the test

today i went to home depot. this was particularly ambitious because: 1) this is peak tourist season in NY and therefore impossible to do any mundane task without coming face-to-face with a hundred people on the street taking pictures; and 2) i had just gone to the eye doctor and my eyes were completely dilated. i could see 15 feet in front of me, but struggled to read anything within an arms length. 

i had a mission at home depot. besides the double-sided tape to mount my spice rack (true story) and a random assortment of incidentals, i was in need of a few bookshelves for my apt. nothing fancy, just something to hold the 6 boxes worth of books i've had stacked in my kitchen since i moved. 

so here i am in the basement of home depot in the middle of manhattan. there are probably 5 workers for every square foot of store, but they each are relegated to a section. they can move freely between areas if they are escorting a customer, but beyond that they stick to their borders. once i found the bookcases, i felt that i had really scored. my orange vested saviour (brandon) was standing no less than five feet away from my desired purchases. brandon was talking to another customer, so i gave him a little wave and a head nod to show him i'd like him to swing by when he was done. i know he saw this, because he nodded back, much like a bartender nods when they non-verbally promise to come back momentarily to get your next round. i wait around for another 4 minutes before i start to get antsy. i begin to eavesdrop on brandon's conversation with said "customer" and realize that this dude is not even looking to purchase anything and the two of them are engaged in a blatant pick-up situation. they are chatting about exhibits at the Frick and grad school, not bookshelves or hinges, or even power drill mechanics. i give brandon another nod, but this time he averts eye-contact. i start to walk towards him, but he turns the other way. this is when i begin the test. in an unmedicated state, i probably would have just gone and complained or pulled him away from his potential date, but my temporary blindness was clouding my judgement. 

test #1 - the lap. i stare intently at the items i want, pace around for a bit, read the contents of the boxes, and make it obvious that i'm perusing the items in his area. i then exit the aisle, circle back through another aisle and come back around to the same spot i was in. this was no doubt a majorly passive aggressive move, but if i were to make a media analogy to this, i was trying to work the frequency angle.  

test #2 - the substitute. i walk away from the items and attempt to flag down another orange vest. miraculously it takes me a good 3 aisles before i find another vest. well it turns out that this vest is assigned to another dept. i accompany him to drop off a cart to brandon; then he leaves us, assuming that brando will be so kind to help me out. brandon looks up at me, glances at the cart, and then continues chatting away.

test #2 - the weak girl. i'm not particularly strong these days - it's been at least 5 months since i've hit the gym. i'm still not back to my normal weight pre-gallbladder, and don't look like i could lift a ton of weight. that said, most normal employees go out of their way to make sure customers don't have to lift heavy objects. especially when the customer is a female. also, i wasn't wearing sweatpants, which usually earns me a fair amount of brownie points when asking for assistance in a store. despite my nods, and even a verbal plea for help, it's apparent that brandon isn't going to help me. from there, i take the cart and bring it over to the shelving with the boxes of the bookshelves. really truly at this point i would have thought brandon would have stepped in - even if i were a dude and he was in the middle of helping someone (which he wasn't). keep in mind my eyes are still dilated - actually getting worse - and somehow lifting objects seems like a great idea to me. i slide one of the 35 lb bookshelves off of the second shelf. after two attempts of wobbly swinging around the awkward box (the weight was distributed oddly so that one side was way heavier than the other) i manage to drop it into the cart. i swing the cart around past brando and his future boy toy, thank him for all of his help, and proceed to checkout. 

now i can't say i was completely right in this situation - i was messing up his game after all - but jesus. this was not a matter of waiting my turn. for the record, i don't recommend following my testing techniques. nor do i suggest doing any heavy lifting while experiencing impaired vision. i suppose it serves me right for disrupting the opthamological gods. 

BUSted

when i lived in minneapolis i took the bus every day. i had a car with me for the better part of my collegiate career, but the price of gas and incidentals encouraged me to take public transportation when the distance of my destination was greater than walking to the west bank of our campus.

during my year-long stint as an intern at an ad agency in st. paul, i took the 16 route to and from work every mon, wed, and fri. in retrospect, this was excellent preparation for my current relationship with public transportation. here in nyc, most everyone is at the mercy of the MTA. (with the exception of the park slope stroller moms who drive their suv's into the city and are using their clout to block the city's proposals for toll fees at the entrances into the city.) from lindsay lohan to beyonce, the nyc subway is the great equalizer of the five boroughs. the buses here however, are a completely different story. especially when it comes to interstate traveling.

