Dang, Django!

[image credit]

When I was in Boston, I went to a friend's graduation party. She is thee party diva, and of course when I heard the music she was playing I made a note to ask her what it was.

So on Thursday, two days before the bbq, I emailed her to ask who or what she'd been playing.

She was on her way to Europe so I wasn't sure she' get the message in time. But yes -- she did. And this is what she replied:

soundtrack was Sweet and Lowdown...if you're looking for music in that style, look around for "gypsy jazz" or any music by the guitarist Django Reinhardt... that's how we found the band for our wedding!! :)

Added to Pandora. Party prep almost done.

Moving on --->

I'm taking this class, and you should too

[Video credit]

I realize that if I'm going to ever get back up to speed, I need to start publishing four posts per day. But between those updates, I want to alert you about an online course about negotiation I think you, gentle reader, should take. Because I'm taking it, too!

It's a class called She Negotiates, and it's taught by Vickie Pynchon, who is a lawyer, mediator, an expert negotiator, a contributor to more publications than I can count on all my fingers and toes, and, on top of it all, a very nice person.

Here's a link to the course page. In short: it's 4 weeks long, online, it promises to pay for itself. Here's a summery of what will be covered:

This transformational negotiation course examines the way you value yourself, your services, your salary, your bonuses and your products, and gives you the tools necessary to recalibrate your market value. You will learn the basics of both distributive and interest-based negotiation strategies, and explore the primary tactics used to negotiate the best deals for yourselves, your clients and your family.

I want to sign up because while I'm an experienced asker, negotiation is a different ballgame. I've just started this writing business and I know this education will help me make sure I'm getting compensated fairly. I missed the last seminar because I was traveling, but this one is perfect timing! It starts July 19.

So here's my idea: What if a bunch of us got together, took the class, then tracked our progress on this blog? We could trade ideas and learn from one another. Would anyone be interested in joining me on this educational adventure? We can claim lockers next to each other and gossip about the AP Econ teacher's date with the French substitute teacher. Good times!

If you're employed, you should ask your boss to pay for it. If you're like me -- self employed or not working -- I hope you'll find that the investment is well worth it. You know I never endorse stuff on this blog. At most I give a merchant a thumbs up after he or she says yes to my asking. But Vickie and I have traded emails and tweets, which is how I know she's awesome, and from what I've read on her blog and articles I am sure I have a lot to learn from her.

If you do decide to take the course, let me know!

And now, back to our regularly scheduled asking updates...

Please give me the secret family recipe?

Armed with a new gas grill, I was ready to host a BBQ for friends and family to celebrate the graduation. I'm usually pretty chill about these things -- haven't had a birthday "PARTY" in years and I normally opt for the simple and low key -- but this was the perfect excuse to assemble everyone I've cared about and feed them.

But in order to have a kicking party, I needed to make mici. Mici, pronounced "meech," are these tiny scrumptious meaty things made in my family. I've attached a picture, and disregarding any visual associations that may be a turnoff, I invite you to simply imagine the most delicious grilled ground beef morsel you've ever had, double the
deliciousness. Behold mici. Or if you are vegetarian, take the most scrumptious grilled veggies you've ever had, double the deliciousness, replace the veggies with meat. Behold mici.

I've never attempted cooking them before, since rumor has it they involve two or three kinds of meat, about 20 spices, and some animal products I don't want to think about.

So I called my aunt, G-whiz, and asked her for the recipe.

Not only did she agree to give me the recipe. She said we'll go ingredient shopping together and
she'll help me prepare them and she'll throw in the meech-making-machine her dad, my great uncle, invented!

WOWZER!

So: barbecue menu set, invitations were next. Party date: June 5.

Tell me about this painting?

Saturday, it was pouring. Perfect museum weather!

Mr. A and I met up with my dad, stepmom and La Sorella for a visit to Boston's Museum of Fine Arts.

My dad is an architect. I've written about his passion for beauty and his penchant for architectural gossip here and here.

Thus my asking for the day is nothing ambitious, nothing that shatters glass ceilings or threatens the status quo. On the contrary, it's one of the oldest, most familiar and most comfortable kinds of questions I know. I asked my dad to tell me about the art we were looking at.

Which he would have done anyway. ;)

image credit: MFA

Where is Paradiso?

"You have to try Caffe Paradiso," I told my mom, aunt and Mr. A in Boston's North End, where we for a stroll the afternoon after Commencement. "They used to have a location in Cambridge, too, but that closed a few years ago. Tragic."

I owe my caffeine addiction to my mom. For years, when I was growing up, coffee was our Sunday morning ritual, until the pediatrician told her to stick to milk at least until my first tooth came in. More recently, we picked it up again, until I moved in with Mr. A.

These days we steal away after work or during lunch breaks, trading updates about our mornings between comments about the current coffee experience. Like: "I think the barista has a crush on you, mom," followed by her scoffing giggle: denial.

So of course when I mentioned this place she perked up and exclaimed, "I think you told me about it!"

"Yes, that's the one! With the perfectly foamed cappuccinos and soccer matches. If we hang a left it should be right here... here... maybe just half a block down... wait, where is it!?"

Had the second location also shut down, which would be real loss for the cultural and culinary landscape of Boston and one more twisted tribute to this crushing recession, or was I just not remembering things right? I could see its corner location. Plenty of windows, the stack of cannoli in the glass case which I always passed over for the imported delicacies. Berry torte. Tiramisu.

This was my first Friday as a non-student, and as the dust settled I began to realize something rather unsettling: Facts were slipping away. Back on campus, I knew exactly which building had the bathroom on the ground floor when my family needed to make a pitstop, but when I started telling them what room I'd taught in, I stopped cold. I glanced at a few of the empty rooms and they all looked so... identical.

Then there were Cambridge's side streets, which I used to navigated on car, bike and foot under snow and sunshine. Now when I needed to get back to campus, I made more wrong turns than Lindsay Lohan on the way to sobriety.

After leaving Boston in 2008, I'd been back just twice. I was traipsing around like a tourguide, but could I really call this town my own?

