What we did for lunch on Wednesday from the 6th floor
Lunchtime at the office is usually boring. One day, a Wednesday in February, started off as a normal day, and the morning melted away in to lunch. At lunch that day, we had a new lunchtime entertainment that had only been a rumor of the last few weeks: jay-walking entrapment by the police! The last few weeks, the local police set up a trap to catch drivers who did not stop for jay-walkers. With our own eyes, we watched:
Our scene was a wide and busy avenue where drivers speed their cars to beat the pesky traffic lights. The set-up included at least four cops on motorcycles, two hiding behind a bank sign on one side of the street next to the McDonald’s, and across the avenue, the other two tucked into a smaller street beside the local Burger King. Wearing a red sweatshirt, the police-sanctioned jay-walker would poke his head out to glance at the oncoming traffic, and when enough traffic came within range, the Jaywalker would step off the sidewalk and proceed to walk across the street. When jay-walking occurs, and it’s arguable that this was just a pedestrian crossing legally even if it was not on a marked crosswalk, all vehicles from both directions of traffic must stop completely until the person has finished crossing. So many times the Jaywalker would just miss getting hit as the guilty car drove by leaving behind the red-sweatshirted Jaywalker, but not the police on their motorcycles making the big not-stopping-for-pedestrians bust. We saw that about 10 times during the lunch break from the window in the conference room. It was awesome. What is not awesome, but just a little funny: the conclusion that this was not a stand for pedestrian rights, but really a way for the cash-strapped city to raise some revenue.
Showing posts with label Work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Work. Show all posts
03 May 2009
Law, Lightbulbs, and the Princess
Law, Lightbulbs, and the Princess
We have a divorce client in the office whom we have dubbed “Princess.” Princess will always hold a special place in my heart as I learn and struggle to excel in the service sector. I just want so much to help her but I can’t help wanting to pull out every strand of hair on my head whenever she calls and wanting to blog about the experience. And then feeling guilty about her situation and my response, thereby restarting the entire cycle.
Princess is in her early 60s, just getting out of her third marriage, this time to a music scholar turned parks and recreation worker who is almost twenty years her junior. Her father who according to her was an excellent lawyer (say that with her distinctive Northeast Yankee accent) passed away last year, and that was the last straw of her staying in her unhappy marriage. Her father also left her a lot of money, and she wanted to finally ditch her spouse and enjoy her inheritance in peace. It is not for these reasons we call her “Princess.” True to form, let me list the incidents that have led to me to conclude that Princess is an (in)appropriate nickname for our client and a memorable lesson in my little life:
1. She is in her 60s with a seemingly minor but debilitating disease which enables her to collect Social Security Disability. Her parents, and since her father’s death, her mother paid for her rent, car payments, and car insurance during their entire marriage. That is right, she’s in her 60s, and mommy and deceased daddy still pay for her car insurance. And I think her mom just bought her a car because her old car was declared a total loss in an accident.
2. Whenever she calls, she repeats herself and the entire story of why she is calling at least three times. And each time she calls, it is usually in a succession of at least three calls. So, on any given day, we can hear the same thing up to nine times.
3. She always repeats the phrase, “Mr. [our attorney/boss] said that he would take care of me.” Always. But really, how much can an attorney do for someone who needs much more than legal help. He called our landlord who also rents out apartments to help her find an apartment to move into to leave her husband, our boss helped negotiate to get her a fridge. I think this really just irks me because it sounds like this is the story of her life: Someone else, most likely a male in a paternal role, said and will help her. Get over it.
4. One day she called the office to say that the lightbulbs went out in her kitchen and her bathroom and that it was dark, and that she could not climb up on a chair to change the bulbs. She called the apartment management office to see if they could send someone to change the bulb, but they don’t do that, and even though they would out of pity, the handyman had already left for the day. Then she continued to call our office to get our boss/attorney to do something about the lights being out in her kitchen and bathroom. But out boss was either already gone for the day or in court. Finally the next day he was able to return her call and told her that neither he nor the apartment management office could help, but gave her the number to a handyman he knew, and Princess was asking about whether or not the handyman was trustworthy (he is) and how much he would charge (not much), but she would not get off the phone and call herself and ask. A few days later she called again about her case, and our boss asked her if she had called the handyman yet, and she had not. After all the phone calls and complaining, she still did not call the handyman and was peeing in the dark.
5. It was in the course of the defcon one lightbulb problem that our boss told Princess that he’s only her attorney and can only help her on her legal stuff, and that she needs to get some help (implying the mental kind). A short while later, she calls back, our boss happens to pick up the phone, listens to what she says and then places the phone down, saying “She just told me she was going to do her laundry.”
