Grannies

I just realized today that I assume all old ladies are grannies, but pretty soon I'm going to be one of those old ladies and won't be a granny. Perhaps I should put it on my list of things to change about myself, right below "Say 'you're welcome' instead of 'no problem' and right above "Stop giving dirty looks to idiots who press the button for the wrong floor on the elevator."

Yesterday an old lady showed up at work. One of those super duper oldies who is hunched over at the shoulders and shakes and takes careful steps. She arrived during a very busy moment - four phone lines were ringing and another person was also standing at the counter needing my attention.

Many moons ago I worked at a tennis club that was often swamped and got told, "Always help the person standing in front of you before tending to the phones. That person made the effort to get in their car and come here." I have carried that with me for more than a dozen years. The other person standing there just wanted to serve me (not me personally, but I am allowed to accept service) so it was easy to get rid of him quickly.

The old lady was coming to drop off documents for our subtenant and pick up a letter. I knew this because one of our subtenants had called to ask if she could have me print out a two-page letter for me to give the client. The old lady needed to go through each concept slowly though, and I had all those phone calls holding.

One of the things I learned about old people in Florida is that they are used to be dismissed - they are our throwaways (in America). I didn't want to do that to her. Despite how slow she was, she was kind. I asked if she could give me a second, and I'd be right back to walk her through this. As I blew through calls, it seems she hadn't realized they'd been waiting, so when I got back to her she began to try to rush.

On our reception counter, we have about half a dozen business card stands, all filled with business cards of different attorneys, and she knocked over three of them. I told her not to worry, that I'd get them. You could see how much of an effort it was for her to move, and the idea of her crouching down, balancing to scoop up scattered business cards? No.

Today another old lady showed up, and instantly I smiled at her, "You must be the sister of the lady from yesterday - you look just like her!" She smiled and nodded, and her sister poked her head around to grin at me. They were so cute. They spent a few hours in our office, dropping their canes, slowly and carefully going up and down the stairs to my sunken living room to use the restroom, and when they were leaving they both wished me a happy Thanksgiving in case they didn't see me again. Then the first one I'd met yesterday reached out to me saying, "I'm sorry again about the cards yesterday; I was so embarrassed."

I waved my hand and told her, "I've already forgotten it happened," which of course wasn't true. It was was surprising to hear she was embarrassed. Anyone could have that happen. For some reason I always think of old people as not getting embarrassed anymore. Like they're above it, or something.

Can I Play?

When I was a little girl, my grandparents lived in Queens, NY. There were all these projects surrounding a playground, and I loved that when I stayed with them, we could go on a playground walk, and just a short walk away we could run across three or four playgrounds.

To me, this is the all-time best kiddie exchange to ever be experienced:

Kid walks up to group of kids already playing...something.

Kid: Hi, can I play?
Other kid, looking you up and down: How old are you?
Kid: Five ... and a half.
Other kid: Okay. Go stand over there.

And you run off in the direction they pointed, exhilarated, and only thinking two words as you run to your spot. I'M IN!

Then you start worrying you can't figure out what the hell game is being played, but console yourself with the plan that if the ball (because there's always a ball) comes near you, you'll catch it and start running and listen for the other kids to scream directions at you so you know where to run.

Meanwhile your grandma or grandpa sits on the bench, talking to an old-people friend who is there watching their grandchild while doing a crossword puzzle.

To me, that entire experience was the best part of staying in Queens. Making friends in the span of ten seconds, being accepted by 10 kids who've never met you before, simply because you tagged someone on the other team out or caught a ball or ran fast. This value system was so black and white, and worked well for me. On the bitchy, haughty part of Long Island where I grew up, there was a completely different value system, and it didn't work for me at all.

(I have been keeping an eye on what's going on in New York this week and wanted to write something positive about the city. This is what came out.)

Interview Series Marches On

A while back I interviewed Nicole. Now she's turning the tables.

Is there a moment in your life you'd like to take back or do over? What about it would you change? So, so many of them. It's wrong to say "all of them," right? I became friends with a girl who has the same name I do at ballet, and invited her over to my house eventually. We were in my bedroom, laying on the floor playing while my mom was downstairs in the kitchen. I think we were about nine or 10, and she wanted to play with these cut-out doll things she found in my bookcase. For several years I'd been over the whole doll thing, but in trying to be a nice hostess I let her pick what we played.

She was fat. Not just a little overweight, but fat. And when she looked at the doll in her hand and said, "She's fat," I accidentally blurted out, "You shouldn't talk." I gasped. I don't think I've ever been more horrified at my own actions. She immediately put her head down in her arms and I didn't know what to do. So I left my bedroom and ran downstairs to tell my mother what I'd done. Of course, she told me I had to go back and apologize and to think before speaking in the future, so I did. The girl nodded and we went on playing.

We stayed friends for a year or two after that - as long as we were taking ballet together I think. It was one of those moments that made me think that maybe I was really a horrible person deep down, and I was just unable to hide it all the time.

