thriftier than Goodwill
Sorry I've not updated in a couple days, but the roommate monopolized the computer during that time designing a house he'll never actually build, among other things. The computer has also been loaded with viruses lately so we've had to be careful.
Yesterday was perhaps my least productive day since I moved here four years ago. Even while out of work for five months in 2005, at least I did something every day. Not so with yesterday. The busiest thing I did was move the garbage can six feet out from the house to prepare for trash day today. Sometimes you have those days where you want the whole world to bypass you and you want to "mail it in" from the moment you get up. That explains Monday.
It was the trash day issue that inspired today's entry. Giving the house a needed dose of fresh air, I saw a truck pull up in front of the house, and the same guy I saw last week got out and took a vacumn cleaner & a roll of wire mesh out of the neighbors' yards and load it. At first I shook my head: why would someone want to root through the trash?
I had to stop myself awful quickly because someone I know has done that: me.
How did I gain the end tables and coffee table for the living room? Not to mention the dining room chairs and even my mattress? Exactly; picking through other people want-nots. My roommate doesn't understand my reasoning, especially since we have a goodwill store two blocks from the house.
This, more than anything, shows my thriftiness. If I can get something at the lowest possible price, I'll do it. Having not had a raise at work for three years & with the cost of everything spiraling out of control since then, I can't just spend freely and binge. I eventually did run out of saved-up money during the five months I was out last year, but it ended up lasting me three months. Those last two months were torture, and I don't want to end up like that again. So I just increased the level of my thriftiness, and it carries over to today.
I am a victim of the materialistic society, and though I tolerate it, I'll speak out against it from time to time; particularly in the areas of romance (do they like you or your pocketbook). Not wanting to lower myself to the people I speak out against, I do what's right for me and I don't go to Macy's, Marshall Fields and Lord & Taylor like my mother did. If I don't have the money for something, I won't borrow it, or I'll wait as long as it takes. I figure they won't discontinue the item during that time. Nobody really has to know where I obtained my furniture.
So I stood there at the door as the guy loaded his truck, and just said nothing out of respect; noting a peer with the same idea I've had. And it's worked for both of us with no complaints. To get ahead in life, you need to start at the bottom level, and I've got that pretty much down to a science.
Yesterday was perhaps my least productive day since I moved here four years ago. Even while out of work for five months in 2005, at least I did something every day. Not so with yesterday. The busiest thing I did was move the garbage can six feet out from the house to prepare for trash day today. Sometimes you have those days where you want the whole world to bypass you and you want to "mail it in" from the moment you get up. That explains Monday.
It was the trash day issue that inspired today's entry. Giving the house a needed dose of fresh air, I saw a truck pull up in front of the house, and the same guy I saw last week got out and took a vacumn cleaner & a roll of wire mesh out of the neighbors' yards and load it. At first I shook my head: why would someone want to root through the trash?
I had to stop myself awful quickly because someone I know has done that: me.
How did I gain the end tables and coffee table for the living room? Not to mention the dining room chairs and even my mattress? Exactly; picking through other people want-nots. My roommate doesn't understand my reasoning, especially since we have a goodwill store two blocks from the house.
This, more than anything, shows my thriftiness. If I can get something at the lowest possible price, I'll do it. Having not had a raise at work for three years & with the cost of everything spiraling out of control since then, I can't just spend freely and binge. I eventually did run out of saved-up money during the five months I was out last year, but it ended up lasting me three months. Those last two months were torture, and I don't want to end up like that again. So I just increased the level of my thriftiness, and it carries over to today.
I am a victim of the materialistic society, and though I tolerate it, I'll speak out against it from time to time; particularly in the areas of romance (do they like you or your pocketbook). Not wanting to lower myself to the people I speak out against, I do what's right for me and I don't go to Macy's, Marshall Fields and Lord & Taylor like my mother did. If I don't have the money for something, I won't borrow it, or I'll wait as long as it takes. I figure they won't discontinue the item during that time. Nobody really has to know where I obtained my furniture.
So I stood there at the door as the guy loaded his truck, and just said nothing out of respect; noting a peer with the same idea I've had. And it's worked for both of us with no complaints. To get ahead in life, you need to start at the bottom level, and I've got that pretty much down to a science.
June 17, 2006
It's not that I don't sympathize
Seems that everything that happens to me lately has occurred on the road or when I'm in my vehicle.
As I get older, I've realized two things about my driving: I am having much more difficulty seeing at night (night blindness?), and I am getting paranoid about being out there after dark. I remember telling my parents years ago I wanted to live out in the country "where there's no lights". Now I need streetlights in order to feel safe.
Despite those shortcomings, they must be overlooked as my job requires me to be on the road during early morning hours. But one can not throw caution to the wind and I'm glad I had mine.
Pulling out of Speedway today, I was approached by a man in his early 60s, wearing a plain t-shirt and underwear, armed with a hospital bracelet and nacho cheese stains on that shirt. He spoke to me in a very shaky voice that he needed $1.40 to buy a candy bar due to a diabetic condition. He was worried that without the needed sugar, he'd pass out.
Now my father has diabetes as well, and I hope he doesn't shake his head when he reads this: I told the man I had no money, backed out and left. Then my latest pet peeve came to me when he called to me, "Aren't you a good Christian?" This I believe was an immediate attempt to give me the proverbial guilt trip. I got out of that parking lot as fast as I could.
Unfortunately, I don't trust people much anymore, especially complete strangers near an airport, walking around in their underwear. There were about ten other customers at the gas station at that time; why did he pick on me? Why wasn't he in a hospital, and if he was, how did they let him out in his condition? If it was a prank, how did he get the hospital bracelet? And how could I assume that $1.40 was all he wanted? You really have to be careful out there.
I'm so worn down by reading stories about decoys and undercover operations that it automatically triggers the "no" mechanism in me, which today was probably worth it. I hope I will not be judged as a non-Christian by saying no. It's not that I don't sympathize for anyone in his condition, or my father's. I hate seeing others suffer.
Personal safety, however, has no time to suffer in today's world.
As I get older, I've realized two things about my driving: I am having much more difficulty seeing at night (night blindness?), and I am getting paranoid about being out there after dark. I remember telling my parents years ago I wanted to live out in the country "where there's no lights". Now I need streetlights in order to feel safe.
