June 27. Day 362.
Today Mr. A celebrated his birthday with a picnic in the park, surrounded by friends and fam.
I was in charge of decorating and catering, so I called our favorite Thai place to see if they could handle an order for 15 people this afternoon.
The man on the phone said yes.
I hung up and said I'd call him back once I read the menu online.
When I called back, I realized I'd forgotten to ask!
"Since we're doing a big order, how about you give me 10 percent off."
"Fine."
The order came to around $80 something, including tax.
Gained: Around $9. In retrospect, he agreed to my request too fast. Maybe I should have let him make an offer, or aimed bigger. Oh well. Still $9.
And, an update from yesterday: I called the mother back after not hearing from her, and asked if she had time to think about my request.
She replied she wouldn't hire me at the higher rate.
I asked and lost.
And yet... I am glad I asked.
I am in not in rush to find a job, and I am confident there are better options if I look harder. That was the first attempt.
Now, if this recession keeps up, or I don't find something by graduation, I will change my tune. But right now, I feel I made the right choice.
Ultimately, I feel that not asking would have been more costly than losing the job.
That's a mantra I need to take with me, for the next time around.
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Showing posts with label Asking to save time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Asking to save time. Show all posts
June 27, 2009
The end is near!!!
More like this:
Asking to save time,
Career,
dining out,
Financial gains or savings,
Negotiation
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June 26, 2009
Renegotiate salary? Put up a flyer here?
June 26. Day 361.
I had the mother's number on speed dial. Two days ago, she offered a job tutoring her three kids. We negotiated the salary. And since then, I've been conflicted.
PRO:
--it's money
--it can lead to future contacts
CON:
--hourly rate is much lower than what I earned at the beginning of grad school
--i've since added credentials and experience
--the job is too many hours per week given I need to finish dissertation
--i'd be driving almost 40 miles round trip, with little compensation
Ultimately, I decided to play out this asking experiment as far as I could. See if I could be successful in asking, one last round.
I took a small risk by assuming there are more tutoring jobs out there, but I felt safe doing so because it's summer. If she said no, I would lose the job offer. If she said yes, I would obtain my lowest target of an extra $10 per hour -- or $540 over the course of the summer. It was still far below what I know I should be earning, but as a first tutoring job in this city I can take a pay cut, until other clients start rolling in. (And/or I finish my dissertation and get a real job.)
Plus, this rate is a compromise between my target and feeling like a total pushover.
I dialed her number. She picked up.
"Hello? This is La Roxy, how are you?"
"Hello! Good, thank you. You?"
"Great. Do you have a moment to talk?"
"Yes, now is good."
"Thank you. I was thinking about our salary discussion on Wednesday, and I've come to the conclusion that if I factor in preparation time, grading papers, plus travel, that brings my rate to around $25 per hour. I was wondering if you would be willing to pay $50 per hour, or $75 per session, instead of $60 per session. That would ensure my time is compensated fairly."
My voice was steady. It felt great to be asking.
"I need to think about it."
Gained I: Unsure.
Next, I headed to a nearby library to put up a flyer about tutoring. I asked where the bulletin board is, and the librarian told me only community groups can use it.
Gained II: wasted 10 minutes.
I had the mother's number on speed dial. Two days ago, she offered a job tutoring her three kids. We negotiated the salary. And since then, I've been conflicted.
PRO:
--it's money
--it can lead to future contacts
CON:
--hourly rate is much lower than what I earned at the beginning of grad school
--i've since added credentials and experience
--the job is too many hours per week given I need to finish dissertation
--i'd be driving almost 40 miles round trip, with little compensation
Ultimately, I decided to play out this asking experiment as far as I could. See if I could be successful in asking, one last round.
I took a small risk by assuming there are more tutoring jobs out there, but I felt safe doing so because it's summer. If she said no, I would lose the job offer. If she said yes, I would obtain my lowest target of an extra $10 per hour -- or $540 over the course of the summer. It was still far below what I know I should be earning, but as a first tutoring job in this city I can take a pay cut, until other clients start rolling in. (And/or I finish my dissertation and get a real job.)
Plus, this rate is a compromise between my target and feeling like a total pushover.
I dialed her number. She picked up.
"Hello? This is La Roxy, how are you?"
"Hello! Good, thank you. You?"
"Great. Do you have a moment to talk?"
"Yes, now is good."
"Thank you. I was thinking about our salary discussion on Wednesday, and I've come to the conclusion that if I factor in preparation time, grading papers, plus travel, that brings my rate to around $25 per hour. I was wondering if you would be willing to pay $50 per hour, or $75 per session, instead of $60 per session. That would ensure my time is compensated fairly."
My voice was steady. It felt great to be asking.
"I need to think about it."
Gained I: Unsure.
Next, I headed to a nearby library to put up a flyer about tutoring. I asked where the bulletin board is, and the librarian told me only community groups can use it.
Gained II: wasted 10 minutes.
June 09, 2009
Who do you want to be?
June 9. Day 344.
Here's a thought for ya.
In a few days I am meeting someone for this consulting project. When I set up the meeting with the other party's associate, she asked me to show up at the site -- which is a few miles outside of Florence and not entirely easy to get to without a car.
This morning I dutifully plotted my trip, researched local bus routes and found out that I could catch a bus from the Florence train station, where I arrive. That bus ride takes a little more than an hour, since it stops in about 400 places before finally getting there. (I was also considering a cab, which would be a lot faster, but it could be pricey and I don't want to risk it. Also, I'm not sure I'd have a way of getting back.)
To catch the bus in time for the meeting, that means I must leave extra early from Milano or take a more expensive (faster) train, and I won't have time to deposit my bags at the hotel. No matter. The meeting is my priority.
And then, a revelation. Why let things be HARD when they could be EASY?
I called the other party directly and inquired if he will also be departing from Florence, and if so, could we meet up at the office and go to the site together? After all, if someone is already driving, and the ride takes 10 minutes, couldn't we save 50 minutes of my time at no cost to him?
As I asked the question, my tone was sweet and apologetic -- since I figured I might be imposing, and I was asking for a favor of sorts.
He instantly agreed. In fact, he seemed eager to accommodate me.
Which left me with two afterthoughts:
1) It was, after all my fretting, so easy to ask! In the past, years ago and even recently perhaps, I would have just taken that bus, simply because I was told to do so. I would have felt it was my duty to not inconvenience anyone. Assumed that if the associate requested I show up on the site, it was for a good reason. Tried to appear self-sufficient and "professional." Silly child.
2) More intriguingly, his tone made me think that I'd been misreading the situation. He was extremely polite and sounded, in fact, a teeny bit deferential. He called me "Signora." I'd hadn't seen it that way before: that to him, I am a signora, a lady, making the time to come from Milano to meet with him, and making the effort to provide a service. We are two professionals meeting to discuss something.
I simply figured that I'm some upstart, me, moi, little La Roxy. That he was doing me the favor and that, consequently, I needed to bend over backward, be courteous and unintrusive.
How often we assume characters, personae, faces and mannerisms for the world. And how often should we examine these and readjust?
To me, naturally, I'm the grad student, the part-timer. I automatically assume other people are more busy or more important that I am. And -- very true -- when I'm a grad student I have a flexible schedule and I'm low on the totem pole.
But when I'm on the clock, when I brush shoulders with other professionals, I'm a consultant arrived from America. I'm a busy woman! Until they meet me, I could be 60! 38! I could be someone's boss! I could be a mom or have grey hair. And even after they meet me, I could still be a wheeler and dealer, a diva. Or a has been, or a wannabe. Or a talented, successful and ambitious pro.
All depends on what I think, and (more importantly?) how I train them to think.
I just need to remember that: I will only be treated as well as I ask to be treated. Act like a grad student, schlepping around, accepting to waste time on a bus -- and people expect the same from me. Act like a star and get the royal treatment.
Hmmm, which do I want to be?
Who do you want to be?
Gained: Saved an hour, probably made myself more respected in his eyes, and remembered that I'm only worth the price (or time, or attention) I claim.
Here's a thought for ya.
In a few days I am meeting someone for this consulting project. When I set up the meeting with the other party's associate, she asked me to show up at the site -- which is a few miles outside of Florence and not entirely easy to get to without a car.This morning I dutifully plotted my trip, researched local bus routes and found out that I could catch a bus from the Florence train station, where I arrive. That bus ride takes a little more than an hour, since it stops in about 400 places before finally getting there. (I was also considering a cab, which would be a lot faster, but it could be pricey and I don't want to risk it. Also, I'm not sure I'd have a way of getting back.)
To catch the bus in time for the meeting, that means I must leave extra early from Milano or take a more expensive (faster) train, and I won't have time to deposit my bags at the hotel. No matter. The meeting is my priority.
And then, a revelation. Why let things be HARD when they could be EASY?
I called the other party directly and inquired if he will also be departing from Florence, and if so, could we meet up at the office and go to the site together? After all, if someone is already driving, and the ride takes 10 minutes, couldn't we save 50 minutes of my time at no cost to him?
As I asked the question, my tone was sweet and apologetic -- since I figured I might be imposing, and I was asking for a favor of sorts.
He instantly agreed. In fact, he seemed eager to accommodate me.
Which left me with two afterthoughts:
1) It was, after all my fretting, so easy to ask! In the past, years ago and even recently perhaps, I would have just taken that bus, simply because I was told to do so. I would have felt it was my duty to not inconvenience anyone. Assumed that if the associate requested I show up on the site, it was for a good reason. Tried to appear self-sufficient and "professional." Silly child.
2) More intriguingly, his tone made me think that I'd been misreading the situation. He was extremely polite and sounded, in fact, a teeny bit deferential. He called me "Signora." I'd hadn't seen it that way before: that to him, I am a signora, a lady, making the time to come from Milano to meet with him, and making the effort to provide a service. We are two professionals meeting to discuss something.
I simply figured that I'm some upstart, me, moi, little La Roxy. That he was doing me the favor and that, consequently, I needed to bend over backward, be courteous and unintrusive.
How often we assume characters, personae, faces and mannerisms for the world. And how often should we examine these and readjust?