Is there anyone in your past you wish you could say something to? Who would it be and why? You know, I got teased and bullied and made fun of so much growing up. And I've seen those Maury shows where a former loser confronts their bully after they've gotten implants and a short dress. I'd never do that. Not because I already have big boobs, but because the truth is, I don't think any of the kids who teased me feel all that badly about it. I think a third of them wouldn't remember it, a third would say I deserved it, and a third would say I should be over it.

I would really like to talk to my grandma again though. She died two months after I turned 18, while I was away at college. It was sudden, and the last time I'd spoken to her I'd felt like she was angry at me. It's not that there's something specific I'd like to say to her; I'd just like us to talk again. She was a true example of pure unconditional love, and it would be nice to thank her for that. While I was at it, I'd also thank her for keeping that shimmery unicorn sticker I gave her on her purse for two years, and for letting us watch cartoons in the morning before school. And for always having Pine Brothers cough drops in her purse.

And I'd ask her for her recipe for booze cake, because that was really good.

What blogs do you read regularly and why? You can see by the sidebars which blogs I read. The only ones I don't list are the ones that are password protected, because ... what's the point? Whoever you are, I am secretly fascinated by you, and I always have been. I want to know if you really like your job, look in your closet, meet your friends, look at your books, everything. As a little kid we used to take a lot of hellishly long car trips. I hated it. Spent a lot of time telling my dad the speed limit as it flashed by while my mom and brother slept. I'd also look at the people in the cars around us and wonder where they were going. If they liked the people in the car with them. If they were happy about where they were going.

I've never stopped thinking that way. I am interested in everybody. Reading people's blogs is a great way to people-watch.

What television show do you watch that you won't admit to your friends? Is there any lower low than The Hills (season finale tonight!)? I've been known to flip over to Oprah sometimes if I'm home for it. I've never been one of those people who tapes their soap opera or anything. Also, when Trixie lived here, she got the Oprah magazine, and I'd read that too.

If you're a blogger, what is the best post you think you've ever written? Can't answer this. The ones that got the most hits where when my family found out about my blog. Everyone's fascinated by a trainwreck, huh? But that wasn't great writing - that was numb writing. Some of the Loose Earlobe Lady posts were a lot of fun to write, as are some of the fucking yoga ones. This one was fun.

The Non-Post

I am too tired to do a real post. So all you'll get is this fake one. See? It's not even really here. Figment of your imagination.

However, I know that sucks. I know some people wake up very early in their houses when everyone else is asleep and just like in the commercials, they get a cup of coffee and sit down to read. I'm so sorry I'm disappointing you. This does not mean that I'm going to do a real post for you. Because I'm not. But I will give you this: I've made notes for the two ideas I had rolling around in my head this morning. And one of those posts is roommate-related, though not in the way you're thinking.

I'll try to bang something out this weekend, and get one of the two going on Monday.

So for now I leave you with these random tidbits:

1. I saw Cat Lady today. She was late for work. She looks exactly the same.
2. One of the partners I work for had me type up three notepads worth of notes he made during three different depositions. This sounds easy, but really, it's tedious as all get out and lawyers write almost as badly as doctors. The partner e-mailed me a thank you for the good job I did, and cc'd the HR chick.
3. I ran into said HR chick on the bus going home today, and it was not at all awkward.
4. Tomorrow is jeans day!
5. This whole idea of having blog-friends is really weird and really nice, all at the same time.
6. I was e-mailing with someone a couple of weeks ago and banged out a mildly funny scenario to her. It was some damn fine writing, if I do say so myself. But I feel like it's cheating to take that and make it into a blog post. Tempting as hell.
7. Thanks, and... sorry Jimmy, we're out of time.

Jeepers

Jeepers is the name of another secretary here who's also temping. She's a grandma, from Chicago, and a huge fan of saying jeepers. Oh, and touching people. Like me. In the last two days she's touched me three times, and we don't even sit near each other or have any reason to interact. Today she was wearing a pin-striped jacket with a polka-dot blouse. If you know me, you know I do love me some polka-dots, but this does not look good. And it's not the old, "No mixing two different patterns" rule, because we all know Stacey and Clinton would say that's fine. It's more like she took a fashion risk, and just ... missed. I see where she was trying to go, but she got off the fashion highway one dressing room too early.

Please do not think me petty - I don't dislike her just because she spit white rice onto my desk while talking at me and eating leftover sushi at the same time. It's not because she's outgoing. Trixie is outgoing, and we got along just fine (we run into each other about once a week, and chat pleasantly). No, I dislike her because despite the positive attitude, her words are negative. You can't fool me with your smiles and upbeat demeanor. You're eating sushi rolls the firm brought in, spitting rice at me, and complaining that it tastes bad while laughing? Jeepers, it's three days old! I don't eat sushi but I'm thinking three day-old sushi is not going to taste good.

One of my favorite movies is The Last Boy Scout. There are two lines in that movie that stand out above the others. One is, "I want to meet the bitch who fucked you up." The other one, the one that applies in this situation of rice-spitting and bitching is, "Shut the fuck up and get back in your monkey cage," or something like that.