Despite those shortcomings, they must be overlooked as my job requires me to be on the road during early morning hours. But one can not throw caution to the wind and I'm glad I had mine.
Pulling out of Speedway today, I was approached by a man in his early 60s, wearing a plain t-shirt and underwear, armed with a hospital bracelet and nacho cheese stains on that shirt. He spoke to me in a very shaky voice that he needed $1.40 to buy a candy bar due to a diabetic condition. He was worried that without the needed sugar, he'd pass out.
Now my father has diabetes as well, and I hope he doesn't shake his head when he reads this: I told the man I had no money, backed out and left. Then my latest pet peeve came to me when he called to me, "Aren't you a good Christian?" This I believe was an immediate attempt to give me the proverbial guilt trip. I got out of that parking lot as fast as I could.
Unfortunately, I don't trust people much anymore, especially complete strangers near an airport, walking around in their underwear. There were about ten other customers at the gas station at that time; why did he pick on me? Why wasn't he in a hospital, and if he was, how did they let him out in his condition? If it was a prank, how did he get the hospital bracelet? And how could I assume that $1.40 was all he wanted? You really have to be careful out there.
I'm so worn down by reading stories about decoys and undercover operations that it automatically triggers the "no" mechanism in me, which today was probably worth it. I hope I will not be judged as a non-Christian by saying no. It's not that I don't sympathize for anyone in his condition, or my father's. I hate seeing others suffer.
Personal safety, however, has no time to suffer in today's world.
June 16, 2006
Which leftover brains do drivers get?
Here's another in a series of columns poking fun of the everyday driver in my small area of this road-raged state.
* Potentially constructive conversation goes kaput: A woman & her two daughters came in on a flight today and both were totally lost - they are from Colgate, Ohio and don't know Michigan at all. They were looking for the best way to get home. Having been living here all my life, I was able to tell them to take I-94/I-275/I-75 to get home. My theory got soiled when a co-worker on the bus reminded me that there's construction all the way from Monroe to Toledo on I-75, so she suggested Telegraph Road. Though it's been six years since I've ventured that far, I still remember the area pretty well and thought "well, I've saved the day." We rehashed the route for her three times in ten minutes, and the woman left the bus saying "well, we normally take US-23..." What a waste of conversation and thinking (though it doesn't upset me).
* If you want to be road-legal, here are two spur-of-the-moment cars I suggest you do not buy: later models of the Pontiac Sunfire and Chevy Cavalier. I prefer not to call it coincidence when I was stuck behind each of those cars today, and neither one had any of their brake lights working - not even the third light above the others. I linked this with turn signals on the cars of certain drivers: were they optional in those models & years?
* Older people who are sadly past their prime in driving safely are still on the road. A truck was riding very slowly in the right lane for about five blocks before turning right. Upon completing the turn, he was doing 15 MPH in a 40 MPH zone, looking dazed and confused. No hazard lights on and no car problems were evident. The semi behind me even whizzed past him. If this was a Sunday drive, sorry fella: today was Friday.
* Pulling out of a street, a truck whizzed past me honking my way. Pulling up alongside, she looked out her window and smiled, but just kept staring - and the smile was totally blank. Did I draw a random number or something? That gets me the creeps sometimes, and this was broad daylight!
People often ask why I'm such a hermit and don't get out much. A day like this, where you literally have to drive defensively for two people at once, is part of what I've found to be the multiple choice answer.
* Potentially constructive conversation goes kaput: A woman & her two daughters came in on a flight today and both were totally lost - they are from Colgate, Ohio and don't know Michigan at all. They were looking for the best way to get home. Having been living here all my life, I was able to tell them to take I-94/I-275/I-75 to get home. My theory got soiled when a co-worker on the bus reminded me that there's construction all the way from Monroe to Toledo on I-75, so she suggested Telegraph Road. Though it's been six years since I've ventured that far, I still remember the area pretty well and thought "well, I've saved the day." We rehashed the route for her three times in ten minutes, and the woman left the bus saying "well, we normally take US-23..." What a waste of conversation and thinking (though it doesn't upset me).
* If you want to be road-legal, here are two spur-of-the-moment cars I suggest you do not buy: later models of the Pontiac Sunfire and Chevy Cavalier. I prefer not to call it coincidence when I was stuck behind each of those cars today, and neither one had any of their brake lights working - not even the third light above the others. I linked this with turn signals on the cars of certain drivers: were they optional in those models & years?
* Older people who are sadly past their prime in driving safely are still on the road. A truck was riding very slowly in the right lane for about five blocks before turning right. Upon completing the turn, he was doing 15 MPH in a 40 MPH zone, looking dazed and confused. No hazard lights on and no car problems were evident. The semi behind me even whizzed past him. If this was a Sunday drive, sorry fella: today was Friday.
* Pulling out of a street, a truck whizzed past me honking my way. Pulling up alongside, she looked out her window and smiled, but just kept staring - and the smile was totally blank. Did I draw a random number or something? That gets me the creeps sometimes, and this was broad daylight!
People often ask why I'm such a hermit and don't get out much. A day like this, where you literally have to drive defensively for two people at once, is part of what I've found to be the multiple choice answer.
June 15, 2006
Screen your guests carefully
How nice it was to be back in that director's chair last night after four years away. I've promised myself every time I come back to the television field that I'm not going to step on anybody's toes or let anyone down.
What I try to practice now is constructive criticism, and for me to be talking about this to the hostess of yesterday's show smacks of a TV101 class that had just failed.
Screen your guests!
This show is supposed to be about career advancement, whether it be through training, college, or job hunting. The second guest of the night was an 88-year old Polish native; the last believed surviving member of the audacity that was Auschwicz.
We both looked forward to hearing the story of his life - after the cameras stopped rolling, not during. This man is the most feisty 88-year old I have ever met next to my late grandmother.
The show topic was supposed to be on how he became a success with a tool-and-die business. She asked many job-related questions of him, but he always went back to the old memories, of which undoubtedly he harbored many grudges. But the frustrations he had bottled up inside seemed to pour out during the taping of the show. It was a very long 30 minutes. The hostess did her best to look composed, but when he started getting hateful, I was tempted to stop the tape and cancel the show. Needless to say I didn't; thinking I'd be smattered with questions on top of the ones we had about this man.
