Monday, June 3, 2013

Rainy Monday

This morning I had a 9 o'clock appointment with my doctor.  

I arrived at 8:45am and after stepping off the elevator, waited for nearly a full minute for either of the front desk gals to acknowledge me.  When they finally did, it was gruff and unfriendly - no eye contact at all or a smile.  Now, I work in guest relations, I understand today is rainy and a Monday morning, but honestly, being friendly is your g-damn job.  

I told them my name and that I had a 9 o'clock appointment, and was asked "do you have an appointment?"  I said I did, at 9 o'clock.  She asked me my name again.  I told her.  She took my license and insurance card and was putting paperwork together for me.  She then handed me the forms to fill out.  

I sat down in the waiting area to review all the paperwork and realized after a minute or two that she'd given me someone else's paperwork.  Now, I am not a doctor or a lawyer, but I am 100% positive that this was in violation of at least two or three regulations. I took them back up to the desk, and the woman didn’t even look up when she said “yeah?”  I told her that the forms she’d given me were someone else’s.  She snatched them from my hand and said "what's your name again?"  I told her my name (for those of you counting) for the fourth time.   The other front desk women stepped in at this point and said she'd put my paperwork together.  When I was given my forms I filled out the first page and brought the clip-board back.  She asked "you're finished already?"  I didn't fill out the background sheets - because none of my information has changed.  I was told to fill them out anyway.  I made a comment about how it's a waste of time because everything is the same as last year, and that they already have all of that information on file, to which she replied "yeah, well, I didn't make the policy."

I’d like to stop here to say again, that if you work at a front desk, IT IS YOUR JOB TO BE FRIENDLY.  It is your job to be patient and as helpful as possible.  And it is your f-ing job to be hospitable. If you have no interest in customer satisfaction, then don’t work as a receptionist at a busy doctor’s office in New York City.

I’d also like to say at this point that during my “visit” and 46 minute wait in the lobby, these two women working were complaining about having to work the week of the fourth of July, complaining about the rain, complaining about their weekends and one of them (the one who gave me the wrong paperwork) was complaining child-care for her daughter.  It did not surprise me that this woman who is not married, (and maybe 20 years old - maybe), has a child with no father-figure to speak of.  I shouldn’t judge, but I do.

I’m not a big complainer.  I start crying immediately when I even think about confrontation.  My mother never had that issue, and would complain about everything.  Once, my family was at a Dairy Queen, and my mom saw something unsanitary.  She looked at my sister and I and said “I’m going to say something” – we both immediately walked outside and sat in the car.  I wish I had the skill to do that on my own behalf.  I can compose angry emails, but when it comes time to saying something to someone’s face? Forget it.  I’ll crumple like paper. 

So here I am world, in a totally unhelpful and useless way; I am stepping up and saying that my morning was unacceptable.  I wish I could say that I won’t ever go back to that office.  That I’ll find a new doctor who has front desk staff that aren’t horrible bitches.  But frankly, finding a new doctor is exhausting and I’m too tired for that noise.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Stress

I find that living in NYC makes my anxiety level rise exponentially. Everything here just seems so dire.

Oh my God – I have to get up this escalator right now – I can’t believe you’re standing still on the left side of it! Can’t you see we’re all trying to get around you!?!

OhmahGod I have to get on this very full bus immediately, I can’t believe you don’t already have your MTA card out and in hand! 

What do you mean you only take cash?! 

It’s raining, and my umbrella isn’t golf sized!?!?    

It’s three o’clock in the afternoon on a Sunday,  I’m trying to take a nap and my neighbor is playing loud music?!?!   

Wtf?! The deli ran out of plastic forks?! 

Woe is me.

I’m going to be moving this summer, and while on its own, moving is incredibly stressful – moving in New York City?

World-ending-stressful.  

Two of my dearest friends in the city live near me but both of them are leaving NYC this summer.  One to LA and the other to Chicago; I don’t blame them, but I hate that they’re leaving me.   Because they won’t be nearby anymore, I’ll be changing neighborhoods, so I can live near other friends who welcome the chance to lay on the floor watching trashy tv and eating too much.   I have been planning to move into my own apartment, but sadly, now that I look at my budget, that seems less and less wise.   Additionally I’ll be travelling a lot this summer and worry about the actual schedule of moving. 

Being realistic is also incredibly stressful.  Why can’t I live in idiots-ville and just find an apartment that I like and assume that I’ll be able to find the money I need when it comes time to pay rent? 

Sigh.

If there was ever a time when I wished someone else would make decisions for me – it would be moving season.  Pick my perfect new apartment that fits inside my budget AND doesn’t require a broker fee.  Just get her done.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Mother's Day


The older I get, the more often I realize that my Mother is usually right.  

Now, I’m not talking about my hair-style (which she thinks is too long), or where I live (she’d rather I settle down in no-where’s-ville America – or in the basement at home), or what I do for a living (she cannot understand why I don’t want to be a teacher).  I am talking about the seemingly trivial life-bits that help you figure out how to behave like a decent human being.

