Where I *Should* Have Been This Weekend - Central Park
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Millennium Madness - Part I
I spent a huge portion of my weekend configuring my new work laptop with all the applications required to perform my job. This pissed me off because (A) it’s summertime and I should be outdoors enjoying the sunshine, and (B) this chore couldn’t have come at a worse time – performance review time.
It took me a total of 12 hours to copy all my data over and get the new laptop to "working" status. I had the laptop up and running beautifully for a blissful 48 hours when the home-grown VPN connection utility we are forced to use quit working . . . while I was at my client’s site trying to prepare for a presentation that I was to give later today. Well, guess what? I can’t do my job without VPN connectivity.
I'd already spent hours on Saturday night in the un-air-conditioned company office on the phone with two different Help Desk technicians just trying to get the VPN software installation program to work like it's supposed to. The first technician didn't have a clue and when I suggested he look up the reason for the erroneous error message in the knowledge base, he put me on hold and eventually just hung up. He never did call back, and I was unable to track him down to complain to his manager because he never opened up a service request. Nice. Fortunately, the second person I got had seen the error before and knew what it meant. She got the thing working for me, thus luring me into a false sense of security in Help Desk support.
I'm such a sucker. I never should have fallen for it.
So, as of this afternoon, I’m back in Help Desk Hell again. In fact, I’m positive that the technician I spoke with at length tonight who hosed up my machine again was the same exact one who did the same exact hosing last time. Peter from Colorado Springs. I recognized his voice and mannerisms once I realized what he’d done to my brand new, freshly configured machine that'd I'd sacrificed my weekend for. By then it was too late.
Only then did I realize that I was reliving the exact same nightmare with the exact same technician who hosed my machine up months ago using a similar tactic of deleting files and rendering my extranet access null and void. I could not believe it. I nearly kicked myself for making the same mistake twice.
Was the first incident supposed to be a dress rehearsal? Was I too blind with rage the first time to learn my lesson - that (sadly) the guy on the other end of the phone who is supposed to be fixing my problem actually knows less about the problem than I do?
Afterward I wanted to scream and run far, far away. As Augusten Burroughs would put it, my inner serial killer had been activated. This meant it was time to turn off the PC and get out my new Mary Tyler Moore show Season 1 DVDs and vegetate in front of the boob tube. And that's exactly what I did before replacing my new laptop with my old one on my docking station (so that I can work tomorrow) and going to bed....to read more of Augusten's entertaining stories.
See I did learn something this time: forget about it and relax. The problem will still be there tomorrow. Oh, and never, ever, ever call Help Desk again. How many times have I said that this year? If you hear me say it again, I'm too stupid to live. Kindly shoot me. Thank you.
It took me a total of 12 hours to copy all my data over and get the new laptop to "working" status. I had the laptop up and running beautifully for a blissful 48 hours when the home-grown VPN connection utility we are forced to use quit working . . . while I was at my client’s site trying to prepare for a presentation that I was to give later today. Well, guess what? I can’t do my job without VPN connectivity.
I'd already spent hours on Saturday night in the un-air-conditioned company office on the phone with two different Help Desk technicians just trying to get the VPN software installation program to work like it's supposed to. The first technician didn't have a clue and when I suggested he look up the reason for the erroneous error message in the knowledge base, he put me on hold and eventually just hung up. He never did call back, and I was unable to track him down to complain to his manager because he never opened up a service request. Nice. Fortunately, the second person I got had seen the error before and knew what it meant. She got the thing working for me, thus luring me into a false sense of security in Help Desk support.
I'm such a sucker. I never should have fallen for it.
So, as of this afternoon, I’m back in Help Desk Hell again. In fact, I’m positive that the technician I spoke with at length tonight who hosed up my machine again was the same exact one who did the same exact hosing last time. Peter from Colorado Springs. I recognized his voice and mannerisms once I realized what he’d done to my brand new, freshly configured machine that'd I'd sacrificed my weekend for. By then it was too late.
Only then did I realize that I was reliving the exact same nightmare with the exact same technician who hosed my machine up months ago using a similar tactic of deleting files and rendering my extranet access null and void. I could not believe it. I nearly kicked myself for making the same mistake twice.
