Jami Feels Disrespected

I'll admit it, I'm a sucker for the "Join our email clubs for great deals". I'd guess I'm probably in 20 of them for local restaurants or other fun places. I do use the coupons if I'm going out anyway, which considering our current entertainment budget is not really that often. But I read the offers, I print the coupons if I think I *might* use them, and yes, having a coupon makes me more likely to patronize your establishment. So we all win. But I'm calling out Papa John's. Dude, I love your pizza and I more than love the garlic sauce (and yes, I'm aware that it's basically melted margarine with garlic powder but that doesn't mean I love it any less). I was jazzed when I signed up for the email club because I'm going to be honest, as much as I dig your pies, they are a bit pricey. And I'm cheap, plus poor. Then I got the emails. My "Weekly Offer" comes into my mailbox each week, often with a great subject like "Free Garlic Breadstix" Yay! But every single one, even - no especially - the ones with the enticing-sounding subjects, let me down. Twice in the past month the special offer I get for being a loyal devotee of your store and member of your oh-so-exclusive email club was the exact same offer you were advertising on TV. First of all, it's not even a truly great deal and secondly, why did I sign up, give you my personal email and info and take my time up to read the same thing that I can see on TV, along with all the riff-raff who didn't even bother to sign up? Even the ones that aren't the same are still pretty craptacular offers. Free breadsticks if I buy a large gourmet pizza?? Let me explain something to you, there is another chain that is closer to my house that offers a pizza for $5. Got it? Five buckaroos. So, I can spend $17 and drive farther to get to your store and get 1 pizza plus my "free" breadsticks or I can make the shorter trip and get a pizza for $5. Even I buy my own breadsticks at their store, I am still saving about $10. And guess what? They have garlic sauce now, too. So step it up, Papa Johns! Free chicken wings if I buy a large, 3 or more topping pizza? Nope, not gonna try your wings, not gonna buy from you. Want me to try and love your wings? How about buy the wings, get a free large pizza? Now that's a deal worthy of my time and printer ink.

Jami Will Warn You, Just This Once

Warning: Parts of this post are not in good taste. So, not too long ago, Patrick posted this about a celebrity who had foolishly allowed a lover to take embarrassing pictures of herself. If you're a celebrity, or hoping to become a celebrity, you're an idiot to allow anyone to take naked or let's just say "private" photos or videos of you because even though you're totally in L-U-V at that moment, there's always the chance they'll get mad enough at you or poor enough to sell those pics to the press and that's (sadly) always news. However, I'm going to just make a brief statement that in general, this is not a good idea for anyone. First off, we are judged often enough in our lives, do we really have to see what we look like in those very special moments? Do you want to know for a fact that you make a weird face or do you need photographic evidence that your belly is jelly? I say no. Let's stick with our self-indulgent delusions that we can look hot in the right lighting with the right lingerie. Second, sooner or later, we are all gonna die. Not to be Captain Bring-down here, but the grim reaper is coming for us all (yes, I'm on the same topic, stay with me here). Let's say that you and your significant other are both wiped out in the same tragic accident. I hope it's not going to happen, but hey, you never know, right? So after the meteor squashes your Chevy with you in it, who is going to be going through your stuff to decide what goes to Goodwill? Depending on your age, most likely your kids or your parents. Do you want their memory of you to be the stash of pics you keep in the fire safe? Imagine if your mom finds a video that says "Bob and Mary, anniversary" and she pops it in only to see you celebrating your anniversary in your birthday suits! Or the family gathers to watch the last thing you videoed before leaving this mortal plain and the video starts off with Grandma Ethel's 90th birthday and cuts to Naked Batman wrestling Crotchless Catwoman. Not good. Now, I have a few friends who have a dignity-in-death pact - if one friend bites the big one, the other friend goes to the house and cleans out a specific drawer before the family can get there. This could work, but only if :1. you have a friend you can trust to do that, and 2. you can also trust this friend not to go rooting around the drawer when you're on vacation. So, to sum up: If you're famous, don't do sex tapes and nude pics. If you're not, it's probably not a great idea, either. Just saying.

Jami, a Feminist? Part 1 - What's in a Name?

