PAUL RANTS

Posted by Paul at August 27th, 2010

My wife wanted to re-activate her Bally’s gym membership and get one for yours truly. Customer service told her it was $215 a year for her membership, plus $199 a year for mine, with a $10 credit card fee. Also, my membership wouldn’t be valid for 5 days. Or we could get the same deal with no $10 fee if we went to a Bally’s gym. So we drove there and the salesman told us, no, it was $249 a year for her, not $215. No credit card fee, but 34 more dollars. When I protested he looked on his computer again. Nope, that was as low as he could go. He tried to steer her to a 3 year membership; cheaper in the long run, but we weren’t there for a 3 year membership, we were there to avoid the $10 fee. Adding $34 to our bill sort of nullified that. He was persistent but I managed to extricate ourselves.

At home I called customer service and told them what happened. Why had they said we could get the same deal at the gym? We drove all the way over there, with our 1 year-old child, and were greeted by a used car salesman. At that point they offered the original deal with no $10 fee, plus my new membership would be valid in 24 hours instead of 5 days.

You know what, just give me the best deal up front and don’t dick me around. You’re not selling condos in Miami, you’re selling gym memberships. They cost so many dollars per month, or per year, or whatever. Do we really have to talk to one person over the phone, then drive somewhere to talk to another person, and then get back on the phone and talk to a third BEFORE WE GET TO USE YOUR SHITTY GYM? WHAT THE FUCK???

Posted by Paul at July 8th, 2010

Sure, go check-out books. After thirteen years in Periodicals. Endless rolls of microfilm, little pencils, request slips, stock reports, magazines. Internet sign-up and user help. Scanning rare newspapers for Historical, maintaining the database. By-appointment “CyberCoach”. Working the Audio Visual desk. All this has prepared me for… checking out books.

But who will cover Periodicals/internet, etc, etc? Bingo: someone with less seniority and experience. By the way, train them to do your job. Thanks. Then go check-out books. No, that’s it, just that. Oh, and check them in. You’re welcome. By the way, this is not a business we’re running; bureaucracy usurps logic.

On second thought, no. I’m able to survive without the little money you pay (the amount of which hasn’t budged in four years), the limited hours you offer, and the no vacation pay. Leaving, done, sayonara. I’ll miss my co-workers in Periodicals and the city hall gym. Two weeks notice.

Last day: supervisor sends me to Admin, Admin sends me to HR, who send me back to Admin. While I’m in Admin, HR calls and tells me to come back in a hour. When I get to HR again I wait half an hour. I’m told the guy who has my last check is on break. Apparently he took it with him (?). They will mail it to me instead. Fine, I say, and leave HR. About what I expected.

The final minutes come after thirteen years in the library. Does management come downstairs and offer a farewell? The gumption cannot be summoned. Other than some awkward goodbyes with co-workers, the day ends like any other.

A week later my supervisor texts me: I have your last check here. Want me to drop it in the mail..?

(Uh, Next courtesy Bill Walker)

Posted by Paul at May 8th, 2010

Twenty/thirty–somethings too cool too hip too edgy with their blackberrys and skinny jeans sitting on the patio at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf as I use the drive-thru with my baby daughter in back they look through me I’m a cliche they have tattoos but never been in jail or in a biker gang working for Live Nation or My Space talking about five things at once did you hear did you see did you go to the thing I get a regular iced coffee with four sugars and whole milk one day my daughter and her friends will dictate what’s edgy what’s cool then your hairlines will look like mine your mortgage will be due your ironic t-shirts will be gone but the tattoos will stay on your skin to remind you of who you thought you were so drink your chai lattes and stare off in to the middle distance while ye may.

Posted by Paul at March 27th, 2010

The doctor says it’s time to stop eating crap. I happen to love crap, so this won’t be easy. I saw Gordon Ramsay make a veggie cole slaw vinaigrette on TV that looked tasty, but am I really going to do all that chopping..?

Plaque in the abdominal aorta is common in men of my age. That doesn’t mean it’s a good thing. We’re talking about American men of my age in 2010.

So now I must completely change my lifestyle; I’m someone’s dad now. No more cheap fast meals, and more than a maximum of 2 visits per week to the gym.

No, this won’t be easy, but there it is. Could use a chef and a personal trainer about now. I wonder if that’s in the new health care bill.

Posted by Paul at February 18th, 2010

There is only one baby in the history of babies that I have the temperament to babysit and she happens to be my daughter. I’m not just saying this. She is actually a really good baby, the envy of mothers and non-mothers alike. Her most common moods are happy and content. She is also cute. Again, not being biased here. (You have to know me on Facebook to see for yourself.) She even looks a bit like me when I was a baby, only more animated, almond-eyed, and petite.

She won’t always be so small. One day her favorite mobile won’t interest her, and will sit in storage collecting dust. But I’ll be too busy fielding questions or teaching songs to feel melancholy about that. I know from experience what she doesn’t need. Surely I’ll have to scold her or disappoint her one day, as well as simply love her and be in awe of her. But I won’t do it without reason or conviction. All that stops here.

Posted by Paul at September 16th, 2009

Whatever steaming pile of compromise we end up getting on healthcare, does anyone really believe the beauracracy will run any better?