To me, naturally, I'm the grad student, the part-timer. I automatically assume other people are more busy or more important that I am. And -- very true -- when I'm a grad student I have a flexible schedule and I'm low on the totem pole.
But when I'm on the clock, when I brush shoulders with other professionals, I'm a consultant arrived from America. I'm a busy woman! Until they meet me, I could be 60! 38! I could be someone's boss! I could be a mom or have grey hair. And even after they meet me, I could still be a wheeler and dealer, a diva. Or a has been, or a wannabe. Or a talented, successful and ambitious pro.
All depends on what I think, and (more importantly?) how I train them to think.
I just need to remember that: I will only be treated as well as I ask to be treated. Act like a grad student, schlepping around, accepting to waste time on a bus -- and people expect the same from me. Act like a star and get the royal treatment.
Hmmm, which do I want to be?
Who do you want to be?
Gained: Saved an hour, probably made myself more respected in his eyes, and remembered that I'm only worth the price (or time, or attention) I claim.
June 03, 2009
Illegal parking 101: Don't ask, don't tell
June 3. Day 338.
Met up with some friends around 9. Destination: a bar on the water, in time for happy hour. The girl who was driving circled around for a few minutes and, finding nothing -- not even an illegal spot tight enough to fit her Mini -- moved on to the next neighborhood. Still nothing.
"How long does it take to find parking in this city?" I inquired.
"Depends if you care about getting a ticket or not," came the answer. "If you don't, 5 minutes."
We approached downtown, where there's a cool rooftop bar, a rarity in this city. The driver found an illegal spot and swooped in.
Just as we were getting out of the car, four young policemen, in uniform but acting relaxed, like they were off the clock, pulled up to the spot next to hers -- which was also illegal. They got out, then milled around for a moment.
"Damn!! If I leave the car here, I'm definitely getting fined," the driver lamented.
"Don't worry! They'll never fine you! Let's just pretend we're waiting for someone and once they're gone, we rush to the bar," another retorted.
"But they're coming back eventually. And then what?"
I had it! The solution! I would ask for clemency.
"Guys, what if I talked to them?"
They both looked at me, mortified.
"I will ask them if you can leave your car here. Explain we all know everyone breaks the rules anyway, and we've been circling around for half an hour, so could they be nice and promise no ticket?"
"No!! La Roxy, no no no no way!!"
"Don't worry! If anyone gets in trouble, it's me."
"NO. More like if you ask, they're going to say it's illegal and we'll have to move again. The system here is 'Don't ask, don't tell,' got it?"
We waited for the cops to disperse and headed to the bar (whose empty lowball glass, which formerly held my strawberry caiprinha, is here; above, its neon terrace).
Gained: Instructed to hold back. I don't know the lay of the land, so I just took their cue. Fortunately, she got no ticket. The cops were still gone when we got back. Looks like they partied harder than we did.
I hadn't proposed to ask because I needed to fulfill my daily dose. I just thought it was a "nothing to lose" situation that could help them out. An enterprising American diplomat to the rescue! Guess not.
A few hours earlier, I asked to borrow someone's office equipment.
I was getting a tour and learning what kind of work an acquaintance does -- a mix of marketing and branding, with lots of cool clients and cool technologies -- and I came across a magazine in the lobby with an interesting article.
"Do you have a photocopy machine I could possibly use to copy these three pages?"
"Sure, why?"
"There's a story here that I'd love to read later."
"Of course! Here's the machine. Press the black button. Make yourself at home!"
Gained: Saved money and time of tracking down/buying the magazine. Simplified my life. Got my own copy of a cool article. Here's another picture of the bar.
Met up with some friends around 9. Destination: a bar on the water, in time for happy hour. The girl who was driving circled around for a few minutes and, finding nothing -- not even an illegal spot tight enough to fit her Mini -- moved on to the next neighborhood. Still nothing."How long does it take to find parking in this city?" I inquired.
"Depends if you care about getting a ticket or not," came the answer. "If you don't, 5 minutes."
We approached downtown, where there's a cool rooftop bar, a rarity in this city. The driver found an illegal spot and swooped in.
Just as we were getting out of the car, four young policemen, in uniform but acting relaxed, like they were off the clock, pulled up to the spot next to hers -- which was also illegal. They got out, then milled around for a moment.
"Damn!! If I leave the car here, I'm definitely getting fined," the driver lamented.
"Don't worry! They'll never fine you! Let's just pretend we're waiting for someone and once they're gone, we rush to the bar," another retorted.
"But they're coming back eventually. And then what?"
I had it! The solution! I would ask for clemency.
"Guys, what if I talked to them?"
They both looked at me, mortified.
"I will ask them if you can leave your car here. Explain we all know everyone breaks the rules anyway, and we've been circling around for half an hour, so could they be nice and promise no ticket?"
"No!! La Roxy, no no no no way!!"
"Don't worry! If anyone gets in trouble, it's me."
"NO. More like if you ask, they're going to say it's illegal and we'll have to move again. The system here is 'Don't ask, don't tell,' got it?"
We waited for the cops to disperse and headed to the bar (whose empty lowball glass, which formerly held my strawberry caiprinha, is here; above, its neon terrace).
Gained: Instructed to hold back. I don't know the lay of the land, so I just took their cue. Fortunately, she got no ticket. The cops were still gone when we got back. Looks like they partied harder than we did.
I hadn't proposed to ask because I needed to fulfill my daily dose. I just thought it was a "nothing to lose" situation that could help them out. An enterprising American diplomat to the rescue! Guess not.
A few hours earlier, I asked to borrow someone's office equipment.
I was getting a tour and learning what kind of work an acquaintance does -- a mix of marketing and branding, with lots of cool clients and cool technologies -- and I came across a magazine in the lobby with an interesting article.
"Do you have a photocopy machine I could possibly use to copy these three pages?"
"Sure, why?"
"There's a story here that I'd love to read later."
"Of course! Here's the machine. Press the black button. Make yourself at home!"
Gained: Saved money and time of tracking down/buying the magazine. Simplified my life. Got my own copy of a cool article. Here's another picture of the bar.
May 27, 2009
Make room for me too?
May 27. Day 331.
The scene around 3 p.m.: a dozen cars are funneling into an ARCO, which has the cheapest gas in a 5 mile radius.
Prices are up. Summer is definitely here.
In front of me, a guy in a white SUV pulls up to the second of two pumps. Another car is preparing to leave, from the pump in front of his. If this guy starts pumping gas, I'll be stuck waiting, and the other pump will be empty.
This is where The Daily Asker has definitely changed things for me: don't assume the other party will mind that you asked. Don't shoot yourself down by not even trying. With no hesitation, I roll down my window and, with a big smile, ask him to move forward.
"Is there any chance you'd mind pulling up so we could both get gas at the same time?" My words exactly.
Yeah, a roundabout way to express myself, but he gets the idea.
"Yes," he says soberly. Then cracks a big smile, waits for the other car to leave, and makes room for me too.
Gained: 7 minutes or so.
As I fill up the tank, Friday's troubling gas station encounter (scroll to the bottom of the post) gets a resolution, indirectly.
A preteen boy with a speaking disorder of some sort comes up, selling candies. One Snickers bar is $8!! No sob story, no pressure to buy a sketchy camera. The boys are night and day.
I don't have that much cash on me, but give him what I do. $4. I'd felt bad for ignoring the other's request, but this shows there are plenty of people who need help -- and this boy is earning cash through a supervised program. Even a $1 donation is a much better investment in his future.
The scene around 3 p.m.: a dozen cars are funneling into an ARCO, which has the cheapest gas in a 5 mile radius.Prices are up. Summer is definitely here.
In front of me, a guy in a white SUV pulls up to the second of two pumps. Another car is preparing to leave, from the pump in front of his. If this guy starts pumping gas, I'll be stuck waiting, and the other pump will be empty.
This is where The Daily Asker has definitely changed things for me: don't assume the other party will mind that you asked. Don't shoot yourself down by not even trying. With no hesitation, I roll down my window and, with a big smile, ask him to move forward.
"Is there any chance you'd mind pulling up so we could both get gas at the same time?" My words exactly.
Yeah, a roundabout way to express myself, but he gets the idea.
"Yes," he says soberly. Then cracks a big smile, waits for the other car to leave, and makes room for me too.
Gained: 7 minutes or so.
As I fill up the tank, Friday's troubling gas station encounter (scroll to the bottom of the post) gets a resolution, indirectly.
A preteen boy with a speaking disorder of some sort comes up, selling candies. One Snickers bar is $8!! No sob story, no pressure to buy a sketchy camera. The boys are night and day.
I don't have that much cash on me, but give him what I do. $4. I'd felt bad for ignoring the other's request, but this shows there are plenty of people who need help -- and this boy is earning cash through a supervised program. Even a $1 donation is a much better investment in his future.
April 06, 2009
Developments
April 6. Day 280.
Here are three items for your consideration.
1) Article in the Globe about retail negotiation mavericks. Lots of good strategies and inspiring anecdotes. I especially like the woman who said, "This is a ridiculous price" and got the manager to agree with her -- and take off 15 percent.
Nita, thanks for the link!
2) Graphic in the NYT about the highest paid executives in the U.S. Two remarks. Almost none of them are women. Yes, we knew that. Only 5 in the top 100, for starters. On the other hand, it looks like several of the top earning women got sizeable raises last year. I don't know if huge executive raises in this economy make a lot of sense (that's my polite way of saying, "they don't"), but looks like the women are as ruthless as the men! At least those who made it to the top. Hardy har.
3) Should women lie about their age? This Time story argues No!
I've wondered about how I'll handle that whole aging thing. Dye my hair when it goes gray, or not? Fall back a year, every ten or so birthdays? Seems petty to me. On the other hand, it's not about self esteem, but about others' esteem. If being seen as 47 hurts my chances for a job, why not make it seem like I'm 40?
So, ladies, do you avoid stating (or blatantly lie about) your age? Men, do you? On the flipside, is there an advantage for people to appear older than they are? Or does being sketchy like that come back to bite you in the butt?