You know how sometimes a certain topic seems to become a theme in your life? Feminism is one of those things that seems to pop up with some regularity and often in unexpected places. It's a term that I think has gotten so over-used and twisted that I really started to hate it. So let me just take a quick moment to explain my personal POV on this: Feminism, in its original form, was about bring women to equal status with men in regards to rights and employment. And I am totally down with that. Everything over, above and beyond that is often doing our gender more harm than good, in my personal and not-at-all-humble opinion. Believe me, I've put thought into this. So let's start with . . . Maiden Names/Married Names and the whole Miss-Mrs.-Ms thing. First, allow me to clarify that what you do with your name is your business and I personally don't give a toot in a windstorm. Call yourself The High Holiness Hoopmadingle if it tickles you. Go with an unpronounceable symbol, Artist Once Again Known As Prince. Have one name, Cher or four (like me!). Don't care. I like my maiden name. It's pronounceable, spellable, middle of the alphabet (so I never had to be first or last when we went that way in school - the design of my W-maiden-named mom). In my high school/college years, I pondered the implications of changing it when I married. How could I leave "me" behind to be someone else? I like me. I think family is important - how will others know I am so-and-so's daughter or sister if my last name is different? I am a (blank) and always will be. Oh sure, I doodled my potential married name in notebooks when I had a crush "Mrs. Jami Lynn Boy-of-the-Week" but that's not really serious. At a friend's wedding, I overheard another guest loudly declaring how "proud" she was that the bride planned to keep her maiden name. She talked about what a shame it is that "so many women today who you think 'get it' just give up their identities when they get married". I didn't chime in, though by that point I was married and had indeed chosen to take the Husband's last name. Lose my identity? Am I no longer me because the last part of my name has changed? If your sense of who you are rests on your surname, how sure of yourself are you? She went on about how women just changed their names out of a "knee-jerk reaction to our society's expectations". The more I listened to her, the more I assumed she didn't change her name out of pure knee-jerk not-really-feminism. Where was her thought behind it? She offered no reasoning behind her ideas, just that it was bad. It makes sense to me for women who are well known in their profession to keep their maiden names in the business world. I worked with a woman who was Ms X at the office and Mrs. Y in her personal life. Worked fine for her and her husband. But, as I thought about it, talked to others about it and looked ahead into the I hoped to have, the decision to add my Husband's last name to the end of my own seemed easy and obvious. Here's why: 1. I'm not just marrying a man, I'm marrying into a family. You don't just get the guy, you get his parents and siblings and cousins and whatever. Now, this goes the other way, too, but it's a privilege to me to be identified as a member of his family. I'd think twice if I hated his folks so much I couldn't stand to be called by their name. 2. We are starting a new family. I want us to be identified as a family. I didn't want my kids to have different last names from at least one of their parents. I don't want to go to their schools and clubs and events and repeatedly explain, yes, I am the mom and my husband is their dad, but we have different names. I want to be able to sign cards "Love, the X's" not "Love, Mr. X, Ms Y, and little X-Y". I'm not opposed to married couples picking a new name together. Or the man taking the woman's surname if they both are down with that. I just think a family should have a name, not several names. 3. What you call me doesn't change the person I am. Even if my last name became Hitler-Mao-Stalin-Hussein, I'm still me. If I am willing to stand up before God, family and friends and declare that this is the man I commit to spending my life with, how unimportant is the little matter of a name? I proudly wear the banner of the decision I made. My main thing is that it should be a decision you make both rationally and together. If you are both on totally different pages about the name thing, is it a one-issue-wonder or do you have divergent goals and ideas of what the marriage will be? Better figure that out. And, as for the Mrs./Miss/Ms - Here's the deal ladies - is it sexist that our designation indicates married or not while the nice generic "Mister" doesn't? Probably. Get over it. If you wear a wedding ring, people can figure it out. "Oh, you're 'Ms Smith'? How will I ever determine if you're married or not??" Isn't that one of those things you tend to find out about someone fairly early on? If it's a secret that you're married, you probably shouldn't be. If you're not married - good for you, you're probably discriminating. So suck it up and be what you are.

Jami Worries About the Future of Imagination

In the past several day, the topic of Legos has come up in conversation several times. If you're my age, you remember big sets of Legos, sometimes with suggestions of what you could build, pictures of different buildings or vehicles that you could assemble with some of the pieces in the box. Some had those little people with the Lego feet and C-shaped hands. But now Legos come in kits, almost exclusively, with one finished product per set. In fact, a few years ago I was unable to even locate Legos that weren't a specific kit. Don't believe me? Check out their website and try to find a lego set that isn't meant to be just one thing. On one hand, I think that this is neat. My Lego creations were basically randomly colored buildings, usually rectangular in shape and as symmetrical as I could achieve with the blocks I could reach. But what about just building something you create, or figuring out how to make something look like the idea in your head? This is where the problem lies. Our culture increasing does more for our children. They have real playhouses instead of cardboard boxes. The toys are more and more "set" or "done" and allow less room for creating and imagining. If we don't learn to use our imaginations when we're children, when will we? Combine the imagination-less toys with more TV and super-real looking video games, and I wonder if this generation will grow up imaginations at all! I have wondered if this trend, started even with my generation, I'd say, has led to fewer inventions. Or look at the seeming lack of creativity even in Hollywood - how excited do you get when a movie or TV show is truly different than the others that you've seen? Is it because we have really come up with all the ideas that exist or because people are less able to formulate new concepts? My son has an amazing imagination right now, despite his abundance of toys and probably too much TV. I try to find things for him to do that aren't set in stone, and I praise him when he creates toys or games or stories out of nothing. It's not easy, though, and I worry that I'll take the easy way too often, plopping him in front of my old friend television. I worry that the schools will try to conform his uniqueness out of him with set activities and aptitude tests. And I wonder what will happen when his generation is responsible for encouraging the imaginations of their children. Let's keep our kids in that land where all things are possible for as long as we can! My friend who found a set of "just Legos" showed it to her 9-year-old, Lego-freak nephew who had never conceived of such of a thing. The prospect of making "whatever I wanted!" thrilled him. So there's hope for these kids after all.

