Are those free? And, JetBlue quest continues...

October 13. Day 105.

I was sitting at Influx, a cafe in the up-and-coming Golden Hill neighborhood, doodling while vaguely listening to a group of women talking as they knit hats. It was time for a break, after a full day of dissertation research.

But instead of relaxing, I was getting more antsy. It was 9, I was about to head home, and I hadn't asked for anything yet. I'd been to dinner (my first visit to the legendary Chicken Pie Shop, which was moderately tasty but nothing to write home about, let alone promote in a blog. Oops). Nothing jumped out at me there to ask for. And before that, I was on my computer all day, thinking about French literature instead of hidden bargains and interesting opportunities.

In a blink, a cashier announced they were closing and I took my cup to the counter.

And there, I spotted them.

Two cookies, two lone chewy looking cookies of the chocolate chip and ginger variety, sitting on a plate on top of the pastry case. They had been inside before (I know this, because I had eyed them earlier but decided to be good). And now they were outside. Waiting. For what?

For me!

"Are those free?" I asked the woman who was tidying up the register area.

I know it was kind of brash. But so many cafes put out baked goods before they close. This was my first time at Influx, and the place was empty, and the cookies did seem to be looking for a loving home...

She smiled.

"Sure."

The way she said it made me wonder if she was sacrificing her midnight snack.

"Are you sure? Were you going to eat them?"

"I'm going to be back here at 6 tomorrow," she reassured me. "We make them every morning."

Gained: 2 giant cookies, aka supper snack and/or breakfast tomorrow.

Earlier today, I wrote to JetBlue again to ask if they got my first message, but I realize I'm going about it the wrong way. An email to the generic "corporate communications" address? Come on. I'm digging around now for human contacts. Anyone in management, anyone with some decision making powers. (If you, kind reader, happen to have such contacts, please don't hesitate to spill the beans!) And then I'll state my case again. If that doesn't work, I'll buy my ticket tomorrow at full price -- but I have to try one more time.

Good night.

Skip the sushi?

October 12. Day 104.

I'll just come out and say it.

I don't like sushi.

[Deep breath. A bit of fidgetting. Checkin' my watch. Smiling and shaking my head at my own folly. Ingratiating shrug.]

Ok, are you done pointing and snickering?

With few exceptions (sweetwater eel and rare nibbles of certain pseudo-rolls), I just find it hard to enjoy. I tried, believe me. I wanted to like it. But sushi, martinis and caviar are three things I've written off, no matter how much I'd like to be that kind of woman.

For years, I dutifully downed my fair share. I managed to sound excited when friends, cool international friends, gushed about Sushi Obi, or whatever new place recently opened. I even frequented all-you-can-eat sushi bars, which struck me as an insane idea even then (isn't that like all-you-can-eat truffles or turducken? A rich delicacy better savored?), but I played along. In fact, I almost had myself convinced. Mind over matter, I guess.

Finally, four years ago, when I was in Paris for a year, I ventured to a sushi place in the 5eme arrondissement and ended up getting very sick. The empty store and dim lights (dare I make the leap to skimping on the electric bill, cheapness, and, hence, mediocre refrigeration?) should have tipped me off. A few months later, I made a new friend who's a biologist, and she confirmed: Unless the preparation is meticulous, you're eating a lot more than what's listed on the menu.

Tonight, some friends called and suggested dinner. YES!

At a sushi restaurant. OK!

Then, I swallowed my pride.

"Can we actually do something else? I don't eat sushi."

There. I said it.

"How's Thai?" she asked, in return.

Yôt yîam! (That's "perfect"in Thai, according to thai2english.com.)

Gained: A plateful of pad-see-ew.

On another note, earlier today I was biking along the boardwalk of Oceanside, an interesting and mixed community north of San Diego where vacation homes, military housing and gang neighborhoods come within a few feet of one another. As I pedaled against the wind, the sun about to disappear behind the Pacific, I noticed all the "for rent" and "vrbo.com" signs. So many empty houses.

And I wondered: If you added up all the mattress real estate in America -- every hotel and motel bed, every pull-out couch, guestroom daybed, hospital bed, empty bunk bed while the twins are at college, campground cabin rows of twin mattresses, plus the selection at every mattress store, every Macy's display, plus the bed at every second home and time share, plus every pair of queen or king sized mattresses occupied by solo individuals -- would there be more or less bed spaces than the total population? How many extra beds are there, compared to the number of homeless people? Just wondering.

Tennis, tentatively... and internet discount please?

October 11. Day 103.

I've never been particularly athletic. Every few weeks or so, I go through waves of feeling invigorated or quite bored by the wholesome concept of "fitness." Most recently I've been really trying to learn tennis, since there are courts everywhere in San Diego and I'm starting to sense how fun it could be if I actually returned the ball at 100 mph.

