Self-storage woes

    For a while, I worked for a self-storage company. One of the perks was a free 10x10 self-storage unit, which I very definitely took advantage of. The company was eventually bought out by another self-storage company, and we were told that the owners had negotiated some sort of deal where they couldn't immediately charge us full rate for our 10x10s, which was pretty nice of them. For the last several years, I have been paying less than $10/month for my space and trying to keep as low a profile as possible, so that no one noticed and did anything about it. Sadly, it seems my luck recently ran out. 

    In December, I got notice that my rent would be increasing to $60/month come May. Sucks, but in light of the heavy discount I'd been enjoying, I figured I'd just suck it up. Until I get a reminder that my February rent is due - I was pretty sure I'd paid a couple months ahead, because why not? I log in to check it and NOPE! I owe almost $100. What? They'd upped my rent to $117 without (I'd thought) giving me notice. 

   Naturally, I wanted some clarification here. I'd resigned myself to $60, but almost double that felt like a gut punch. Got on the website with their oh-so-helpful chat function and, after wading through the automated responses and getting assigned a real live person, was told that they couldn't do anything, I'd need to call this number. Which, of course, closed 7 minutes ago. Thank you, very helpful.

In need of a break

Inadvertent life lessons

      My 10th grade Biology teacher, Mr. Ofsiani (more commonly called Mr. O), was one of those neat teachers that stick out in your memory. His entire classroom was covered in interesting things, from comics clipped from newspapers and hung on the walls to a skeleton hanging from the ceiling to the live iguana in the back of the room. He loved his subject and got excited about doing hands-on experiments instead of just going through the textbook and running tests. He was short, bearded, and completely bald, but he was also vibrantly engaged with life.

     The first quarter of his class was devoted to plant identification. Looking back, I'm not sure how he got this past the school board, but we essentially spent the first two and a half months of school filing into the classroom, taking roll, and then filing out again and going for walks in the woods next to the school. We did, technically, learn plant identification and I believe there was even a test at the end that gave you leaf shapes or bark pictures and had you give the name of the plant, but I learned more than just plants.

Crossing nice people (part 2)

 DISCLAIMER: still not a reference to anyone I know now.

Part 1

     Eventually, after having to smack enough chronic line-crossers in the face with shovels, I did figure out that I do not owe it to anyone to be that nice and accommodating. Allowing people to cross your lines, however, is only part of the problem. Another part is figuring out where your lines are and which ones you really care about if they're crossed. 

     When I was younger, I had a plethora of lines and - now to my regret - I was inconsistent in defending them. I could blame it on bad days, wavering self-esteem, changing ideals, what have you, but ultimately it was just that I didn't have very concrete lines or consistent consequences. 

Crossing nice people (part 1)

DISCLAIMER, because I know you guys: No, this is not a reference to anyone currently in my life. 

      When I was younger, I had a chronic issue with giving people 2nd, 3rd, even 154th chances. As a kid, we're taught to be nice, be forgiving, turn the other cheek, but I would let people get away with things that I really shouldn't have. For the most part, people - or at least a certain type of person - will keep pushing if you let them get away with something once, long past when it becomes obvious that pushing is leading to a problem. After all, they got away with it once, twice, a hundred and fifty-four times... why not keep going?

Sylvia Bishop Chapter 3 and work encounters of some kind

Chapter 3: Link

     It's been an odd week here. I had to physically go in to work twice, having only been in once in the past year. My boss, who has been a pandemic denier and not terribly aware of personal space in the past, was quite happy to keep his distance both times, even when I needed to show him how to change the toner on the printer. He has also started saying thank you and that he appreciates my work, which is completely out of character. Makes you ponder the question: if someone who you know to be difficult to work with really was replaced by a pod person, would you report it, or just be happy that their replacement is nicer? 