Jami Fearin' the Flu

Ah, flu season, that magical time of year when germs frolic in all sorts of places and sneezes draw the evil eye from strangers. Ordinarily, I don't give much thought to flu season. I didn't worry about the bird flu (actually, due to business concerns at that time, I was rooting for that particular flu). I have never before had a flu shot. When the H1N1 flu started up, I didn't give it more than a passing thought. But now I have a newborn and that definitely changes one's attitude. I'm not frozen in panic, refusing to leave my house or let anyone in. I'm washing our hands a bit more, paying more attention than I otherwise might to who holds the baby, that sort of thing. I got a flu shot, which I would have in any case, working in hospitals and visiting doctors offices as I will be. Since Eddie is preschool with all the germy children, he got the flu mist (easier to convince a preschooler to inhale than sit still for a shot). I requested the Husband get one for the sake of the baby. Probably he would have otherwise given it a miss. My big problem is, as it always has been, the people who are clearly ill, whether with some sort of flu or just a cold, or whatever, wandering around in public. Flu season or not, what gives you the right to share your diseases with my family? No lie - last night I was at a gathering where a woman actually said, sitting there, just a few feet from me and my newborn "So, the dr. sent me today to get a chest X-ray, you know, since I have this cough that won't go away? To see if it's pneumonia." Another person asked "and?" Pneumonia Nelly: "Oh - they won't get the results for a couple of days." Only the fact that we were in a church prevented me from yelling "Then what the hell are you doing here with all these moms with young kids???" I'm sorry, I know this woman and generally she is a nice, generous, kind person, but what are you thinking if you *might* have pneumonia and you are going to a totally unnecessary fun event?!? This wasn't her job, she wouldn't be fired if she missed. No one would have suffered any horrible consequences if she'd called the host and said "Hey, I'd love to come, but the doctor thinks I may have pneumonia, so I'm gonna have to skip tonight - sorry." In fact, in that case, I think we all would have been grateful to her. This sort of thing happens way too much. I have heard all sorts of these stupid stories the last few weeks, including one woman who brought her son, diagnosed with "possible H1N1" to the church nursery. I know that manners of all kinds have gone out the window, but for the love of all that is holy, we're talking about a virus that has killed people, could you *maybe* err on the side of caution and stay home for one freaking day? Sure, we'll miss you today, but isn't that better than us hating you tomorrow when we're suffering the fate you unkindly shared? Patrick insists that we will all, sooner or later, get the Swine Flu. I hope that he's wrong, though the cynic in me is stocking up on chicken soup, tissue and Tylenol. Of course, he's also dealing with his new realization of his own mortality, having hit a milestone recently. If you: have a fever, feel a cold coming on, cough uncontrollably, or have not been told by a real actual live doctor that you're not contagious, take a day at home. Watch daytime TV, play your new Wii game or FaceBook all day and let the rest of us spend one more day healthy. Do it for me, for all the mothers of newborns and for Patrick.

Jami Hates Planned Helplessness

I have been accused, at times, of lacking mercy for those who are "helpless" in various situations. And to some extent this is true. I have great compassion for people who find themselves in need, and strive to remedy their situations. I've lost jobs, and it can be devastating. A friend's husband had an unexpected, surprising heart condition which shook their family to the core in a number of ways, and I did what little I could for them. There are times when lightning does strike (metaphorically, and literally) and for those people, I have pity and concern. This came to mind today as I overheard an older woman talk about how if her children or grandchildren don't come over to put gas in her car, she just has to find a place with full service, because she never learned to pump gas and she "just can't at this point. What if I do it wrong and the gas sprays everywhere? It could blow up. And I don't know how to use a credit card to pay, it looks like way too much to learn." Now, I have pumped my own gas exactly twice in the last 12 years. I have the Husband who shows his love by making sure my tank is full. But I know how. What if the day comes when I need to know? Would I rather learn it now or in a crisis? I was reminded of when one of our relatives was widowed and became helpless; she didn't know what any of her bills were. She didn't know where her checkbook was or how to fill out a check. She didn't know what anything cost or how much money she had, either saved or coming in. This woman had no mental disabilities or problems, no real health issues; she simply had allowed others to step in and care for her until she could no longer do so herself - other relatives continued to "run her life" until she died. Lucky for her, they were good people. Think how very badly that could have gone. This is the kind of helplessness for which I have a lack of compassion. A teenager in my youth group years ago who had siblings do everything for her. She would try something once and if she failed or it didn't go the way she wanted or it got "too hard", she gave up, cried "impossible" and found someone else to do it for her. This was a 7th grader who had her big sister zipping up her coat when the zipper didn't zip up the first try. A relatively bright girl, her mother wondered why she had a hard time in school. How do you say, "because you've let her be a 13-year-old infant"? To me, this is the same as people who spend their lives on welfare, section 8, medicaid, and SSI, not because they are actually disabled in a meaningful way, but because they have planned to be helpless and been taught that they can not do for themselves. We do them no favors by giving them that which they could earn. Abraham Lincoln said it best, I think, "You cannot help people permanently by doing for them, what they could and should do for themselves." You cannot gain pride in ownership of what you haven't worked for. You can't be proud of yourself when you have accomplished nothing and believe you will never accomplish anything. I don't mean great deeds, I mean the satisfaction of completing something, anything, yourself - especially something you didn't think you could. There are things I will never be able to do, but there are things I didn't know I could do, until I did. Working for something is a gift we deny people when we rush to rescue them. Compassion doesn't always mean blindly given what is requested, sometimes true compassion lies in denying help to someone who would be better served struggling for the goal.

Jami Wants Your Opinion

Years ago, I had a friend who was one of those friends you are certain will be a friend for life. You've pictured her sharing in the life moments ahead - weddings, children, hard times, good times. You've already been there for each other through ups and downs on both sides and it's not one of those friendships that you can imagine fading. Then, she hit a particularly tough patch. Nothing I'd wish on an enemy, and certainly not on a friend. I can't prove I did all I could, but I supported her in every way I could think of, and here's the interesting part - once she had come safely through the worst of it, she ditched me. Stopped returning calls, started cancelling plans at the last minute and never rescheduling. I took the message and let her slip away. Turns out this happened with several of the people who helped her through that time. I won't lie, I hurt over it. Mourned the loss. Questioned my actions, wondered about forcing the issue. But in the end, I said goodbye, I healed, I moved on. Of course, these are the days of FaceBook. And today, her face and name popped up. We have mutual friends. FB thinks we should be friends. I wonder, have I been suggested to her and she's not interested? Maybe she remembers and is embarrassed about how things went - I would be. My instinct is to ignore the suggestion, confirm her as a friend if she adds me, but not go after her. Honestly, I'm vaguely curious as to what she's been up to, but it's not going to keep me up tonight. So what do you think? Am I being petty not friending the one who de-friended me in real life? Or would it be sort of weird to reach out to someone who made it clear they weren't interested, even if that was going on a decade ago? Or am I nuts to even ponder this? It's just Facebook, Jami - who cares who you "friend"? Discuss.

