I've Been Waiting

This morning, on the way to the gym, I heard a song on WITR that I've liked whenever it came on the air for years but never bothered to pay attention beyond that. I never even knew what band played it. And, for the first time ever, I suddenly realized that it is a man singing. A man. Now it's so obvious. Especially when he starts screaming. How could I have ever thought otherwise?

It's the room, the sun and the sky. The room, the sun and the sky.

Bad Idea

Me: We should really update our website to look more current, better reflect our brand and bump us higher in the search engine rankings.

My boss: Why? Do you think we need more work?

Good point.

5:59 a.m.

The lights are on but no one's home . . .

I went to Dunkin' Donuts on the way to work this morning. No one in the place except the two women who were stocking the donut shelves and ignoring me. So close I could reach out and touch them. Not even looking at me. Walking back and forth like I was invisible.

Finally one looked up at me with a mix of disdain and incredulity. "Can I help you?"

"I would like a large coffee with milk, please."

Sigh. Eye roll.

"I'll get it for you but we don't open until six."

"Oh no. I'm so sorry!" (Glance at watch.) "Would you like me to come back in one minute?"

Hooray for Geeks

This morning, I awoke to go swimming but first checked the RAC website to make sure there were no classes in the pool. Nope, none until 9:00 a.m. I arrived to find an 8:00 a.m. class beginning in 15 minutes.

Me: Your website is wrong. It says the Aqua-Cise class is at 9:00 a.m.

Front desk chick: I don't handle the website.

Me: Well, I don't appreciate driving all of the way here to discover that I cannot swim.

Front desk chick: (blank stare)

Me (leading the witness): Is there someone I can contact to get this corrected?

Front desk chick: I don't know. Maybe I could ask someone else when they get in?

Me: That would be great.

I love her not-my-problem, out-of-my-functional-silo, maybe-do attitude.

So I went home and on the way stopped at Tim Hortons because we had a sleepover last night and Son #2's friend loves vanilla dip donuts. (If you can't exercise, might as well eat disgusting sugar encrusted lipids for breakfast.)

Aside from the Geek Squad truck pulling in, the parking lot was otherwise empty. Being lazy from a lack of exercise at the gym, I opted for the drive-thru.

Me: I would like a dozen donuts.

Drive-thru dude: That'll be $6.49; drive up to the window.

Me: Don't you want to know what kind I want?

Dude: It's just assorted in the drive-thru. If you want to pick your donuts, you have to come it.

Me: But no one's behind me and the restaurant is empty.

Dude: Yeah, but you still have to come in.

So in I went. I love his follow-the-rules-even-when-ridiculous, no-can-do approach to customer satisfaction.

On the way in, the Geek Squad held the door for me. I, in turn, offered to hold the inside door for them but they wouldn't let me.

Geek: We're not only friendly guys, we're representing the fabulous Best Buy brand.

Say what???? Um, did I just hear that correctly? A delivery crew who is trained to serve customers, or potential customers, well even when popping in off the clock to grab donuts? And mention their brand name in the process?

Best Buy. My new heroes. Really, it doesn't take much.

Vacation Day!

Guess where I am? *&^%$#@#$%$^%&&^%$##(*%$#@^^

It's the most wonderful time of the year
There'll be much mistletoe-ing
And CPUs will be glowing
When coworkers are near
It's the most wonderful time of the year

There'll be meetings for hosting
Strategies for toasting
And driving out in the snow
There'll be scary client stories
And tales of the glories of
vacations long, long ago

It's the most wonderful time of the year

Fauxbriety

On behalf of a girlfriend who I love and who will remain nameless, I just coined a new word: fauxbriety.

Definition: "Even though I'm swerving all over the road and catapulting my car over snowbanks, I swear I haven't had a drink in weeks."

She claims it was a combination of cold medicine and queasiness so, unless it happens again, I'll have to take her word for it. To the best of my knowledge, it's never happened before so the benefit of the doubt seems to be in order here. In the meantime, I simply plan to stay clear of her car.

Taxi!

Update: So much for being proud of myself. I just Googled my new word and it's been on Urban Dictionary since 2008. Darn it all. 

A Day at the Improv

I perfectly choreographed my day today. Up at 4:30 a.m. Swim. Qi Gong in steam room (and pray to God that no one comes in to witness). Sauna. Shower. Drive to Albany. Conference call. Four hour meeting. Drive home. Girls' night out.