Was the first incident supposed to be a dress rehearsal? Was I too blind with rage the first time to learn my lesson - that (sadly) the guy on the other end of the phone who is supposed to be fixing my problem actually knows less about the problem than I do?
Afterward I wanted to scream and run far, far away. As Augusten Burroughs would put it, my inner serial killer had been activated. This meant it was time to turn off the PC and get out my new Mary Tyler Moore show Season 1 DVDs and vegetate in front of the boob tube. And that's exactly what I did before replacing my new laptop with my old one on my docking station (so that I can work tomorrow) and going to bed....to read more of Augusten's entertaining stories.
See I did learn something this time: forget about it and relax. The problem will still be there tomorrow. Oh, and never, ever, ever call Help Desk again. How many times have I said that this year? If you hear me say it again, I'm too stupid to live. Kindly shoot me. Thank you.
Saturday, June 25, 2005
New York Summer
Thank God for air conditioning. It is brutally hot. But I am making the most of it! I’m sitting here in my easy chair, watching the news at 10PM on a Saturday night. It’s cooled down from 95 degrees to a lovely 80. Tomorrow will be another great day to catch some rays on the Gershwin second floor deck and get caught up on biz magazines. The indoor pool and gym area is located just off the deck, so when the heat becomes unbearable, I step inside to swim my laps or just take a dip. This is one thing about the east coast that I did miss in Seattle - hot summers and swimming pools!
Watching the news is like watching “Third Watch” or “NYPD Blue.” The police commissioner is a regular speaker on the local news – I could easily recognize him if I ever passed him on the street. When I lived in Puget Sound, I used to tell family and friends, “There is no crime here.” The whole time I lived there I don’t think I ever knew the police commissioner’s name. There were rarely any murders or armed robberies or shooting deaths in Seattle.
But here in NY, violent crime is a daily occurrence. There’s a lot of dying going on. I’m just not used to it. This week the news reported the third different instance this year of a toddler falling out of a second story window at home. A hospital maintenance worker sexually assaulted a 60-year-old woman in her hospital bed after brain surgery. A generous, loving grandmother was shot in the head in her kitchen - but the police have no leads. There’s a serial rapist terrorizing women in Chelsea. Three young boys suffocated in a bizarre accidental death in Camden, NJ, this week, and a 9-year-old girl shot and killed her 11-year-old friend after a fight over a ball not long ago.
I don’t know how much money they are paying NY’s finest, but it can’t possibly be enough, even with the pay raise they are due to get in the near future, thanks to the mayor.
New York is very community-oriented. People who live here truly care about their community – including Mayor Bloomberg. The mayor’s voice is frequently heard, and his face is as recognizable as President Bush’s. He is always in the news – doing what he can to keep this busy city of 9 million people running smoothly. Even Donald Trump has tremendous influence in the community here. It was he who finally came forward and candidly announced we should rebuild the World Trade Towers just like they were before and forget this silly Freedom Tower idea. Just put it back the way it was, the Donald suggested. There is no doubt in my mind that most New Yorkers agree with this philosophy of his. I know how people here think. 9/11 still weighs heavy on many minds.
New Yorkers are very real people. They are passionate, intense, funny, proud, and honest. I'll tell you what - when I got my hair all chopped off, not one single friend or doorman I know hesitated to tell me they didn't like it! At least they told me the truth - (which explains why I am suffering through this horrible growing-out phase for the first time since I was in the 6th grade. I have learned that my hair doesn't grow down, it grows out). I have met very few unfriendly New Yorkers - none that I can even recall. Even my current favorite author, Augusten Burroughs, lives here in the City.
In Seattle, people kept to themselves. I never felt a sense of “community” in the seven years I lived there, with the possible exception of my last few months living in Valley Green when I had wonderful neighbors who quickly became my closest friends. In fact, I’m not even sure if the city I lived in - Bellevue - has a mayor, much less what his or her name might be. I remember Governor Locke, but that’s about it.