I ducked into another cafe and anxiously asked the men at the counter -- men who looked like the owned not just the cafe but the neighborhood -- where I could find Paradiso.

It was two doors down. We'd walked right past it. We all down, inhaled the coffee steam and smiled.

Lost, now found.

Here are a few of the pictures Mr. A snapped that day.

What was the Velvet Revolution?

Saturday, after a supremely satisfying dinner at Pizzeria Delfina (thanks for the rec, neighbor!!), Mr. A and I decided to walk back to the hotel. It was about three miles away per google maps, and we were both feeling so stuffed -- and so relaxed -- a stroll was definitely in order.

Somewhere along Market Street I think, the name "Dubcek" sprang into my thoughts.

No clue from where, but then my brain is not always known for its linear logic.

"Dubcek. He's on my mind. " I told Mr. A. "What was he famous for, again? Czechoslovakia? The Velvet Revolution? Go ahead and call me an ignorant American, that's totally fair. I should know this. But I don't remember!!"

My self-flagellation stems in part from the fact that Mr. A hails from a distant Eastern European country (whose capital is not Prague), and he emigrated to Canada before moving to California. Which means he knows things. Like why Dubcek was the dude.

"Yes, Prague. He opened things up dramatically in '68. And then, '89."

"Right! Thanks!"

"I don't think Americans are all ignorant. Most people would probably know about the Velvet Revolution," he said.

"You're kidding, right? Your average person walking down the street knows who Dubcek is? I don't think so."

"I think they would."

"Ok, let's find out. Excuse me," I said, turning to a lone man who happened to be crossing the deserted street with us. Perfect timing! "We're just trying to settle a bet. Do you know what the Velvet Revolution is?"

"No. I've never heard of it. Sorry."

"No problem, thanks!"

Vindication.

And defeat.

Here's more info about it, in case you're curious. Not that you'd ever need a history refresher ;)

[image via prague-life.com]

Best apartment rate? And some much needed advice?

June 25. Day 360.

My dad and stepmom are going to France, and they asked me to help them book a hotel or apartment. They're on a tight budget, and they want a kitchen, so I went for the Craigslist approach.

Rather than query 20 apartment renters separately, I opted for a more efficient approach. I grouped together all the listings that matched most of my criteria and sent a mass email.

Hello,

I am interested in renting a studio apartment for 10 days between the dates of July 11 or 12, and July 21 or 22.

It is for my father and stepmother. (They are unfamiliar with Craigslist, so I offered to help them find something.)

Their budget for 10 days is around 250 euros per week. They would pay cash at the beginning.

Is your apartment available in that period?

If so, would you please email me a photo of the bed, bathroom and kitchen, or give a website where these items are clearly visible. Also please tell me the address, and list the name(s) of the nearest metro stop(s)? Finally, if it is on the 4th floor or higher, is there a lift?

If it is occupied then, it is available at any later time? They may be able to shift their vacation to August instead.

Merci, bien a vous,

La Roxy

Got some answers with prices around my target. Yay.

Bon voyage!

Next, I asked for advice about yesterday's job offer. I got a tutoring gig that pays $40 per hour, or around $25 factoring in travel time and preparation.

I asked three people their input and they were unanimous: Don't take the job.

Mr. A said I need to be writing my dissertation, and the last months are the most grueling. He knows. He's been there. He also reminded me that I don't NEED NEED the money. If I couldn't cover the rent or had a family to feed it was one thing. But I have the basics taken care of. Do I really want to drive across the city just to pay for coffee? Isn't there a better job out there? What's the rush?

Eau, my friend in DC who visited a few months ago, who previously advised my sister to demand better pay in a similar situation, said I should be charging way more given I almost have a PhD from a top school and I've been tutoring for 15 years. I stammered it's tough times, people can't afford to pay a lot these days, and she listed half a dozen friends with less experience who are earning at least triple what I am charging. Ouch.

My grandma told me to skip the job and be a student. Then apply for jobs with all my might. But don't do things half way.

I think they all had good points. So my instincts were right -- I way undersold myself. I'm still thinking about it, but I'm leaning toward calling her back and either asking for more money, or turning it down entirely...

Gained: A preliminary room in Paris for my dad and stepmom. And advice from The Three Wisepersons.

Improve my credit score?

June 23. Day 358.

Today I emailed a reporter in response to a query I read online. Danielle Gorman, who writes for Money Magazine, was interested in finding people in their 20's and 30's with questions about their credit scores, and that would be me.

I recently signed up with Credit Karma, which gives you your score for free, no strings attached, no limits (unlike Uncle Sam's free once-annual credit score). According to their site, since I have a short credit history (less than 10 years) and I don't have many types of credit -- just debit/credit cards and student loans -- that has put a damper on my standing. Yikes.

Here's my email to her:

Hi Danielle,

Thanks for this opportunity! I would really love to ask an expert the following.

My score is 696, according to the super awesome creditkarma.com. I pay on time, stay below balances, etc. I have student loans, and a credit card which I pay off every month. What are some concrete steps I can take to improve my score so I get the lowest possible interest rate when I decide to buy a house? (ballpark target: 2 years away). I'm in the market for a car, so maybe I could build credit there?

Name: Roxy
Age: 20-something

City: San Diego

Photo: [is this necessary? I would prefer to stay anonymous for several reasons. If it's a requirement, I can give you something that obscures my face.]

Best wishes, thanks again,

Roxy

She replied saying she needs my real name and picture.

Thanks so much for sharing. Unfortunately, the people we feature in the magazine cannot remain anonymous (readers love to see and learn from other “real” people), so we would be unable to use your question...

Darn anonymity. Maybe it's time to shed this veil!? No, no, no. Not until the moment is right.

Gained: Nothing!!

Teach me how to take a man down?

June 19. Day 354.

Mr. A and I rang in our fourth year together tonight.

Since I know you'd rather read about asking and negotiations, I'll spare you the intimate, mushy, high-res blow-by-blow. (Except you. Yeah, you. I'm sure you'd like to read about it. Well, dream on, perv. We are not interested in that Canola oil themed "adult" weekend. Stop sending me samples!!!)