Today, I asked for a break from a cop.
I was at the airport picking up a friend. He lives way north of San Diego, so I occasionally give him rides. I'd waited in the cell phone lot like a good girl, and he called to say he picked up his baggage so I zoomed over.
I pulled over at the no-waiting active-pickup area, he didn't see my car but I could see him, so I called him. That second, a cop whistled at me and motioned for me to keep driving.
Instead, I pulled up and rolled down my window.
Before she could say anything I blurted: "I swear I'm picking someone up. He's right behind me, but he couldn't see me so I just called him. He's walking over right now. Please."
"He's coming now?"
"In five seconds. I just got off the phone with him."
"Well, if you're actively picking someone up, then it's fine. But you can't wait here."
"He's almost here!"
"That's ok then."
It wasn't a question, just your average exhortation. But hey, I spoke up for myself and didn't circle back around the airport like a wimp. I'd call that a gain.
Gained: 6 minutes of driving, or who knows how much a ticket would have been if the cop was hellbent on my destruction.
Here are three items for your consideration.
1) Article in the Globe about retail negotiation mavericks. Lots of good strategies and inspiring anecdotes. I especially like the woman who said, "This is a ridiculous price" and got the manager to agree with her -- and take off 15 percent.
Nita, thanks for the link!
2) Graphic in the NYT about the highest paid executives in the U.S. Two remarks. Almost none of them are women. Yes, we knew that. Only 5 in the top 100, for starters. On the other hand, it looks like several of the top earning women got sizeable raises last year. I don't know if huge executive raises in this economy make a lot of sense (that's my polite way of saying, "they don't"), but looks like the women are as ruthless as the men! At least those who made it to the top. Hardy har.
3) Should women lie about their age? This Time story argues No!
I've wondered about how I'll handle that whole aging thing. Dye my hair when it goes gray, or not? Fall back a year, every ten or so birthdays? Seems petty to me. On the other hand, it's not about self esteem, but about others' esteem. If being seen as 47 hurts my chances for a job, why not make it seem like I'm 40?
So, ladies, do you avoid stating (or blatantly lie about) your age? Men, do you? On the flipside, is there an advantage for people to appear older than they are? Or does being sketchy like that come back to bite you in the butt?
Today, I asked for a break from a cop.
I was at the airport picking up a friend. He lives way north of San Diego, so I occasionally give him rides. I'd waited in the cell phone lot like a good girl, and he called to say he picked up his baggage so I zoomed over.
I pulled over at the no-waiting active-pickup area, he didn't see my car but I could see him, so I called him. That second, a cop whistled at me and motioned for me to keep driving.
Instead, I pulled up and rolled down my window.
Before she could say anything I blurted: "I swear I'm picking someone up. He's right behind me, but he couldn't see me so I just called him. He's walking over right now. Please."
"He's coming now?"
"In five seconds. I just got off the phone with him."
"Well, if you're actively picking someone up, then it's fine. But you can't wait here."
"He's almost here!"
"That's ok then."
It wasn't a question, just your average exhortation. But hey, I spoke up for myself and didn't circle back around the airport like a wimp. I'd call that a gain.
Gained: 6 minutes of driving, or who knows how much a ticket would have been if the cop was hellbent on my destruction.
April 03, 2009
Hello. My name is La Roxy, and I'm an addict.
April 3. Day 277.
I spent the better part of today driving from post office to post office, on the phone with the federal passport agency and its idiotic robots, and rushing back and forth twice to "A-Official Passports," an expediting service located near the U.S. naval base on Point Loma.
Stop 0: The passport photo place conveniently located two blocks from my house. I even put on make up and smiled. Only because when I took my last photo, in 1999, I was running a fever and looked the part. For 10 years, people who saw my passport were kind enough to comment, "God, you looked so awful!" Thanks, dears.
Stop 1: Hillcrest Post Office. Run in, ask if they accept passport applications. No. Mission Valley Post Office does.
Stop 1: Mission Valley Post Office. Line 1, Line 2. Clock ticking. Time's a-running out. Finally, a gentleman with a santa clause beard and a veeeeeery relaxed demeanor (good for you! yipee. just don't be relaxed on my shift. deal?) tells me that if I apply for a passport, I probably wouldn't get it by the 13th. Some private companies can do it faster, for a fee.
Stop 3. "A-Official Passports." The lady informs me that she can get it back within 10 days, for the government fee plus $70 plus $40 for FedEx fee. "Is this negotiable?" I ask flat out. "No."
Stop 4. Home. I decide to call the passport agency in L.A, to see if they can fit me in. After about an hour on hold, they give me an appointment next week. But next week?? That's three days before I leave!! Cue the fear and trepidation.
Stop 5. Back to "A-Official Passports." I've just done the math, and driving 4 hours (round trip) plus $25 for gas plus who knows how much on parking ($2 meter? $30 garage?) isn't much better than spending $110 extra to get it done in San Diego, and work that whole day. Plus, what if the federal passport agency in LA is inefficient? I'm about to give her a check when we confirm the date I'll get it back.
"Seven to ten business days, so that would be April 14 at the earliest."
"Business days! Noooo! I'm leaving the 13th!" I wail. "Is there any other option?"
"We do have a courier service. That would get it back within 5 to 7 days. Still cutting it close. That would raise it to almost $200 above the base rate."
"Oh my god," I moan. I am not acting. I am not angling for sympathy. This is bad. I don't have money for last minute passport renewals! Not when --
In case you're wondering what this is all about. Yes. I'm crazy. A certified travel addict. But I'm going to Europe for a week.
My passport expires on May 9, and I'm about to leave the country for a week. In slightly more than a week.
Holy, as they say, crapola.
I'm not usually such a globetrotter, but things have just conspired strangely, wonderfully, this year. La Divina's visit, which prompted Hawaii. Then Mr. A's last minute and totally wild suggestion that I meet him in Athens. Now this. My mom, my exhausted mommy, is craving a vacay. And just when we were planning a staycation, complete with a visit to the San Diego zoo and a drive up the coast to see some friends in L.A., she got an email. From AirFrance. $270 LAX to Nice, with a $10 stopover in Paris. Frankly, it's not the wisest of moves, for either of us, but here's what she told me: "If I don't travel now, when will I?"
You know what I say?
Vive la joie de vivre!
But first, back to reality. Will my new passport actually cost $300???
"Please," I beg. "Is there anything you can do? I bought this ticket two hours ago and thought the post office does rush renewals, but they don't. Can you take anything off this price?"
"Don't do it here!" she says, suddenly girlfriendy. "Go to L.A. Same day service."
"Really!?"
"Yes. You cut out all the extra fees. They're great."
"Really? I thought maybe it takes a while."
"No! It's the best option out there. As long as you can get to L.A."
"Of course I can!! You are so kind to tell me this. I will remember your honesty and pay it forward."
She smiles, and I'm outta there.
Gained: Nothing, of course. How can I be building net worth when I'm always traveling and letting things expire? At least I figured out how to do the least damage possible to my wallet for this impulsive European adventure. Estimated costs: $70 regular passport fee. $60 rush fee. Gas
for 200 miles times 30 mpg @ $2.20 per gallon is around $25. Lost time -- well, I just won't let myself lose it, dammit.
Reflections, post-game.
1) Yay, private sector. I have never encountered a worse phone menu than the federal passport agency's.
2. Yay, public sector. I'm impressed they do same-day passports. I looked online and the LA agency has great reviews from average josephines in a hurry, just like me!
3) I solemnly swear I will never let my passport expire again.
I spent the better part of today driving from post office to post office, on the phone with the federal passport agency and its idiotic robots, and rushing back and forth twice to "A-Official Passports," an expediting service located near the U.S. naval base on Point Loma.Stop 0: The passport photo place conveniently located two blocks from my house. I even put on make up and smiled. Only because when I took my last photo, in 1999, I was running a fever and looked the part. For 10 years, people who saw my passport were kind enough to comment, "God, you looked so awful!" Thanks, dears.
Stop 1: Hillcrest Post Office. Run in, ask if they accept passport applications. No. Mission Valley Post Office does.
Stop 1: Mission Valley Post Office. Line 1, Line 2. Clock ticking. Time's a-running out. Finally, a gentleman with a santa clause beard and a veeeeeery relaxed demeanor (good for you! yipee. just don't be relaxed on my shift. deal?) tells me that if I apply for a passport, I probably wouldn't get it by the 13th. Some private companies can do it faster, for a fee.
Stop 3. "A-Official Passports." The lady informs me that she can get it back within 10 days, for the government fee plus $70 plus $40 for FedEx fee. "Is this negotiable?" I ask flat out. "No."
Stop 4. Home. I decide to call the passport agency in L.A, to see if they can fit me in. After about an hour on hold, they give me an appointment next week. But next week?? That's three days before I leave!! Cue the fear and trepidation.
Stop 5. Back to "A-Official Passports." I've just done the math, and driving 4 hours (round trip) plus $25 for gas plus who knows how much on parking ($2 meter? $30 garage?) isn't much better than spending $110 extra to get it done in San Diego, and work that whole day. Plus, what if the federal passport agency in LA is inefficient? I'm about to give her a check when we confirm the date I'll get it back.
"Seven to ten business days, so that would be April 14 at the earliest."
"Business days! Noooo! I'm leaving the 13th!" I wail. "Is there any other option?"
"We do have a courier service. That would get it back within 5 to 7 days. Still cutting it close. That would raise it to almost $200 above the base rate."
"Oh my god," I moan. I am not acting. I am not angling for sympathy. This is bad. I don't have money for last minute passport renewals! Not when --
In case you're wondering what this is all about. Yes. I'm crazy. A certified travel addict. But I'm going to Europe for a week.My passport expires on May 9, and I'm about to leave the country for a week. In slightly more than a week.
Holy, as they say, crapola.