6. One day she came into the office just to drop off some papers and engaged me in an awkward litany of advice wherein she advised me to be careful who I dated and married, lest I get stuck with someone like her (third) ex-husband. Princess said, When I first met him and he told me he loved me and that he would take care of me, and I believed him, and I married him. But after we got married, he was nothing like he was before we married. In almost twenty years together, not once did he help set the table for dinner or help clean up afterwards or help clean the house; if I had a headache, I had to open the aspirin myself; not once did he open the car door for me; I mean, I’m not asking a lot, what am I, a princess?
To which I could only jump with glee inside, it was such metaphysical moment. Of course, I am only choosing events that support by biased conclusion that “Princess” is an appropriate dub. Let me say that she is a sweet old lady when she’s not on one of her rants. And I want to help her but I just don’t know how.
We have a divorce client in the office whom we have dubbed “Princess.” Princess will always hold a special place in my heart as I learn and struggle to excel in the service sector. I just want so much to help her but I can’t help wanting to pull out every strand of hair on my head whenever she calls and wanting to blog about the experience. And then feeling guilty about her situation and my response, thereby restarting the entire cycle.
Princess is in her early 60s, just getting out of her third marriage, this time to a music scholar turned parks and recreation worker who is almost twenty years her junior. Her father who according to her was an excellent lawyer (say that with her distinctive Northeast Yankee accent) passed away last year, and that was the last straw of her staying in her unhappy marriage. Her father also left her a lot of money, and she wanted to finally ditch her spouse and enjoy her inheritance in peace. It is not for these reasons we call her “Princess.” True to form, let me list the incidents that have led to me to conclude that Princess is an (in)appropriate nickname for our client and a memorable lesson in my little life:
1. She is in her 60s with a seemingly minor but debilitating disease which enables her to collect Social Security Disability. Her parents, and since her father’s death, her mother paid for her rent, car payments, and car insurance during their entire marriage. That is right, she’s in her 60s, and mommy and deceased daddy still pay for her car insurance. And I think her mom just bought her a car because her old car was declared a total loss in an accident.
2. Whenever she calls, she repeats herself and the entire story of why she is calling at least three times. And each time she calls, it is usually in a succession of at least three calls. So, on any given day, we can hear the same thing up to nine times.
3. She always repeats the phrase, “Mr. [our attorney/boss] said that he would take care of me.” Always. But really, how much can an attorney do for someone who needs much more than legal help. He called our landlord who also rents out apartments to help her find an apartment to move into to leave her husband, our boss helped negotiate to get her a fridge. I think this really just irks me because it sounds like this is the story of her life: Someone else, most likely a male in a paternal role, said and will help her. Get over it.
4. One day she called the office to say that the lightbulbs went out in her kitchen and her bathroom and that it was dark, and that she could not climb up on a chair to change the bulbs. She called the apartment management office to see if they could send someone to change the bulb, but they don’t do that, and even though they would out of pity, the handyman had already left for the day. Then she continued to call our office to get our boss/attorney to do something about the lights being out in her kitchen and bathroom. But out boss was either already gone for the day or in court. Finally the next day he was able to return her call and told her that neither he nor the apartment management office could help, but gave her the number to a handyman he knew, and Princess was asking about whether or not the handyman was trustworthy (he is) and how much he would charge (not much), but she would not get off the phone and call herself and ask. A few days later she called again about her case, and our boss asked her if she had called the handyman yet, and she had not. After all the phone calls and complaining, she still did not call the handyman and was peeing in the dark.
5. It was in the course of the defcon one lightbulb problem that our boss told Princess that he’s only her attorney and can only help her on her legal stuff, and that she needs to get some help (implying the mental kind). A short while later, she calls back, our boss happens to pick up the phone, listens to what she says and then places the phone down, saying “She just told me she was going to do her laundry.”
6. One day she came into the office just to drop off some papers and engaged me in an awkward litany of advice wherein she advised me to be careful who I dated and married, lest I get stuck with someone like her (third) ex-husband. Princess said, When I first met him and he told me he loved me and that he would take care of me, and I believed him, and I married him. But after we got married, he was nothing like he was before we married. In almost twenty years together, not once did he help set the table for dinner or help clean up afterwards or help clean the house; if I had a headache, I had to open the aspirin myself; not once did he open the car door for me; I mean, I’m not asking a lot, what am I, a princess?
To which I could only jump with glee inside, it was such metaphysical moment. Of course, I am only choosing events that support by biased conclusion that “Princess” is an appropriate dub. Let me say that she is a sweet old lady when she’s not on one of her rants. And I want to help her but I just don’t know how.
29 April 2009
Phone
Phone
In my days answering phones and making phone calls, more often than not I don't reach the person that I am calling and am thus forced to leave a message in their voicemailbox. I have hated leaving messages all my life because I sound so dumb with my "um"s. That specifically, however, is not the topic today. I would like to share some voicemailbox greetings that I have come across recently.