Jami Can't Be the Only One Mad About This

Have you seen this SafeLink? I've been seeing their commercials for a few months and I had to watch them several times to be sure I heard right. You get a FREE cell phone and monthly minutes. Free for the person receiving it, of course. The idea, according to the commercial, is that lower income people will have a cell phone in case of emergency. Okay, I'm on board with that. I am all about the safety. But if I'm paying for you to have a cell phone that you can use in an emergency, that phone should have one and only one big button on it, a button that says 911. That's it. No calling your family, friends or pizza guy. Because we know who is paying for those minutes - me. A "federally funded program" means that along with all the other crap my taxes are going toward, now I'm paying for other people's chitchat, too. Nice. According to the website, if you're already getting some types of assistance, you probably qualify for the phone. So, now, I'm paying for your rent, your food, your medical and your phone? A cell phone isn't a necessity. It's not like shoes for your kids or milk for your baby. If you can't afford a cell phone, you don't get a cellphone. Okay? If you're elderly and your kids want to be able to talk to you once a day, they can add you to their plan for $10 a month. If they can't afford that, then you all should move in together and pool your resources. If you all still can't afford a phone all together, then you get the one big red button phone for emergencies. I know times are tough, but that means they are tough for everyone. I struggle to pay my bills, and now even more of my money is going to pay for other people's bills. For things they don't need. Maybe the Husband should quit his job so we can start getting some of these sweet deals.

Jami Tries to Help, Really!

So, we've done some cleaning and rearranging and whatnot. And I ended up with an entertainment center and computer desk, both in pretty good condition. First, I tried to Craigslist them, with no success. No big deal. I decide to donate them. Good idea, right? Sure. But apparently, not as easy as it sounds. First I called the VVA. I'm all for helping veterans of any war, and I constantly get those little flyer things in the mail about how they pick up anything (practically) and they're in my area all the time, all that. So no problem. They schedule me for three days later. I knew I wouldn't be home, but no big deal. Leave it on the front porch, with the confirmation sheet they emailed me and they'd haul it right off and leave me my receipt. Except, when I came home, no receipt. Because they hadn't taken the furniture. There was a note which said "can't use this. Thanks" What does that mean? I don't know. Didn't get a good answer. But hey, they're not the only game in town. I call the Salvation Army. They'll be glad to pick them up. On April 18th!!! I ask - isn't there anyway you can swing by sooner? No, I am assured, our truck for that area is booked until then. They only come out this way once a week and they're totally scheduled up. I take the time, just in case, and then call: 1. A mission that helps people who have lost homes in fires - they can come out "around April 22 or 23" 2. A thrift store run by a church - all profits go to helping homeless people in the area. They won't take the entertainment center. 3. A catholic mission that frankly, I couldn't figure out what they support and at this point don't care. They don't pick up in our area. Here I am, trying to avoid throwing away perfectly good, clean, usable furniture and for the life of me, I can't find a way to do it, without it sitting on my front porch for a month. Already the neighbors must think we are looking a bit white-trashy. The mailman must wonder why we are trying to prevent him from reaching our mailbox. Sigh. Anyone want to come drive these nice pieces to the Goodwill? They don't pick up . . .

Jami Worries about White and Wrong

Have you seen the commercials where they show you the two socks, one washed with "detergent only" and one with bleach added? If you haven't, I'm sorry to spoil the ending, but the bleached one is white. Blindingly, shockingly WHITE. (I tried to make that text white with a black highlight, but the code I know didn't work in blogger. Anyway .. .) Yes, the other sock, by comparison, looks a bit dingy. It looks, well, like a sock that has actually been worn. Oh dear! Am I cursing my family to wear less-than-white socks? Yes. I surely am. Don't get me wrong, as a nearly germ-a-phobe, I'm a huge fan of bleach. I bleach the sinks, the toilet, the tub, all sorts of things. But I don't add it to my whites. Why? Because it's not needed there. That sock in the commercial? Pause your TiVo or DVR and put your hand over the shiny white bleached sock and take a look at the other one. Looks fine. See, without the immediate comparison, it's totally clean and white enough. So why would I pour a good germ-killing cleaner into the washing machine when no one will be looking that closely at my family's socks? Bleach costs money (this is why they want you to use it, in case you didn't understand their motivation), and I have never, in my life, noticed that someone's socks are clean, but not-quite-as-white as they should be. This also reminds me of the old "ring-around-the-collar" commercials. I found them slightly disturbing: 1. What IS that ring?? Are these business men wearing make-up or something? 2. How close to my husband do you have to be to discover the ring on the inside of his shirt and if you're that close, I think we're going to have a bigger problem than some phantom ring. 3. Has anyone EVER noticed anyone else's ring around the collar? If so, did you immediately think "Gee, his wife must be a sucky laundress?" Or did you think "Dang, that guy needs to shower more?" which is what I personally would think. That's all.

Jami Has to Rant

I hate to get down on my coworkers, especially when I haven't met an estimated 99% of them, but this was one of those things that makes me want to cry. The long-story-short version is that our division was sold to another company, so everything's the same except the name on our paychecks. Of course, they want to slowly change everything, but they're not going to tell you that. We got a survey from the new company last week, about our connectivity (you know, like "do you have a high-speed connection, if so what kind? What operating system do you run?" etc.) Every single day since that survey went out, I've had at least 2 survey results form some ding-dong who "Reply All"-ed. Sigh. the first one I got, because it had the survey in it at the top, (yeah, he cut and pasted his responses BELOW the survey) I thought I was getting a resend because I hadn't responded fast enough. Nope. I get to the end, see Peter's results - he has FIOS, if you were wondering, but doesn't know his operating system - and realize he's whoopsied. Then I see that there are three more. Then more the next day and the next. Look, we've all done this once, but for this sheer mass of numbers, clearly these folk make a habit of hitting that good ol' "reply all" button. Maybe that button should required a code. "Are you really authorized to respond to all these people?? I don't think so, what's your code?" Sigh. Now I have to weed out all the "Here's my answers, everyone!!" mails from the actual important work crap.

