Confrontational Skills

An awkwardly-named life skill, but useful all the same. Learning how to have difficult conversations is one of those things no one really wants to think about. Many people I know (myself included) would prefer to never have difficult conversations, if at all possible. However, holding one's frustration close to the vest and muttering for months about how inconsiderate people are is much more disruptive to internal peace and balance. Trust me, I know.

(Okay, I admit, I've read some advice columns that I've come across in my daily internet-trawling. But just because they're advice columns, doesn't mean they don't have good advice. In fact, you'd hope they would have better advice than some others, paid as they are to give it.)

I thought I wouldn't have to worry about these conversations concerning my living situation, since I am paying for a single-person apartment. Except, I'm living in a basement. In a house with thin walls. And a door from my bedroom to the rest of the basement. The rest of the basement, which apparently contains my landlords' washer/dryer and broom/utility closet.

This state of affairs has resulted in many frustrating mornings, with me trying to sleep in to the comfortably late hours of 8 or 9, and my landlords getting up purposefully and regularly around 7, walking around, getting breakfast, sweeping, cleaning, vacuuming, doing laundry... So I get woken up several times between those two sets of hours. Incidentally, I end up sleeping later to try to make up for the lost time between 7 and 8 or 9am.

Leading me to my next difficult conversation, which I mean to have on my way to campus to finish and start my essays due this week.

Update: I spoke confidently and without hesitation, and thus the conversation went remarkably well. Practice makes perfect? Readiness is all?

One for the Annals

Take note, Tacitus.

I woke up this morning thinking it was just another day. Hah.

I think I've mentioned before I'm a temporary employee at the moment. Currently working on a part-time assignment (and loving the hours!) at a condominium. Answering phones, emails, giving out parking passes, and the like. Not the most intellectually or mentally stimulating job ever. In fact, I'd place it near the top of the list of Un-Fun Jobs. However, it means a paycheck every week.

I'm filling in for the manager, who's on leave. With a small staff of two, this leaves me in charge, and the building engineer. Fine. He's helpful, and so far I haven't made many mistakes.

Add a long-standing argument between the absent manager and the present engineer, and I end up in the middle. Hello, awkward and uncomfortable! Good seeing you.

Throw into the mix a righteous headache, and you've got all the ingredients for a Bad Day.

So I called the temp company (my real, direct employer) to get some advice, sorted the problem, and marched off to the nearest 7-11 to buy some Excedrin. Where someone lets me in front of him in line, and the cashier mentions that I don't look good. As I take my money and turn to leave, he tells me he hopes I feel better.

How's that for an invitation to go home? Only, I have to stay an extra hour and a half this afternoon. I'd grimace, but that would hurt my head.

What's With Today, Today? - Lucas. Or, An Exercise In Catharsis

(On a side note - never thought I'd like teriyaki but have now determined to go to Chinatown in LA to try real Chinese for probably the second time in my life, and the first in a decade or so.)

Episode 1:
(She sits in her empty office, reading notes amid a desk piled high with unfinished filing. Enter an email, complete with "you've got mail" beep.)
Got an email from one of my two supervisors today, forwarded from my other supervisor, asking about the status on an official document of which I had physical possession. (It was sitting on my desk, gathering dust). Well, it turns out, unbeknownst to me, the status was a big Incomplete. Long story short, I had to draft a piece of official Navy correspondence, which I'd never done before, and do it quickly. Fortuitously, I had, months ago, cleverly printed out the SECNAV Instruction on Correspondence. The task itself, not so complicated, with a sample layout right in front of me. So I'm pretty pleased that I managed to pull an official correspondence I'd never written before out of thin air in about 20 minutes. It appears work well under pressure.

Episode 2:
(Two coworkers, female, walking up the street to the row of restaurants commonly used for lunching purposes. A third, male, runs up and begins to walk alongside.)
As a friend and coworker and I were walking to lunch, another coworker, who had already eaten and was on his way back to work, turned around and ran back to join us. Even though he'd already eaten, and was unwelcome company, he followed us for at least three blocks. I'm not one to be super nice to people I don't like (it's just who I am - I don't have that virtue they call patience), so I didn't say a lot, while my other coworker chatted with him. She finally, and pretty tactfully, told him we were on our way to a girls' lunch, which he didn't believe at first. Finally he got the hint, and turned around and left.