So.

We started the evening at the Red Fox Steakhouse, a retro restaurant reminiscent of an English hunting lodge, enhanced by 60s style pleather booths and a live blues trio. We sometimes stroll over for a nightcap, but never dinner. I'd eyed the menu when I was hungry after midnight -- and Mr. A is always up for red meat -- but the kitchen was always closed when we were there.

Tonight was the night. We got there at 7, in time to chow down.

To kick things off I ordered a stiff drink, a gin and tonic. The waitress carded me, but it took me a while to dig out my ID. She went away, came back with our waters, and in the meantime I found my ID -- and a flash of inspiration. A more celebratory drink was in order.

"Could I actually have a pina colada?" I asked, handing her my ID.

"Sure!"

She walked away, then came back to check.

"So you want that, and the gin and tonic." She wasn't insulting or accusing. Trust me. It's the kind of place where you could order two drinks at a time all night, and then the waitress would cheerfully call you a cab at the end. But she wanted to make sure, I guess.

"Instead, actually."

"Oh! Because that's a gin and tonic," she said, pointing to my 'water.' "Do you want me to replace it?"

I told her not to. We had plans after dinner -- a play at a nearby theater. I wasn't interested in passing out.

Gained I: Accidentally asked for two drinks, but downgraded just in time.

After dinner we walked a few blocks to a tiny neighborhood theater. They were putting on a Christopher Durang play, "Baby with the bathwater," an uplifting farce about a disturbed couple who has a child and manages to fck it up in every possible way.

Then we went to a nearby dessert place, where a guard was standing by the gate.

"Wait here," he instructed.

There was a shooting here a few years ago, so the bakery hired him.

But rather than keep the peace, he's also a bouncer of sorts. He waits for people to leave and tables to clear before he lets the next eaters in. And he makes the place seem exclusive. Lame, but the desserts are good.

As we waited for a table, I started talking to him.

"Are you're here because of the shooting?"

"Yeah."

"So are you an off-duty police officer?"

"No, but I'm trained in security and combat."

"You have a gun?"

"Yes."

"Mmmhmm. So can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

"If someone were to storm in here with a gun, you'd be prepared to take him down?"

"That's what I'm here for."

"What about self-defense? What tips do you have for a woman?"

By now he'd loosened up, and he told me several points I already knew (aim for the eyes and other sensitive parts). But he also said some things I didn't know:

1. Go for the Adam's apple. Swift and strong. Hurts a lot, and could leave the assailant out of breath.

2. Stomp down on the crown of his foot, which is sensitive and delicate. But use your HEEL, not the ball of your foot. That's something I never would have thought of. (Picture drawn by Matthew Taylor, an artist and designer)

Gained: Expert self-defense advice from the Keeper of the Desserts.

Want my seat? And why do you cheat?

Dear Reader,

I am back in Milano and back in wifi-ville.

Here we go!!! Cut and paste time. For even with no internet, in the Tuscan countryside, your faithful asker was jotting down blog posts on her laptop, blackberry and scraps of paper, knowing this day would come...

The teaser/recap, since I can't hold back: It rocked. Got tons of discounts, met charming people, escaped from a cranky elevator, even had a brush with haute couture... all by asking!

Read on, and drop a line if you're so inclined. To rant, or rave, or just to say ciao.

Ever thine,

La Roxy

***

June 10. Day 345.

In the train heading to Florence, I approached my seat, number 95 in cabin 11, and I noticed three children were occupying the entire booth, including my place. Their aunt (not mother, as I later found out) looked stressed.

I moved into a row across from where I should have sat.

"Want my seat?" I asked the woman.

"Oh, would you?!! Are you sure?"

"Certainly. It makes no difference to me. As long as no one needs this spot."

"Great, thank you so much!" And later, she said to her husband, who arrived after everyone settled in: "That girl just gave us her seat, so we don't have to worry anymore, as long as no one else has the other seat."

Soon after the train took off, the kids started stuffing their little faces with some homemade panini. Looked like prosciutto on a thick baguette. Everyone here, all the time, is eating. More on that later. But perhaps my favorite example, until now: Milanese bankers in tailored suits patching together a crumbling economy -- who still make the time for ice cream.

What a land.

(I snapped a photo of the chomping children, but I'll refrain from posting it here. Privacy, ethics, legal stuff. Instead, here's a picture of the Arno promenade at sunset, a few hours after I arrived in Florence.)

Gained I: Made someone's day less stressful.

Speaking of eating. Il Latini is the one restaurant I can't not visit when I'm in Florence. It is ancient (since 1911 I think -- old by restaurant standards, even for Italy). It is fetching, thanks especially to the ham hocks hanging from the ceilings and the wines lining the walls, not to mention the waiters who would probably insult your ancestors and your reproductive abilities if you dared leave sooner than three hours after sitting down or failed to drink your weight in chianti.

The food is delicious -- my roasted pork was so perfectly salted and so exquisitely balanced between its soft and tender interior and carmelized, slightly chewy exterior that, a day later as I write this, I can still evoke the taste and texture in my yearning tastebuds.

And the mood, barking waiters and all, is supremely friendly. The kind of place where, as a single traveler, I can always find a spot at the communal tables and instantly make friends for the evening.

During this particular dinner, seated to my left were two men of middling age. After getting the basics out of the way (who what where), the conversation touched the subject of relationships. One man had a girlfriend and the other was married, they informed me, and then they asked my status.

"In love," I stated.

"You are, aren't you," the younger one replied. "She is. Look at the smile."

"Lucky," the older, married man said, a tad sadly.

"Why lucky? Aren't you happy?" I asked him back.

"That's complicated," he answered.

"How long have you been married?" I tried.

"23 years," he sighed.

He had the tone of someone reporting he lost his business in a fire or found out the sugar he'd been putting into his coffee all these years was actually Equal.

Lingering disbelief, mixed with a recognition that struggling is futile.

At which point I asked this complete stranger, "Did you stay married just because, or are you actually happy? Or where did things fall apart?"

"Wow, that's personal!" he replied, but he didn't seem offended. Just surprised.

