I want it now, not later

I like the fact that the local sandwich place/coffee shop near work in Pasadena has espressos late.

Though as they actually shut pretty early, perhaps “late” is a relative term.

I mean COME ON - didn't *someone* at the sign place say "hey guys, this isn't how you spell latté"?

I'm on the phone!

There’s a new kid at work. Work being my second job, and “new” in a relative sense; he’s been with the company for about 2 or 3 weeks now. So he’s newer than me, but he’s not so new as not to know what to do.

We were closing the store, and as the evening hours climbed ever higher, his output got ever slower. Until by the end of the night, I really wanted to do something like smack him, or poke, or anything – just to get him moving.

I was wondering if he was the slowest worker I’d ever had the misfortune to be working with, until I remember an old Toys R Us colleague – who TRU paid to do nothing, literally.

This was back in the earlyish 90’s, and our TRU store had just got itself a new hands-free telephone answering system. It came with two phone packs, employees would wear these – a nice headset, and while you were working on the floor you could take calls. This was especially great for stock checks on the fly, when a customer HAD to know if you had one of the new Cabbage Patch Picnic Time kids in, or how many Megazords were left in stock.

The arrival was precipitous, as it was Christmas time, and the phones lines were red hot with inquiries and parents searching for the must have toy. Miranda was an Indian girl, she was hired during the Christmas rush – the managers weren’t too familiar with the new headsets – but wanted to get them out right away to relieve some of the hold time potential customers were experiencing. Miranda volunteered to wear one of the sets on her shifts.

Miranda could then be seen walking the aisles, purposefully looking for items and talking into the headset. You could hear her tell callers how many Pink Power Ranger figures were left in stock, what Super Soakers were available. Miranda was clearly on the phone, so customers actually in the store were never able to stop her and ask for assistance, as she was clearly already assisting someone else – on her headset phone.

If someone was wily enough to ask a question in-between her sporadic speech into the headset, she make her way to the stock room for a quick check of an item that we were out of on the floor – but would helpfully send the customer to the front desk for more assistance as she disappeared into the cavernous “employees only” back stock room.

This was her regular routine for a few weeks leading up to Christmas, and about this time we got a new manager in the regular TRU managerial rotation. This manager happened to notice that Miranda’s headset was never turned on – in the back.

So all those phone calls hadn’t really been phone calls at all. Miranda had been coming in for 8 – 12 hours a day (with overtime) and just been wandering the store, talking out loud to herself. She’d been taking breaks, her lunches, and then heading back out for more....talking to herself.

I was impressed with her ingenuity – the amount of time to actually come up with these one sided communications was well played. But, I can’t help thinking that it would have been more interesting to actually take the phone calls.

Yum Cha!

I don’t know if I find this funny, worrisome, or just sad.

I enjoy Dim Sum, or “Yum Cha”, depending on which part of the world you’re in. I will try new things, but am still too western in my thinking to get down with chicken feet – and my dislike of tripe makes me stay away from the beef tripe when it rolls by in a little steaming silver cart. And I get worried about silly things like, will the waitress think I’m stupid, what if I don’t pronounce the dish correctly when I order it – anyway, I get through this and order. Generally I’m with friends, sometimes with someone that speaks Chinese, sometimes not. But every time I’ve had a delicious meal, and I always want a lotus/sesame ball.

So, when I was with friends this evening and heard the following I didn’t know what to think.

Rog and his wife went for a Chinese meal this past weekend in Chinatown in LA. Their favorite place was closed, so they went upstairs to the Dim Sum place.

They knew what Dim Sum is, but didn’t “know” what it was. He explained they were expecting a menu, so after sitting down and having the lady arrive with a cart offering the steaming dumpling she had within the cart, they were thrown for a loop. Hence, they waved her on, the next lady was approaching, they looked at each other, said “no” (to each other in the way that couples have), and left. In the space of about 30 seconds.

Then, I was asked by Amanda where I’d gone on my vacation. I said Thailand. The rest of the conversation went like this:

Amanda:
OH! Have you been to Thailand before?

Me:
No, but now I have!