Really, it was too much.

Episode 3:
(An employee in the logo-ed polo shirt worn by all concession employees walks into her least favorite stand, already expecting a repeat of the slow and decidedly poor evening two nights past)
So I ran late today getting to my second job, because I needed an emergency milkshake, which temporarily replaced the Emergency Margarita, because I can't drink & drive/drink & work. Legally. I can't. I told my supervisor (enough with the supervisors already!) as much. I get there, and the only concession stand I work in during the season is closed, because there aren't enough spectators to see High School Musical. Surprise. I walk over to the other one, and ask the stand manager what registers are open. I'm a cashier/bartender, you see. I've been working here for five years now, and I haven't run (job description: get food for cashier) in probably three of them. The stand manager told me I was running tonight. I exclaimed, to which she said patronizingly (and this is her first season) "You were late, dear".

Here's where, if there are parallel words, like in that old show Sliders (anybody remember that one?), two worlds would have diverged. In an alternate universe, would have been thinking clearly instead of reacting to a Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day, I would have explained the situation to the stand manager. Now, after the whole incident is over, I know exactly what I'd say. Well, instead, I went over her head. She didn't like that, and though there wasn't anything she could do about it, she did question our supervisor. Figured out after he asked a couple more questions that somebody extra had showed up, and that's why there were extra cashiers, so I decided to go home, as I wasn't needed.

Now I'm off to make myself a morale-boosting gin and tonic, and hopefully a healthy dinner. Though that depends on what's in the fridge...

The end.

Goshdarn Heater.

I would use stronger language but I try not to these days. You can be sure I used stronger language last night, when I found out my heater died on me. ONE MONTH EARLY. And I mean that only in the sense that there's still about a month of 50 degree weather left here (thank god I don't live in a colder locale). It lasted about oh, three, four months tops. Ridiculous. Absofrickinlootely ridiculous.

It took me awhile to find the information pamphlets, because I hadn't included them in my handy new filing system (it's a glorified box). When I did, I discovered that the warranty lasts a generous 3 years (and mine broke in three months, why?). Sure, that sounds great. But in order to use the warranty I have to not have "abused" the product - and who says what was outside normal usage, anyway? Not only that, I have to ship it to Tennessee, I believe. On my own dime. The think is at least a foot tall and half a foot wide. It's not heavy, but for shipping purposes I certainly wouldn't call it light. FURTHERMORE it's up to ME to provide return shipping and handling, etc, at about $10-$15 which should be included in the shipping, from what I understand.

And for those who told me not to research, just to go to Target to pick up a cheap one... after all my research, I went to Target. I didn't buy the cheapest one because I thought (obviously incorrectly) that if I bought a mid-range heater it might last longer than the cheapest. I dont' know how long the cheapest ones last, but if it's proportionate to the money spent on it, they shouldn't even be making them. Not that they should have made this one, either.

I'm never buying a Honeywell product again. Fool me once... why should I make the same mistake again, thinking I'm getting a quality product when really it's a Piece.Of.Junk.

So I have four or so more weeks of 50 degree weather - INDOORS - to look forward to. Forgive me if I'm grumpy all the time.

Space Heaters and How Mine Failed Me

Okay, before you get the wrong idea, the heater still heats. It still has two heat settings, low and high. It still has a timer and a temperature gauge, so it turns off at a specified temp (if I so specify).

And yet.

All the safety features I looked into, which were very important to me because I'm actually a little afraid of the electric heating devices which can start fires in the home ... ARE NOT THERE. I stand directly in front of it some mornings, due to the cold temperature of the room (65 if the heater's been working hard all night) and it DOESN'T TURN OFF. One of the safety features listed on the "safety features list" was that it would be able to detect close proximity to other objects, and if said near object was not removed within a certain, short, period of time, it would automatically shut off. Hrmph. I have not accidentally knocked the machine over yet, because I'm not that clumsy... but I have tested it. Result: There is NO automatic shut-off feature for tip-overs. And yup, you guessed it! That was also listed on the fabulous, mendacious "safety features list".

Gotta love it. Actually if it didn't heat my room in a remarkable, lovable (that's to say, I love the heat) way, I would throw it out. And I wouldn't just throw it out, I would have a copier-destroying-style party to bust it to bits before consigning it to the dump.