Today I tried on my very first pair of real tennis shoes at Ray's Tennis. They were comfortable -- super comfy -- and in about three minutes I knew I wanted them. That's a major first. Usually, Roxy and shoe stores don't part ways so easily.

It occurred to me to try to get the price down, but I quickly decided not to. Lowering their profits would have been a disservice to them and myself. This is a small store with personalized service. The kind of place that I want to thrive. The old man I chatted with was knowledgeable and helpful, and gave me advice as I embark on this new sport: Stay low, bend your knees. Thanks!

Thirty minutes into my tennis session with Mr. A, who's been teaching me for the past year or so, I started wondering if I might have some sort of rare, degenerative, neurological disorder. Why else had I swung wildly at the last three balls and missed? Why were my serves ending up in the net? Why else was I so dramatically out of breath, having hallucinations of Papa John's spinach alfredo pizza?

I asked him if he thought I might be ill.

"It's called laziness," he replied.

Hmm. Really? Well, that's a relief.

I confessed I was staaaarving and that I wanted to order a pizza from Papa John's and pick it up in an hour. That would give us enough time to play (or in my case, technically, flail pathetically as I pretend to run after the ball), and some hope for immediate nourshment after our workout.

When I placed the order, I asked what promotions they had.

"Nothing if you order on the phone."

"What about all your internet discounts and the coupons you mail out? You really can't apply a discount, just because I'm calling?" If I was getting their junkmail, at least once it should pay off.

"Hold on... let me look aroud the store and see if I find a coupon... Ok, I found one that will save you $3.50."

Bingo!

As for the rest of my time on the court: I think ordering the pizza was a turnaround moment, since I actually played decently after that. Focus, focus, focus.

Gained: $3.50.

Can I mooch your mix? And... named one kitten, still waiting on a baby

October 10. Day 102.

And the winner is... Daffodil!
Two days ago, I posted four Craigslist messages around the country, asking if any expecting parents would let me name their baby.

I got one answer, from H, in Chicago, who said that instead of a baby, she'd like me to name her kitten.

We traded a few emails, I did a sort of consultation to learn what she named her previous pets, and what hopes and dreams she has for this feline.

She'd like it to be "playful, as we are getting her to provide a friend (not a breeding friend) for Drexel [their current cat]. So this new kitty will represent hope and companionship." She likes feminine names, but a little off-beat or interesting. Based on that, I wrote back with a few ideas, including: Colette, Celeste, Trina, Daffodil, Daphne, Esme, Smaranda, Vivienne, Nazrina, Belina, Gigi, Annabel and Sydney.

She loved Daffodil, and her husband agreed! (The picture above is of a random kitten sniffing flowers, but I'll put a picture of the real Daffodil as soon as they send me one.)

Gained: I named a kitten, and a kitten gained a name.

I'm heading out now to work on my dissertation in a cafe. (Wow, just reread that, and I am the living cliche of a literature grad student. So be it!) I'll write about today's asking once it happens... ciao.

UPDATE: I'm sitting at Wired Cafe and Bistro, awaiting a grilled salmon sandwich. To my right, a jazzy trio with a flat alto singer. To my left, Mr. A, reading the NYT online. A halfnote away from a lovely Friday night.

When I got here, however, an hour or so before the band started, the cafe was playing some very cool French music. I didn't recognize anything, which isn't saying much, but it was the kind of stuff I'd love to get my hands on. Combine that with my recent iPod purchase, and you can guess what I asked for.

"Hi."

"Hi," the spindly man behind the cash register crooned. Definitely French.

"Was the music playing before from an iPod, or a CD?"

"A CD," he intoned.

"I really liked it. Is there any way I could borrow it for a minute? I'd love to take the name down, or maybe even copy it to my laptop?"

"It's a mix I made," he whispered.

"Oh! Do you mind if I made a copy, or at least saw what the songs are? It's just that I haven't heard such cool music in a long time."

"I don't mind making you a copy."

"Really!? But if it's easier, I can just do it now, so it's not an imposition." I pointed the laptop on my table. I seriously didn't mean to make him waste his time. I was just thinking of borrowing it for 30 seconds, to copy the title and/or songs, with is permission.

"No, I'll make you a copy. Just give me your name, and come back next week." Maybe it was his only CD with the music, or he had other stuff on the CD. Either way, I am grateful!

Gained: un tres cool mix, next week, I hope.

Airfare discount? And, need a hand?

October 9. Day 101.

Continued from this morning:

For a few weeks I've been planning a trip to Seattle, whenever airfare dropped and the timing was right with La Sorella and her boyfriend. They moved up there a few months ago and needed some time to settle in. I'll be there for a week, maybe 10 days, reading materials for my next chapter by day, cooking up a storm by night, and making a pilgrimage to my beloved Espresso Vivace.