     Unfortunately, one of those visits to the office included a possible covid exposure. One of my coworkers has mutliple young children at home, so has been coming in to the office every day to get some peace and quiet to work in. They were not there when I went in, but they called me while I was there and asked me to deal with something on their desk. A few hours later, HR sent an email saying that "someone" who was usually in the office every day had tested positive, but don't worry, they stayed home today! Thankfully, I follow mask, no face touching, and handwashing recommendations to the letter, so hopefully nothing will come of it, but I am unappreciative of the general timeline there. 

Working from home:

      Had a conversation with my dad yesterday about the pandemic and staying at home. He claims to be an introvert, but he requires far more social interaction than I do. Our discussion about how the work-from-home situation due the pandemic is going prompted this:

Paranoid or cautious?

      In the past, I've had my fair share of catcalls, harassment, and being followed while out in public. I've learned to deal with it and present myself as not-a-target, to the point where I feel fairly confident walking around on my own, even after dark. The neighborhood we're in now has always felt safe, so as the days grow shorter, I've just kept walking at my usual time, despite it being definitely nighttime. Three events have happened in the last couple months that make me wonder if I'm being paranoid, or justifiable cautious, and if I need to do research on what sort of personal protection items are legal in this area. 

     The first event seems fairly innocuous, and I didn't really pay it much mind at first. I saw another person walking along the sidewalk I'd turned onto, so I popped out into the street to pass them; they were in regular clothes and clearly having a nice stroll and I was in workout gear clearly getting my cardio in. Parking along the curb is very common here, so I didn't really keep an eye on the person as I passed. For safety reasons, I don't have headphones or music playing while I walk, so I clearly heard the "hey, excuse me, are you working out?" when I'd gotten about 6 feet past them. I turned my head and politely answered in the affirmative, and the guy replied something along the lines of, "I thought so, 'cause of your outfit. It's clearly doing your body well, keep it up!" 

Random conversations

     I've never really felt like a people person: I'm definitely an introvert, I don't enjoy being in crowds, I'm a very private person, and I hate small talk. Yet somehow, people always end up talking to me - people I don't know at all. I even had this happen the first time I was in Russia and could barely speak the language. Curiously enough, several of those encounters ended well because I'm really good at expressing things without words and I always had a map on me, so at the very least, if I heard "where" and a questioning tone, I could say "I'm sorry, I don't speak Russian well," while holding out the map. The one where a guy handed me a rose and started declaiming poetry, however, did not go so smoothly. 

     On the whole, though, in English-speaking countries, I think people just talk to me because I try to be polite and honest, and I keep my eyes up and aware of my surroundings. People will catch my eye in a store line and start commiserating about the wait. I reply politely, so they keep going. Pre-pandemic, I even had someone connect with me on a class webconference: she decided I looked interesting and started sending me snarky comments on a private chat, trying to make me laugh while the professor was talking (we are still friends to this day). Another time, I tried out a surfing camp, and someone started telling me how horrible the camping conditions were. She seemed like a nice person, so I mentioned I had an extra bed in my hotel room she was welcome to share. Twelve years later, we still write each other several times a year. 

"Mission critical" vs "linchpin"

     I did not realize how important my little "assistant admin/ executive assistant" job was until we all had to work from home. I do a lot of jobs, most of which boil down into organizing, communication, and research. Which are all things that anyone can do, right? 

     Apparently not. Gonna keep it vague, but there's a payment system in place that, to people not in my department (and apparently everyone but me in my department), looks like this:

1. Contractor sends in a bunch of files asking for payment. 
2. I save them, put the info into a spreadsheet for easier comparison, send to John (not real name).
3. John reviews it to be sure they're only getting paid for work done, sends to Accounting. 
4. Accounting enters it into the system, sends it to Greg (not real name - my and John's boss, head of our department) for approval. 
5. Greg approves it, Accounting cuts the check, Contractor gets paid, yay!