Blame the wine, blame my lack of personal limits, blame this blog, but at that moment I pushed harder.

"Come on. We're strangers. We'll never see each other again. Let's talk frankly, shall we?"

It was a risk, sure. On the other hand, his tone and the general mood suggested it was ok to ask, and even to insist.

Suddenly, the conversation sprang from small talk to real talk. About recognizing and keeping love, and being decieved by chimeras. About the nature of commitment. Why people cheat. What it takes to make a relationship strong. Early clues of later joys or heartbreak.

"Do you like to hold your boyfriend's hand?" the younger one asked, as an example of such a clue.

"Of course," I answered.

"Good. That's good," he confirmed.

I wasn't sure how telling that test was was, because -- well, what couple don't like to hold hands when they're young and carefree? What honest marriage doesn't start with love?

Thus I was more interested in the perspective of the old guy, the married one. The one with the lover. Why did he get tired of his wife? What went wrong? Did he know from the start he'd want to leave her?

His story was typical -- and triste. He married because he felt he should and because he mistook enjoyment and company for a sufficient reason to built a life with someone.

And build a life they did. They have three kids. He's a successful [CAREER REDACTED].

Then he met a lady who truly understands him, with whom he feels he can speaking openly, about anything. And he realized what he was missing: a listening, curious, patient, and interactive ear. His wife was a mother, perhaps a lover, but not much more, for him.

Is this the story of every lothario? The collective narrative of rationalization that every little Tuscan boy learns to tell himself from junior high school onward, as his girlfriend waits in the cafe, wondering why Gianni never showed up -- only to discover that Gianni was looking up Sylvia's skirt?

Or is it the tale of a man who made the wrong decision half a lifetime ago and has been paying for it ever since? A man who doesn't have the heart to divorce the mother of his children, and who would feel as guilty for staying as he would for going? A man who tried to be good, do well, but failed?

Gained II: Emboldened by the anoymity, my dinner companions offered frank perspectives on love and life. I ended the evening completely stuffed and only partially enlightened.

Anonymous glamour? Sign me up!

May 15. Day 319.

It's Monday as I write. Excuse the delay, gentle reader. I've been busier than Borat in a china shop.

Old Business: Ever since returning from that week in France, I've been obsessed with this salad. Because this blog is about giving and getting, I thought I'd share the recipe.

Open Source Salad (modify and claim ownership as you please. Just eat it! Yum.)

Into the bowl: Trader Joe's Herb Salad Mix, evoo, balsamic vinegar, snow peas, and really sweet, juicy tomatoes. Don't skimp on the tomatoes, please.

Into a frying pan: equal parts roasted pine nuts and bits of prosciutto or pancetta (or, replace meat with walnuts). A tiny drop of evoo, just to get it all nice and fragrant. Roll them around for one minute or so.

Into oven on high heat: pats of chevre on sliced baguette or even sliced wonderbread (strange but true, works great in this salad -- that's how they serve it in France), at around 450F or 500F -- toast it, basically, for a few minutes.

Mix prosciutto and pine nuts into salad. Plop the gooey-crunchy toast on top.

Use the bread to sop up the dressing and nudge the greens onto your fork.

Chomp.

(Variations I've enjoyed: add cilantro, grated cheddar cheese, fried onion, fresh onion, different salad bases, asian sesame dressing.)

***

New Business: Invigorated by that burst of antioxidants, I took off to Cafe Bassam to meet a friend for a glass of wine. Bassam's is this otherworldly place I've written about before -- dozens of clocks on the walls set slightly out of tune make it an ideal location to lose touch with reality and completely chill out.

It was getting close to midnight, or so the clocks hinted, and the "Haven't asked yet" panic started setting in. I glanced around, looking for ideas. Ask the cafe owner for a free drink? Ask someone sitting next to me something personal and fascinating? Ask a stranger to let me test drive his or her car? No, no, no.

And then I noticed a couple sitting at the table next to ours, reading a program. Was it from the opera? The same opera I went to last week and LOVED?

"Excuse me, is that the program for Madama Butterfly?"

"Yes it is."

"How did you like it?"

"I thought the soprano was wonderful."

We started talking, and in the next ten minutes we:
--traded names and basic contact info
--learned about each other's life histories in fast forward
--offered to help one another professionally (well, they're retired, but they offered to put me in touch with people -- very nice, thanks!)
--discovered we love all things Italian
--talked about how to be an extra in an opera

About that last one: my friend, who works for a nonprofit and has never acted before, randomly signed up to be an extra in an opera a few years ago. She didn't sing, but she was on stage in full regalia. Got her hair done, got to wear a pretty dress and a nun's outfit, got to experience the drama from the inside out. I'm so doing it!! Next season!! Frilly dress, bright lights, and anonymous glamour, here I come.

Gained: another one of those "no financial gain, but glad I asked" moments.

9 negotiation lessons from the trenches

May 12. Day 316.

What do buying a car, locking up the Chicago mob and being a total rockstar have in common?

Negotiation!!!

This afternoon, I found myself in the living room of Gay Hugo-Martinez, a professional acquaintance. (It's related to the side work I do.) Once our meeting was over, I asked her about her background, since I'd heard she used to be a lawyer and totally changed tracks a few years ago.

Turns out that before moving to San Diego, she fought organized crime in Chicago in the 1970s.

As she sat demurely in her sunny home, she poured out stories complete with phrases like, "Organized crime figures won’t kill prosecutors. They know that if they kill one, there's another one right behind them that will do the work." Another gem: "If one of us has to go into the witness protection program, that’s not going to be a picnic" (words she told a colleague back in the day). And, my favorite: "I knew that if he (the hitman she put behind bars for 25 years) wanted somebody killed from his jail cell, he could do it."

Day-am.

And then, she mentioned the golden word: negotiation.

"Negotiation? I'm obsessed with that! Can you tell me more?"