Jami Expects Caped Crusaders

So first off - in Florida, it's illegal to be Batman. Sad, but true. However, this leads to a subject I've discussed with the Husband several times, the lack of actual costumed vigilantes. I am, frankly, shocked that we haven't yet seen a "superhero". Not super in the sense of mystical superpowers, but more along the lines of Batman (excellent physical shape and neat gadgets) or even just Punisher. In this day of comic book geeks moving beyond the scrawny nerd and electronics development dashing ahead in leaps and bounds, I can't believe that there isn't some guy out there with some good fighting training, some cool non-lethal weapons, a secret persona and a score to settle (or something to prove). The downside to having a superhero about is that they always attract nemesis, and this leads to collateral damage, as illustrated in Hancock. However, even if your superhero is cautious in his actions, take a look at any of the Spiderman, Superman or Batman movies and note the destruction of the locale. Not good. I often wonder if Metropolis insurance agencies offer SuperBattle Insurance to cover the damage to your building should a supervillian throw a bus into it. So, in summary, I'm surprised we haven't seen a costumed hero yet, but I don't want ot live in a city where a superhero lives, because while they do seem to be pretty helpful overall, they attract baddies who want to test their evilness against the legendary hero, often in messy ways. UPDATE: How wrong I was! See here.

Jami Wants to Know What's Up With the Braille

I get braille on the elevator buttons. You never know which floors are L and M or B or whatever or which number the floors start with. That's helpful to blind folk. They can find the right floor. Braille on menus is great and I even sort of get it on the restroom doors. It's nice to be able to be sure you're going into the right one, even if you can't see what might be inside. It's all these other signs, almost randomly placed in buildings, that have braille on them that I don't get. Like the No Smoking signs. First off, pretty much any building you're in that's not a private home is non-smoking, so you can follow the basic, "if I'm indoors, I shouldn't smoke" rule, and if you're a blind person and you don't know if you're in or out, you have bigger problems than needing a cigarette. Second, the signs are always in the middle of a wall, at eye height. Ever see a blind person strolling down the hall running his hand along the wall up at eye level? No. That's ridiculous. I've seen the same sort of thing with "Staircase" signs, floor number signs and more. At some trolley stops there are with the name of the stop on them, in all different places - several I've seen are well overhead. One, I kid you not, is in the median area of the driveway leading to the parking lot. So you'd have to be walking IN THE ROAD to stumble across this sign, which you would then stop to "read" (while hopefully not getting hit by a commuter rushing to get the T) to find out that you are near the station. Of course, this will do you little good since it doesn't tell you which direction the station is in. My personal favorite of all time, from long before I had a cell phone with a camera on it, was "No Parking". Nice big No Parking sign, with the appropriate (I'm guessing) braille beneath it. What would a blind person be parking?? Or, I guess, NOT parking?? I hold out hope, deep in my soul, that the braille actually said "It should be safe to stand here, but don't count on it - people never read these signs."

Jami Fights the World

Ugh, when it rains it, well, you know. In the last two weeks:

• We had a death in the family
• I've spent hours and hours fighting with the various customer service and tech support personnel of different companies. (and I haven't had Internet - almost lost my phone, too).
• My computer battery died, and apparently this particular model doesn't run on a power cord if the battery is kaput. Don't ask me why.
• I had a problem with my paycheck.
• I am planning our church's VBS (with tons of help, not just me), our church's Youth Sunday (Not that it's a huge production,just one more thing).
• It was so hot even my two-year-old didn't want to go outside. Now it's raining
• Apparently this is a busy time for my company as we all got extra work.
• I took on a side project, because I just don't have enough to do.
• I think my washing machine might be leaking.

And that's just off the top of my head. Most of the customer service people at least attempted to be helpful, even when they were telling me things they knew I didn't want to hear. At least two were whatever the opposite of helpful is, not unhelpful, meaning that they just didn't help much, meaning that they appeared to make the situation less pleasant AND did not help.

I also talked to a woman at my company who apparently is the "form lady". From what I could tell her job consists of: 1. Answering her phone in a confusing way and 2. Sending people forms. I am not kidding. She could not tell me anything about anything unless it was "I have a form for . . . would that help?" (answer: no) I am not sure what type of training this requires, but it sounds, overall, like a fairly easy job and I wonder how one goes about becoming the form lady. I also talked to the person who, according to my contact sheet, is the one you need to talk to about personnel and/or payroll issues. I explained my situation and she told me that she didn't know anything my payroll, because the payroll department didn't share any information with her. She referred me to the form lady. Who sent me a form. This is not a joke, sadly.

So, sorry I've been gone. My brain is shot. Computer is mostly back up. I will attempt to be fun and interesting tomorrow. Assuming that the roof doesn't fall in.