for every nearby destination, there is an ill-organized bus service to ferry young professionals (or collegiate-age persons). these vessels' popularity peaks around any holiday that involves a day off from work/school. while immensely cheap and usually easy to use, these services are not for anyone who needs to be ANYWHERE in any reasonable span of time. a new rider can easily be spotted thanks to the "reservation" slip they wave at the workers while trying to argue their way onto an overcrowded bus. "but i have a reservation on the 3:30!!" you can hear them shout as they are shown to the back of the line. for the next hour, you can usually hear the newbies on the phone with their parents, whining about how they are never riding the bus again because it's causing them to miss ______. i highly doubt that any of these kids actually make good on their promises, because each and everytime i ride the bus over thanksgiving i see one of these said individuals, now joining me in my fascination with the rookie experience.

these buses must be oozing cash, literally leaving a path of benjamins as they head down the new jersey turnpike. each bus is filled to capacity with people under 30 (with an occasional woman from queens going on her annual trip to see her daughter in DC) who each pay in cash for their way to our nation's capital (or another high-traffic area on the greater east coast).

quite honestly, for a $25 trip, i really don't expect much. i've gotten to the stage of being a new yorker where i no longer feel a sense of empathy towards the rookies of the bus service. it's probably sad that part of my soul has been ripped away by the MTA screwing with any semblance of timeliness in my life, but at this point it's these little things that cause me from going mad when i am stuck between the vernon jackson and court square stops and missing the start of my 9am meeting. when it comes to the choice between being chauffered by public transit on a daily basis or having to scrape my windshield while blasting the defroster in the throws of december, i'll wait in line for the bus, thank you very much.

'tis the season

i have a friend whose golden rule is both a blessing and a curse: thou shall not say no to social engagements. she will hit a bar mitzvah in the morning, a baby shower at noon, then a bachelorette party in the evening. somewhere in between she'll probably find time to get a manicure or book a trip to florida. this woman cannot find a free evening 2 months ahead of time. she is not the first of my friends to follow this ideology, but she very well could be the one who gets screwed over by it most routinely. this week's turn of events is worth repeating.

my friend is quickly approaching her wedding anniversary. the exact details of the planned events were not divulged to me, but they're pretty irrelevant for this tale. let's say that they intended to spend the night with a quiet dinner, lots of wine, and no set plans. that's what my ideal anniversary would entail, though my night would also include heather grey sweatpants and snack foods. what they planned to do really doesn't matter, because the said anniversary plans were put on the skids by her well-intentioned but ill-timed sister-in-law. good 'ole SIL planned a birthday party smack on top of the no set planned-anniversary. for some, this would just mean that you tell SIL tough shit and that you'll see her next time. but golden rule or no golden rule, no compassionate person can deny the invite when there are nieces and nephews in the mix. so the heather grey celebration was put on hiatus for the little tike's bday party. (for the record - that also means a gift must be purchased.)

my friend is resourceful, and instead of making a big deal about this, she and her husband just moved their plans (or lack thereof) to the next weekend. BAM. SIL strikes again. this time with a family christmas potluck. now there's cooking involved in the list of mandatories. oh, but don't worry - there's gifts for everyone! not only is it a christmas gathering, there will be a secret santa exchange. the typical white elephant gifts are out the window - this is a $25 secret santa gift. i can only speak for myself on this one, but few of us are in a high enough tax bracket to afford anything beyond the $10 standard. (my all-time personal favorite from a gift exchange was the $9.99 toaster one of my friends found at walgreen's on the way to the madison west leo club 2000 holiday party.) regardless of income status however, we all know that it's the thought that counts. for this very reason, the exorbitant amount of dollars required for the gift minimum was secondary to the anticipated gratitude that my friend was sure her gift recipient would feel upon opening her gift. she imagined her nephew gleefully unwrapping his much desired bob dylan bootleg collection, ensuring her spot as the second favorite extended relative (close behind uncle jim who cemented that position eternally by purchasing the young nephew a rubber band gun for his 8th birthday).

at this juncture in her life though, #2 will remain out of her reach indefinitely. this morning my friend got her secret santee in the mail. it's becky. you know - becky - the realtor. that's right, the realtor was invited to the family christmas gathering.

my friend is now double booked with the little tikes bday extravaganza (i can only guess there will be magic tricks and/or a clown) and a special holiday evening spreading cheer to the century 21 sales leader of oct 2007 in lieu of the quiet anniversary. i guess i know at least one person who won't be getting coal in her stocking this year.