One of the first things she said that I remember remembering was “girls who start early, end early.”  Now, this could mean a million things – and in the age of Teen Mom I, II and III – it seems even more poignant.  I meet people now who talk about their high school years as the best in their life, and I feel sorry for them.  Like most of America, high school kind of sucked for me.  And I was well liked.  But the start-early end-early concept (which I will admit I use as a joke more often than not) has its point. 

So, now that I’m 32, with some of my mother’s advice peppered in, here is what I know:
  • There are kitchen gadgets in Bed, Bath and Beyond that are sold solely to make people feel inept when they aren’t used or understood.  It is okay not to buy them and own only one pan. 
  • Katherine McFee is one of the most beautiful women in Hollywood, but also the most lifeless, boring and uninteresting.
  • There are women on this earth who are naturally skinny and there are women on this earth who are not.  Figuring out which one you, and not beating yourself up over it will make life a lot easier.
  • Eating cereal for dinner is sometimes the better option to cooking a full out meal.  Especially if you’re eating alone.
  • The hair-dresser who took it upon herself to wax my eyebrows without my consent when I was 16 changed my life.
  • Everyone should attend sleep away camp.
  • Making your bed in the morning brings peace into your life in unexpected ways.
  • Friends who will eat an entire pint of ice cream or several tubes of Pringles with you without judgment are the best kinds of friends to have.
  • There is no such thing as too much face cream.
  • Holding a grudge is equal parts satisfying and harmful.
  • Not getting enough sleep makes everything harder and more irritating.
  • Seeing a dead turtle in the road is one of the saddest things in the world.
  • If a guy writes on his dating profile that “he only dates petite girls”, “is fanatical about manicured eyebrows” or has more than one photo of himself making the pouty face – run.
  • No one enjoys doing the dishes, cleaning the toilet or taking out trash – they still have to get done.
  • Eventually we all start coughing, sneezing and farting like our parents.  Try not to be surprised. 
  • Eating grapes before a big work-out is a bad idea.
  • Always RSVP, send thank you notes, show up on time and carry a granola bar in your purse.


Happy Mother’s Day. 

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Late Lent

For the month of April I had, what my friends were calling “a late Lent”.  I took the month off from alcohol and online dating. 

I have had a profile on OK Cupid for almost a year, and found myself getting really frustrated with the quality – or lack thereof – of men that were reaching out to me.  So instead of being that surly spiteful hag to the few who might not have been the worst version of man, I decided to disable my profile for 36 days and reevaluate.  So I did.

So, on my second day of being 32 years old, I reactivated my account.

I realize that I’m probably in the minority here, but I try to be as truthful as possible on my profile.  I don’t have any pictures of myself posted that are more than 2 years old.  My main picture was taken at my birthday party, and I selected “average to athletic” as my body type.  I am honest about how tall I am, and I purposefully chose a lot of nerdy references and silly faced-photos to reflect my sense of humor and grandma-ness.  I suppose this is why I haven’t been overwhelmed with handsome eligible messages, but I’d rather wait it out for the guy who will match my style. 

Of course, I say that now, but how long is a realistic wait time? My very last non-New York single friend is getting married next weekend, and while I’m so happy for her – this will mark the 19th wedding I’ve attended minus a plus one, in the past five years.  Going with my parents does not count as a date – let me just be clear on that.

I refuse to lower my standards solely out of loneliness.  Last night I got a message from a guy and all it said was “graet smile”.  I went to his profile and he has not posted one single photo of himself. 

Seriously dude? F that.

I deleted his message and continued my perusal of other possible man-friends.  Within minutes of visiting his page I get a SECOND message from him saying he meant what he said in his first message and that he apologizes for his lack of pictures “it’s my work” – whatever the hell that means.

In the three plus years and various sites and various accounts of online dating, I have only rarely heard back from guys that I reached out to first.  I don’t know if this is because I have an unrealistic view of myself, or if the guys online who say they’re looking for someone their own age are liars, but the men who engage with me online usually fall into one of the following categories:
  1. CRAZY
  2. Over the age of 45
  3. Married with children but looking for something on the side
  4. Really dumb
*Disclaimer – I have met some reasonable and smart and mostly attractive men, great guys really, just not a good fit with me. 

I have to believe that there is someone out there who is normal and funny and smart and who is (at least most of the time) employed somewhere.  My friends in other cities all say that I’m still single because I live in New York and this place is so hard for single women – I’m not disagreeing with them at all – but I was single before I moved here too.  And before that.  And before that.

So here I am universe, asking that you head my plea, and lead me in the direction of finding someone to play scrabble with. 

I am just going to adopt a dog.  It will make things a lot easier.

Monday, April 22, 2013

Smile - you jerk.