Being a federal prosecutor involves a lot of persuading, negotiating, getting the other side to do what you want, she explained. Here are a few tips I gleaned from our brief but riveting conversation, which she kindly agreed to let me post:

Interview with Gay Hugo-Martinez about Negotiation, Empathy, Playing Hardball and Playing Fair

1. Know your strengths and weaknesses

Enter any negotiation with a firm idea of what you're willing to risk and what you stand to gain. Obviously, the stronger your strengths, the more bargaining power you have. "How much are you willing to give in order to get what you want?" she asked. For best results, figure this out before starting.

2. Know the other side's strengths and weaknesses

This helps with persuasion, knowing when to back away, knowing when to press harder. Think about it. If you can deduce what the other side is willing to give up, or what it can't stand to lose, you have the advantage. A simple example: this is a great time to buy a car, since dealers are struggling.

3. "Go for the gold"

"Ask!" she said. Yes, ask. Her word exactly. So many times, people shoot themselves down. She tells this to her kids, to strangers in her living room asking about asking. Ask! Ask for more than you think you'll get, ask when you think you might not get. "You have nothing to lose," she added.

4. Be empathetic

Empathy can be a powerful tool. It helps you imagine the other side's position, and it might encourage you to take reasonable risks. For example, maybe you think asking for a free cucumber at the farmer's market is rude or silly. But imagine that you were selling veggies and someone asked you to throw in a sample. You'd probably be happy to show off your wares and attact a new customer with a sample. Not such a crazy thing to ask after all, right?

"It works better if you say to yourself, ok, if you were in this position and somebody came to you and asked you, would you think this was reasonable?" she said.

5. Be fair

Related to this: let's say your position is so strong, or the other side is so needy, that you could run circles around them with your demands. Stop. Think about it. Then play fair. It's what you'd hope from the other side, if you were in the weaker position.

6. Enthusiasm can be your friend

I used to think that if you look excited about something in a negotiation, that was a weakness. For example, "What a perfect car! I reeeeeally want it! Yipee!!!" could tell the dealer that I'm eager and willing to pay anything. Bad.

Not necessarily so, she said. Who would you rather deal with: Someone who really likes your product but claims she has a limited budget, or someone who doesn't seem to like your product but claims she has a limited budget? Who's more likely to seal the deal?

This is an especially useful foundation for the next step:

7. Hardball: Walk away

If you're not getting what you want, and if you know you have a strong position, walk away, calmly and coolly.

"In negotiation, if you have a positon and you think you’re right, it’s better to pull back and walk away and wait," she said. "Then the other person knows there’s some credibility in your position, and that may be your bottom line."

Added tip: never walk into a car dealership expecting to drive away. Always give them your number, then tell them to call you. Repeat after her: " 'I’m sorry, that's just not what I’m willing to pay. You guys change your mind, call me.' Then turn around and walk out."

8. Keep doing it

"The more you do it, the more comfortable you become, the easier it becomes for you to do it, and the better you get at it."

(After 316 days of asking, I can add: so true!)

9. Women do ask

I was curious if she thought women ever underestimate the strength of their positions (alluding to the idea that women may hesitate to ask because they don't realize they're in a position to do so.)

She replied that not every woman has good negotiation skills, but not every man has them either.

Good to keep in mind.

Gained: Advice from a masterful negotiator. And thanks again for agreeing to be featured on this blog!

Later, I did a small negotiation of my own.

I went to get Mr. A's car washed. The posted price was $13.99, but I wanted to test out a few of these tips.

My strength: the other car washes nearby, which might be cheaper or honor a coupon I had
My weakness: no time or desire to move
My insider knowledge: many businesses offer coupons - so even if I didn't have his exact coupon, but maybe I could use that info to score?

His strength: convenience -- I was in his parking lot
His weakness: didn't have the best price
His insider knowledge: no idea

What I wanted: a discount and a clean car
What he wanted: a customer

"Hi," I started, from inside the car (trying to look ready to drive away). "I was wondering, do you guys have any coupons you could apply? Even if I don't have the actual print out?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Oh, ok. Because I have coupons for a bunch of car washes, but I'm here now. Any chance you could honor one of those?"

"I can do even better. Keep your coupon, and I'll give you $2 off any wash."

"That sounds good. Thanks!"

Gained: $2. Not exactly locking up the mob, but applied today's lessons, from theory to practice. Next step: buy a car, this summer. And save big time.

Sunny side of the... patio

May 4. Day 308.

All right, people. Here we go. It's Saturday night, May 9, almost midnight as I write this. And after weeks of updating days after the fact, enough.

So with this laptop as my witness, I promise to finish the night up to date. (Or fall asleep trying.)

Blog or bust.

Yarrrr!

***

Monday, my college friend Eau arrived for a visit. She'll be here till Friday. For days we tried to come up with a name for her, since people who get featured in this blog knowingly get a pseudonym, if they so choose. (The rest get stuck with exciting titles like "the rug saleslady" or "the police officer riding a segway." Such are the perils and joys of semi-anonymous blogging.) We had so many ideas for her, I've actually forgotten them all. So I hereby dub her Eau, for she is, like water itself, life giving. No, she hasn't had many babies or worked as a hamster breeder. But she tends to spread joy and energy all around her. I think that counts.

I picked her up from the airport, and true friend of mine that she was, she instantly had food on the mind. Before dropping off her bags at my house, we went to Parkhouse Eatery, a former antique shop that now serves "grub." So says its menu.

We nabbed a table in the shade, since after days of May gray, the sun has finally come out in San Diego.

She ordered a salad. I, the club sandwich.

We chatted. We giggled. We laughed. We probably annoyed the man sitting next to us (and the only other person on the patio), since when Eau and I get together, there's nary a second of silence.

Eventually, I started feeling a little chilly, and I noticed her hugging her arms.

Could it be? Were we both cold? And were we both keeping quiet, lest the other one prefer the shade?

"Are you cold?" I finally asked. "Want to switch tables?"

"Yes!!!"

Gained: a spot in the sun.

Test results?

April 23. Day 297.

Remember how I had a scary freckle? Well, I got it removed -- and insurance covered everything. Even the copay. Bless them.

Thank you Blue Cross Blue Shield, for being a humane insurance company.

I called my doctor today to get the biopsy results...

Negative!

Yippee!!!