New York is the greatest city in the world. Just yesterday while standing on a subway platform, I momentarily felt like I was living in a dream. I was looking across the tracks at a stopped train, sort of in a daze after a hectic work week. The New York City seal painted on the outside of one of the silver cars caught my eye. For a split second I thought, “Am I really living in New York city?!” I had to pinch myself. It’s true. It’s an experience I’ll never forget.
By the way, the reason I was standing at the 2/3 track was because the 1 train car I'd boarded to go home from the client’s site didn’t have any air on it. So I had jumped off at 14th Street to catch the express to 42nd where I could jump back onto the next 1 or 9 train for the last 8 blocks. Funny thing is, at 42nd Street the train I jumped on also didn’t have any A/C. "No way," I thought. I took a look around and sure enough, it was the same car on the same train I had transferred from.
Talk about a full day today! I caught some rays, swam 50 laps, vacuumed and cleaned the apartment, did a load of laundry, got kitty litter and supplies for our Virginia trip, talked to my parents, did my shopping at K-Mart, worked 5 hours, and got some things packed for my big vacation next month.
That’s it for now. Off to continue setting up my new tablet PC for my work…. Gad, it's another Toshiba. Let's see how long the system board lasts on this one. God help me.
Watching the news is like watching “Third Watch” or “NYPD Blue.” The police commissioner is a regular speaker on the local news – I could easily recognize him if I ever passed him on the street. When I lived in Puget Sound, I used to tell family and friends, “There is no crime here.” The whole time I lived there I don’t think I ever knew the police commissioner’s name. There were rarely any murders or armed robberies or shooting deaths in Seattle.
But here in NY, violent crime is a daily occurrence. There’s a lot of dying going on. I’m just not used to it. This week the news reported the third different instance this year of a toddler falling out of a second story window at home. A hospital maintenance worker sexually assaulted a 60-year-old woman in her hospital bed after brain surgery. A generous, loving grandmother was shot in the head in her kitchen - but the police have no leads. There’s a serial rapist terrorizing women in Chelsea. Three young boys suffocated in a bizarre accidental death in Camden, NJ, this week, and a 9-year-old girl shot and killed her 11-year-old friend after a fight over a ball not long ago.
I don’t know how much money they are paying NY’s finest, but it can’t possibly be enough, even with the pay raise they are due to get in the near future, thanks to the mayor.
New York is very community-oriented. People who live here truly care about their community – including Mayor Bloomberg. The mayor’s voice is frequently heard, and his face is as recognizable as President Bush’s. He is always in the news – doing what he can to keep this busy city of 9 million people running smoothly. Even Donald Trump has tremendous influence in the community here. It was he who finally came forward and candidly announced we should rebuild the World Trade Towers just like they were before and forget this silly Freedom Tower idea. Just put it back the way it was, the Donald suggested. There is no doubt in my mind that most New Yorkers agree with this philosophy of his. I know how people here think. 9/11 still weighs heavy on many minds.
New Yorkers are very real people. They are passionate, intense, funny, proud, and honest. I'll tell you what - when I got my hair all chopped off, not one single friend or doorman I know hesitated to tell me they didn't like it! At least they told me the truth - (which explains why I am suffering through this horrible growing-out phase for the first time since I was in the 6th grade. I have learned that my hair doesn't grow down, it grows out). I have met very few unfriendly New Yorkers - none that I can even recall. Even my current favorite author, Augusten Burroughs, lives here in the City.
In Seattle, people kept to themselves. I never felt a sense of “community” in the seven years I lived there, with the possible exception of my last few months living in Valley Green when I had wonderful neighbors who quickly became my closest friends. In fact, I’m not even sure if the city I lived in - Bellevue - has a mayor, much less what his or her name might be. I remember Governor Locke, but that’s about it.
New York is the greatest city in the world. Just yesterday while standing on a subway platform, I momentarily felt like I was living in a dream. I was looking across the tracks at a stopped train, sort of in a daze after a hectic work week. The New York City seal painted on the outside of one of the silver cars caught my eye. For a split second I thought, “Am I really living in New York city?!” I had to pinch myself. It’s true. It’s an experience I’ll never forget.