I checked tickets on ITA Software, and as I was preparing to buy something on JetBlue, I got an idea. What if I tried to get a customized discount? I mean, airlines are struggling right now as much as consumers are, so maybe they'd be willing to cut a deal? Something beyond Priceline, which stopped being a bargain destination years ago. I emailed the corporate communications department and made my case. An excerpt:

I'm writing today with a question. I was wondering if you ever have any leeway on prices, or if you could lower your prices by even a small amount, for an upcoming trip I have to make. I would like to travel to Seattle from San Diego to be with my younger sister, who just graduated from college, and help her out as she looks for a job. I'm a grad student living in California, and my budget is very tight.

I realize that asking for a personal discount is highly unorthodox, and I think you have wonderful prices based on the excellent service you provide! But, I just thought I would ask, since given the economy and my own financial situation, I need to be careful with every penny I spend. Yet I also don't want to miss seeing my sister.

If there is any way the $219 ticket on your website can be lowered, by any amount, I would be very grateful.

If it works, that would beyond cool, and I think JetBlue is just open minded enough to consider my request.

On a final note tonight, I bring you an example where offering help rather than asking for it ended up can bring unanticipated benefits. I parked a few blocks from my house, for lack of a closer spot, and walked back past a couple standing next to a car that had one headlight flashing. Odd.

"Do you need any help? Do you need to use my cell phone?" I asked from across the street. Normally, I don't accost people when I'm alone, by a bunch of bushes, at night, but it's a generally safe neighborhood.

Or so I thought.

"No, it's not our car," the woman replied. "We just called the police, since it looks like someone broke into this car."

It was a Honda Civic. The man told me his car, also a Civic, was burglarized on the same street two nights ago. And the car I parked a few feet away (it's Mr. A's, since we traded cars today) is also a Civic.

I moved it immediately.

Gained: Perhaps an airfare discount, and critical info about my neighborhood these days.

The Daily Asker on Salon!!

October 9. Day 101.

Oh. My. Bejeezus.

I woke up this morning, checked my email and noticed I had a few more comments than usual. The most recent one started, "I heard about your blog from today's post on Salon.com's Broadsheet..."

What???? Seriously???

I ran to my computer, to see this!!

You can check out the rest of the story here.

Today's asking cleary hasn't happened yet, since I'm still answering comments and emails and acting generally silly and giddy, but what a way to start the day.

Thank you, Salon.

Can I name your baby? (plus, my craziest venture so far)

October 8. Day 100!!!

New feature, in honor of hitting triple digits: I've added ratings. I'd love to hear which askings have appeal to you, gentle reader. Bring it on!

But 100 is just the start, and so today I am asking for something that's all about new beginnings. I'm extremely curious to see how it will pan out.

I posted this message on Craigslist in Chicago, NY, San Francisco and LA.

HINT: Click on the blurry picture and it will pop up in a new window.

Gained: Don't know yet, but wouldn't it be amazing?

In other news, I'm contemplating an asking that's so convoluted and outrageous I don't know if I can pull it off. It struck me a few weeks ago that one thing I don't have, but really want, is stocks. I currently have a few paltry holdings in MBI, and one emerging market mutual fund, both of which have tanked recently. Naturally.

But I've been studying the market casually, as one does between graduate school and part time work and full time blogging, and I thought, "Wouldn't it be nice if I wrote to the CEOs of a bunch of companies and asked them to give me one stock?"

I could make two pitches. The first is cocky and risky, and one I'm not crazy about: that it's a mutual investment, since once I get a PhD and start making lots of money, I'll keep investing and become their advocate. Tell people in fifty years, "Yes, long before Google turned the moon into a web browser, it has always been an intrepid, outside the box company. Back in 2008, they actually gifted me one stock, as part of an experiment I was doing." The problem is that I'd be forever beholden, both privately and in the public eye. Say I want to work for their competitor, or want to write an article about a certain bank one day. It would be a major conflict of interest. Also, would anyone just give me a stock?

The second approach is much more tempting: receiving while giving. What I'd do is ask for a stock, but with the following arrangemenet: In five years (perhaps; exact span TBD), I will cash in the stock, keep half to pay off my student loans and give half to a charity.

A few problems arise there, as well: how easy is it for a company to gift stock to an individual? Do I need to set up a charity for that initial step? how do I choose the final destination charity? What if the company I ask don't approve of the Gates Foundation because its CEO happens to like malaria?

Any ideas? thoughts? suggestions?

Would you do it? How would you do it?

Would you see me doing it?

What about the logistics??

Do you think comes across as opportunism masquerading as philanthropy, or is it actually a cool way to give and get?