I'm not usually such a globetrotter, but things have just conspired strangely, wonderfully, this year. La Divina's visit, which prompted Hawaii. Then Mr. A's last minute and totally wild suggestion that I meet him in Athens. Now this. My mom, my exhausted mommy, is craving a vacay. And just when we were planning a staycation, complete with a visit to the San Diego zoo and a drive up the coast to see some friends in L.A., she got an email. From AirFrance. $270 LAX to Nice, with a $10 stopover in Paris. Frankly, it's not the wisest of moves, for either of us, but here's what she told me: "If I don't travel now, when will I?"
You know what I say?
Vive la joie de vivre!
But first, back to reality. Will my new passport actually cost $300???
"Please," I beg. "Is there anything you can do? I bought this ticket two hours ago and thought the post office does rush renewals, but they don't. Can you take anything off this price?"
"Don't do it here!" she says, suddenly girlfriendy. "Go to L.A. Same day service."
"Really!?"
"Yes. You cut out all the extra fees. They're great."
"Really? I thought maybe it takes a while."
"No! It's the best option out there. As long as you can get to L.A."
"Of course I can!! You are so kind to tell me this. I will remember your honesty and pay it forward."
She smiles, and I'm outta there.
Gained: Nothing, of course. How can I be building net worth when I'm always traveling and letting things expire? At least I figured out how to do the least damage possible to my wallet for this impulsive European adventure. Estimated costs: $70 regular passport fee. $60 rush fee. Gas
for 200 miles times 30 mpg @ $2.20 per gallon is around $25. Lost time -- well, I just won't let myself lose it, dammit.
Reflections, post-game.
1) Yay, private sector. I have never encountered a worse phone menu than the federal passport agency's.
2. Yay, public sector. I'm impressed they do same-day passports. I looked online and the LA agency has great reviews from average josephines in a hurry, just like me!
3) I solemnly swear I will never let my passport expire again.
March 21, 2009
Czerny's Revenge
March 21. Day Day 264.
Czerny. Light of my life, fire of my fingers. My sin, my soul. Czer-ny: the tip of the fingers tapping thrice as the tongue taps twice to enounce your maddening name. Czer, as in Cher, Ny as in Niet. Not dear, dear...
His first name was Carl, but to me he was, and will always be, Czerny.
(With apologies to Nabokov.)
I sat down this afternoon and did some Czerny exercises. For those of you who were blessed with piano lessons, this name will surely be familiar to you, as well as to your neighbors. Up and down the keyboard, skipping a note. Back down, skipping two. Over and over. And over. (see below.)
All in the name of strength, dexterity, flexibility and discipline.
Uber-yah.
Now, Czerny wasn't the hotshot of the musical world. He studied under Beethoven and was a respected teacher. But he was no, how you say, maestro.
Yet look how content he looks, almost stifling a smile beneath those taut lips,
that impertinent tuft of hair, that hopeful gaze of his. Could strength, dexterity, flexibility and discipline be the key to inner peace? Fulfillment? Fortune? (He did die a wealthy man, thanks to his music, and late in composer years: 66!)
No. I'll tell you why he's smiling. Because unlike Beethoven and Shostakovich, who are enjoyed by only the most skilled of pianists, Czerny actually gets play. Daily. All over the world. Thousands of hands everywhere, doing his bidding. If that's not a sure path to immortality, I don't know what is.
Well, as I attempted to decipher those notes of his, my fingers stumbled something awful. (Wow -- I would never say that sentence in real life, so what would I write it? I will keep it here, if only to document the wild and zany experiment that is this blog.)
But it was still playing, of sorts, and it felt amazing.
Why am I telling you this?
Because for the first time in years, I was playing on my very own piano!
And to get to this happy point, of course I asked for something.
Now that I live in a house and I'm planning on staying here a while, my mom suggested I take my piano. Years ago, she moved it to the garage, deeming it too ugly for the living room. ("I don't have room for it anymore," she explained gingerly, but with a little prodding I found out the real reason. No problem. I was at college and never touched it when I came home, so why shouldn't she replace it with a pair of bookcases?)
An hour ago, a pair of brawny movers delivered it to my house, and here we are now. Before, when I called to schedule the move and asked for a quote, the mover asked what other figures I'd heard.
"Why don't you give me a quote first?" I replied.
"$125."
"Really. I've gotten $100."
"Alright, $100."
Gained: Sort of $25. I definitely had heard $100 from other movers, but I wanted to use these guys since they were available first. So actually, I saved a week, not $25. Either way -- I'm thrilled!
Czerny. Light of my life, fire of my fingers. My sin, my soul. Czer-ny: the tip of the fingers tapping thrice as the tongue taps twice to enounce your maddening name. Czer, as in Cher, Ny as in Niet. Not dear, dear...
His first name was Carl, but to me he was, and will always be, Czerny.
(With apologies to Nabokov.)
I sat down this afternoon and did some Czerny exercises. For those of you who were blessed with piano lessons, this name will surely be familiar to you, as well as to your neighbors. Up and down the keyboard, skipping a note. Back down, skipping two. Over and over. And over. (see below.)
All in the name of strength, dexterity, flexibility and discipline.
Uber-yah.
Now, Czerny wasn't the hotshot of the musical world. He studied under Beethoven and was a respected teacher. But he was no, how you say, maestro.
Yet look how content he looks, almost stifling a smile beneath those taut lips,
that impertinent tuft of hair, that hopeful gaze of his. Could strength, dexterity, flexibility and discipline be the key to inner peace? Fulfillment? Fortune? (He did die a wealthy man, thanks to his music, and late in composer years: 66!)No. I'll tell you why he's smiling. Because unlike Beethoven and Shostakovich, who are enjoyed by only the most skilled of pianists, Czerny actually gets play. Daily. All over the world. Thousands of hands everywhere, doing his bidding. If that's not a sure path to immortality, I don't know what is.
Well, as I attempted to decipher those notes of his, my fingers stumbled something awful. (Wow -- I would never say that sentence in real life, so what would I write it? I will keep it here, if only to document the wild and zany experiment that is this blog.)
But it was still playing, of sorts, and it felt amazing.
Why am I telling you this?
Because for the first time in years, I was playing on my very own piano!
And to get to this happy point, of course I asked for something.
Now that I live in a house and I'm planning on staying here a while, my mom suggested I take my piano. Years ago, she moved it to the garage, deeming it too ugly for the living room. ("I don't have room for it anymore," she explained gingerly, but with a little prodding I found out the real reason. No problem. I was at college and never touched it when I came home, so why shouldn't she replace it with a pair of bookcases?)
An hour ago, a pair of brawny movers delivered it to my house, and here we are now. Before, when I called to schedule the move and asked for a quote, the mover asked what other figures I'd heard.
"Why don't you give me a quote first?" I replied.
"$125."
"Really. I've gotten $100."
"Alright, $100."
Gained: Sort of $25. I definitely had heard $100 from other movers, but I wanted to use these guys since they were available first. So actually, I saved a week, not $25. Either way -- I'm thrilled!
March 20, 2009
Two effing good promos!
March 20. Day 263.
Update: I went to see the nearby Ikea shelf and asked the seller for a discount. He agreed. So far, no Craigslister since July 1 has turned down my request for $5 off -- whether the asking price is $40 or $20. Interesting...
Am I shooting too low?
My question today was for a project that's still just a twinkle in my eye. I have decided to register and host a few domains for future uses, and I came across a company with some good specials now. One promo code informed me, "Congratulations, you are getting our best rate possible!" (Something like that.) But I wasn't buying it. What if there was something better, more up to date? So I called their agent and asked her to price out the total with each of the three codes I had found.
Turns out, the promo that promises the best rate is only for 20% off, for a total of $119. I also had a different code, for 50% off, which brought the total to $71.
Eff-yeah!!!!*
Gained: $48.
Earlier, I tried signing up for a new promo at the bank. The flyer, "Earn $50 blah blah blah," screamed New Customers Only, but it was worth a try. "Can I sign up for this?" I asked the teller. "Not if you already have an account," she replied. No prob. (But if you have some cash to spare, gentle reader, and access to Bank of America, you can always sign up, earn your perk and close out! Here's the link.)
Gained II: Nothing lost, nothing gained.
*I'm not usually this demure. Ask around, and you'll find out that this percussive word and I became fast friends at the age of 4 (my age -- the word was at least 700 years old that year). One day, my neerdowell buddy -- which is to say, my absolutely amazing and inspiring troublemaker of a friend -- Stuart, taught me to play a game.
"I'm going to whisper something in your year, and then you yell it at the top of your lungs, OK?"
I agreed.
"Fuck," he whispered.
I'd never heard it before. I figured I'd get in trouble if Stuart was involved, but I wanted to do it anyway. "FUCK!"
"Do it again!"
"FuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucK!"
"Louder!"
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-- Tata?"
My dad had bolted over. He sent Stuart away, spanked me, and shut me in my room.
These days, every time I use swear words on this site, my dad calls and berates me for being a poorly mannered young lass -- so I'm holding off. I get his point. Tis not ladylike.
And yet...
Don't you love how getting all meta lets you get away with stuff?
And doesn't parental wrath have its charms, when you're old enough to appreciate it?
Eff yeah.
Update: I went to see the nearby Ikea shelf and asked the seller for a discount. He agreed. So far, no Craigslister since July 1 has turned down my request for $5 off -- whether the asking price is $40 or $20. Interesting...
Am I shooting too low?My question today was for a project that's still just a twinkle in my eye. I have decided to register and host a few domains for future uses, and I came across a company with some good specials now. One promo code informed me, "Congratulations, you are getting our best rate possible!" (Something like that.) But I wasn't buying it. What if there was something better, more up to date? So I called their agent and asked her to price out the total with each of the three codes I had found.
Turns out, the promo that promises the best rate is only for 20% off, for a total of $119. I also had a different code, for 50% off, which brought the total to $71.
Eff-yeah!!!!*
Gained: $48.
Earlier, I tried signing up for a new promo at the bank. The flyer, "Earn $50 blah blah blah," screamed New Customers Only, but it was worth a try. "Can I sign up for this?" I asked the teller. "Not if you already have an account," she replied. No prob. (But if you have some cash to spare, gentle reader, and access to Bank of America, you can always sign up, earn your perk and close out! Here's the link.)