What started as a unique opportunity turned into a "nice to see you" visit, and he departed upset. I am tempted to suggest that the show not be aired due to the uneasiness on set. The hostess confided to me her nervousness, and all I wanted to do was simply ask, "Why didn't you do your homework?"
If he is television material, he belongs on a different type of program, for one, that would explore his life more closely. He certainly wasn't given the chance to do so in this program. And I'm not sure what the hostess was thinking. She clearly wasn't aware about who her guest was. To produce a good TV show, even the best producers have to do their homework, and screening a potential guest is one of them. Unless you're a lifelong friend with that person, how can you trust what they are about to say?
In conclusion: I do hope he gets his story told in a unique way and gains appreciation for all he went through. And I will spend the summer break hammering it home to the hostess: Interviewing a guest is not simply "Slam, bam."
What I try to practice now is constructive criticism, and for me to be talking about this to the hostess of yesterday's show smacks of a TV101 class that had just failed.
Screen your guests!
This show is supposed to be about career advancement, whether it be through training, college, or job hunting. The second guest of the night was an 88-year old Polish native; the last believed surviving member of the audacity that was Auschwicz.
We both looked forward to hearing the story of his life - after the cameras stopped rolling, not during. This man is the most feisty 88-year old I have ever met next to my late grandmother.
The show topic was supposed to be on how he became a success with a tool-and-die business. She asked many job-related questions of him, but he always went back to the old memories, of which undoubtedly he harbored many grudges. But the frustrations he had bottled up inside seemed to pour out during the taping of the show. It was a very long 30 minutes. The hostess did her best to look composed, but when he started getting hateful, I was tempted to stop the tape and cancel the show. Needless to say I didn't; thinking I'd be smattered with questions on top of the ones we had about this man.
What started as a unique opportunity turned into a "nice to see you" visit, and he departed upset. I am tempted to suggest that the show not be aired due to the uneasiness on set. The hostess confided to me her nervousness, and all I wanted to do was simply ask, "Why didn't you do your homework?"
If he is television material, he belongs on a different type of program, for one, that would explore his life more closely. He certainly wasn't given the chance to do so in this program. And I'm not sure what the hostess was thinking. She clearly wasn't aware about who her guest was. To produce a good TV show, even the best producers have to do their homework, and screening a potential guest is one of them. Unless you're a lifelong friend with that person, how can you trust what they are about to say?
In conclusion: I do hope he gets his story told in a unique way and gains appreciation for all he went through. And I will spend the summer break hammering it home to the hostess: Interviewing a guest is not simply "Slam, bam."
June 14, 2006
Versatility put to the test
What a day this has been/is going to be in terms of dusting off my "memory banks" to do things I haven't done in years. Ironically, the stress level accompanying them is pretty high as well.
It was moving day for the manager's offices at work today due to demolition & construction. Prior to today, I hadn't done a complete computer re-wire job in about two years. Normally I will leave that to the roommate here, since all we've re-wired has been the computer at home. But as for re-wiring internet, ethernet, fax machines, scanners and such, it had been awhile. But it got done today. Add to that a "professional cleaning" of a couple computer keyboards. I had last done that back in 1990, when I spent my spare time cleaning keyboards at my second-ever job.
And tonight may mark my return to television directing for the first time in almost four years. Yes, the same type of work I got a diploma for. I'm called into this job perhaps four times a year, but this is the first time I might direct in years. I really had to dust off the brain and make sure I still knew all of it. But to me it's like a bike: you really don't forget.
However, it just amazes me that the memories and knowledge do fade when you don't think about them that much. It embarasses me as well when it comes to names. I worked with these people for ten years, but what does four years out of the loop do? Tonight will be full of re-introductions, I'm sure.
Where does the stress fit in? Most likely in trying to either out-do what I used to do (and as a perfectionist, out-doing can seem important), or at least to prove that I've not lost the talents I learned in college. The last thing I want is to not know what my cues are.
It's an anxious feeling, but not necessarily that bad. The activities may seem routine to some, but that breaks me out of my own routine. And that's just what I need at this stage. It should be a fun night.
It was moving day for the manager's offices at work today due to demolition & construction. Prior to today, I hadn't done a complete computer re-wire job in about two years. Normally I will leave that to the roommate here, since all we've re-wired has been the computer at home. But as for re-wiring internet, ethernet, fax machines, scanners and such, it had been awhile. But it got done today. Add to that a "professional cleaning" of a couple computer keyboards. I had last done that back in 1990, when I spent my spare time cleaning keyboards at my second-ever job.
And tonight may mark my return to television directing for the first time in almost four years. Yes, the same type of work I got a diploma for. I'm called into this job perhaps four times a year, but this is the first time I might direct in years. I really had to dust off the brain and make sure I still knew all of it. But to me it's like a bike: you really don't forget.
However, it just amazes me that the memories and knowledge do fade when you don't think about them that much. It embarasses me as well when it comes to names. I worked with these people for ten years, but what does four years out of the loop do? Tonight will be full of re-introductions, I'm sure.
Where does the stress fit in? Most likely in trying to either out-do what I used to do (and as a perfectionist, out-doing can seem important), or at least to prove that I've not lost the talents I learned in college. The last thing I want is to not know what my cues are.
It's an anxious feeling, but not necessarily that bad. The activities may seem routine to some, but that breaks me out of my own routine. And that's just what I need at this stage. It should be a fun night.
June 13, 2006
A helmet in the proper place is just that
I stopped riding my bicycle several years ago when it got in the hands of a crooked family member, and I've not tried one since. Part of the turn-off was when authorities came up with the new helmet law, which stated I had to go through the mundane process of strapping this helmet on even if I was only going two doors down the neighborhood. It was the most hideous thing I'd ever seen - comparable to wearing a hard-hat.
But what Pittsburgh quarterback Ben Roethlisberger went through demands a helmet - every time.
The helmet law as it stands right now is too far-reaching: why target basic bicycle riders? For every modern day Evil Knievel out there who dares to defy logic with cycle riding, there are probably ten of us who will ride the sidewalk in an effort to avoid the street. Some people, classified as nerds by the majority, will even mount rear mirrors on their handlebars. They, along with everyone else who minds the rules of the road, should not have to strap a helmet on if they can stay safe.