One: The MusiCall:
At least two people I have called have recorded an entire song (or what feeeeeels like an entire song) as their greeting without indicating who they are or what number has been dialed to reach such sickly ear candy. One was a rhythmic poppy song that intended to give the listener an upbeat outlook on life; the other was another rhythmic poppy song intended to celebrate an ethnicity and give the listener an upbeat and not-at-all stereotypical impression of the ethnicity. Was my day brightened by listening to these greetings? Am I not blogging about this now?
But seriously, I called you to tell you something, I don't reach you, I have to listen to an entire song [I am understanding when only a short clippet is recorded, share the joy], clearly the entire song will not fit in the time allotted for the recording of the greeting and abruptly cuts off and "beeeep" it's time for me to perform my message-leaving-skills-magic. As if I don't sound like enough of a dork already talking into a recording, I get to talk without warning while my mind was bopping along to your awesome tunes.
Two: The Fake Intense Situation:
Another day I made a call to someone and did not reach them. Their voicemailbox greeting said, in a film noir voice with a suspenseful horror music lingering in the background, " The person you are trying to reach is not available right now because they are being hunted by vampires. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message and hopefully they can get back to you. Ahhhh!" I have met this person that I was trying to reach and in no way did I get the impression that she was a fan of quirky voicemailbox greetings that implied that the person is fond of simulating some sort of Da Vinci Code meets Twilight situation in a recorded message. What impression I get was that she's a bit uptight and maybe dorky. She was coming in for a meeting and called because she couldn't remember which office suite we were in, and started gathering steam for a mini ramble of thoughts along the lines of I don't understand, you're office suite isn't here, am I in the wrong building, blah blah, and it was hard to interrupt her so as to figure out what was going on. It turns out she mixed up the number of the office building with the office suite, and was looking for us on the wrong floor. Which happens, numbers can be confusing. When she arrived, two floors higher, she rushed in carrying a venti Starbucks hot beverage and announced to me, "It's been a long morning." It was only 9 o'clock. Maybe she is a vampire?
Three: Themes:
This happened today and is my personal favorite. Let me just transcribe it without further commentary:
"Hi, you've reached the Crows. We're all away from our perch right now, so please leave your name, number, and a brief messages, and we'll "caw" you back as soon as we can..."
WOW. END OF STORY.
In my days answering phones and making phone calls, more often than not I don't reach the person that I am calling and am thus forced to leave a message in their voicemailbox. I have hated leaving messages all my life because I sound so dumb with my "um"s. That specifically, however, is not the topic today. I would like to share some voicemailbox greetings that I have come across recently.
One: The MusiCall:
At least two people I have called have recorded an entire song (or what feeeeeels like an entire song) as their greeting without indicating who they are or what number has been dialed to reach such sickly ear candy. One was a rhythmic poppy song that intended to give the listener an upbeat outlook on life; the other was another rhythmic poppy song intended to celebrate an ethnicity and give the listener an upbeat and not-at-all stereotypical impression of the ethnicity. Was my day brightened by listening to these greetings? Am I not blogging about this now?
But seriously, I called you to tell you something, I don't reach you, I have to listen to an entire song [I am understanding when only a short clippet is recorded, share the joy], clearly the entire song will not fit in the time allotted for the recording of the greeting and abruptly cuts off and "beeeep" it's time for me to perform my message-leaving-skills-magic. As if I don't sound like enough of a dork already talking into a recording, I get to talk without warning while my mind was bopping along to your awesome tunes.
Two: The Fake Intense Situation:
Another day I made a call to someone and did not reach them. Their voicemailbox greeting said, in a film noir voice with a suspenseful horror music lingering in the background, " The person you are trying to reach is not available right now because they are being hunted by vampires. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message and hopefully they can get back to you. Ahhhh!" I have met this person that I was trying to reach and in no way did I get the impression that she was a fan of quirky voicemailbox greetings that implied that the person is fond of simulating some sort of Da Vinci Code meets Twilight situation in a recorded message. What impression I get was that she's a bit uptight and maybe dorky. She was coming in for a meeting and called because she couldn't remember which office suite we were in, and started gathering steam for a mini ramble of thoughts along the lines of I don't understand, you're office suite isn't here, am I in the wrong building, blah blah, and it was hard to interrupt her so as to figure out what was going on. It turns out she mixed up the number of the office building with the office suite, and was looking for us on the wrong floor. Which happens, numbers can be confusing. When she arrived, two floors higher, she rushed in carrying a venti Starbucks hot beverage and announced to me, "It's been a long morning." It was only 9 o'clock. Maybe she is a vampire?
Three: Themes:
This happened today and is my personal favorite. Let me just transcribe it without further commentary:
"Hi, you've reached the Crows. We're all away from our perch right now, so please leave your name, number, and a brief messages, and we'll "caw" you back as soon as we can..."
WOW. END OF STORY.
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