Amanda:
Did you like it?

Me:
YES! IT was AMAZING! Great people, great food, it was just awesome. I loved it! I would really love to go back.

Amanda:
So, did you meet any nice Taiwanese guys on your trip?

Me:
......Yes...... I did, in Taiwan. I also met some super nice Thai guys in Thailand. That’s where I went, Thailand.

Anyway…..

I’m not sure which interaction disturbs me more, and I’m not sure if I’m mad at myself for being disturbed. I have SO confused people and places before; I’ve also been worried about new experiences. Then again, the new experiences worries have generally been in a country I’m visiting rather than the one I was born and live in.

However, these are people that can vote in this country that I’m currently living in, and have some very definite views on immigration and other subjects.

Oasis

I felt as though I’d been transported to Egypt yesterday. Walking with coworkers down to Famima!! for an afternoon coffee, we cut through the Vroman’s parking lot in Pasadena.

Then, appearing like a mirage in front of us, a woman emerged from the bookstore and walked past our group – stopping me in my tracks - literally.

It was a hot, sunny afternoon, she was wearing tan, Capri knee length shorts, reminiscent of an Egyptian desert – and in the midst of all this “sand” was a very large camel toe.

As she walked away from us, (ostensibly to her car) Vroman’s bag in one hand, purse in the other we had clear VPL.

There are some things I just don’t expect to see in an independent bookstore parking lot. And there are some things we should never have to see anywhere.

This fits both categories.

So fugly it hurts

OMG

I can not stop reading this site. I am having to have the very painful silent laughter at my desk at work while waiting for my next project to arrive.

Acerbic, sweet, insightful, informative and just plain funny.

READ!

http://gofugyourself.typepad.com/

Deux cafés s'il vous plait monsieur

I was in Target this afternoon picking up some Father’s Day cards, cat food, etc – and as I was selecting my items a woman with her screaming toddler were slowly perusing the same aisles.

The toddler looked to be about a year and a half old, and was screaming/wailing/crying up a storm. His mother was attempting some half hearted “calming down” techniques as she searched for what ever it was she needed.

I marveled at her forbearance, and her ability to block out piercing sound. This brought to mind a trip to the mall I made just prior to heading over to Thailand. I was in need of some new shorts, and wanted to stop by the mall to see what Guess had on offer.

As I entered the Galleria via one of their department store main entrances, I happened upon an 8 year old rather chubby child – he was on his knees sobbing, tears running down his round red face, and he was being dragged towards the door by his father.

Now part of what impressed me here was the father’s strength. The father was a short Mexican man, and his son was rather generously proportioned – the father was having very stern words with his son in Spanish as he step, by slow step dragged his crying son across the slick floor towards the doors.

The son replied in English to everything his father was saying in Spanish – saying how he’d be good, how he was so sorry, that he’d never do it again, and could they please, please, PLEASE stay, he didn’t want to go.

This is the second part of what impressed me. That while the parents may not have instilled in their son a proper sense of decorum of how to comport oneself when appearing in public, they’d done an awfully good job with languages. The crying boys bilingualism was in full force as he understood what his father said and answered in English – it brought to mind one of those immersion language courses where you’re only allowed to speak the language you’re learning. And I thought, once you’ve learnt two languages, it’s only a hop skip & a jump to learning three or even four. This kid could be some sort of translator, or diplomat or who knows what else if he keeps this up. Well, now wasn’t really the proper time to go over to the father and say how impressed I was with the two of them.

As I made my way across the store to head into the mall proper, the sounds of the sobbing tantrum growing fainter and fainter I only half hearted wondered what the incident was that made the father want to eject his son from the store. I regretted not continuing with my language studies when I was younger – as I only know smatterings of French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, Thai & ASL. I’m more fluent in ASL than anything else other than perhaps French. Never having been to France, I may not be as good in French as ASL – as I can really only ask “if there is a bus for the swimming pool” and “how much is that” along with other niceties in French. “Deux cafés s'il vous plait monsieur.”

Anyway, I was heading for Thailand, and I needed those shorts – now, where’s a mall map when you need one?