When I first caught glimpse of a Michigan article that would partially eliminate helmet usage, I thought indeed it was referring to non-motorized bikes. But the repeal would be for most everything, and that's where I disagree. Take the bike that Roethlisberger was driving at his accident: a Suzuki Hayabusa, quoted as being one of the fastest & most dangerous street-legal bikes (for lack of better argument, why are they even legal?) Would even the boldest person take to the road-rage-filled streets without some type of protection?
The seat belt law in cars grew on me and they have saved lives. The helmet in these cases is one's own livelihood. Why chance your life driving a dangerous "weapon" with no protection? There are no room for show-offs in this regard which, hate to say it, may have been what Roethlisberger was doing. The driver of the Chrysler which he hit, an elderly woman, did nothing illegal. If you've got material separating your coconut from the pavement, it's possible he could have walked away just shaken up. Instead, his life is at stake.
All power cyclists should wear helmets, hands down. I've driven a moped once, and I remember complaining about wearing a helmet. But I was scared when I hit a rough patch of land and was panicking. I would have appreciated wearing the helmet then.
So let this be a benchmark. Let's not let the authorities cut this law into pieces and put more Roethlisbergers on the road - let's use common sense. But for those who pedal manually and look all ways? Don't try to link them with the Knievels of yesteryear or today.
Again, let's use common sense.
But what Pittsburgh quarterback Ben Roethlisberger went through demands a helmet - every time.
The helmet law as it stands right now is too far-reaching: why target basic bicycle riders? For every modern day Evil Knievel out there who dares to defy logic with cycle riding, there are probably ten of us who will ride the sidewalk in an effort to avoid the street. Some people, classified as nerds by the majority, will even mount rear mirrors on their handlebars. They, along with everyone else who minds the rules of the road, should not have to strap a helmet on if they can stay safe.
When I first caught glimpse of a Michigan article that would partially eliminate helmet usage, I thought indeed it was referring to non-motorized bikes. But the repeal would be for most everything, and that's where I disagree. Take the bike that Roethlisberger was driving at his accident: a Suzuki Hayabusa, quoted as being one of the fastest & most dangerous street-legal bikes (for lack of better argument, why are they even legal?) Would even the boldest person take to the road-rage-filled streets without some type of protection?
The seat belt law in cars grew on me and they have saved lives. The helmet in these cases is one's own livelihood. Why chance your life driving a dangerous "weapon" with no protection? There are no room for show-offs in this regard which, hate to say it, may have been what Roethlisberger was doing. The driver of the Chrysler which he hit, an elderly woman, did nothing illegal. If you've got material separating your coconut from the pavement, it's possible he could have walked away just shaken up. Instead, his life is at stake.
All power cyclists should wear helmets, hands down. I've driven a moped once, and I remember complaining about wearing a helmet. But I was scared when I hit a rough patch of land and was panicking. I would have appreciated wearing the helmet then.
So let this be a benchmark. Let's not let the authorities cut this law into pieces and put more Roethlisbergers on the road - let's use common sense. But for those who pedal manually and look all ways? Don't try to link them with the Knievels of yesteryear or today.
Again, let's use common sense.
June 12, 2006
My kid is brought to you by...
The name game among newborns is getting out of control. I've heard of consulting a baby name dictionary when new parents are stumped on names, but modern media marketing has not only made those dictionaries obsolete, they make for some embarassing conversation starters.
Today's business section in the paper showed where parents are using the equivilent of naming rights for stadiums and public buildings to name their offspring. According to the article, found on freep.com there are 17 boys named "Dodge", 13 boys named "Polo" and 56 girls named "Camry". Through ads and what we see around us, we know what those names imply.
Two years ago I heard on ESPN where some newborns were actually named "Espn", but I thought that was a passing phase. But here we are, preparing a new generation with names that will be teased about throughout the school years. Check this out:
Five named "Gator" and "Guinness". Five girls named "Forum". Ten boys are named after a famous spring water, but so are 15 girls. Sixty girls named "Passion" (oh, think how happy the gentleman's clubs will be). Fifteen girls named "Champagne", and nine named "Spirit".
The list goes on and on, but you get the picture.
About a year ago, I wrote in my not-yet-online website about how crazy the business world is to be selling naming rights to stadiums. This practice has become widespread and is the worst offender during all those college bowl games, which I won't get into besides this: Is an original name that hard to find?
I had a boy and girl in my kindergarten class named "Tracy" and that brought a lot of teasing to the room. And to think "Tracy" is actually a name handed down through generations. But is it used now? I would think not, with the likes of "Disney" becoming the names of five newborn girls.
Are the baby name books being buried on the shelf in place of Cosmopolitan, The Star, or Sports Illustrated? I thought naming a newborn required a lot of thought, because throughout life, that's who you would be. It took my parents two days to come up with my name, and at one point "Kevin" was the most popular boys' name for several years running.
This is proof positive that advertising has run amok, and speaks volumes about the short attention span society has today. See a bunch of flash on TV or in the newspaper, and gee: How about calling our little munchkin that?
They say childhood teasing fades as you grow into adulthood. Well, every theory can be disproven, I guess. Safe to say I wouldn't be caught with a baby girl named "Harley"... unless it had two wheels and shiny chrome.
Today's business section in the paper showed where parents are using the equivilent of naming rights for stadiums and public buildings to name their offspring. According to the article, found on freep.com there are 17 boys named "Dodge", 13 boys named "Polo" and 56 girls named "Camry". Through ads and what we see around us, we know what those names imply.
Two years ago I heard on ESPN where some newborns were actually named "Espn", but I thought that was a passing phase. But here we are, preparing a new generation with names that will be teased about throughout the school years. Check this out:
Five named "Gator" and "Guinness". Five girls named "Forum". Ten boys are named after a famous spring water, but so are 15 girls. Sixty girls named "Passion" (oh, think how happy the gentleman's clubs will be). Fifteen girls named "Champagne", and nine named "Spirit".
The list goes on and on, but you get the picture.
About a year ago, I wrote in my not-yet-online website about how crazy the business world is to be selling naming rights to stadiums. This practice has become widespread and is the worst offender during all those college bowl games, which I won't get into besides this: Is an original name that hard to find?
I had a boy and girl in my kindergarten class named "Tracy" and that brought a lot of teasing to the room. And to think "Tracy" is actually a name handed down through generations. But is it used now? I would think not, with the likes of "Disney" becoming the names of five newborn girls.