Gained II: Nothing lost, nothing gained.
*I'm not usually this demure. Ask around, and you'll find out that this percussive word and I became fast friends at the age of 4 (my age -- the word was at least 700 years old that year). One day, my neerdowell buddy -- which is to say, my absolutely amazing and inspiring troublemaker of a friend -- Stuart, taught me to play a game.
"I'm going to whisper something in your year, and then you yell it at the top of your lungs, OK?"I agreed.
"Fuck," he whispered.
I'd never heard it before. I figured I'd get in trouble if Stuart was involved, but I wanted to do it anyway. "FUCK!"
"Do it again!"
"FuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucK!"
"Louder!"
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-- Tata?"
My dad had bolted over. He sent Stuart away, spanked me, and shut me in my room.
These days, every time I use swear words on this site, my dad calls and berates me for being a poorly mannered young lass -- so I'm holding off. I get his point. Tis not ladylike.
And yet...
Don't you love how getting all meta lets you get away with stuff?
And doesn't parental wrath have its charms, when you're old enough to appreciate it?
Eff yeah.
March 19, 2009
The "yuj" -- $5 off Craigslist or free delivery?
March 19. Day 262.
For a few weeks I've been eyeing a tall and slender cd/dvd tower from Ikea, since it's just perfect for storing some jewelry and keepsakes. Fits between a small dresser and the wall in the bedroom.
It goes for $40 to $50 new, depending on the color, and that's just too much in my book. So once in a while I've checked good old CL, and finally two appeared today -- black and white.
I emailed the owner of the black one asked for $5 off, or free delivery since she lives about 30 minutes away.
She agreed.
Then I emailed the owner of the white one, who lives a few blocks away, and said I'd like to come by and see it.
He agreed.
Gained: Not sure which to go for.
For a few weeks I've been eyeing a tall and slender cd/dvd tower from Ikea, since it's just perfect for storing some jewelry and keepsakes. Fits between a small dresser and the wall in the bedroom.It goes for $40 to $50 new, depending on the color, and that's just too much in my book. So once in a while I've checked good old CL, and finally two appeared today -- black and white.
I emailed the owner of the black one asked for $5 off, or free delivery since she lives about 30 minutes away.
She agreed.
Then I emailed the owner of the white one, who lives a few blocks away, and said I'd like to come by and see it.
He agreed.
Gained: Not sure which to go for.
February 15, 2009
Legal advice, Greek style
February 15. Day 230.
"What if something goes wrong? Can she drive it? What happens if the police pulls me over?"
These were Mr. A's questions to the guy renting us an ATV so we could explore the island. The whole set up seemed somewhat sketchy -- limited insurance, hand over driver's license as collateral, call the dude's cell if something went wrong, and then this:
"That's not how it is in America," I interjected. "In some towns they make big bucks off of speeding tickets from tourists."
"Don't worry. So, here's the contract. You need to bring it back by 5."
"Five???" I balked.
Already, I had the feeling he was giving us the "special tourist" price. 30€ per day. I was tempted to negotiate, but held back since I just didn't know the market. Yet now he expected us to pay for a full day and bring it back in six hours?
Time to ask -- er, insist...
"Five is much too early. Can we bring it back tomorrow morning?" I asked.
"Tomorrow? Why would you need it so long? It's not like you're going to ride around in the dark, are you?"
"Probably not. But what if we want to get dinner in a different town or take our time coming back?" Mr. A continued.
"Ok. I'll do 7."
"Later. We could get dinner somewhere, or ride around the port."
"Ok, fine. 10."
"Fine."
Gained: An ATV for a day. Here are few shots of the island, from the scooter.
February 05, 2009
Free dessert? Or rather: Free. Dessert.
February 5. Day 220.
I just got back from Denny's, where Mr. A and I waited an hour for some nachos and a hot skillet plate. We went out to eat especially because we wanted it to be quick. Neither of us had time or desire to chop onions or do dishes. I was planning on making some baby octopus in red wine, but I got lost in work and by the time he got home I hadn't started.
And we were hungry.
Instead of an efficient and satisfying meal, we spent almost 2 hours there, most of it waiting.
Before the food came, about an hour after we ordered, I asked the manager for a dessert on the house. I would have asked the waiter, but he was MIA. There was no hesitation or internal dialogue here. If Mr. A didn't love them sizzlin' skillets, I'd have high-tailed it ages ago. I think it was more of a monotone, because by then I was trying to curb my seething impatience (which I have now funneled into this post and the accompanying illustration).
"Any chance we could get a free dessert after waiting so long."
"That's fine. What would you like?"
"Do you have apple pie."
"Yes. I'll let your server know."
Apparently she didn't let him know, because he brought us the bill a minute after he brought the food (Now you're being efficient? The moment I shove a nacho in my mouth?), so I asked him directly.
Gained: One big slice of apple pie. Menu Price: $3 or so. Actual price for my wasted hour. $150. What I've decided I'm worth, especially when I'm feeling disrespekted.
On the other hand, it was time spent with Mr. A, between our busy workdays and a long night of more work planned for both of us. So it also was a blessing in disguise. Even if it was at a filthy Denny's, under fluorescent lights, with four squawking children two booths away. Even if our food was an hour late. Even if they tried to skip our free dessert. Even if we did leave a decent tip, despite everything, because maybe, maybe it wasn't the waiter's fault. Even if the bathrooms were eww. We talked about Google Latitude and something I asked on Craigslist, which you'll read about next Tuesday... and we shared a slice of pie. That was nice.
So, have you ever asked for anything free from a restaurant, o ravenous reader? What was your most juicy, succulent experience with that?
I just got back from Denny's, where Mr. A and I waited an hour for some nachos and a hot skillet plate. We went out to eat especially because we wanted it to be quick. Neither of us had time or desire to chop onions or do dishes. I was planning on making some baby octopus in red wine, but I got lost in work and by the time he got home I hadn't started.And we were hungry.
Instead of an efficient and satisfying meal, we spent almost 2 hours there, most of it waiting.
Before the food came, about an hour after we ordered, I asked the manager for a dessert on the house. I would have asked the waiter, but he was MIA. There was no hesitation or internal dialogue here. If Mr. A didn't love them sizzlin' skillets, I'd have high-tailed it ages ago. I think it was more of a monotone, because by then I was trying to curb my seething impatience (which I have now funneled into this post and the accompanying illustration).
"Any chance we could get a free dessert after waiting so long."
"That's fine. What would you like?"
"Do you have apple pie."
"Yes. I'll let your server know."
Apparently she didn't let him know, because he brought us the bill a minute after he brought the food (Now you're being efficient? The moment I shove a nacho in my mouth?), so I asked him directly.
Gained: One big slice of apple pie. Menu Price: $3 or so. Actual price for my wasted hour. $150. What I've decided I'm worth, especially when I'm feeling disrespekted.
On the other hand, it was time spent with Mr. A, between our busy workdays and a long night of more work planned for both of us. So it also was a blessing in disguise. Even if it was at a filthy Denny's, under fluorescent lights, with four squawking children two booths away. Even if our food was an hour late. Even if they tried to skip our free dessert. Even if we did leave a decent tip, despite everything, because maybe, maybe it wasn't the waiter's fault. Even if the bathrooms were eww. We talked about Google Latitude and something I asked on Craigslist, which you'll read about next Tuesday... and we shared a slice of pie. That was nice.
So, have you ever asked for anything free from a restaurant, o ravenous reader? What was your most juicy, succulent experience with that?
January 06, 2009
How all those parking fines finally paid off.
January 6. Day 190.
There are few domains in which I proclaim expertise. Grad school has only stressed how little I know -- and how much I need to stress out. The school of life has brought no greater mastery of any line of thought.
But I do profess to know my Three P's: procrastination, parking tickets, and praspberries.
Let's leave the first and third for later, shall we, and zoom in on number two.
While living in Boston for six years, I amassed a fanciful collection of parking tickets, most of which I saved and put in a file labeled "Fuck you too." These include your routine expired meters, street sweeping, snow emergency, permit only, feeding the meter, and the more exotic specimens: valet parking only, handicapped ramp (only by 2 inches!!), reparking on the same block after a meter expired, and my personal favorite -- parking facing the wrong direction.
Believe me, it was no small task to collect such a variety of offenses.
And so, in hopes of saving you the hundreds or perhaps thousand dollars in fines I paid, I encourage you to apply these methods as needed. Consider them as part of the revolt against a system that forces drivers into coffer-filling obedience.
We will not be jerks and double park or block someone's driveway. But nor will we tolerate this subjugation another day, hour or minute!! Go forth and park in peace, my brothers and sisters!
0. If you'll be parking somewhere frequently, get to know the area's parking vibe. Some streets are doomed, others seem scary (i.e. heavily trafficked) but rarely encounter a meter maid. On some, no one comes by before noon despite the signs. Others, 3 a.m. checks are routine.
1. Begging and/or kissing up: do it. I have gotten out of lots of tickets on the nick of time by running up to the meter maid with a smile. You don't need to flirt or have long hair and stilettos to pull this off. Just... enough desperation.
2. Leave a note. For a while, I had a paper in the back seat that read, in all caps sharpie, "PLEASE HAVE MERCY! BE BACK SOON!!" It was ready to go for quick meter stops if I was out of quarters and in "Private Parking/Tow Zone" areas. I used it unobtrusively -- in an empty residential lot during business hours, or an empty bank lot on a weeknight, and never for too long.
3. If you do get a fine, check the ticket meticulously. If a number is recorded incorrectly or something is unreadable or missing, the court should declare it invalid.
4. Appeal, appeal, appeal. I got to be a familiar face at Boston city hall. Why not? The ticket cost more than what I earn in an hour, and there are plenty of lunch spots nearby to celebrate.
5. If you get more than one ticket at once, you never simply PAY. Bring two at a time and negotiate. I think I saved $100 or $200 bucks that way, in pre-asker askings. BUT: Don't bring more than two tickets, since the clerk can probably only let you off the hook for one without seeming like a softie.