Gained: Confirmation that I'm cancer free.

PS:
I called first thing this morning, just after the office opened. Now I have deadline upon deadline. I also have a long string of askable ideas... but those will have to wait till another day.

xo,

La Roxy

PPS: I should really just publish these posts the moment I write them. But I like to think, edit, come back and refine -- sometimes at the cost of timeliness. I think this practice is something I need to revise, as this project continues. For now, so be it. I just hope you totally haven't lost patience, oh reader...

ever thine,

L.R.

Career Day: Can I teach your French class?

April 7. Day 281.

At 10 this morning I found myself on the amphitheater stage I hadn't sat on since my high school graduation.

The man who went before me talked about running a successful real estate empire and the woman after me talked about writing for Elle magazine and starting a fashion website with 100,000 subscribers in a little more than 2 years. Also present: an MTV producer, a restaurateur, an inventor.

What, exactly, was I doing at career day?

Actually, I had a lot of fun. After our intros we split up into groups to meet with the seniors. I told them about blogging, new and old media, and my occasional freelance writing. I talked about grad school and 19th century balconies. They were full of questions. One asked me about how reporters can better hold financial institutions accountable and I mangled an answer about staying proactive and trying to stay on top of sources. And then I admitted total ignorance. I cover asking and personal finance, not fiscal policy!

When I explained what my blog is about, someone asked what I asked for today.

"Nothing yet. What do you guys think I should do?"

"You should ask Madame if you could teach her French class. I have it last period."

"Perfect! I will!"

I spotted Madame Thornton-Schilling at lunch. I'd really wanted to catch up with her, since she's one of those amazing teachers who stay with you through the decades. She was so clear, so smart, that she made grammar seem like a game. And her passions were contagious -- everything from the Loire Castles to pronouns to Francophone literature to giraffes were fascinating in her classroom. She made me dream about Paris from when I was 14 until I finally set foot there, years later.

"If you're ever looking for a substitute, or want a day off, like today, count me in!" I told her.

She laughed.

"No, really! Can I come and talk to your class today? Something about balconies, or literature, or, I don't know!"

"I do have freshmen immediately after lunch. I have an idea! We could play a trick on them."

Ahh, Madame! Always up to her shenanigans.

"You go in and pretend you're my substitute for the day. Just talk at them very quickly, write some sentences using the past conditional on the board and start drilling them. We're doing the present conditional now, so they'll be confused. Then I'll come in and say 'Surprise!' "

Scaring freshmen into appreciating their teacher? Love it.

At 12:50, I barged into the classroom.

"Bonjour!" I chimed.

Some saluted me. Some kept talking.

"Attention!" I barked. "Bonjour, la classe!"

"Bonjour," they replied and faced forward, suddenly alert.

"Madame is not available today so I'll be her substitute. Now pay attention," I began, in gunfire fast French.

I walked to the board and wrote this sentence:

"Si j'etais la prof, je vous donnerais un examen." (If I was the teacher, I'd give you an exam.)

"Non!" I heard someone groan behind me.

Then I wrote, "Si j'avais ete la prof en 1998, je vous aure donne des bonbons." (If I was the teacher in 1998, I would have given you candies.)

"What tense is this?" I asked sharply, pointing to the whole sentence. "Is this correct?"

(Answer: Not correct - you misspelled aurais!)

They were shell shocked.

Basically, I was doing everything you should not do in a classroom. Scare the students. Alienate them. Yell, "Attention!" Don't introduce yourself. Be vague and confusing. Talk too fast. Then talk faster. Stand with your back to them. Mention the word "test" when their teacher is missing.

Everything was just peeeeerfect, that is. I was ready to give Madame the secret signal. She walzed back in with a huge smile, hugged me, and we explained it was une blague, a little joke!

"She's a grad student now, and has taught French in college," she explained. Some of their eyes widened.

"Madame was such an amazing teacher that she got me hooked on French for the rest of my life," I said, speaking much more slowly.

They suddenly relaxed, giggled, I hugged her again and left.

Quelle journee! What a day.

Gained: got to pay a twisted tribute of sorts to an amazing, amazing teacher.

If anyone from Career Day is reading this, I hope you'll take a look around and come back soon. Keep in touch! And remember... you have nothing to lose by asking.

Edit my chapter?

April 4. Day 278.

I've gotten to the point in this chapter where I've started at the sentences for so long I don't recognize them anymore. I am lodged so deeply inside every word that I can't even follow the syntax. I said that? Really?? Why?? Do I really need that "that" there? What does "because of" versus "due to" do for my argument? What does "mean" mean?

Some might call it paralysis by analysis. I just all it exhaustion.

I was actually quite excited about this chapter when I started working on it. It gives an overview about how balconies were used in literature before the 19th century, as background for the rest of the dissertation. Think the Decameron, Romeo and Juliet, Moliere's L'Ecole des Femmes, and a few more works. I have cogent arguments for every section, but it's been hard to bring everything together so that every smaller argument works in the service of a larger original one.

And I'm tired. I've been working on it since February. I've even been dreaming about it.

Well... Basta.

I need some distance. Clarity. A break.

That's when an editor comes in. Since starting grad school, I've asked a few friends to look over my writing. These generous human beings have dotted my i's and given feedback on fine tuning as well as the big picture.

This is what I requested today, from Mr. A. It wasn't a hard thing to ask for, but it was extremely valuable. Since he's written a dissertation, he knows what kind of rigor is required. And since he's not in my field (quite the opposite), his questions help me write much more clearly.

"Read it quickly, for the big picture, and tell me if it makes sense and if it's interesting. If the arguments hold together. Don't worry about the footnotes, formatting, all that. I'll do all that later. Just, if I'm moving too fast in any sections, if I'm lagging or repeating myself, tell me. And if it's disorganized or an argument is a stretch, tell me... Basically, does the skeleton hold together? Thank you!!!"

Hours later, he had comments, comments and more comments -- which I used to make a major breakthrough on one of my sections.

Gained: A crucial first edit. One step closer to turning it in!!

Girl talk! Do my makeup?

March 29. Day 272.