Are the baby name books being buried on the shelf in place of Cosmopolitan, The Star, or Sports Illustrated? I thought naming a newborn required a lot of thought, because throughout life, that's who you would be. It took my parents two days to come up with my name, and at one point "Kevin" was the most popular boys' name for several years running.
This is proof positive that advertising has run amok, and speaks volumes about the short attention span society has today. See a bunch of flash on TV or in the newspaper, and gee: How about calling our little munchkin that?
They say childhood teasing fades as you grow into adulthood. Well, every theory can be disproven, I guess. Safe to say I wouldn't be caught with a baby girl named "Harley"... unless it had two wheels and shiny chrome.
One less bell to answer
My neighborhood can rest a little more peaceful tonight.
Seems like one of the proven "idiots" this street has ever known has split up with his wife and taken his kids on the road, leaving a new "beau" for the woman that still lives there. For that, I couldn't be happier.
There are some neighbors here who haven't even taken the time to know my roommate & myself, and we've been here 3 1/2 years. Yet because it's two men in the same house, they think the thoughts that others (including you) might think.
Don't even think it. Nothing is happening here. My roommate has a fiancee in the Phillippines, and I am busy either clamoring for a girl (Raquel), or in rumors of being with one (Deana). We are as normal as can be. But it's interesting that conclusions are being drawn without those neighbors getting the facts from us. And it's a sad commentary on the state of the world and how paranoid it must be if minor issues like that are blown out of proportion and result in arguments with other neighbors.
We keep to ourselves here and try to maintain the house without causing trouble. Though we talk a lot, we have only a small stable of friends we talk to regularly. We don't go spreading dirty laundry - now why do they?
I feel better knowing that the across-street neighbor in question has apparently moved on. I've heard he's spied on other neighbors for no reason at all. The feeling of being watched is mortifying. And if he's preying on someone, I say let his new neighborhood handle it, and hopefully do something about it.
Too many bells have been ringing in our direction about nonsense issues. It's a good thing one less bell is chiming in our direction now.
Seems like one of the proven "idiots" this street has ever known has split up with his wife and taken his kids on the road, leaving a new "beau" for the woman that still lives there. For that, I couldn't be happier.
There are some neighbors here who haven't even taken the time to know my roommate & myself, and we've been here 3 1/2 years. Yet because it's two men in the same house, they think the thoughts that others (including you) might think.
Don't even think it. Nothing is happening here. My roommate has a fiancee in the Phillippines, and I am busy either clamoring for a girl (Raquel), or in rumors of being with one (Deana). We are as normal as can be. But it's interesting that conclusions are being drawn without those neighbors getting the facts from us. And it's a sad commentary on the state of the world and how paranoid it must be if minor issues like that are blown out of proportion and result in arguments with other neighbors.
We keep to ourselves here and try to maintain the house without causing trouble. Though we talk a lot, we have only a small stable of friends we talk to regularly. We don't go spreading dirty laundry - now why do they?
I feel better knowing that the across-street neighbor in question has apparently moved on. I've heard he's spied on other neighbors for no reason at all. The feeling of being watched is mortifying. And if he's preying on someone, I say let his new neighborhood handle it, and hopefully do something about it.
Too many bells have been ringing in our direction about nonsense issues. It's a good thing one less bell is chiming in our direction now.
June 11, 2006
Rubber stamp "regrets only"
As much as I would like to say that 2006 is hopefully a turning point for me in life, the most annoying thing happening this year is my chronic case of no-showing events.
Add a missed birthday party yesterday to that growing list. The neighbor's great-grandson, Dylan, turned 2 earlier in the week and his party was yesterday. I wasn't going to go all-armed with presents and cards, but thought I'd at least get a picture. But my sinuses crept up on me again, and for the third time this year, I lost my voice at the same time.
Not being a medical genius, I could not tell if I could spread the condition easily, and I vowed not to take chances. In my best puberty/non-puberty voice (which some say is normal for me), I had to call and cancel. I don't feel so bad about this one, because I was able to spend time with him on his actual birthday. That, of course, happening the day before the sinuses came in, so you have to wonder.
Take into account, therefore, what I've missed this year: a college graduation for my 45-year old cousin (because I didn't trust the car), my friend's daughter's first birthday (because the car proved I couldn't trust it), two television productions (because I worked too many hours), a screening of an independent film downtown (because of the fear of getting lost), and now this.
Ultimately, my promises are getting more shallow and I probably shouldn't agree on too many more. What it's cost me is social interaction that I've really needed. I always complain that all my waking hours are spent at work, and I do allow too much time for sleep; just ask the roommate. But I've as yet to take advantage of the few opportunities to socialize.
Is it a jinx or not? All I know is that I'm a walking billboard lately for "regrets only".
* P.S. Anyone ever have to put in for their 2007 vacation days at work seven months in advance? Please let me know that I'm not the only one who thinks this is a crazy idea!
Add a missed birthday party yesterday to that growing list. The neighbor's great-grandson, Dylan, turned 2 earlier in the week and his party was yesterday. I wasn't going to go all-armed with presents and cards, but thought I'd at least get a picture. But my sinuses crept up on me again, and for the third time this year, I lost my voice at the same time.
Not being a medical genius, I could not tell if I could spread the condition easily, and I vowed not to take chances. In my best puberty/non-puberty voice (which some say is normal for me), I had to call and cancel. I don't feel so bad about this one, because I was able to spend time with him on his actual birthday. That, of course, happening the day before the sinuses came in, so you have to wonder.
Take into account, therefore, what I've missed this year: a college graduation for my 45-year old cousin (because I didn't trust the car), my friend's daughter's first birthday (because the car proved I couldn't trust it), two television productions (because I worked too many hours), a screening of an independent film downtown (because of the fear of getting lost), and now this.
Ultimately, my promises are getting more shallow and I probably shouldn't agree on too many more. What it's cost me is social interaction that I've really needed. I always complain that all my waking hours are spent at work, and I do allow too much time for sleep; just ask the roommate. But I've as yet to take advantage of the few opportunities to socialize.
Is it a jinx or not? All I know is that I'm a walking billboard lately for "regrets only".
* P.S. Anyone ever have to put in for their 2007 vacation days at work seven months in advance? Please let me know that I'm not the only one who thinks this is a crazy idea!