6. And for the record, since records are so important, act deferential and contrite, even if you and the clerk both know it's a bunch of bullshit to be charged $40 for being a minute late. At least, that seems to work for me.
Today I was in downtown San Diego for a meeting with someone, and there was no way I'd be able to come out and feed the meter. So I resorted to Methods 1 and 2, with a note secured behind a windshield wiper.
"Dear Parking Agent,
If possible...
Please have mercy!
My meeting is done at 1 and I will move the car immediately!!
Have a great day,
apologies,
La Roxy
(civic driver)"
The meter had expired for an hour and 15 minutes, and no ticket! No clue if it was the note or luck, but given my usual misfortune, I want to hope it was the note...
Gained: a $40 reprieve, after paying many multiples of that.
There are few domains in which I proclaim expertise. Grad school has only stressed how little I know -- and how much I need to stress out. The school of life has brought no greater mastery of any line of thought.But I do profess to know my Three P's: procrastination, parking tickets, and praspberries.
Let's leave the first and third for later, shall we, and zoom in on number two.
While living in Boston for six years, I amassed a fanciful collection of parking tickets, most of which I saved and put in a file labeled "Fuck you too." These include your routine expired meters, street sweeping, snow emergency, permit only, feeding the meter, and the more exotic specimens: valet parking only, handicapped ramp (only by 2 inches!!), reparking on the same block after a meter expired, and my personal favorite -- parking facing the wrong direction.
Believe me, it was no small task to collect such a variety of offenses.
And so, in hopes of saving you the hundreds or perhaps thousand dollars in fines I paid, I encourage you to apply these methods as needed. Consider them as part of the revolt against a system that forces drivers into coffer-filling obedience.
We will not be jerks and double park or block someone's driveway. But nor will we tolerate this subjugation another day, hour or minute!! Go forth and park in peace, my brothers and sisters!
0. If you'll be parking somewhere frequently, get to know the area's parking vibe. Some streets are doomed, others seem scary (i.e. heavily trafficked) but rarely encounter a meter maid. On some, no one comes by before noon despite the signs. Others, 3 a.m. checks are routine.
1. Begging and/or kissing up: do it. I have gotten out of lots of tickets on the nick of time by running up to the meter maid with a smile. You don't need to flirt or have long hair and stilettos to pull this off. Just... enough desperation.
2. Leave a note. For a while, I had a paper in the back seat that read, in all caps sharpie, "PLEASE HAVE MERCY! BE BACK SOON!!" It was ready to go for quick meter stops if I was out of quarters and in "Private Parking/Tow Zone" areas. I used it unobtrusively -- in an empty residential lot during business hours, or an empty bank lot on a weeknight, and never for too long.
3. If you do get a fine, check the ticket meticulously. If a number is recorded incorrectly or something is unreadable or missing, the court should declare it invalid.
4. Appeal, appeal, appeal. I got to be a familiar face at Boston city hall. Why not? The ticket cost more than what I earn in an hour, and there are plenty of lunch spots nearby to celebrate.
5. If you get more than one ticket at once, you never simply PAY. Bring two at a time and negotiate. I think I saved $100 or $200 bucks that way, in pre-asker askings. BUT: Don't bring more than two tickets, since the clerk can probably only let you off the hook for one without seeming like a softie.
6. And for the record, since records are so important, act deferential and contrite, even if you and the clerk both know it's a bunch of bullshit to be charged $40 for being a minute late. At least, that seems to work for me.
Today I was in downtown San Diego for a meeting with someone, and there was no way I'd be able to come out and feed the meter. So I resorted to Methods 1 and 2, with a note secured behind a windshield wiper.
"Dear Parking Agent,If possible...
Please have mercy!
My meeting is done at 1 and I will move the car immediately!!
Have a great day,
apologies,
La Roxy
(civic driver)"
The meter had expired for an hour and 15 minutes, and no ticket! No clue if it was the note or luck, but given my usual misfortune, I want to hope it was the note...
Gained: a $40 reprieve, after paying many multiples of that.
More like this:
Asking to save time,
Auto,
Challenging fees / policies / penalties / rules
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December 23, 2008
Asking in the airport
December 23. Day 176.
Gained II: happy holidays. Thanks, Continental passengers!
"Look at all those people," my Mama pointed out as I was checking in at the curb. I was getting about to leave to Texas, to spend Christmas with my dad and stepmom. A line of travelers with suitcases was stretching all the way from the terminal to the parking lot, over the skybridge (pictured, line-free).
And then it struck us: Those people weren't waiting to check in upstairs. That was the security line.
For all the disadvantages of living "in America's biggest small town" (to quote a reader who commented here a few months ago) one of the big plusses is the airport. No. Lines. Ever. I've traveled in and out of San Diego at least a dozen times in some years, so I can say I've seen this airport from midnight to midnight in all seasons -- and there has never been a security line like that.
I asked the baggage handler if I should try to cut to the front: "My flight is leaving in 30 minutes!"
"You should be fine. It's moving fast," he answered.
No fast enough. From the looks of it, it would take at least 30 or 40 minutes.
So I did what anyone would do, asker or otherwise: When I got upstairs, I went to the First Class/priority lane. "My flight is at 11:30--" I began, and showed my boarding pass.
"G0!" she replied.
Gained I: Caught my flight.
The flight left late -- and landed late. I had a tight connection, with the next plane boarding in 10 minutes, two terminals away. And I was sitting in the last row.
I'd learned my lessons years ago, after so many mishaps and misadventures: Don't ever expect to make a tight connection if you're sitting in the back of the plane. Don't expect people in planes to move fast or get out of the way because others are in a rush. Don't expect the man with the connection clipboard to send you to the right gate or even right terminal. Don't expect the gate printed on your boarding pass to be accurate. Don't expect anything from anyone when flying.
So as the plane was taxing, I asked my neighbor to let me out so I could sprint ahead. When the plane reached the gate and people started getting out of their seats, I waited about a minute to see if the line would move, saw everyone standing still, and did what would have once been unthinkable: squeezed through the full aisle, saying: "Can I please get through? I only have 10 minutes to my next flight. I'm sorry. Happy holidays!"
People made room, some wished me luck, and I caught a go cart to terminal E -- and made the flight.
Gained II: happy holidays. Thanks, Continental passengers!
December 10, 2008
Meet me in my hood?
December 10. Day 163.
Final lease-related question, I promise.
We were supposed to take care of the lease a few days ago, but the property manager has been busy. We finally got in touch, and he invited me to his office.
In East El Cajon.
East El Cajon is an intriguing area. Lots of strip malls and mom-n-pop stores that have miraculously survived since the 70s and 80s. Loads of personality. Reminds me of Mississippi or South Texas, not San Diego.
It's also 15.6 miles away.
15.6 miles that seem much longer since there's almost always traffic. 25 km, which seems even further!
I drove out once, to drop off the application.
I drove out a second time, to drop off the security deposit.
But a third time? Not exactly charming...
I phrased my question diplomatically as possible.
"Is there any way we could do it somewhere else? Near your house, or if you have any errands to run? ANY PLACE but East El Cajon?"
He chuckled.
"Sometimes, I meet people for signing leases in Mission Valley [which is 2 miles from my house]. We could meet at the Starbucks next to Target. You can also bring me your security deposit, if it's easier."
Interesting. So apparently, he routinely meets people in Mission Valley -- but doesn't advertise it. And, I could have skipped the second drive... if only I'd asked! At least I avoided one trip.
Gained: An hour, and a gallon or two of gas.
Final lease-related question, I promise.
We were supposed to take care of the lease a few days ago, but the property manager has been busy. We finally got in touch, and he invited me to his office.
In East El Cajon.
East El Cajon is an intriguing area. Lots of strip malls and mom-n-pop stores that have miraculously survived since the 70s and 80s. Loads of personality. Reminds me of Mississippi or South Texas, not San Diego.
It's also 15.6 miles away.15.6 miles that seem much longer since there's almost always traffic. 25 km, which seems even further!
I drove out once, to drop off the application.
I drove out a second time, to drop off the security deposit.
But a third time? Not exactly charming...
I phrased my question diplomatically as possible.
"Is there any way we could do it somewhere else? Near your house, or if you have any errands to run? ANY PLACE but East El Cajon?"
He chuckled.
"Sometimes, I meet people for signing leases in Mission Valley [which is 2 miles from my house]. We could meet at the Starbucks next to Target. You can also bring me your security deposit, if it's easier."
Interesting. So apparently, he routinely meets people in Mission Valley -- but doesn't advertise it. And, I could have skipped the second drive... if only I'd asked! At least I avoided one trip.
Gained: An hour, and a gallon or two of gas.
November 28, 2008
Can I just pay here?
November 28. Day 151.
I started the day with the best intentions -- to pay homage to San Diego merchants and help the American economy by participating in that mystical exercise called Black Friday. Join the pilgrimage. Prepare for the holidays. Incant with the rest of the masses: "Could I please see that in my size?" Slide my credit card. And, repeat!
My mother and I headed to Fashion Valley, central San Diego's shopping mecca. But 30 seconds after pulling into the parking lot, we had a simultaneous epiphany: What were we thinking?? Just the line to find parking was infernal -- why would we ever venture to a mall on Black Friday??
Finally, we stopped at a gift store and cool-thing boutique on the way home, because I wanted to pick up a present for my friend, I, whom I'd visited in NY in September. I was going to her baby shower Saturday, and I had a present, but the more I thought about it, it wasn't quite right.
So I picked up a jewelry box and a pearl bracelet for her daughter to be, and my mother happened to find a book of Japanese prints she liked.
I started the day with the best intentions -- to pay homage to San Diego merchants and help the American economy by participating in that mystical exercise called Black Friday. Join the pilgrimage. Prepare for the holidays. Incant with the rest of the masses: "Could I please see that in my size?" Slide my credit card. And, repeat!My mother and I headed to Fashion Valley, central San Diego's shopping mecca. But 30 seconds after pulling into the parking lot, we had a simultaneous epiphany: What were we thinking?? Just the line to find parking was infernal -- why would we ever venture to a mall on Black Friday??