Nagging feeling. Gosh, what am I forgetting?

Oh, to pack a bra and underwear in my gym bag?! What the . . . ?

With no time to drive home but with the need to stand in front of a conference room of men and only men (i.e., no confidante) wearing a skirt, I did what any reasonable woman who doesn't want her cooch to be the focal point of a meeting would do: I wore another (dry) bathing suit under my suit.

It doesn't get much better than this.

Take a Load Off

With all of this talk about airlines, such as Spirit Air, beginning to charge extra fees not only for checked bags but also for carry on bags, people are clearly dismayed. When it's bundled into the cost of our tickets, we don't know how much we're paying for baggage because it's not itemized (so we complain about high ticket costs). When it's unbundled and we're presumably paying a lower fare to fly, we balk at the incremental fees.

Yet here is where these policies create real value for the travelers and not for the airline: the power of choice. At $45 for a carry-on and, on average, $20 for a checked bag, I might be better off sending my luggage via FedEx, no? The four-day, ground, door-to-door delivery option for 30 lb. package traveling from Rochester to Beverly Hills is a mere $36.75. Yep. I'll pay a lower price to fly and I don't have to carry a thing. Sure I have to pack earlier than usual; I can handle that.

I'm not sure if this is a classic example of some idiot in revenue management looking at growing his airline's profit margins (short-term) without looking at the bigger picture (i.e., customer dissatisfaction and/or lost revenue to a carrier that's not directly in his competitive set); however, if I worked in marketing at FedEx, I would leverage this opportunity to market the heck out of my service and cue up The Band.

And . . . you put the load right on me.

We're Through Being Cool

Just over a year ago, my girlfriend Margaret and I went in search of awesome cupcakes in NYC. We ended up at Magnolia Bakery one afternoon where I bought my mom a cute I cupcake NY t-shirt. Fun.

I hadn’t really thought about it much again until this week. As I mentioned in my post two days ago, a local blogger is searching for the best cupcake in Rochester. Fun again!

Yesterday, my girlfriend wrote a cute yet snarky comment about cupcakes becoming the “it” dessert on her FB page. Cupcakes again? I defended the otherwise helpless cupcakes and jokingly stated that I didn’t realize they were the “it” dessert until recently.

In response, one of her friends wrote: The cupcake has been the “it” dessert for awhile now, and its “itness” is fading.

OMG. Has it come to this?

Instead of dealing with obnoxious emo-cutting-edge-music-mega-dumbass comments like “I listened to Chali 2na way before they were played on air” or “I discovered so-and-so before they even had a recording contract,” we now have to contend with hipsters claiming that cupcakes are on their way out after, I'm guessing, a hundred plus years? What’s next: that bacon is also so last year?

They’re only cupcakes people. Cupcakes. If loving them is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.

Señor uber-trendy can go have his pain perdu (i.e., French toast for elitists) or perhaps some vegan, artisan chocolates. I’ll have my lard-laden cupcakes with sprinkles, thanks.

Safe but Not Sound

Winter mornings in Rochester consist of driving along the highway, steering your car quickly around large clumps of hardened snow that the semi in front of you just deposited on the road, and passing car after car after car that somehow ended up in a ditch on the side of the road or backwards/upside-down in the median. Police cars lit up. Tow trucks everywhere.

But that doesn't slow us down. Nope. It doesn't matter that the speed limit is 65, the roads are covered in black ice, 40 mile per hour howling winds are blowing snow across your windscreen and there's a hazardous weather outlook in place: you still need to drive as fast as possible, pass, cut people off and slam on your breaks when some idiot in front of you is doing the speed limit. No need to put down the cell phone. Multitasking is cool.

Come on people, you're going to make me late for that critical meeting that, this time next week, I'll have forgotten all about.

As I approached my office, the car in front of me was doing 25 in a 40 mph zone. Hey, what's with the caution? Can't see the road through the sleet? Then I noticed the out-of-state plates and I wondered what it must be like for someone unaccustomed to extreme driving to be thrown into the lunacy here. Would it be like lacing up my ice skates and trying to compete in an Olympic speed skating event? No, because at least they're all headed in the same direction.

Maybe I would understand more clearly if I was battling asteroids from a single passenger spacecraft. Or if I was suddenly thrown, without warning, into a Rugby game, say the Barbarians vs. New Zealand, and I had the ball.

It's all so very Norman Rockwell around here in the wintertime.