June 9, 2006
When you can't buy a vowel...
Normally, I will retire for the day around 5PM, but I was very restless yesterday. So I ended up flipping through the channels and came across "Wheel Of Fortune", one of my old favorites.
It has come a long way since I watched it feverishly, only the long way heads downstream. The only way I could sanely watch yesterday's installment was to mute the volume, and to limit its viewing to two minutes.
Wheel, along with Jeopardy, have ran back-to-back in the same time slot here in Detroit for nearly 20 years. Though I thought Jeopardy was OK, I liked Wheel better. I can remember first watching it in 1975 at age four, when I would get my plastic magnetic letters and try to match the letters being shown on the puzzle. It was a big part of the reason that I grew to be a good speller in later years.
For some reason, I also liked the shopping portion of the old show. Vanna White, when she actually turned the letters, was cool. It was also neat when you actually got to see the puzzle greater than 25% of the time, and from fewer than ten different angles. The contestants, when they weren't trying to out-shout Pat Sajak, weren't bad either.
How the mighty have fallen. Wheel is now an exercise in eye strain. You can't get comfortable watching it because the cameras are all over the place; zooming, panning, never standing still. It's as if the choreographer is on Prozac. The contestants, as I mentioned, come close to having heart attacks or voicebox strain when they shout out those letters. I mean, Pat is only a few feet to your right; I'm sure he can hear you (then again, who knows).
And what's with the new strategy? Buying a vowel three times in a row, then solving the puzzle? What good does that do? You earn all that money the hard way, making good guesses and avoiding "bankrupt", only to blow $750 or $1,000 a pop on vowels, then solve it? You just lost $1,000; how can you be happy?
Oh, right... the 21st century contestant.
I could clean up on that show if I wanted to by employing the old strategy of picking my times to buy vowels and calmly letting Pat know. But then why would I want to get involved in it, since I'd probably be seen as too old-school by the producers?
Give me Jeopardy any day from now on. Every day, and with class, it can teach you something new.
It has come a long way since I watched it feverishly, only the long way heads downstream. The only way I could sanely watch yesterday's installment was to mute the volume, and to limit its viewing to two minutes.
Wheel, along with Jeopardy, have ran back-to-back in the same time slot here in Detroit for nearly 20 years. Though I thought Jeopardy was OK, I liked Wheel better. I can remember first watching it in 1975 at age four, when I would get my plastic magnetic letters and try to match the letters being shown on the puzzle. It was a big part of the reason that I grew to be a good speller in later years.
For some reason, I also liked the shopping portion of the old show. Vanna White, when she actually turned the letters, was cool. It was also neat when you actually got to see the puzzle greater than 25% of the time, and from fewer than ten different angles. The contestants, when they weren't trying to out-shout Pat Sajak, weren't bad either.
How the mighty have fallen. Wheel is now an exercise in eye strain. You can't get comfortable watching it because the cameras are all over the place; zooming, panning, never standing still. It's as if the choreographer is on Prozac. The contestants, as I mentioned, come close to having heart attacks or voicebox strain when they shout out those letters. I mean, Pat is only a few feet to your right; I'm sure he can hear you (then again, who knows).
And what's with the new strategy? Buying a vowel three times in a row, then solving the puzzle? What good does that do? You earn all that money the hard way, making good guesses and avoiding "bankrupt", only to blow $750 or $1,000 a pop on vowels, then solve it? You just lost $1,000; how can you be happy?
Oh, right... the 21st century contestant.
I could clean up on that show if I wanted to by employing the old strategy of picking my times to buy vowels and calmly letting Pat know. But then why would I want to get involved in it, since I'd probably be seen as too old-school by the producers?
Give me Jeopardy any day from now on. Every day, and with class, it can teach you something new.
June 7, 2006
And they were supposed to replace humans
What a pleasant change to go into Kroger's today and find that technology was brought to its knees!
Years ago I remember reading about new technology grocery stores were trying to eventually eliminate the need for human interaction at the registers. We now know these as U-Scan robots.
Not only do I detest them, but I question how proficient they are in the first place. All they have done is replace the express lane at the checkout. What about the people with 40-50 items in their cart? My first impression was that these machines would speed up the aisles and result in fewer rushed, angry shoppers. All it has done is duplicated what the manned express lines were doing.
So nine times out of ten, I am forced to tangle with these machines. And I mean tangle. I was once asked out of Kroger because I blew up at an inanimate object. "Please proceed!" "Please wait!" "Please re-scan!" I wasn't going to let it be that nice & proper to me and let it get away with it! Since then, me and U-Scans have become much of a running joke around the house.
But - technology has its shortcomings, and it was a delight to see today: the entire row of four U-Scan robots totally down, replaced by... get this... cashiers. It was the first time in nearly two years that I saw six checkout lanes open at once. I did remark to the cashier that I was thrilled to see this; she gave me one of those "whatever" laughs.
Let's see, though: they told me the machines would be down until tomorrow (Thursday). Between now and then, and being a 24-hour store, how can these cashiers stand the extra hours and the extra (egad) work? Have they been sufficiently trained?
Pardon my cynicism, of course. Just a small by-product of a victory for humankind and a temporary setback for robotics - truly made my day.
Years ago I remember reading about new technology grocery stores were trying to eventually eliminate the need for human interaction at the registers. We now know these as U-Scan robots.
Not only do I detest them, but I question how proficient they are in the first place. All they have done is replace the express lane at the checkout. What about the people with 40-50 items in their cart? My first impression was that these machines would speed up the aisles and result in fewer rushed, angry shoppers. All it has done is duplicated what the manned express lines were doing.
So nine times out of ten, I am forced to tangle with these machines. And I mean tangle. I was once asked out of Kroger because I blew up at an inanimate object. "Please proceed!" "Please wait!" "Please re-scan!" I wasn't going to let it be that nice & proper to me and let it get away with it! Since then, me and U-Scans have become much of a running joke around the house.
But - technology has its shortcomings, and it was a delight to see today: the entire row of four U-Scan robots totally down, replaced by... get this... cashiers. It was the first time in nearly two years that I saw six checkout lanes open at once. I did remark to the cashier that I was thrilled to see this; she gave me one of those "whatever" laughs.