This morning on my walk to work a woman stepped out into the road to cross the street against the light.  A man waiting to cross, stopped her from stepping in front of a taxi, and instead of saying thank you, this woman was irritated.   I’m sorry lady, but this guy, no matter how strange looking just saved you from getting hit by a car that was not, under any circumstance, going to stop to let you cross.  This woman then spent a very awkward 10-12 seconds trying to ignore this man and pretend he wasn’t staring right at her.  Now, I will admit, that this man seemed to be missing a few elements of social awareness and might not be someone that I’d willingly sit down to lunch with, but he did, keep you from getting hit by a car.  That alone, I think, at the very least deserves a smile.  It doesn’t even have to be a big one – don’t show your teeth – but at least acknowledge what just happened.

That’s what I don’t get.  Granted, it’s a Monday and probably only 1% of people actually want to be going where they’re going – but there’s no need to be a bitch to a stranger who potentially just saved your life – or at least saved you from a $500 ambulance ride.    Even if you’re in the worst mood of all time, don’t be a jerk to someone who just kept you alive.  

Monday, April 15, 2013

Boston.

While running the Chicago marathon for the second time in 2007, I saw a t-shirt that said "A marathon" on the front and "just long enough to experience every emotion..." on the back.

100% accurate.

The strength and courage and stamina and endurance and confidence it takes to train and run a marathon is nothing short of miraculous.  My heart is breaking today as I look at these photos and videos from what happened this afternoon in Boston. 

These people should be celebrating.  They should be limping around from exhaustion and pride and hugging the people they care about.  They should be doing so with joy and gratitude.  Instead, they're doing so in fear, despair and sorrow. 

I don't pray very often, but I am praying today.

I am praying that these people find strength and resolve and courage to heal and trust again.  I am praying for the families of those who were hurt or killed today.  I am praying that our nation continues to educate our children - to teach them to value cultural differences, to find pride in being strong, fearless, smart and different.  In education and appreciation we will find peace.  I pray that this kind of senseless terror never happens again. 

I read somewhere years ago that we should be hugged 11 times a day.  What if that was required? What kind of world would we be living in?  Instead of 1 or 0 hugs, we would get 11 a day.  Every day.  Would we be nicer to each other? More open? More communicative?  Would we feel more valued?

Tomorrow I will hug 11 people. Whether they need it or not.

May God bless everyone in Boston right now.  May God bless everyone - everywhere - help us all find peace.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Eating like a fat kid.


I gained 52 pounds my freshman year of college.  When I went home for Christmas my dad asked me if I'd shrunk my clothes in the wash.  And sadly, I didn't even notice until I developed the pictures from spring break and saw what I looked like in my bikini. 

Growing up I was always really active - soccer, basketball, theatre, marching band, track - and living in a house where there wasn't much junk food, I never really over-ate it.  

Then I went to away to college. 

I have no idea what happened in my brain, but one day I woke up and I started eating like a hoarder.  Ice cream at every meal - cheese on everything, a case of Dr. Thunder (the Walmart version of Dr. Pepper - a whopping 290 calories a can and probably 6 pounds of sugar) a week and tube after tube of Pringles in between. A typical breakfast (and yes, I got up for breakfast every single day) would be a donut, bagel with cream cheese, whatever egg food they were serving that day, bacon, sausage links, a stack of pancakes, a bowl of cereal and of course, a banana.  EVERY day.  For lunch I'd make my own cheese fries by piling my plate high with french fries and then getting a stack of the American cheese slices.  A few fries wrapped in a cheese blanket and then popped right into my food hole.   

If I'm being totally honest, I also did that at dinner.

Oh, and I started drinking alcohol.  Some kids start in high school at parties, but because I never went to any of those, I didn't start drinking until college.  And worked hard to make up for lost time. 

My cousin came to visit toward the end of my first year and we were sitting at lunch having our second serving of ice cream (they had a soft serve machine AND an ice cream cooler - so obviously we needed both), and he looks at me while noshing on his strawberry shortcake cone and says "man, no wonder you got so fat - this is really good".  

That should have been a turning point for me, but sadly, it was not. 

In addition to eating my life away I also stopped exercising.  It wasn't a deliberate choice, but it happened.  The schedule of college life was overwhelming and all my habitual sports were replaced with other things.  Soccer conflicted with Marching Band.  Basketball conflicted with the theatre department.  Track lost to the Radio station and if I'm being honest, I wasn't ever fast enough to matter anywhere on the field.  But day by day, pound by pound I became the fat kid.  

Because I'm so tall, it spread out evenly.  So when I look back at photos of myself back then, I can see that I was over 200 pounds, but people who didn't know me then, just think I was a little chubster. It's taken me ten years to figure out a way to win out over my constant desire to stuff my face - to find a work-out routine that I can stick to.  

But yesterday, it all went to shit.  Yesterday I ate like that oblivious fat kid I thought I'd left behind so long ago. I felt like some starving orphan took over my body.  I do not, however, have the metabolism of said orphan and will be working off the ice cream and buttery pasta and cookies and double helping of french fries and cereal and donut holes for the next several weeks.  I woke up feeling hung-over even though I only had one glass of wine.  My body needs a detox from all that crap I shoved into yesterday - and of course, today is my day off from the gym. 

Just in time for my 10 year college reunion I suppose - heaven forbid I not be the fat version of myself when I walk back on campus.