By the way, the reason I was standing at the 2/3 track was because the 1 train car I'd boarded to go home from the client’s site didn’t have any air on it. So I had jumped off at 14th Street to catch the express to 42nd where I could jump back onto the next 1 or 9 train for the last 8 blocks. Funny thing is, at 42nd Street the train I jumped on also didn’t have any A/C. "No way," I thought. I took a look around and sure enough, it was the same car on the same train I had transferred from.
Talk about a full day today! I caught some rays, swam 50 laps, vacuumed and cleaned the apartment, did a load of laundry, got kitty litter and supplies for our Virginia trip, talked to my parents, did my shopping at K-Mart, worked 5 hours, and got some things packed for my big vacation next month.
That’s it for now. Off to continue setting up my new tablet PC for my work…. Gad, it's another Toshiba. Let's see how long the system board lasts on this one. God help me.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Celebrity Sighting #2
After a nice short 9-hour work day (yay!), I decided to go walking in Central Park instead of working out in the gym in my apartment building. It was supposed to be another miserable 95-degree day today, but it was surprisingly cooler than. I had fully prepared myself to melt on the subway platform this morning but was pleasantly surprised at the welcome reprieve from the sweltering temperatures of late.
Anyway, I never quite made it past Columbia Circle on my way to Central Park tonight.
I got drawn into an art and framing gallery, and spent quite some time poring over several NY cityscapes - some in water color and others in lithograph. I was picking out two different framed prints to buy – keepsakes to remind me of my stay here - and was discussing pricing and framing with the two nice middle eastern men working in the shop. But there was a bit of a language gap that created some confusion, and by the time I’d decided on my purchase and the frames I wanted, I realized that the print I wanted really didn’t come in the size I’d asked for. Anyway, I started over picking out two prints and working these two guys for their best deal.
Ah but you can get a good deal at this gallery. “You pay cash?” one of them asked me. I said “No, credit card.” (Tip: Never wander the city without credit card, subway pass, and $20 cash. I carry these even when I go out just walking for exercise. I also carry a camera.) So he explained the deal of the day to me: “You pay cash, no taxes.” At first I didn’t catch “taxes.” He clarified: “Cash – no taxes.”
“Ahhhh,” I nodded. Right, OK, and that’s about as illegal as selling knock-off Louis Vuitton purses on Canal. I told them I’d think about it and come back tomorrow. The price was just too high. I left with a beautiful $7 set of panoramic post cards and my dignity.
I was walking around Columbus circle and started to pass a cameraman who was filming an interview right in front of the Time-Warner building. I didn’t recognize the woman being interviewed so I kept walking. But my curiosity got the most of me, and I turned around and went back to join the tiny crowd watching this interview.
That’s when I realized that the famous person was the interveiwer, not the interviewee. I recognized him. I recognized his voice immediately – but I had to study his face to make sure it was who I thought it was. He looked older and shorter than he should have (in my mind). Of all of us standing there, though, none of us could remember the guy’s name – we all asked each another, "What's his name?" like it was on the tip of our tongues. He’s one of those actors who plays bit parts and appears a lot on TV and on film. I finally asked a man standing close by (who turned out to be a member of the actor’s entourage).
It was Jay Thomas. “Ah! That's it!” I snapped my fingers as if I'd known all along.
The name meant nothing to me. But I knew I’d seen this guy on a thousand shows. And I knew I liked him. (See imdb.com/name/nm0858988/.) So I snapped a few photos.
When I entered Daffy’s on 57th Street after that, I knew my walk just wasn’t going to happen tonight. Time to shop! I love Daffy’s – clothing bargains for millionaires. I got a $79 Nine West purse for just $35.99, among other summer clothing items.
I guess it’s not a good thing to live within walking distance of so many clothing stores. I keep finding myself wandering in. And spending! Shopping in New York is just so much fun. I’ve really got it good here.
Anyway, I never quite made it past Columbia Circle on my way to Central Park tonight.
I got drawn into an art and framing gallery, and spent quite some time poring over several NY cityscapes - some in water color and others in lithograph. I was picking out two different framed prints to buy – keepsakes to remind me of my stay here - and was discussing pricing and framing with the two nice middle eastern men working in the shop. But there was a bit of a language gap that created some confusion, and by the time I’d decided on my purchase and the frames I wanted, I realized that the print I wanted really didn’t come in the size I’d asked for. Anyway, I started over picking out two prints and working these two guys for their best deal.