Let's see, though: they told me the machines would be down until tomorrow (Thursday). Between now and then, and being a 24-hour store, how can these cashiers stand the extra hours and the extra (egad) work? Have they been sufficiently trained?
Pardon my cynicism, of course. Just a small by-product of a victory for humankind and a temporary setback for robotics - truly made my day.
June 6, 2006
The GM in me finds its voice
Keep your eyes out for a new blog within a blog: notstandingpat.blogspot.com
As a sports fan for many years, but a grumbler when it comes to teams doing nothing to improve their lot, I've said a lot over the years in terms of what good or boneheaded moves teams made to keep fan interest. My best outlet was as a co-host of a local sports forum in Detroit's suburbs, Four Pro Forum, which I produced through college.
Co-hosts may come and go, but my fever pitch for sports doesn't. It's been there and always will be. I invite you to check out the new blog (from a Detroit sports angle, mostly) and see what the fuss is about.
As a sports fan for many years, but a grumbler when it comes to teams doing nothing to improve their lot, I've said a lot over the years in terms of what good or boneheaded moves teams made to keep fan interest. My best outlet was as a co-host of a local sports forum in Detroit's suburbs, Four Pro Forum, which I produced through college.
Co-hosts may come and go, but my fever pitch for sports doesn't. It's been there and always will be. I invite you to check out the new blog (from a Detroit sports angle, mostly) and see what the fuss is about.
Waiting for the knockout
Okay, now things are starting to get dicey.
Without naming names, one person who has been giving me heck the last few years or so over money and bill payments struck again yesterday, as I found that a bill they were holding for me the past six months has never been paid. A person who preaches fiscal responsibility and who claims has never been "bailed out" will have a tough time bailing out of this one.
Opening the envelope, I knew right away what it was, and I found out what I didn't want to know. Having given money to this person to help pay off a bill not in my name turned out to be a bad move. However, considering the circumstances leading up to it, the point would be belabored as there was not much that could be done at the time.
But how does it feel when someone you think you know takes your trust and runs it through the slicer? This person has not had a good track record for me, and point the blame arrows my way for thinking that after two strikes, this person could be trusted. I also find it hard to fathom that this person looks upon me the same way I look at that person. I try to maintain communication, even though it may not all be positive. But if you don't tell a person something, or tell them stories, how is that great communication? You can't be on top of things if you only have half the information you need.
If this person could only apply this latest instance to their life, they would be better off for it; never mind me. But I guess once you pass a certain age, the desire to learn about life is replaced by complacency and a satisfaction that you can do no better. Anyone can do better in life; they just have to have the mind-set to get it done.
This person does not have to worry: I will not be without the service in need. Arrangements have been made to transfer things over to my name. This person even comes out in front as the responsibility no longer falls his/her way. Wouldn't we all like to go through life without responsibilities?
That, however, is part of being an adult. And just as you yell at a child for taking candy they're not supposed to touch, this person has been caught with the hand in the cookie jar. You have to learn your lessons in life sooner or later. And the price you pay could be more than just a matter of convenience.
----------------------------
By the way, to end the negativity, welcome to my father and stepmom for being perhaps the first ones to regularly read the blog. To the man who always thought writing was my strong suit, hope this gives you proof that the gift has not been laying dormant somewhere. Hope you enjoy.
Without naming names, one person who has been giving me heck the last few years or so over money and bill payments struck again yesterday, as I found that a bill they were holding for me the past six months has never been paid. A person who preaches fiscal responsibility and who claims has never been "bailed out" will have a tough time bailing out of this one.
Opening the envelope, I knew right away what it was, and I found out what I didn't want to know. Having given money to this person to help pay off a bill not in my name turned out to be a bad move. However, considering the circumstances leading up to it, the point would be belabored as there was not much that could be done at the time.
But how does it feel when someone you think you know takes your trust and runs it through the slicer? This person has not had a good track record for me, and point the blame arrows my way for thinking that after two strikes, this person could be trusted. I also find it hard to fathom that this person looks upon me the same way I look at that person. I try to maintain communication, even though it may not all be positive. But if you don't tell a person something, or tell them stories, how is that great communication? You can't be on top of things if you only have half the information you need.
If this person could only apply this latest instance to their life, they would be better off for it; never mind me. But I guess once you pass a certain age, the desire to learn about life is replaced by complacency and a satisfaction that you can do no better. Anyone can do better in life; they just have to have the mind-set to get it done.
This person does not have to worry: I will not be without the service in need. Arrangements have been made to transfer things over to my name. This person even comes out in front as the responsibility no longer falls his/her way. Wouldn't we all like to go through life without responsibilities?
That, however, is part of being an adult. And just as you yell at a child for taking candy they're not supposed to touch, this person has been caught with the hand in the cookie jar. You have to learn your lessons in life sooner or later. And the price you pay could be more than just a matter of convenience.
----------------------------
By the way, to end the negativity, welcome to my father and stepmom for being perhaps the first ones to regularly read the blog. To the man who always thought writing was my strong suit, hope this gives you proof that the gift has not been laying dormant somewhere. Hope you enjoy.
June 5, 2006
Restaurants don't make their own
You can file this under the "geez Kevin, didn't you know that?" archive; but sinister me has been noticing a pattern occurring in restaurants I frequent.
Piper's, one of my favorite sit-down places, was preparing a set a salads for some customers, who wanted ranch dressing with them. Now, they may not be your five-star restaurant with the mega-bucks menu, which means they don't have the resources to make their own salad dressing. This much I understand. But wouldn't you think they would conceal it a little more than this?
Saying they needed "more ranch from under the counter", they proceed to unearth this one-gallon bottle of ranch dressing from Gordon Food Service. And here was the label, sticking out for all to see. Gordon's, for those who don't know, is this no-frill, low-cost provider of restaurant goods. I have been there before and I'm amazed at their specific selection. But why a staffer at the restaurant just lugs this big bottle out in front of all the customers and pours it into the cups the customer will use, what does this say about professionalism?
Think for a moment and go past the point that I may be too cynical. So what if my dressing is not homemade? I may not care, but others might. It doesn't have to be blurted out to the nation. To the higher-class side of me, I'm tempted to think, "They didn't have money to spend on top-quality ranch, so they go get the first thing they buy? And in bulk? How do I know it's not stale?" The ritzy person in me might be tempted to leave, while remarking about their inability to conceal the evidence.