Main Course

Years ago now, in one of my English courses in college I remember reading a short story about a young protagonist whose life changed over one summer. In part of the story, the character developed a “signature scent” (something Celine Dion, Jennifer Lopez & Britney Spears have all done) at the behest of one the other characters in the story.

I liked the idea so much, that I began, back then to mull the thought over. When Garden Botanika stores were around, you could go in and mix and match in your own (semi) private “parfumery” – concocting enticing and mysterious scents to your hearts – well, at least your wallets content.

I knew I wanted something summery, warm, tropical – so I settled on something with hints of coconut and vanilla. I’ve been wearing it now for years, and it’s also a pretty good indicator of whether I’ll get on with someone. Those that don’t like it, are normally people I don’t get on with. The reaction from others has normally been somewhat uniform – with folks telling me that it’s light, not overpowering, that the scent inspires memories of summertime’s past, lazy days on the beach, tanning in the sun, or that it’s reminiscent of the scent of a fine cigar smoked by a favorite grandfather.

At least until I got to Thailand.

I was out for coffee and chit chatting with my friend Chai, and his friends. A tropical monsoonal downpour was happening, so we were safely ensconced in the coffee establishment – lightning overhead, thunder crashing – a young boy was frightened but excited by the storm, his older brother walked over to him and put his arm around him as they both watched the rain coming down in sheets – momentarily catching the city of Bangkok illuminated by the brief burst of lightening.



Anyway, the storm cleared, and we finished our drinks and then all made our way to our respective cars – Chai and I had to almost paddle through a new “river” created by the deluge of rain. His car was up to its undercarriage in water. As he went to get in his car, I said goodbye to the friends and would soon be off to my hotel.

Later Chai and I were talking, and he was laughing saying his friends said I smelled like coconut. He’d assured them I didn’t smell of coconut – but, he thought he’d better ask me just to be sure. I said that, yes, I do have a cologne and part of it has a coconut undertone. Too which he just laughed.

Chai began explaining that he’d NEVER heard of anyone using coconut in a cologne before – especially in Thailand where coconut is a staple of cooking.

So, while overseas my custom scent is “exotic, beachy and summery”, in Bangkok I apparently smell merely of that night’s main course. Or perhaps I’m a sous chef who’s just come from the kitchen without having had time to shower before going out.

Number One Factory!

I learned some Thai prior to my Thailand trip. I thought it only wise to be able to say “thank you”, “hello”, “how much is this” and a few other choice phrases such as “this is delicious” and “I don’t want that” in Thai on my vacation.

By the end of my trip, I ended up feeling that I just hadn’t learned enough Thai. I say this because of my last “scam” experience in Bangkok.

Now let me just say that I had heard all about the “number one factory/jewelry” scam in Thailand from travel books and the Internet. So when I was approached by a tuktuk driver within hours of hitting the street on my first day in Bangkok I was too intrigued NOT to go.



Which is how I found myself visiting the temple of the standing Buddha and another Buddha temple for the low low price of 30 bhat. The tuktuk driver assured me that as it was a special holiday time in Thailand he would get a gas coupon from the government if I’d just spend 10 minutes in a “number one factory” in Bangkok. I could “Get nice suit, look good!”

He had such a toothsome grin and an appealing earnestness to his salesmanship that I actually began to believe that I might want to get a suit made for me at this “number one factory”. That is until the arrival at said “number one factory”. It wasn’t a factory, or at least, what I’d consider to be a factory. More a shop. A small shop, boasting material. It was run by an Indian gentleman and his "silent type" Thai assistant. As I said, it was small, rather cramped and filled to the brim with really ugly silk prints, tightly wrapped up in bolts. Nothing I’d ever want to buy, even when drunk.

So, I asked about the “free gas coupon”, much to the disappointment of the owner. He mumbled something about “yes, yes, coupon” and I left. This upset my tuktuk driver, as he said I hadn’t spent 10 minutes inside. I was feeling pleased I’d managed to last upwards of 3 minutes. Then my tuktuk man said that he had an “even BETTER number one factory to go to, much larger”. And off we went, bobbing and weaving among the Bangkok traffic. Sweat rolling down my back, as I tightly gripped the metal bars in the tuktuk to prevent me from flying out into the road and being run over by thousands of cars.