She put on her turn signal and we managed to squeeze out with a narrow u-turn, thanks to a nice guy in an SUV and another in a beemer who let us pass. Thanks, dudes!
Next stop: Adams Avenue, whose antiques shops my mother had frequented decades before, picking up small treasures here and there. But everything was cheap and overpriced. Crappy baubles and trinkets, faux this and that, QVC style delicacies, at full retail price. I noticed a teapot made of glass, almost identical to what's selling at a store I love (World Market) -- at triple the cost. I wanted to ask the sweet old lady sitting at the counter, "Have you ever set foot in another store besides your own? Do you know that there are these things called 'competitors' out there, and they're kicking your ass?"
But I held my tongue.
Finally, we stopped at a gift store and cool-thing boutique on the way home, because I wanted to pick up a present for my friend, I, whom I'd visited in NY in September. I was going to her baby shower Saturday, and I had a present, but the more I thought about it, it wasn't quite right.
So I picked up a jewelry box and a pearl bracelet for her daughter to be, and my mother happened to find a book of Japanese prints she liked.The man at the jewelry counter, frail and vaguely elderly looking (40? 80? hard to say!), explained he could only ring up the bracelet - we'd have to wait in the normal line for the other items.
As it happened, that line was very long -- Black Friday long -- so I used every drop of charm, every whit of wit, to explain that it was just two more items, what's another zap or two of his scanning gun, and what's policy when you have a happy customer?
He shuffled behind the counter unconvinced, looking for a gift box for the jewelry, and meanwhile, I set up the two items on the counter, barcode up.
"Thank you!" I replied, so relieved, when he got back, as if it were a fait accompli. He rang everything up together. By that point, it was just as easy to help as not.
Gained: 20 minutes or so.
November 24, 2008
Break a 20? Pretty please?
November 24. Day 147.
Quick, allow me to write something now, so yesterday's entry falls a little bit lower on the page.
I spent the entire day at the library, a place I don't often venture. That's because I like my libraries like I like my steak -- rare.
After setting up a pile of books I needed to photocopy, I realized I needed a copy card. For future reference, here's how to get a copy card at the UCSD library.
Step 1. If driving, stop by the visitor's booth on Gilman Drive to get a parking permit.
Step 2. Look for a spot that's marked B or C, but not A and not a meter. If it's before 4:30. After 4:30, meters are acceptable. But still not A.
Step 3. Collect books from the seventh floor.
Step 4. Take a break and walk to the Price Center, a student area and food court about 10 minutes away (including elevator time).
Step 5. Spill a full cup of hot coffee all over yourself.
Step 6. Now you are ready to start copying.
Step 7: Walk back to the library, and stop at the copy card machine. On the way, remove credit card from wallet so you're ready to roll.
Step 8: Read "Cash only" sign on the machine.
Step 9: Discover you only have $20 bills. Much more than necessary.
Step 10. Read "No change given" sign on the machine.
Step 11: Ask the circulation desk rep if she could break a $20 into two tens, or whatever denomination is easiest for her.
Step 12: Be informed that the closest place to break any bill is back at the Price Center.
Step 13: Scamper away from circulation desk.
Step 14: Find a group of undergrads. A trio of guys rushing into the elevator, ideally.
Step 15. Stop them just as the elevator door starts beeping, and force them to wait while you ask if someone could please break a $20.
Step 16. As they hesitate, let images of Price Center or accosting more students dance in your head.
Step 17. Add "Pretty please?"
Step 18. Wait while one guy removes a wad of dollar bills from his pocket and starts counting, shuffling, digging around for more. Thank him. Meanwhile, his friends get more annoyed, so smile apologetically. Thank them too. His friends must then decide to leave without him. He remains alone, wrapping up this good deed.
Step 19. Say $19 is fine, so he can be on his way.
Step 20. Accept the $20
Step 21. Retrieve copy card.
Gained: Didn't walk back to the Price Center -- saved 15 to 20 minutes -- and valiantly helped an undergrad procrastinate.
Quick, allow me to write something now, so yesterday's entry falls a little bit lower on the page.
I spent the entire day at the library, a place I don't often venture. That's because I like my libraries like I like my steak -- rare.
After setting up a pile of books I needed to photocopy, I realized I needed a copy card. For future reference, here's how to get a copy card at the UCSD library.Step 1. If driving, stop by the visitor's booth on Gilman Drive to get a parking permit.
Step 2. Look for a spot that's marked B or C, but not A and not a meter. If it's before 4:30. After 4:30, meters are acceptable. But still not A.
Step 3. Collect books from the seventh floor.
Step 4. Take a break and walk to the Price Center, a student area and food court about 10 minutes away (including elevator time).
Step 5. Spill a full cup of hot coffee all over yourself.
Step 6. Now you are ready to start copying.
Step 7: Walk back to the library, and stop at the copy card machine. On the way, remove credit card from wallet so you're ready to roll.
Step 8: Read "Cash only" sign on the machine.
Step 9: Discover you only have $20 bills. Much more than necessary.
Step 10. Read "No change given" sign on the machine.
Step 11: Ask the circulation desk rep if she could break a $20 into two tens, or whatever denomination is easiest for her.
Step 12: Be informed that the closest place to break any bill is back at the Price Center.
Step 13: Scamper away from circulation desk.
Step 14: Find a group of undergrads. A trio of guys rushing into the elevator, ideally.
Step 15. Stop them just as the elevator door starts beeping, and force them to wait while you ask if someone could please break a $20.
Step 16. As they hesitate, let images of Price Center or accosting more students dance in your head.
Step 17. Add "Pretty please?"
Step 18. Wait while one guy removes a wad of dollar bills from his pocket and starts counting, shuffling, digging around for more. Thank him. Meanwhile, his friends get more annoyed, so smile apologetically. Thank them too. His friends must then decide to leave without him. He remains alone, wrapping up this good deed.
Step 19. Say $19 is fine, so he can be on his way.
Step 20. Accept the $20
Step 21. Retrieve copy card.
Gained: Didn't walk back to the Price Center -- saved 15 to 20 minutes -- and valiantly helped an undergrad procrastinate.
November 06, 2008
RIP, Maxima! And, today's "vocal" request
November 6. Day 129.
Great news! My car has died. It didn't start two times in a row, I called a bunch of mechanics who said it will probably be expensive to fix, so I'm planning my exit strategy. I could fix part of the problems and sell as is, or trade it in... we'll see.
Why is that great? Because now I finally have the carrot I need to finish this chapter! I won't buy a car, or even research buying a car, until I'm done with this step. Sad that I need to abuse myself like this -- but, whatever it takes to get this chapter finished!
And that brings me to my first big ticket negotiation. A used car!! I'm very curious to see how much I can bring the price down. Maybe I'll try different approaches with different sellers. It will be kind of a game, actually. If anyone has any strategies at all, or anecdotes, I'd love to hear them.
As for asking, I'll be out and about today, so stay tuned!
UPDATE: I hope today's request will not fall on deaf ears.
I listened all to my accumulated phone messages yesterday, which included: one person calling twice to say exactly the same thing, someone whose voice kept cutting in and out for quite a while, someone who accidentally called and left the phone going for a few minutes, a few phone calls on behalf of other people so we could all coordinate something (so much faster on email, no?), and a handful of remarks ("It's me! catch you later!") that are shorter than the time it takes to access them and would convey the same thing as a "missed call" on my cell phone (minus the voice, the human touch, but I'm not that sentimental. Not with deadlines looming.)
Of course, there were many voices I was happy to hear -- from friends, family, business associates -- so I'm not against the system. Just, inefficient use thereof.
I'm also prone to leaving rambling messages, especially to my long distance friends. I guess I really do see those as vocal mails -- small dispatches with an interesting update, a question about we can plan to see each other, a wish for a nice weekend, a concern about the dissertation, an idea for a fun trip together, topped off by an apology for rambling for so long.
But maybe they're checking that message in traffic. In line at the bank. When they're stressed. Maybe they need to wait for me to finish before they can advance to the next message, the important one they were waiting for.
This approach, from The Art of Manliness, is about the worst I can imagine. The write-up itself mimics the anti-ideal voicemail: a few relevant nuggets buried between miles of chatter, and far too many steps to be worth the listener's while. Sounds like a recipe for turdukken, not a business call!
I love this approach, courtesy of iMarc:
Old message: "Hi, you've reached La Roxy. Please leave a message and I'll return your call as soon as I can. Thank you."
New message: "Hi! Please leave your brief, efficient, terse, condensed, concise, succinct, diminutive, pithy, breviloquent, lightening quick, necessary and/or relevant message after the beep."
I promise to do the same!
Gained: Time.
Great news! My car has died. It didn't start two times in a row, I called a bunch of mechanics who said it will probably be expensive to fix, so I'm planning my exit strategy. I could fix part of the problems and sell as is, or trade it in... we'll see.
Why is that great? Because now I finally have the carrot I need to finish this chapter! I won't buy a car, or even research buying a car, until I'm done with this step. Sad that I need to abuse myself like this -- but, whatever it takes to get this chapter finished!And that brings me to my first big ticket negotiation. A used car!! I'm very curious to see how much I can bring the price down. Maybe I'll try different approaches with different sellers. It will be kind of a game, actually. If anyone has any strategies at all, or anecdotes, I'd love to hear them.
As for asking, I'll be out and about today, so stay tuned!
UPDATE: I hope today's request will not fall on deaf ears.
I listened all to my accumulated phone messages yesterday, which included: one person calling twice to say exactly the same thing, someone whose voice kept cutting in and out for quite a while, someone who accidentally called and left the phone going for a few minutes, a few phone calls on behalf of other people so we could all coordinate something (so much faster on email, no?), and a handful of remarks ("It's me! catch you later!") that are shorter than the time it takes to access them and would convey the same thing as a "missed call" on my cell phone (minus the voice, the human touch, but I'm not that sentimental. Not with deadlines looming.)
Of course, there were many voices I was happy to hear -- from friends, family, business associates -- so I'm not against the system. Just, inefficient use thereof.