Jami Reads and Watches

It's not uncommon of me to be wary of a movie made from a book I love. Too often we have all been let down in this way, right? But I will frequently get the book for a movie I enjoyed. A great example of this is Fried Green Tomatoes (movie title, the book adds "At the Whistle Stop Cafe"). Liked the movie, loved the book. In fact, I have had to buy this book several times because I've lent it to someone and not gotten it back. In most cases the book is better simply because you can put way more into a book that you can a movie; we can hear people's thoughts, the story can go on and on without needing an intermission. Squeezing a whole book into a movie often requires cutting out subplot, side-stories and entire scenes. I wanted to mention this because I just read "I Am Legend", after seeing the movie not too long ago. I got the book from the library on a whim - it was on a shelf and had Will Smith on it. And I did enjoy the movie, so what the heck? Turns out this is my least favorite type of "adaptation", the kind where the movie bares almost no actual resemblance to the book. The Tom Cruise version of War of the Worlds is another fantastic example of this. Basically, they (by which I mean the adapters) take the bare bones most basic part of the idea and the name of the antagonist and pitch the rest. How are they allowed to call it the same thing? I know you can't copyright titles, but how misleading can you be? I understand that some things may be updated, like the use of cellphones, let's say, but if you're going to toss out the majority of the story, call it something else. Maybe "inspired by . . . " Here's a brief look for I Am Legend: BOOK Location: West Coast Cause: Bacteria mutated by (implied) nuclear war Dog: Finds and befriends a stray Wife & kid: Died from plague, wife came back to get him Job: Ex-military, then some sort of factory Friends: None Listens to: Classical, loud enough to cover sounds of vampires Meets: Woman who betrays him Grows: Garlic to protect house Nemesis: Former friend who is now a vampire, groups of roaming vamps Habits: Smoking, excessive drinking, fits of rage, killing random vamps House: Boarded up windows & doors, one floodlight outside Ending: Unhappy MOVIE Location: New York City Cause: Man-made virus gone wrong Dog: Beloved pet of late daughter Wife & kid: Died in helicopter crash escaping the plague Job: Military research doctor Friends: Store Mannequins Listens to: Bob Marley Meets: Woman who helps him escape, and restores (some of) his faith Grows: Fields of crops for eating Nemesis: Angry vampire whose girlfriend he stole Habits: Exercising, researching, experimenting on vamps House: Ultra-protected windows, floodlights all around Ending: Guardedly hopeful So, even from this brief off-the-top-of-my-head list, we can see how this is not at all the same story. Just saying.

Jami Tries to Maintain Sanity

This is the sort of thing that drives parents over the edge. In a parenting magazine I flipped through at a friend's house, an article on choking hazards says "Until your child is four, peel and quarter his grapes." That's right, peel and quarter his grapes. Now, we did cut up Eddie's grapes when he was smaller and those parents with children who don't chew properly should absolutely at least cut those suckers in half, but peel?? Until he's FOUR? Come on. Another magazine to which I used to have a subscription had, in the nutrition section, the suggestion that for children ages 1-2 wheat toast with peanut butter spread very thinly was an excellent source of protein and fiber. 20 pages later in the same issue of the same magazine, an article on deadly allergies mentioned that to prevent children from developing allergies and also to give them a better chance of survival if do have a reaction, certain things should be introduced later. Like peanuts and tree nuts which shouldn't be given to children until at least age 3. So, it's a great source of protein, but for goodness sake, don't actually feed your children that. Now, most of the moms I know strike a pretty good balance between the way-too-lenient and the nutso-over-safe. It's a tough walk, because of the advice, like the above, where you just don't know what to believe. I especially feel for new moms who maybe don't have a lot of experience with children and who don't have the mommy-friends to bring them back down to sanity when they feel the need to buy one of these or maybe even this (which looks cool, but please). They are the ones most likely to get sucked into the "DO THIS OR YOUR BABY WILL DIE!!" pitches and lose their minds. When did human babies become more fragile than cotton candy? On the other hand, if you need one of these to remind you that your own child is in your freaking car, you should not be reproducing. If you can't remember that you have your kid, you shouldn't have one. Just my personal opinion.

Jami Thinks We Need More Choices and Less Choices

Why are there literally hundreds of laundry soaps for me to choose from, but only three (and soon only two) candidates for the presidency? Does this make sense to anyone? I thought about this at the store the other day when it occurred to me that one of the problems we have is way too many totally trivial choices. I watched an older woman and her adult son try to figure out which garbage bags she needed. She really sort of gave up and chose one almost at random, despite her son wondering if it was the correct size. "I just don't care". I watched a mother with two small kids in her cart reading the labels on laundry detergent. For just one brand, just one brand, mind you, there were more than 30 options. Not including fabric softeners, additives, stain removers. Just laundry soap. Just one brand. How is this necessary? Why are they still introducing more? Improve it, or it leave it. We don't need to hit 40. And then I got into my car to go home and heard a talk show host lamenting the choices left to us in the upcoming election. Hillary? Obama? McCain? And most likely, it'll be just McCain and one other very soon. For my clothes, I can pick from literally hundreds of probably equally good choices, but for the leader of my country, I get this or that??? A friend of mine from another county told me that in his native country, especially in local elections, there can be upwards of 20 candidates for a position. Now that's choice where it should be. I don't have a solution, I'm just suggesting that maybe it matters more who runs my country than whether my hoodies smell "Rain Fresh" or "Spring Breeze".