We scheduled a doctor’s appointment for the baby recently — they happily took our insurance info and gave us a time to come in. A week later we show up and hear: “Oh, sorry, this doctor doesn’t accept your insurance.” And, oh, you expected one of us here in the doctor’s office — the same number you called to get the appointment — to take the blame for the screw-up? Sorry, no, we are simply going to stare vacantly at you and repeat that we don’t accept your insurance. AFTER ONE OF US ALREADY TOOK YOUR INSURANCE INFO AND GAVE YOU AN APPOINTMENT. NO, TO REVEAL ANY TRACE OF CULPABILITY WOULD BE TOO MUCH TO ASK. PLEASE BE GONE NOW.

Posted by Paul at March 18th, 2009

I drive to work through a residential area and for some reason certain people walk in the street instead of on the sidewalk, just traipsing down the road like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I want to stop and tell them: This is where the CARS GO. See this big thing I’m sitting in? It’s a car. You could get hit by one of these big giant cars. See that nice cement path over there by the grass? Yeah, that’s for you.

Then we have the bicyclists. There are a lot more lately, and they need to learn the rules of the road. Beware: they blow through stop signs without so much as a glance to the side. When I was a kid we stopped and looked both ways. At traffic lights we actually got off and walked our bikes in the crosswalk. Such a quaint old custom. Now they just get in the car lane. When you’re driving your car, you must accommodate them. Roll along at six miles an hour until you get a chance to pass. They even get in the left-turn lane, which is incredibly dangerous when you’re behind them trying to time your turn. They must get out of the way. Seriously. I have a GAS PEDAL.

Posted by Paul at July 13th, 2008

I’ve been teaching seniors to use the internet for over a decade. Most of them want to research a medical issue or get emailed photos of their grand kids. The more mouse-savvy get introduced to the the wonders of Google maps, internet radio, online shopping, and the like. They are usually retired, but sometimes, because of the bad economy, are re-entering the workforce and need to learn how to get around on a computer. A little late in life perhaps, but then none of them aspire to be President of the United States or anything.

That’s right, John McCain doesn’t know how to use the internet. I find this troubling. A president should be intellectually curious. The internet has been around for twelve years. Personal computers have been around for twenty. He never thought to try and use one? Four year olds can do it. He could read what blogs are saying about him, or at the very least, learn some facts about Shiites and Sunnis. Maybe he can discover online that people are concerned about the economy and the 10 billion a month we spend occupying Iraq (then he might instruct his wealthy surrogates to stop referring to Americans as whiners). Or at least he could watch a dog skateboard on YouTube.

Posted by Paul at January 7th, 2008

Ah yes, the unknown: either get placed on a jury for a first degree murder trial or don’t get placed on a jury for a first degree murder trial. Such sweet, sweet uncertainty. It’s a hell of a lot more intriguing than going to my job. Simultaneously I sort of want to be chosen and emphatically do not want to be chosen. If the defendant is found guilty we will have to decide between life without parole and death. Nice, huh? They made us each fill out a long questionnaire the first day on the jury panel. I’m a middle aged married homeowner with a boring job. Crime, bad. Death penalty, bad. For the love of God please don’t choose me. Or whatever, choose me. What the hell else do I have going on? Then today we all arrive again to be interviewed and discover our fates (or at least if we will decide someone else’s). For an hour we wait in the hallway outside the courtroom. Finally they file all 85 of us in and we sit down. The judge announces that the defense attorney “isn’t feeling well today” and we have to come back tomorrow. I’m learning that the jury panel is at the bottom of the courtroom hierarchy. A heads up would have been nice. The unknown is becoming a real drag. But tomorrow, my fate. Or so I’m told.

UPDATE: Surprise, another postponement, this time for one week (no heads up of course). Someone involved with the trial is seriously ill, apparently. The judge hinted at our dismissal if we don’t start jury selection next week. All this hurry up and wait reminds me of another murder case. More later.

UPDATE II: JURY PANEL DISMISSED. Trial postponed due to illness. Can you say anti-climactic? And so ends the tribulations of Paul the reluctant juror.

Posted by Paul at November 20th, 2007

It just wasn’t going to happen. They wanted me there at 7:30 a.m. but I was still awake at 5, tossing and turning. So that’s two, count ‘em, one, two Failures to Appear for Jury Duty. Tried to call the automated excuse line but, sorry, that option is not available to those who have Failed to Appear. So on to plan B: call the courthouse directly and talk to a real person. “I’m sick, and will stay sick for the next five business days. If I must be summoned again in the future, can it be to Beverly Hills instead of Downtown L.A., say around 10ish..?” Seriously, I have Meniere’s disease and could succumb to debilitating nausea at a moment’s notice. Especially after a night of no sleep stressed over having to be up at dawn to go somewhere I don’t want to be. But you know what? I’d almost rather puke for three hours then be in a Downtown courthouse at 7:30 a.m. Not that I didn’t make an attempt — I got up from not sleeping and got ready, left the house, drove off. Traffic on the 10 freeway moved eastward but I instead found myself steering my car to Carrow’s restaurant in Santa Monica where they have free WiFi. Later I called in sick to the courthouse, just to cover my ass. Happy to report it’s possible for chronic no-shows to be excused if you talk to a human and make something up. They rescheduled me for December 17th, Downtown, 7:30, no exceptions. Thinking of actually going this time.

UPDATE 12/17/07: So I went. Got there on time, in the rain. The next logical step? It’s probably easy to figure out by now. That’s right: they immediately put me on a jury panel for a criminal trial starting in January. They estimate it will last 30 days. The inevitable has arrived, with bells on. Happy new year.