I'm also prone to leaving rambling messages, especially to my long distance friends. I guess I really do see those as vocal mails -- small dispatches with an interesting update, a question about we can plan to see each other, a wish for a nice weekend, a concern about the dissertation, an idea for a fun trip together, topped off by an apology for rambling for so long.
But maybe they're checking that message in traffic. In line at the bank. When they're stressed. Maybe they need to wait for me to finish before they can advance to the next message, the important one they were waiting for.
This approach, from The Art of Manliness, is about the worst I can imagine. The write-up itself mimics the anti-ideal voicemail: a few relevant nuggets buried between miles of chatter, and far too many steps to be worth the listener's while. Sounds like a recipe for turdukken, not a business call!
State your name first. You would think this would be so basic that it shouldn’t even be mentioned. However, I can’t count the number of times I’ve gotten voicemails where people go on and on and I don’t even know who’s talking to me until the very end. Pretty annoying.
State your number right after your name. Many people wait until the very end of the message to state their number. This will irritate the receiver of your message because if he doesn’t get it down, he then has to sit through the whole damn message again to hear it repeated.
Repeat your phone number twice. People seem to forget that the receiver of their message has to write the number as you say it. Don’t rush through it. Even when you say it slowly, it’s hard to get down the first time. So repeat it again, so they can check to be sure they got it down right.
State the purpose of your call. In as few words as possible, state why you’re calling. Is it in regards to an interview appointment? Are you following up on a previous meeting?
Find some common ground. If you’re cold calling someone, your voicemail is your 30 second chance to make a connection and leave a good impression. One of the best ways to make a connection in that short amount of time is mentioning a mutual acquaintance. You could also mention a shared affiliation with an organization.
Be brief. Don’t make your listener resent you for leaving a 5 minute long message. People are busy. Listening to 5 minute phone messages is not on the top of their priorities and wastes their time. Many callers seem to think they are the only person in the world leaving a voicemail for a particular person. Yet a dozen other people feel the same way and a man ends up holding the phone to his ear for an hour.
Leave a specific request. What do you want your listener to do? Sure, you want them to call you back, but why? To answer a question? To set up an appointment? People will appreciate it if you give them specific actions for their call back. That way they’ll know they won’t be wasting a lot of time on the call back trying to figure out what you want.
Consider leaving your e-mail in addition to your phone number. People like choices. Some people like to have conversations on the phone, while others prefer communicating through e-mail. You don’t know what kind of person your listener will be, so leave the option on the table. For many, e-mail correspondence is less threatening and might actually encourage them to reach out to you.
Be Brief. Did I mention be brief? Yeah? Make sure to do it.
I love this approach, courtesy of iMarc:
So, I'm making a friendly entreaty to my callers.When a caller talks for 5 minutes then does a John Moschitta [link fixed] impersonation while leaving their callback number it's maddening. If you miss the phone number, you're forced to playback the entire message and try again.
Next time you leave a voicemail, do this:
- State your name
- Leave your phone number, talking slower than normal.
- In one sentence, tell the person why you called.
- Repeat your name and number.
- Hang up
Old message: "Hi, you've reached La Roxy. Please leave a message and I'll return your call as soon as I can. Thank you."
New message: "Hi! Please leave your brief, efficient, terse, condensed, concise, succinct, diminutive, pithy, breviloquent, lightening quick, necessary and/or relevant message after the beep."
I promise to do the same!
Gained: Time.
November 05, 2008
Can you deal with this?
November 5. Day 128.
I got a note today from FedEx asking me to drive to their depot to pick up a package I'd ordered. Only. My car isn't working and I'm using Mr. A's today. I reeeeally have to work on my dissertation. And the people who sent the package messed up, since I didn't ask for delivery confirmation. Why should I spend an hour fixing their mess?
I did initially consider making the treck rather than pushing it back into their court. But come on... I'm not The Daily Asker for nothing. Here was my email:
Gained: An hour for my dissertation. One valuable hour.
ASKING UPDATE:
I dropped off two huge bags of clothes at Hillcrest Cleaners. Spotted a sign that they impose a 25 cent per item surcharge if you don't prepay. I asked them to waive it since I'm a first-timer.
Gained II. $4.50.
I got a note today from FedEx asking me to drive to their depot to pick up a package I'd ordered. Only. My car isn't working and I'm using Mr. A's today. I reeeeally have to work on my dissertation. And the people who sent the package messed up, since I didn't ask for delivery confirmation. Why should I spend an hour fixing their mess?I did initially consider making the treck rather than pushing it back into their court. But come on... I'm not The Daily Asker for nothing. Here was my email:
Hi Cheryl,I really hope this works. She needs to know I can't resolve this problem. Shouldn't be my headache. Period.
I received a notice today from FedEx saying they tried to drop off a diploma at
my house. I am not there, and my car is currently in the shop. That means I
won't be able to pick it up!
I spoke to someone at their office, a customer service representative named Pat
Xxxxxx, who told me that if you call and remove the signature requirement,
they can deliver it again and leave it at my door.
Phone: 18004633339
The "door tag" I was given: xxxxxxxxxx
Delivery address: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Otherwise, I'm afraid there is no way for me to receive this diploma, and I'd
hate for it to get sent back to you, or lost!!
Thank you very much for your help,
Best,
La Roxy
Gained: An hour for my dissertation. One valuable hour.
ASKING UPDATE:
I dropped off two huge bags of clothes at Hillcrest Cleaners. Spotted a sign that they impose a 25 cent per item surcharge if you don't prepay. I asked them to waive it since I'm a first-timer.
Gained II. $4.50.
October 21, 2008
Several updates, and... New project?
October 20. Day 112.
The day of updates:
For a few months, I've been trying to cancel my second car insurance, since I stayed registered in Boston and California this summer due to the Boston RMV's incompetence. Finally, phone call after phone call, Boston cancelled my registration and I got a refund for the overlap in insurance. Minor victory, definitely what was my due, and lost so many hours dealing with it, but I do have $40 back in my pocket. Which I might have given up on, before this project.
I had asked Chase to fix a poor mark on my credit report because of some fraudulent activity on a dormant Visa, and today I received a letter that they are reversing the claim, erasing any "past due" notices in my account and thus restoring my credit! WOOHOO!!
I had asked JetBlue for a free or discounted ticket to Seattle, but I got rejected by the Customer Care Manager:
I had asked someone on Craigslist to help me with a present. The idea was to frame two large paintings. I have since decided to do only one, since there's limited wall space. It was as a present for Mr. A, whose brother painted them, so I couldn't spill the beans on this blog. Today, I met a graphic designer who's looking for work, and we traded skills. I edited her cover letter and resume, and she helped me stretch the painting over wooden bars. It was instructive, fun, and cheap. Aaron Brothers was charging $190 for the service that cost me $40 in materials and an afternoon of bartered services. I also bought her lunch, since she drove south to meet me, and it felt right. So, a price difference of $130.
I had asked, in turn, Mr. A's friend for some software for my dad, who's also out of a job. Engineering and home design software, since he's an architect. The friend found them with lightning speed, and I'm about to go mail him the CD's.
My asking today was career-oriented. Not for a raise or perk, but about taking initiative. I proposed a new type of project to my boss, something totally different from anything I or the company has worked on. I hesitated -- it wasn't up their alley, they're in the middle of so many changes they don't want another one -- but I figured that if I don't ask, the answer will definitely be no. It would still be part time, between writing the dissertation and this blog, but it would be a lot of fun to work on, and I think it could help the company's bottom line. I'll let you know how it turns out.
The day of updates:
For a few months, I've been trying to cancel my second car insurance, since I stayed registered in Boston and California this summer due to the Boston RMV's incompetence. Finally, phone call after phone call, Boston cancelled my registration and I got a refund for the overlap in insurance. Minor victory, definitely what was my due, and lost so many hours dealing with it, but I do have $40 back in my pocket. Which I might have given up on, before this project.I had asked Chase to fix a poor mark on my credit report because of some fraudulent activity on a dormant Visa, and today I received a letter that they are reversing the claim, erasing any "past due" notices in my account and thus restoring my credit! WOOHOO!!
I had asked JetBlue for a free or discounted ticket to Seattle, but I got rejected by the Customer Care Manager:
I wish we had some special vouchers or discount to offer you, but, unfortunately, we don't. My best suggestion is to continue to watch our website for sale prices. We're still in a generally slow time of the year for air travel (until the Thanksgiving holiday arrives) and you might be able to find better than 'normal' fares to many of our destinations (including San Diego).I have no choice. They're still the cheapest. So I put the fare on my credit card and I'm taking off tomorrow. So be it.
I hope that you can find a way to visit your sister and help her out and hope that you'll continue to be a loyal JetBlue Customer!
I had asked someone on Craigslist to help me with a present. The idea was to frame two large paintings. I have since decided to do only one, since there's limited wall space. It was as a present for Mr. A, whose brother painted them, so I couldn't spill the beans on this blog. Today, I met a graphic designer who's looking for work, and we traded skills. I edited her cover letter and resume, and she helped me stretch the painting over wooden bars. It was instructive, fun, and cheap. Aaron Brothers was charging $190 for the service that cost me $40 in materials and an afternoon of bartered services. I also bought her lunch, since she drove south to meet me, and it felt right. So, a price difference of $130.I had asked, in turn, Mr. A's friend for some software for my dad, who's also out of a job. Engineering and home design software, since he's an architect. The friend found them with lightning speed, and I'm about to go mail him the CD's.
My asking today was career-oriented. Not for a raise or perk, but about taking initiative. I proposed a new type of project to my boss, something totally different from anything I or the company has worked on. I hesitated -- it wasn't up their alley, they're in the middle of so many changes they don't want another one -- but I figured that if I don't ask, the answer will definitely be no. It would still be part time, between writing the dissertation and this blog, but it would be a lot of fun to work on, and I think it could help the company's bottom line. I'll let you know how it turns out.
More like this:
asking for others,
Asking to save time,
Career,
Financial gains or savings,
travel
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