Ah but you can get a good deal at this gallery. “You pay cash?” one of them asked me. I said “No, credit card.” (Tip: Never wander the city without credit card, subway pass, and $20 cash. I carry these even when I go out just walking for exercise. I also carry a camera.) So he explained the deal of the day to me: “You pay cash, no taxes.” At first I didn’t catch “taxes.” He clarified: “Cash – no taxes.”
“Ahhhh,” I nodded. Right, OK, and that’s about as illegal as selling knock-off Louis Vuitton purses on Canal. I told them I’d think about it and come back tomorrow. The price was just too high. I left with a beautiful $7 set of panoramic post cards and my dignity.
I was walking around Columbus circle and started to pass a cameraman who was filming an interview right in front of the Time-Warner building. I didn’t recognize the woman being interviewed so I kept walking. But my curiosity got the most of me, and I turned around and went back to join the tiny crowd watching this interview.
That’s when I realized that the famous person was the interveiwer, not the interviewee. I recognized him. I recognized his voice immediately – but I had to study his face to make sure it was who I thought it was. He looked older and shorter than he should have (in my mind). Of all of us standing there, though, none of us could remember the guy’s name – we all asked each another, "What's his name?" like it was on the tip of our tongues. He’s one of those actors who plays bit parts and appears a lot on TV and on film. I finally asked a man standing close by (who turned out to be a member of the actor’s entourage).
It was Jay Thomas. “Ah! That's it!” I snapped my fingers as if I'd known all along.
The name meant nothing to me. But I knew I’d seen this guy on a thousand shows. And I knew I liked him. (See imdb.com/name/nm0858988/.) So I snapped a few photos.
When I entered Daffy’s on 57th Street after that, I knew my walk just wasn’t going to happen tonight. Time to shop! I love Daffy’s – clothing bargains for millionaires. I got a $79 Nine West purse for just $35.99, among other summer clothing items.
I guess it’s not a good thing to live within walking distance of so many clothing stores. I keep finding myself wandering in. And spending! Shopping in New York is just so much fun. I’ve really got it good here.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Shopping with the Animals at Rite Aid
It’s official. The hot weather is here. We went from being 20 degrees below normal to breaking heat records – all in the space of two weeks. So today was a beautiful 80+ degree day. I got a good dose of much-needed Vitamin D today, soaking up rays on the Gershwin's second floor sun deck, reading NY Times Magazine. That’s two weekends in a row that I summoned the courage to bare my pale arms! If I keep it up, they won’t be pale for long.
Later this afternoon I went across the street to do a little shopping at Rite Aid – it’s the only store where I can find affordable cereal. Usually they have cereal on sale 2 for $5. I was out of Grape Nuts, so I sorted through my coupons for the first time in a while and trekked across the street.
I am a coupon-clipper. I get that from my mom. I’ve really got to hand it to my parents. One thing they ingrained in us kids was how to save money. My sister Lisa is famous for buying clothes for under ten dollars. Every time I see her, it’s “I paid four dollars for this skirt at Hammer’s,” or “I got these sandals for a dollar-eighty-eight at Hammer’s,” etc. I get such a kick out of Lisa's uncanny ability to remember exactly what she paid for everthing. That must run in the family too.
Anyway, at Rite Aid I was standing in line when a very Italian-looking New Yorker walked in and stood next to the counter near me. He held a snow-white kitty cat on his shoulder. This cat had the biggest, bluest eyes I’d ever seen on a cat. Frank Sinatra eyes. When I asked the cat’s name, the man said, “I’m not sure yet. Maybe snowball." This was one beautiful cat - for a stray.
New York is a pet-friendly city. I’ve seen dogs in that Rite Aid more than once. A couple weeks ago a nice-looking young guy walked in with an African Grey parrot on his shoulder. Later tonight on my way to Central Park for a stroll I saw a man and his daughters watering their three dogs at a small fountain outside the Time Warner building. One of the young girls had a huge, brightly colored Macaw on her arm.