Mr. A has been in Korea for the past week, for a conference. On Friday he called to say he's heading into the demilitarized zone, and Saturday he called to say he made it back alive.

Three interesting things he reported, on a staticky phone call, about his day trip: Both North and South Korea have set up propagandistic "model villages" near the border, to show tourists just how great life is on their side of the economical/ideological divide. Both towns are happy, shiny places. Both would do their mamas proud. But there's one big difference between them: The Northern town is uninhabited. Once in a while, employees show up and turn the lights on or off to make it seem alive.

Second, the North Korean guards were depressingly thin, while their southern cousins were downright portly in comparison.

Third, the Northern guards operate with a buddy system. This is not to protect one another in case of combat or look behind one other's shoulders alertly as they roam the DMZ. It is so that each soldier can shoot his partner if he tries to escape.

(If I occasionally share gratuitous tidbits such as this, gentle reader, things that have nothing to do with "asking" or even "daily," it's because I find them interesting. That's worth something too, isn't it?)

***

Today I celebrated my "unhealthy origins" by indulging in a fully decadent practice of cosmetic application.

Jem and I had lunch, we talked about boob jobs, our own jobs, other people's cute babies, and wondered if marriage really does kill your sex life (any one with insights or opinions, please make your views known in the comments!!), and then she came over to make banana bread. In the middle of this estrofest, while the breads were baking, we moved to the living room and our conversation rolled around to make-up. She had applied her eyeshadow in a very alluring manner, and I was curious about her methods.

"I've been wanting how to do the smokey eye look," I continued. Mr. A was coming back in a few hours, so maybe I could surprise him. She said it's all about the eyeliner, and you know what happened next. "Can you show me?"

We moved to my bedroom, where I have a very clean, very uncluttered vanity table. Read: I rarely wear makeup. Somewhere between once a year and once a decade, I resolve to become more makeup friendly. I go to the cosmetic counter of FancyBrands (i.e. whatever department store is in the city I'm living in at the time) and spend heaps on new products. In Paris, I remember, I paid something like $30 (or was it euros!?) on a brush, at the insistence of my far more fashion forward shopping companion, Francesco. "A brush will make such a difference. Trust me!!" How exactly did he know? I know not. But I have learned that in matters of taste its techniques, Francesco is de man.

I still have that brush. Memories.

Jem decided that a soft violet shadow would do wonders to open up my baby hazels, so we went with that. Next, eyeliner, finally mascara. I was transformed. A whole new person. A whole new asker.

Ok, not really. But it was fun!!

Gained: Make up tips, and an afternoon of baking, boys and gossip -- that is, felt like a 12-year-old again.

Daily Asker: Here To Stay!

March 25. Day 268.

Faster than you can say "Daily Asker Taskmaster," this project is becoming something else. Months ago, I used to be on a constant lookout for opportunities and set out thinking of ways to ask -- and if I didn't find any that day, I used to go out of my way to ask at, say, 1 a.m. Some of my favorite posts grew from that desperation. (Sorority and Pedicab, for example.)

Now, I'm still pausing in the evening to make sure I've asked -- but almost always, I find that I have. In other words, it's getting to be natural and spontaneous, and less about me saying, "I'm must ask for something today! Ak! Ok, I guess I'll ask the bus driver if I can take over for at the wheel for five minutes." Lately, I wasn't even thinking about it. I didn't make a particular effort or feel my heart racing out of anxiety or excitement.

It wasn't contrived.

In other words....

I've made asking a routine. This is both fantastic, since it means that after 9 months of doing it daily, I've finally raised the bar to where looking for opportunities and becoming assertive is approaching second nature.

It's also worrisome, because, type-A that I am, I am not easily satisfied with my results. My next natural question is, what next? How do I bring asking to the next level? How do I become not just a daily asker, but a better daily asker?

A few ways come to mind.

First, I need to plug back into the news. At the beginning of this project, I was always looking for "negotiation" and even the word "asking" in the news. I'd post the links here, and it was food for thought. If I start doing that again, it will help me see others in action, and keep asking on my mind.

Second, I need to raise the bar in terms of what I'm asking for. Not every day, but whenever the opportunity arises. I think I've gotten comfortable with the notion that I've asked, and that's that. But maybe I shouldn't be satisfied with a free cookie anymore. Maybe I should ask for the recipe itself. Aim bigger. Aim realistically, practically (or not!), but bigger. Stop being so comfortable. One amazing thing this project has done was force me to evaluate what I want and need, what are my priorities, who and what I'm willing to speak up for. Whether it's my grandmother's dignity, or silence on a bus. Well, I can keep up the routine, but find ways to stretch. Optimize. Constantly reevaluate. Ask for the pony because I want the pony, not the kitten. And get the pony.

Third, I need to develop new methods that actually get me what I want, and look for different opportunities, not just more of the same. Of course, "just opening my mouth and asking," which was the initial catchphrase of this project, has led to many fantastic gains and experiences. But there are many things I did want, and didn't get. Why did I get rejected? What could I have done differently? Time to take stock. Since I'm not often buying cars or negotiating house down payments, I think I need to outsource. Myself, that is. Find people who are approaching larger transactions and offer to step in, with the guarantee I'll back off the moment the want me to. That would be an essential way to use my new skills, and develop newer ones.

Fourth, and I think this is a big one. I need to tap into the experts. That's what got me started in the first place: the book Women Don't Ask, which changed my approach to transactions and interactions from the first chapter. It was a wake-up call. I recently bought the authors's next book, Ask for It, which I'm about to start reading. Well, how else can I keep learning? Who else is out there? What other writers, researchers -- or bloggers -- are approaching this or similar subjects? What other books are good on this subject?

Fifth, I need to get the word out. Do you have any friends who are reporters or bloggers, who could write about The Daily Asker? Do you read any websites or blogs that could link back to me? How about you send them my link! Having people visit this site and leave comments is a major motivator. Otherwise I could ask and not document it, or skip a day and no one would know but me. You guys keep me on task. So... if you know anyone who might like this site, please take a moment to email them the link or mention it next them they could have -- or should have -- asked. Women, men, kids, grandmas, employees, bosses, friends. This post would be a good place to start, actually!