Jami Wonders About Others' Friends

I had a conversation with the Husband the other day about friends of friends and how it is that some very nice, normal (in the sense that I am normal) people have what I call "Blah Friends" that's the person when you hear their name, you think "Blah!" Maybe I'm wrong, but I honestly believe that if you get to know me and you like me, you're going to like my friends. Not that we're all going to be BFF's and have a weekly bowling night, but you'll have a good time hanging with any of my pals. This is true for a few of my friends, as well - I meet their friends, I like them. We don't become blood brothers or anything, but I don't mind having a beer with them, you know? However, there are several of my friends who, when I met one of their friends, usually someone they've known "like forever", that person is completely not someone I would ever choose to hangout with, and I can't figure out why you would either. Here's the basic way this goes. I make a new friend and things are great. We like each others' SO, we have fun, plenty in common, etc. Then there is some sort of group event and the new friend, who is now a regular friend, no longer being new, says "Hey, remember Stella who I told you about that I met when we were 7 months old and we've been close ever since?" And I'm all psyched to make yet another new friend, until I talk to Stella and after about 6 minutes I've determined that the only thing I have in common with her is that we are both (apparently) carbon-based life-forms. So then I have to wonder, do I have a friend whose mere arrival causes the internal groans? Or worse, am I that friend? I have to hope not, and if I am, let's not tell me. How do these blah friends glom onto the fun, cool, interesting people I like? How is it possible that my friends fail to see the hideousness of this one person? Or do they see, but choose to ignore? Or I am just overreacting (nah, couldn't be)? My best guess is that these friendships have built up to the point that the participants have more history than current common ground, but it's enough to keep them going, and I respect that. A friendship is valuable, in almost every situation. I know I've had some friends drift off when we no longer had as many links holding us together; some I regret, some I have accepted. Maybe one of those would have been my blah friend. I wonder if that was a wiser choice or the more foolish one.

Special People

Here's part three: possibly, probably, the last in my series on the pessimism-building nature of my time at McDonald's. On a side note, the management there always treated me exceptionally well, better than the management at several of my "real" jobs later in life. Quite a shocker, really, to learn that the respect you got as a high school grill jockey is more than a trained and qualified person in a competitive career. Oh, if you're new, please read parts one and two. Or don't. Won't really matter. This installment in one story, probably a long one, but actually one that truly changed my outlook on humanity. In complete honesty, I remember, when all this concluded, thinking "All people are jerks, I guess." So, grab a fresh soda or cuppa because here's: THE BIGGEST JERK AT MCDONALD'S a discussion of the worst customer moment I experienced Our story begins with another manager, a very hard-working, no nonsense guy named Mark. One spring, Mark decides that it would be a nice idea to have a Pancake Breakfast special. For one morning, you could order the hotcakes (or hotcakes and sausage) and for the regular price you could keep coming back, as many times as you wished, for more hotcakes. A really good deal. Mark scheduled it for Good Friday, on the premise that the local schools all had off, so parents could bring their kids as a special treat on their day off. Sounds nice, right? We put up posters and signs all over the store a couple of weeks ahead of time. We had a regular customer, whose name currently escapes me, so we'll call her Helen. A nurse, she worked the overnight shift and came in several mornings a week on her way home. Each time she got an Egg McMuffin, without the ham. When a new employee once told her that she could have sausage or bacon instead, she politely informed him that she kept Kosher (which I later explained to him meant that she is Jewish and follows specific eating rules). On a side note, one Jewish friend once told me that if Helen actually kept Kosher, she should not have had the cheese on the egg, but others have told me that's not necessarily true, and I'm not here to debate Talmudic law. On the morning of the Pancake Breakfast, things were really hopping. For a weekday morning, even a holiday, things were busy. Helen came in, waited patiently in line, and then asked to speak to Mark. I was in the drive thru (explaining to people that the all-you-can-eat is for in the store only, and no, you can't have 18 pancakes for the price of one order) so I missed the very beginning of this, but heard the same story from several employees who didn't. The dialogue is recreated to the best of my memory, and while it might not be exactly accurate, the gist is. Mark: Hi Helen, what's up? Helen: I'm shocked that you'd do this Mark! Just shocked! Mark: What? I'm sorry, what's wrong?? Helen: This is anti-Semitic! Why would you do this? Mark: I, uh, what? Helen: How could you have a Pancake Breakfast today? Mark: I, well, the schools are out, and um, I don't know what you mean? Helen: It's PASSOVER! Mark: Yes? Helen: Everyone knows that Jews can't have pancakes during Passover!(Here's where I started paying attention, I didn't know that, and honestly, this is another one of those different answers from different sources.) Mark: Oh my God! I didn't know! (He really looked stricken) I swear, I had no idea. Helen: And in this heavily-Jewish area (it's not), with all your Jewish customers, you choose to have this deal when they can't take advantage of it. Mark: I wish I'd known, I'd have had it another day. I'm so sorry, really. I'm going to write you a coupon that you can come in whenever you want, any day and get this deal, okay? Helen: No, no that's not okay. I didn't know you were anti-Semitic! I mean, this big celebration of a Christian holiday and the Jews can't participate. That's really sickening, Mark. It's so mean and prejudiced! (I'm going to break in here to say that there were NO decorations of any kind in the store, certainly no crosses, Easter bunnies, any sort of religious anything. Also, the signs advertising this had been up, as mentioned, for weeks - on all the doors, as well as all around the store. There is no way that Helen could have missed them, unless she closed her eyes from the time she pulled her car into the parking lot until she left. I am also fairly sure, but not 100% that the signs didn't even say "Good Friday" just simply "Friday, April 5". Mark, far from being prejudiced, was one of the most fair-minded people I'd worked with - even though he had a hot temper. And now, back to our story. Also, one person pointed out that if Helen couldn't have the pancakes, she couldn't have the muffin, either, so why had she come in?) Mark: Helen, seriously, I had no idea. It's not for Good Friday, it's just the day we happened to pick. I really am sorry. Please let me give you the coupon and you can come back some other time for this. Helen: No. I want all I can eat eggs today. Mark: I can't do that. Eggs are too expensive and I can't afford to do that for everyone, if anyone else were to complain. Helen: See, I knew it's because you hate Jews. Mark: What? No, look the pancake batter is cheap, the eggs are expensive. Helen: Are you making fun of Jews now? Mark: No! I just can't afford to give you all you can eat eggs, it's too expensive for the store. But here, I'll give you the coupon like I said, plus, you can have an order of eggs free today. Just for you, because I know you. Helen: Unacceptable! The special is all you can eat! I want all I can eat, but it has to be eggs because I can't have the pancakes! You are doing this to persecute Jews! (honestly, that line, I remember because it was so outrageous.) Mark: Helen, I just can't do that. Here, I'll give you two coupons for all you can eat pancakes, and then you can bring a friend. Helen: FORGET THE DAMN PANCAKES! I don't like pancakes! Have I ever ordered pancakes? I want eggs! Yes, that's right. She didn't care about the so-called religious persecution, she just wanted free eggs, because she doesn't like pancakes. Now, at this point, she stormed out, yelling everyone's favorite exit line "I'm NEVER coming here again", which is almost always untrue. On my honor, the above is a fair representation of the entire transaction. Hours later, we got several phone calls from corporate offices: our district, region, even national offices- Helen had called them all, and told them how we were discriminating against Jews, and that we had ALL called her various ethnic slurs, but that Mark had been the ring leader, who started it and allowed us to taunt this poor innocent regular customer. It was so serious that a representative came to the store and interviewed us all separately, and a notation was made in Mark's file. That, dear friends, made a permanent mark on me as well. I felt myself change the day I heard how far this had gone. Helen did come back in, a few times, but found the service to be curt and unfriendly. As far as I know, no one ever spit in her food, or short-changed her or even said anything mean to her, but none of us even wanted to look at her. I never looked at people the same way again. It was April 5, 1996 - important enought to me that I still remember the date, a day that lives in my own personal infamy