And I'll never again buy a Honeywell product. That'll teach those lying manufacturers of dangerous electric appliances. Cross your fingers I don't burn before then.

Advantage: Peanut Allergy

Just read an article on Food and Nutrition in WaPo with somewhat disturbing statistics based on a telephone survey. Though I don't have to worry about the salmonella outbreak because I have a peanut allergy (one reason not to pity me for my inability to enjoy peanut products), I have also been confused about the recalled products. The article above states that only 1 in 5 people have gone to the FDA's website to find out exactly what products have been recalled. And even if you don't have much faith in the FDA's ability to regulate food safety, believing that the products on the list are truly affected is at least erring on the side of caution.

More on My Love/Hate Relationship with Heating Appliances

It appears to be a bad winter for heaters.

I probably shouldn't count my own situation at home, because my little space heater is doing just fine. Brought my room temp from 58 to 68 this morning. I'm so proud. But that I had to buy one adds to the instances in which heaters have appeared in my life. They haven't played a big role before this year.

Heat at the museum, where most of my coworkers spend their days, is non-existent. Luckily my office isn't as cold, but I've heard stories (and seen evidence firsthand) about blankets used to keep warm at desks. I have a space heater in my office (slightly illegal, as we all know) and so do half a dozen others I know of.

Just had a story this morning about a friend whose heater died last night, and then was revived, only to overreact in its new lease on life and stay on for two straight hours, making the room temperature a steamy 98. She said she opened her front door to bring in some cold air; I would have opened my windows, too.

Now. It might seem to some that I'm a little hung up on these heating appliances, but I'm not. I swear. I predict that my next post will have an entirely different subject.

Responsibility

Is recycling a responsibility? Yes. To nature, to all living things on Earth, and to the future generations of said life.

For whom should recycling become a responsibility, and who should recycle? Individuals, corporations, government - everyone plays a part.

Is it always convenient, or an easy responsibility to perform? No. Sometimes counties, cities, municipalities, apartments, condominiums, or neighborhoods don't have the most convenient or complete recycling programs on offer.

Does this mean that people should only recycle when it's convenient? Emphatically, no! If everyone only did what was convenient in every aspect of his or her life, then our societies would be in chaos. Imagine a father not caring for his children because it's inconvenient. Or a daughter not looking after her aging mother because it's not convenient. Try employers not going to work because it's inconvenient. What about corporations who don't look out for their employees because it's easier and more convenient to look out for the big head at the top? Or people as a whole not participating in government elections and procedures because maybe it's not convenient to stand in line for four hours just to cast a vote. There are other examples I haven't listed, but I'm sure the idea comes across.

I have now taken on the responsibility of recycling for my whole apartment (that's three people total, and a lot of recycling!). Because, my roommates don't worry about recycling - it's not a concern of theirs, that the landfills grow bigger every day, that toxic chemicals are left sitting around, that plastic and styrofoam are left to decay over thousands of years. Granted, I'm not perfect - I bought a coffee this morning that came in a styrofoam cup. Had I thought of that as I passed Starbucks, I may have changed my mind and bought coffee there. I didn't.

What bothers my roommates are appearances. So having bags of recycling in the kitchen and the living room bothers them, because it doesn't look pretty. Nevermind that the landfills are much, MUCH uglier than our crowded kitchen. The other reason for their lack of motivation to recycle is that our apartment has just the bare minimum of recycling bins set out in the basement. So in order to recycle most of what we don't throw away (which is paperboard, as opposed to glass and plastic, and white paper, as opposed to newspapers) must be recycled at the local recycling center. Read here to find out more about recycling in your area. Our center is only about four blocks away, a two minute drive... a trip I can't make by myself, as I don't own or have regular use of a car. Though I am going to look in to Zipcars. Someday. I may be able to walk to the grocery store, but there's really no practical way to walk to the recycling center, with all the recycling we have.

But. My roommates don't care to drive there. Because they just don't want to. Personally, I think sorting and throwing things into bins and or dumpsters is kind of fun, especially if you're along with a friend. I'm not the only one, either. Well, I've looked for the quote and can't find it, but to paraphrase: Will Ferrell has said he looks forward to driving up to the recycling center in his plug-in hybrid.