Colleges and seminars have classes in this specific etiquette; you can read it in those high-class, New York-style etiquette books. The restaurant just got a failing grade there, except for product promotion (which this world has seen too much of).
Good thing I like my chicken fingers plain.
----------------------------------
Missed my chance to ask Raquel on a date today, but played it smart, according to a co-worker. I might be rushing things otherwise. She works upstairs all week, so it's not as if the window of opportunity shut on me in just one day.
And YES! Bought a digital camera the other day, allbeit with a bad battery pack which I will fix tomorrow. Then the pictures should be coming in.
Piper's, one of my favorite sit-down places, was preparing a set a salads for some customers, who wanted ranch dressing with them. Now, they may not be your five-star restaurant with the mega-bucks menu, which means they don't have the resources to make their own salad dressing. This much I understand. But wouldn't you think they would conceal it a little more than this?
Saying they needed "more ranch from under the counter", they proceed to unearth this one-gallon bottle of ranch dressing from Gordon Food Service. And here was the label, sticking out for all to see. Gordon's, for those who don't know, is this no-frill, low-cost provider of restaurant goods. I have been there before and I'm amazed at their specific selection. But why a staffer at the restaurant just lugs this big bottle out in front of all the customers and pours it into the cups the customer will use, what does this say about professionalism?
Think for a moment and go past the point that I may be too cynical. So what if my dressing is not homemade? I may not care, but others might. It doesn't have to be blurted out to the nation. To the higher-class side of me, I'm tempted to think, "They didn't have money to spend on top-quality ranch, so they go get the first thing they buy? And in bulk? How do I know it's not stale?" The ritzy person in me might be tempted to leave, while remarking about their inability to conceal the evidence.
Colleges and seminars have classes in this specific etiquette; you can read it in those high-class, New York-style etiquette books. The restaurant just got a failing grade there, except for product promotion (which this world has seen too much of).
Good thing I like my chicken fingers plain.
----------------------------------
Missed my chance to ask Raquel on a date today, but played it smart, according to a co-worker. I might be rushing things otherwise. She works upstairs all week, so it's not as if the window of opportunity shut on me in just one day.
And YES! Bought a digital camera the other day, allbeit with a bad battery pack which I will fix tomorrow. Then the pictures should be coming in.
June 3, 2006
What's my line again?
Tomorrow at work should be very interesting, as I will attempt to do what I've only done twice in 35 years: ask someone out on a date. Do I remember my lines when doing so? It's been since 1997 that I've tried.
It's not the same girl that my co-workers have been trying to fix me up with for four years now. The joke at times has gone to extremes, going so far as to prank calls to my house from 1-800-FLOWERS asking if there's a certain "female co-worker" I would like to send flowers to. This girl is super, but has told me before she doesn't even have time for herself, let alone a mate. I always smile & say she doesn't know what she's missing, but I do respect her desire to do things on her own and with her kids.
The girl in question for tomorrow, to be honest, I really don't know too well. Raquel works in the snack bar in my building where I get my daily dose of french fries. I know four of the workers back there, and I know Raquel the least. Nothing extraordinary has happened. Yet it's not really a blind date because I know who she is and where she works, and she recognizes that I order fries all the time. I went to the snack bar Thursday, and Nikki (one of the workers) said, "You're single, aren't you?" Told to the positive, she said "You should go out with Raquel... she doesn't have a boyfriend."
All of a sudden (of course), I began thinking about her, and thinking that it wouldn't be so bad. I had much luck with the other Spanish girl I dated. In spite of breaking up twice over the same reason, some of the best times I had were with her. I really enjoyed our Florida trip in 1999 where we met some of her family. I really enjoy the Spanish way of life: they celebrate everything, they are very loving, they are accepting (once they know you), and they put family on a pedestal as a high priority. I always felt good being around them. I've been unlucky since, but perhaps tomorrow will write a new story.
But my lines! My lines! Only twice have I asked a girl out before, and the last time was actually on a dare. I would win my date only if I went to a "gentleman's club". To this day, I don't know why that was the catch, and also don't know how I could be that dumb to accept that as a fair catch. No, that relationship didn't last more than two weeks.
I hope for the best. And I hope that if a relationship blossoms, for god's sake, that it's not dependant on income (or lack thereof). Why everything revolves around money in the sake of relationships is beyond me (and a possible future entry, as well).
Does this gapped-tooth wonder still have it in him at 35? We will see.
It's not the same girl that my co-workers have been trying to fix me up with for four years now. The joke at times has gone to extremes, going so far as to prank calls to my house from 1-800-FLOWERS asking if there's a certain "female co-worker" I would like to send flowers to. This girl is super, but has told me before she doesn't even have time for herself, let alone a mate. I always smile & say she doesn't know what she's missing, but I do respect her desire to do things on her own and with her kids.
The girl in question for tomorrow, to be honest, I really don't know too well. Raquel works in the snack bar in my building where I get my daily dose of french fries. I know four of the workers back there, and I know Raquel the least. Nothing extraordinary has happened. Yet it's not really a blind date because I know who she is and where she works, and she recognizes that I order fries all the time. I went to the snack bar Thursday, and Nikki (one of the workers) said, "You're single, aren't you?" Told to the positive, she said "You should go out with Raquel... she doesn't have a boyfriend."
All of a sudden (of course), I began thinking about her, and thinking that it wouldn't be so bad. I had much luck with the other Spanish girl I dated. In spite of breaking up twice over the same reason, some of the best times I had were with her. I really enjoyed our Florida trip in 1999 where we met some of her family. I really enjoy the Spanish way of life: they celebrate everything, they are very loving, they are accepting (once they know you), and they put family on a pedestal as a high priority. I always felt good being around them. I've been unlucky since, but perhaps tomorrow will write a new story.
But my lines! My lines! Only twice have I asked a girl out before, and the last time was actually on a dare. I would win my date only if I went to a "gentleman's club". To this day, I don't know why that was the catch, and also don't know how I could be that dumb to accept that as a fair catch. No, that relationship didn't last more than two weeks.
I hope for the best. And I hope that if a relationship blossoms, for god's sake, that it's not dependant on income (or lack thereof). Why everything revolves around money in the sake of relationships is beyond me (and a possible future entry, as well).
Does this gapped-tooth wonder still have it in him at 35? We will see.
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