 Seems pretty simple, right? Here's a bit more detail:

Workplace noise

     Long ago, I heard the phrase "high-scan vs low-scan" for people who cannot ignore noise vs people who can. I haven't been able to find evidence of that as a thing since then, but it stuck in my head, because I am high-scan: small noises that other people tend to overlook are difficult for me to ignore when I'm trying to focus or relax. A month or two ago, a squeaking noise start up in the ceiling at work, and of course, no one else paid attention to it until I pointed it out (although to be fair, all of my coworkers either have or have had small children, so I guess ignoring noise is a skill you pick up at that stage in life). Naturally, it was situated directly over my desk, so no one else thought it was loud enough to do anything about until I complained.... a lot... This is the result:

Impostor syndrome... or maybe not

     I've been reading a book titled Influence: The psychology of persuasion by Robert Cialdini lately, about various methods by which people - typically unscrupulous ones - get us to agree to do or buy something we didn't initially want to do or buy. I wouldn't classify myself as a pushover, per se, but I do have a tendency to give people too many chances to make my life difficult and I figured this would hep me to at least be aware of when I fall for fallacious entreaties.

     While I'm only about halfway through the book, it has already been eye-opening and informative. One section talks about what the author calls the fallacy of pluralism: nobody wants to appear flustered or at a loss, so we constantly side-eye what others are doing and take our social cues from what seems to be the status quo. In most cases, this is perfectly fine: you can judge how to interact with a new ticket counter by how others approach it, or that a clown getting in your personal space at a work party is funny rather than something to be offended at, that sort of thing.

Financially comfortable

     One of my goals when I was young was to be "financially comfortable." I knew being filthy rich was probably out of my league, but I was happy with the idea of having enough money so that, when emergencies arise, they don't completely derail finances.Maybe not an exciting goal, but hopefully a realistic one.

     Recently, I took my car in for scheduled service, and they told me all four of my tires had low tread, and would need replaced before winter. I had noticed some slipping on rainy days, or when trying to take off too fast, so I believed them. I shopped around a bit, and found a deal on some decent tires - not super high end, but not settling, either - for about $450, and just... got them. Made an appointment, got them done, paid it off as soon as the charges hit my card. Yeah, it wasn't a big emergency, but I remember many times in life when that would have put a serious crimp in things. It was a pretty good feeling to know I'd hit a goal. Maybe it's time to raise the bar on that one.

Decency and a new kitchen

     Our work kitchen has been under renovation for the past month, and it's finally nearing completion. We've been using a meeting room as the break room, which has serious limits on what can be prepared, due to lack of running water. As the new kitchen is finished, however, one of my coworkers sent an email to the "company mother" asking her to send out an email on "helpful tips to keep our new kitchen sparkling," since there are some.... less than clean-minded folk who work here.

     One of the suggestions was "how to and how not to use the ice machine," as people would constantly pull out the ice tray on the old machine and rummage about with their bare hands, then not put it back in properly, so no more ice would be made. My mind, of course, took it in entirely a different direction:

You wouldn't think you'd have to specify this, but it might not hurt to do so....

Office types

Observation:

Result:

"Once in a generation!"

   Saw a news article today about Hurricane Irma being a "once-in-a-generation" level storm. A quick google search of this phrase, however, brings up reports from (supposedly) credible weather sources about these "once-in-a-generation" hurricanes:

• Irene (2011)
• Sandy (2012)
• Harvey (August 2016)
• Irma (September 2016)

This doesn't even scratch the surface on "once in a lifetime" hurricane and flooding hits, mind you, just "once in a generation" hurricanes only.

     I realize I'm not completely up to date on generations and which ends where and what times they cover, but I'm pretty sure generations are more than 1 month, 1 year, or 4 years, respectively. This leads me to wonder what type of generations, exactly, these people are talking about. Mosquito generations? Rabbit generations? Octopi? Rats? Finches?

     Maybe, just maybe, we should stop overreacting and over-exaggerating things. 

Pet peeve: names

     One of my pet peeves is when people cannot seem to get my name straight. I realize it's a bit of an odd one, at least here in America, but still, some effort would be nice. When I say my name to someone who needs to contact me in writing or look it up in a database, I spell it out automatically. Sometimes I get lazy, and just say "it starts with l-y," occasionally, if the person has struck me as particularly dense, I'll add the double esses in, and if it's anything official or formal, I'll spell it out completely, just to avoid mishaps. Believe it or not, however, some people still get it dead wrong.