They don't have the time, yet there are 24 usable hours in every day (watch Empire Records to find that quote). Sure, subtract some hours for sleep, and on weekdays some for work, and for hanging out - how many people don't have downtime during the week? An hour? That's all it takes.

So, even though I'm not as concerned about appearances as my roommates, I am the only one who cares about the future of the planet. Did I mention I turn off lights we're not using? And I make sure the TV and cable are off when we're not using them? And I unplug appliances that aren't in use, even if they're off. Pat yourself on the back if you do, too. Because degrees of cleanliness reflect on one's immediate surroundings, and on a small, small part of our individual worlds, but recycling positively affects our entire Earth, and everyone in it.

Economy and The Saving of Energy Versus Warmth: Where is the Line?

For me, the line is drawn significantly in front of freezing in the office. Just moments ago, I had on three layers, one of which is some kind of wool blend, and fingerless gloves, also a wool knit blend (%60 wool, %20 angora, %20 acrylic), and I still felt cold! I have decided to put my coat on, even though it somewhat restricts my shoulder movment, and confuses my keyboard into opening strange windows. My fingernails are not blue, not yet, but they feel as though they might be.

How does Lucky say it, in 101 Dalmatians? "My nose is froze, my toes are froze, my ears are froze..." I've misquoted, for sure, but the point remains the same. Nobody should have to wear her coat in the office. Coats are for outdoors. There was a day not too long ago, on which I can remember noting the fact that I didn't even have to button up my (winter) coat, before going outside - because it. already. was.

Thankfully, I am not working in the museum, whose thermometers yesterday measured the cozy temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit. But with all the people coming and going from our building, and our position right next to the foyer, and the glass wall that forms part of the exterior wall, it's still not warm.

Now, I'm all for saving energy, and if that means not having a really nice 72 degree temp in the home or office, I can handle that. But 60 degrees I definitely do not do. Nor do I appreciate 65 degrees. In fact, whenever I feel cold and prickly all day long, I'm not comfortable, and quite frequently as a result, do not work productively. There's an old saying that seems relevant here, although it leaves the audience with a negative impression of the speaker/writer: "I can't work in these conditions!" Quite literally, I can't. Just like when a person has to pee really badly, the discomfort of being cold completely overrides all other thought processes. All I think about is how cold my fingers are, and how uncomfortable wearing my coat for 5 hours is, and even how cold my toes (in socks and boots!) feel.

Color me unimpressed and very cold, and unproductive. Did I mention irritated?

A Little Rant About Allergies

Because ranting is cathartic.

My allergies used to be normal. Excessive, but normal. As in, stuffy nose, sneezing, watery eyes... those of you who have them will know the basic symptoms. Now, for some reason, everything is bypassing my nose - which is very uncomfortable. I won't go into details, because it's rather gross, which is why I find it depressing, too.

The Ent doctor doesn't know why it started (sometimes viruses like the cold can last for a longer time, causing similar problems, but the only cold I've had recently didn't begin till the allergies had been worse for weeks), which means there's no easy fix. A change in medicine, he suggested, and guafenisine, which tastes nasty, in case anyone's interested. Neither of these things have cleared it up yet. The only other solution, according to the Ent, is to get tested for allergies so they can make me a "special sauce" and then give me shots - I've heard twice a week, once a week, for a year... Shots! Also, they have to monitor their victims for an hour after they administer the "special sauce", which means time off work...

I'm also wading through health insurance for the first time, and the plan I thought was great, really isn't that great if you've got to get expensive shots during office visits once a week for the next year.

The latest Green Guides issue has a short article on allergies... and how global warming contributes to them and makes them worse. As in, with warmer weather, the trees and flowers and grasses have longer pollinating seasons, which can make allergies last longer. More pollen can be produced, too. Not only that, but allergies evidently used to be an urban problem - until mass transit like trains transported the pollenating particles to the country. Then, in places like Arizona, which used to be a pollen and allergy-free state (it being desert), city planners started bringing in trees and bushes and flowers, etc to make it look less like a desert. Short-sightedly, most of those trees were male, which are the gender of trees that distribute pollen. Semen, if you will. Apparently, according to these city planners, having fruit drop on the ground was much more unpleasant. Hah.

So here I am, about to start the next, expensive, part of my life getting shots in the arm every week. Hopefully the inconvenience and pain will be balanced by some kind of correction of my allergic reactions to just about everything.