Anyway, the cute kitty in Rite Aid earned that nice man the privilege of moving ahead of me in line to buy his pack of cigarettes. When I got up to the counter, I warned the cashier that I had "a lot" of coupons. After ringing up my items, Ahmed proceeded to carefully scrutinize every single coupon. I must have really thrown him off with the first coupon. It was good for a free 2-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper – a value of up to $1.59. After verifying the $1.79 price on the soda bottle twice with the scanner, Ahmed started reading the coupon aloud: “…free…up to $1.59.” He looked at the cash register, then back at the coupon, then back at the cash register. I tried to help: “That means the coupon is worth $1.59.” After another minute of thought, he carefully folded the coupon at the bar code and scanned it.
Still seven or eight coupons to go.
For each and every coupon, Ahmed rifled through my purchase to find the item matching the coupon, carefully reading the product label and comparing it to the coupon. This was taking some time, so I started holding up the items for him. He seemed skeptical of the lipstick coupon, reading the coupon, and then reading the tiny fine print on the lipstick next to the UPC code. “Maybelline New York,” I assured him. He nodded, folded the coupon, and scanned it.
By the time Ahmed was done totaling my purchase and scanning coupons, Snowball the cat had probably taken in a couple Broadway shows with his new owner.
All in all, I saved over $13 on my one-basket purchase, so it was worth the wait. I think I’ll call and tell my sister.
Later this afternoon I went across the street to do a little shopping at Rite Aid – it’s the only store where I can find affordable cereal. Usually they have cereal on sale 2 for $5. I was out of Grape Nuts, so I sorted through my coupons for the first time in a while and trekked across the street.
I am a coupon-clipper. I get that from my mom. I’ve really got to hand it to my parents. One thing they ingrained in us kids was how to save money. My sister Lisa is famous for buying clothes for under ten dollars. Every time I see her, it’s “I paid four dollars for this skirt at Hammer’s,” or “I got these sandals for a dollar-eighty-eight at Hammer’s,” etc. I get such a kick out of Lisa's uncanny ability to remember exactly what she paid for everthing. That must run in the family too.
Anyway, at Rite Aid I was standing in line when a very Italian-looking New Yorker walked in and stood next to the counter near me. He held a snow-white kitty cat on his shoulder. This cat had the biggest, bluest eyes I’d ever seen on a cat. Frank Sinatra eyes. When I asked the cat’s name, the man said, “I’m not sure yet. Maybe snowball." This was one beautiful cat - for a stray.
New York is a pet-friendly city. I’ve seen dogs in that Rite Aid more than once. A couple weeks ago a nice-looking young guy walked in with an African Grey parrot on his shoulder. Later tonight on my way to Central Park for a stroll I saw a man and his daughters watering their three dogs at a small fountain outside the Time Warner building. One of the young girls had a huge, brightly colored Macaw on her arm.
Anyway, the cute kitty in Rite Aid earned that nice man the privilege of moving ahead of me in line to buy his pack of cigarettes. When I got up to the counter, I warned the cashier that I had "a lot" of coupons. After ringing up my items, Ahmed proceeded to carefully scrutinize every single coupon. I must have really thrown him off with the first coupon. It was good for a free 2-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper – a value of up to $1.59. After verifying the $1.79 price on the soda bottle twice with the scanner, Ahmed started reading the coupon aloud: “…free…up to $1.59.” He looked at the cash register, then back at the coupon, then back at the cash register. I tried to help: “That means the coupon is worth $1.59.” After another minute of thought, he carefully folded the coupon at the bar code and scanned it.
Still seven or eight coupons to go.
For each and every coupon, Ahmed rifled through my purchase to find the item matching the coupon, carefully reading the product label and comparing it to the coupon. This was taking some time, so I started holding up the items for him. He seemed skeptical of the lipstick coupon, reading the coupon, and then reading the tiny fine print on the lipstick next to the UPC code. “Maybelline New York,” I assured him. He nodded, folded the coupon, and scanned it.
By the time Ahmed was done totaling my purchase and scanning coupons, Snowball the cat had probably taken in a couple Broadway shows with his new owner.
All in all, I saved over $13 on my one-basket purchase, so it was worth the wait. I think I’ll call and tell my sister.
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