     What really ticks me off, too, is when it's someone who is writing or responding to my business email, which follows the format of (first name).(last name)@(workplace).com. They had to type it in- correctly!- to send it to me, and yet they still murder the spelling in the introduction. Maybe, just maybe, I can understand it on the first letter or email. But when I reply, and sign my full name at the end of the reply, and they still get it wrong… I get a little steamed. That's just downright rude. At least have the decency to get my name right, will you?

Variations I have seen:
Cassandra (this one is the most understandable)
Lissandra (somewhat understandable)
Lassandra/ Lesandra
Lisander (I am a marble statue!)
LaShaundra (no clue how they got this one)

     Verbally, I am called Lisa or Leesandra by pretty much anyone who is not a native speaker. That bothers me less than the writing deal, though, because that's less laziness or ignoring, and more nuances of a language. Annoying, but forgivable. The writing thing though? Gets my goat, every time. 

Keep it short?

     One of my French teachers once told me that, as a graduate student, she was given a very specific writing assignment. First, the prof had them write a five-page paper about a topic of their choice. After being turned in and graded, they were given back their papers and told to condense it into a 3-page paper. The same thing happened again: break it down into a one-page paper. Then three paragraphs, one paragraph, five sentences, and one sentence. The last stages of the assignment were to get the ideas conveyed in the original five-page paper across in five words, three words, two words, and finally a single word. What an incredible challenge.
 
     That story has stuck with me since, and I finally realized the importance of it this week while (where else?) in the shower. I've been wanting to get back to writing stories again for a while- not these blog posts, but actual "make up a world and everyone in it" stories- but I'm having troubles writing. Remembering my teacher's story made the light go off in my head: Our society has trained us to be as succinct as brief as possible. Granted, many people are not effective at it, but we all still strive for it. Hurry, hurry, be brief, get to the point, stop beating around the bush, summarize, use abbreviations, shortcuts, text speak, hashtags, keep it less than 160 characters.

Pictures vs words

     A gentleman came in to where I work recently, and struck up a conversation while he was waiting. After a while, it turned to the fact that I used to drive tow trucks, which means I try to drive more safely, having seen the results of reckless (i.e., wrecked) diving. That, of course, set off a chain reaction in my head which lasted most of the way home and ended up here.

     They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and while that may be true, I would argue that those thousand words are neither cohesive nor compelling. Consider this picture:

Looks ugly, huh? You can tell it was a pretty bad accident, and people probably got hurt. If you have enough time, you could probably tell the picture was taken in a dirt lot where other wrecked cars have been bought and stored. If you're a connoisseur of tow trucks, you might even be able to tell how it's hooked up to the truck that's dragging it. BUT. There's a huge story that you're missing out on, and that's where the human element comes in.

Priorities

     I am often amazed at what other people think is important. It doesn't bother me that our views (obviously) conflict rather frequently- some people pay attention to news, fashion, computer gadgets, celebrities, etc, and as long as they are happy with their lives and do their best to be decent people, then whatever. But now and then, something smacks me upside the head at how drastically different people's priorities can be.

     When I was in high school, the parking lot was pretty much chock full of crappy, old, used cars. You knew who the rich people were because they would have a shiny new car, with a good paint job, new tires, maybe even the sticker still in the window if they were real vain show-offs. For the most part, though, kids got either what they could afford, or that old junker car that the parents didn't want anymore, so it got passed down to the new driver while the adults got a shiny new toy. Rust, dented bumpers, and the occasional car that qualified as a classic, though in need of repair, were common. Sometimes you even got the pleasure of learning how to team up and push-start a car, or help push a friend's jalopy around to the nearest gas station if the fuel meter didn't work right.

My first car was this, but in an institution-puke-green color.