Finally: Long to-do list. So little time. Between finishing grad school, finding work and living my life, there's no way I'm going to get this all done in under three months. So... I'm starting to think that I can't stop in July!! I mean, I had all these plans. Nab a great starting salary. Ask for a better car deal. Ask for a tour of Asker, Norway. Ask for a segway ride. I'm not even halfway to where I want to be, in terms of negotiated gains. I've parked my fear at the door and learned to speak up, I've looked for slick ways to get what I want, but there's so much left to tackle.

And so... at the bottom of this long post, for anyone who is still reading, I'm announcing that unless my lips get sealed shut on July 1 or I develop the Negotiation Superpower overnight, I will keep on asking! And keep blogging about it!!

Thanks to all of you readers who have been following my adventures, sending me your ideas, questions and encouragement. You've brought this project to a whole different dimension!

Speaking of asking... I was playing around on cooltext.com, a logo generator, and came up with about 12 possible logos for this site. Just for fun, ya know? I made a file with them and today, I asked the man sitting next to me what he thought. Within about 10 seconds, he told me he liked the second one. Hands down. It's also one of my favorites. I have a few more ideas for year two. The logo is just frosting. Stay tuned!!

Gained: 266 days of asking, and counting.

Mr. President? 10 questions for Obama

March 24. Day 267.


Today, I asked for something I've wanted to since Day 1. Back in July, when the campaign was still roaring, I had wanted to ask Obama -- or either of the candidates, why not? -- a question in a debate or town hall meeting. I never got that chance.

Well, today I did!

The White House has an online forum for submitting questions, which the president may answer on Thursday. From the Washington Post:

This afternoon, WhiteHouse.gov launched "Open for Questions," an interactive page where users can post questions on the economy and vote the submitted questions up or down. The site will continue taking questions until Thursday, when President Obama will go online to answer those that received the most votes. (more here)

So please... vote for mine!! You can search for the bold phrases below, since otherwise the questions would be hard to spot. The more votes I get for each question, the bigger chance he'll use one of mine!

Here's the site:

http://www.whitehouse.gov/openforquestions/

Here are my questions. They run the gamut, since the more I submit, the more chances I have of catching some White House aid's eye.

• "At a time when U.S. consumers and their banks are holding on for dear life, credit card companies are still free to levy fees, change terms, and raise interest rates with very little government oversight. What are your plans for the credit industry?"
• "What do you think is the greater threat to the U.S. economy, in the short term (next six months) and long term (next year): deflation or inflation?"
• "How do you plan to help working parents-to-be, so that our country catches up with the rest of the industrialized world? Longer paid maternity/paternity leave, better early childcare, and/or other programs?"
• As a working woman, I was thrilled when you signed the Lilly Ledbetter Act on January 27. Woohoo!! I'm curious, though, why did you decide that would be the first bill you signed in office as the symbolic start to your presidency?
• "Are you still 100% committed to reforming health care in this country, or has that been sidelined by the budget and financial maelstrom? If you are still committed, when will Americans start seeing changes to this broken system?"
• "What criteria would you use for selecting a Supreme Court Justice, if the need arose? Political ideology, judicial record, professional/personal reputation, demographic background?"
• "I'm about to complete a PhD in the humanities, and jobs are scarce. I would be lucky to get a short-term adjunct position, but the thought of no health insurance, no career growth and low compensation scares me. What's your advice... law school?"
• "From kindergarten to college, what will you do to make sure that American students can compete in a global market?"
• "President Obama, may I come see you in the White House for a day, to get a real life glimpse of what you do as our nation's leader?"
• "What kind of negotiation skills do you use when you develop and then campaign for a budget or other proposal? (I have a blog about negotiation, http://thedailyasker.blogspot.com, and I'm always on the lookout for advice and strategies from experts.)"

Yes, the last two are unabashed plugs, but if there's one thing I've learned this year, it's that it rarely hurts to ask.

By the way, let me know if you send him a question of your own!

xo,
La Roxy

Career Day? Career Help?

March 18. Day 261.

I'm speaking at my high school's career day.

Let me repeat that.

I. Am speaking at my high school's career day.

Yes. That chick in her nth year of grad school, who does do occasional freelance work but is essentially careerless (let's call it "careerfree," shall we?)... is going to talk at career day.

You see, the alumni coordinator called me today and said they were looking for someone to round out the panel. An Exhibit X. Basically, someone who could describe "what happens when you let grad school happen to you." I perked up. Interesting... She continued: "Many students are actually quite intrigued by the profile of the conflicted young academic who is defined by uncertainty at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Faced with either too few or too many options upon finishing the degree. You know the type. Seeing that you're about to become a full-time blogger on food stamps once you graduate, I thought you'd have many valuable lessons for our students," she suggested.

No silly, that's not what happened.

I emailed her. I told her I'm a grad student and writer/blogger, and asked if I could speak. I imagine that while a lot of kids will want to hear the doctors, lawyers and athletes, maybe there's still someone out there who likes words? books? writing? reading? dreaming? Fingers crossed...

Gained I: A chance to pay it forward. Have you ever spoken at career day? What was it like?

Speaking of careers...

I asked for something else today, more self-focused, also career oriented. Coincidence?

I emailed a couple of friends with a very specific strategy question -- because they're much more experienced than I am after working in the real world the the years I've been in grad school. Things like performance reviews, networking, leveraging opportunities, making yourself indispensable, buying low and selling high, the pros and cons of learning to play your boss's sport, the inns and outs of MBAs are all abstractions to me. Academia has its share of politics, but I've kept away. These friends, however, are living this stuff. Not only do they know how to work a room -- their jobs depend on it. So, having someone to turn to when I have a question like this is immensely valuable.

They replied immediately, with different angles and approaches -- I'm so grateful. Thanks!!! I'll let you now how it turns out!!

xo,
Rox

Gained II: Amazing career advice -- better than any book or website could ever teach me. Their wisdom will give me tools to avoid certain mistakes and make my way through the professional labyrinth, as soon as I start hunting for the cheese...