Big Macs for Nothin' and Fries for Free

Welcome to the second part in my series on how working at McDonald's obliterated my faith in the human race. Part one is here. Oh, and let me clarify that I don't think this phenomenon is unique to the golden arches, that just happened to be the soul-killer at which I was employed. I'm going to assume any dealing-with-the-general-public position would've done the job equally well. I hadn't been working at Mickey D's all that long when it began to irk me how many people wanted or tried to scheme for freebies or discounts, and in some cases, just outright stole. The most common thievery I saw, and yes, it is stealing, took place at the coffee refill station. Two little hot plates with coffee pots, a small bin to hold cream (and ice to chill it), one small bin with sugar packets and one more with artificial sweeteners. Little old ladies were the ones to watch here; they'd buy their senior-priced coffee (27 cents at the time) drink it, and return to the refill station when they thought no one was watching. Then they'd dump the bin of artificial sweeteners into their purses and scurry off. Some would watch until we restocked it and try for a second batch. One woman had the gall to tell me "You're out of the blue packets here!" and tapped the counter, waiting for me to bring her more. I'm not a condiment package Nazi here, and if you take 4 and it turns out you only need three, that's fine. Keep the extra, use it some other time. But, taking handfuls, that really does cost the restaurant money and we all pay for that. It's stealing, just stop it. Any time we had a special going, people would try to twist the special and get more, or something else. For example, we used to have a special, about twice a year, that you got 2 Big Macs for $2. Got it? TWO Big Mac sandwiches, and you pay $2. Inevitably, this deal was not good enough for some of the customers. "I don't like the Big Macs, can I have the chicken sandwiches 2 for $2?" No. "I just want ONE Big Mac, so that's a dollar, right? No?? But I don't want two! I want one and that's not fair!" "I want the Big Mac meal and then a second Big Mac, with the discount. But I am getting two, I'm getting one in the meal and then the other one!" I dreaded these sales so much for just this reason. I spent half my time dealing with customers angry because we'd refused to customize the deal. Last, for this topic, were the fakers who created a reason to get free food. The worst example that I witnessed - a well-dressed, professional-looking woman came in and ordered a chicken sandwich meal, very politely, sat down and ate her food. She came up to me at the counter about a half hour later, a single bite's worth of her sandwich left. Customer: Look at this! My sandwich has a HUGE hair in it!! Me: looking from the long blond hair in her sandwich to her long blond hair Oh, uh, are you sure it, uh, came that way? Customer: Of course it did! Get your manager RIGHT NOW! This is disgusting; I should call the health department! Me: sigh One moment. I went to get Janet, the manager who was 12 hours into a double-shift and in no mood for this sort of crap. She took a look around the grill and then went to the counter Janet: Hi, I'm the manager, what can I do for you? Customer: Look at this hair in my sandwich! It's disgusting! I want my money back. Janet: What if I give you a coupon for a free sandwich next time you come back? Customer: No, I want my money back. I could have bitten into this! Look at it! Janet: Fine, fine, here you go . ..One dollar and ... Customer: I paid like five-something! Janet: I'm only refunding you for the sandwich, you ate the fries and had a drink. Customer: And now I feel sick because look at this hair in my food, I might throw up, you have to give me all my money back or I'm calling the health department. Janet: (has had enough) Okay, look, that is a long blond hair. No one here has a long blond hair but you. Jami and I are the only women working today (I had short red curls, Janet SUPER-short brown hair), so I'm pretty sure it's not from our employees. YOU, however have long blond hair. Customer: Men could have long hair. Or someone from this morning. You'd better give me my money. If I get sick, I'm calling my lawyer. Janet: And seeing as it is so "huge" and "disgusting" how could you have missed it the entire time you were eating until just the very last bite, which just happens to be the bite with the hair? I offered you a free sandwich AND I offered you a refund on your sandwich for a hair we all know you put in there. If you want to call the health department, your lawyer and the president, you go ahead. I'll be glad to tell whoever you called how you are so cheap you can't even pay for one (expletive deleted) chicken sandwich and instead had to pull out your own bleached blond hair and lie to a teenager about it. Customer: I'm never coming back here again! Janet: Thank God! Tell your friends! I always loved Janet.