I said I didn’t really need to see another factory, and just how much was this “gas coupon” anyway? I’d PAY him for the gas coupon, and he can just take me back to the hotel. Well, he wasn’t having any of that, and we went by a 2nd “factory”/store. One through the doorway I made myself take slow measured steps, slowly counting off the seconds in my head to get up to the required “10 minutes” so my driver would get his coupon and then take me home. I was immediately set upon by another Indian gent, who again began to extol the virtues of the suit they’d make me.

I explained I didn’t want, nor need a suit, but did they have any t-shirts. They did, and I managed to knock them down from 1,500 bhat to 1,000 bhat – which I now know is still WAY to expensive. After 9 minutes in this place, I really wanted out. Plus I had a whole other building to walk through, and I knew I’d more than passed my 10 minute mark.

The 2nd building was pay dirt – it was a rabbit warren over 3 stories – and here was where I was offered my authentic “jewelry”. As I wandered about, having the virtues of cubic zirconium explained to me I was able to see other chagrined tourists being led through the same building. While I was finding the whole thing extremely amusing, these poor folks apparently hadn’t known what they were letting themselves in for – and they were NOT amused.

On the 3rd floor, an old Thai woman was really pushing me towards a suit she’d make for me and “Armani cuts” were her specialty. As I left and was guided through other areas stocked with knick knacks I might like to buy I stopped in the final room to look at (relatively) cheap souvenirs.

I managed to impress my Thai “hostess” by asking for the price of certain objects in Thai. “Ohhh, you speak Thai” she gushed, and actually gave me a “normal” price on one of the knick knacks. Feeling more warmly towards her than the suit lady, I paid the 100 bhat for a souvenir for my nephew and went on my way back to the tuktuk driver, who apparently feeling somewhat bad offered to take me around to some more places prior to the hotel. I declined and asked to JUST be taken back to the hotel – no need to stop at factories, number one or otherwise.

Which brings me back to my last scam. I was at the mall on my 2nd to last day in Bangkok, and was killing a few hours until my glasses would be ready. Glasses I’d ordered the day before – and for only $150 US would be ready at 5pm.

This was at the Silom center. I was just wandering looking at shops, food stalls and people. I’d noticed this Thai guy ahead of me a few times, and he’d positioned himself at the top of the escalator. I got off, smiled a greeting and kept walking. He obviously summed up his courage and then came up to me and said gushed “hello” in English.

I returned the greeting and we walked together for a bit away from the escalator making very small talk. “What’s your name”, “how are you”, things of that nature.

I wasn’t sure if he was wanting to chat, have a date, or something more. That is until I was able to make out, “come with me”, and “number one factory”. Well, by this time in Bangkok, I was hot, tired, and had no desire to tell more Indian gents that I really didn’t need a suit made, even if “Armani cuts” were their specialty.

I wanted to be able to express this to my new friend, but my Thai vocabulary was less than a 2 year olds – so all I could say was “I don’t want that” and “thank you”.

My new friend also had limited English, but he was able to get out a heartbroken “you don’t like me” when I told him “Mai ow” (I don’t want that). He looked SO distraught, and was very upset – I quickly said that “he was adorable”, and “it’s not that I didn’t like him” it was more that I didn’t want to visit any more “factories”, be they “number one” or not.

But he couldn’t understand me, and I couldn’t understand him – and this is why I’d wished I had the time to learn more Thai.

The fact that someone took the time to try and learn enough of my language to pull one over on me, was just so, well, nice. He was so nice about trying to get me to go with him to this factory that I still have a little sadness that this guy thinks I didn’t like him, which is why I wouldn’t go to see his factory, when it wasn’t that at all.

I guess there’s always next time. Who knows, by then I truly may need to have a suit, with a nice Armani cut or I may learn enough Thai to let my erstwhile scammer know that I like him, just not his scheme.