I always have the urge (always since last week when I met Jeepers) to tell Jeepers to get back in her monkey cage. Everyone where I work is so damn nice that I don't even have it in me to sic her on someone else. "Hey Jeepers, I think Amelia was looking for you a while ago," I could say, if only I hated Amelia. But no, Amelia says hi to me every day and is quiet but sweet.

Jeepers doesn't seem to like it here much. It's not the people, but the work - I think she's dealing with a boring kind of law. Or at least, a type of law she finds boring. Jeepers told me she interviewed at a big law firm last week, but she wasn't impressed. She sits right near one of the attorneys I work for, and in the same breath that she said he's nice, also complained that he doesn't talk to her very much. This is a guy who bills at over $500 per hour. Perhaps he's a bit busy?

I think, like me, he doesn't want to get into a conversation with her, because he's worried about being able to extract himself from it. Jeepers works for one attorney who does a lot of her own work and spends a lot of time out of the office. So she's often roaming the halls, looking to see what other people are doing. I hope she finds something good down there by the supply room. I hear a lot of fun stuff goes on there. Not.

*Exciting new development (that fills me with dread)! Jeepers just sent me an e-mail asking if I'd care to do lunch sometime. Actually, no I wouldn't. Great. Now I have to avoid her until I figure out how to very nicely say that.

Day Three

Neither of the two partners I work for play with their balls in front of me. So in that sense, this job is a big step up from the last one. Also, not only do I get a whole new crop of grandmas to get used to, but both attorneys are grandpas. It's gonna be interesting.

Both guys have warned me they're very busy and I'll be rushing around a lot. Ummm... okay. Whenever you're ready.

Yesterday some random partner's secretary was out, so he gave me several hours of work to do. Towards the end of the day I handed him a folder with the finished work. The guy was on the phone when I arrived at his office, so I walked out after delivering the work. Today I heard nothing. Certainly no thank you (I wasn't waiting for one), but usually a new person gets feedback.

Every single grandma keeps candy on her desk. M&Ms mostly. Maybe it's from Halloween, but I doubt it. Yesterday when i was given the office tour, I was shown the "office where people like to take naps" in between meeting 3827 people all dressed the same way.

This law firm has no jeans day. The idea that I can't wear jeans on Fridays really bums me out, so I've channeled my inner Tim Gunn and decided to find a Friday jeans alternative. Any suggestions? I'm thinking cords.

That's all I've got, sorry. I'm exhausted.

And Everywhere That Green Went, LEL Was Sure To Go

I joined the Social Committee at work a while ago. Guess who's attended the last two meetings? That's right, your favorite heavily perfumed grandma has decided she should be involved too. She always sits diagonally across the table from me, and makes sure to challenge something I say. At the first meeting she tried to instigate a jew-off, since we were the only two jews at the meeting, but I wouldn't bite.

At the most recent meeting LEL agreed to be in charge of our Lunar New Year celebration. Which the Head Grandma had to keep reminding her was not to be referred to as the Chinese New Year. Being in charge of a specific event is not as big a deal as you'd think. What's that? No, I haven't been in charge of any events yet. Shut up, we're talking about LEL here, not me.

Anyway. Being in charge of an event that's been done before means it's really easy. Ummm... so I hear from other people. Whatever, shut up. You look in the file at what was done last time, and do it again, unless there are notes that people complained. Celebrating the Lunar New Year means ordering Chinese food from a local restaurant for 110 people. Not very difficult. Except that apparently it is for LEL.

Word in the hallway is, LEL has asked the Head Grandma (who runs Social Committee meetings) so many questions that she got told "Hey, you volunteered to be in charge of this, so do it." LEL already knows which place to order from. A year ago, Cowboy had her order Chinese food one day for everyone in our corner, and we all agreed the food was great. So LEL already knows where to order the food from. And really, restaurants are used to catering events. They know how it's done. I mean sure, you can request specific things you like, but in general, if you're trying to feed over 100 people, you want a little of everything.

But no. A half hour ago I heard LEL enlisting the help of our facilities coordinator. At first it made sense - you have to reserve a conference room, make sure it's allowed, whatever. But because LEL and I sit so close, and because she is unable to speak any quieter than you would if you wanted to be heard while seated at the Superbowl, I know LEL was discussing which dishes to order with the guy. Maybe she's worried everyone will know she's in charge, will blame her if something they hoped for isn't there? But it's free food. The attorneys LOVE free food. The only time I've seen Tuna run is when he's found out about leftover food after a meeting. COME ON! Just be bold and decisive and make a damn decision! It's just food.

In other, unrelated news, LEL is expecting her first granddaughter. This means I will have to hear a lot more of "HELLO GORGEOUS!" and "Tell Gramma 'I lub you'" Oy to the vey.

Three Things, All of Which Would Be Better If I Had Accompanying Pictures

1. Doogie Houser - ever wonder where he is now? I know exactly where he is every weekday morning at 8:55 a.m. He's at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf (which is way too long a name, by the way) in San Francisco. He gives the name "Brian" at the register but I can tell he secretly likes when people say "Excuse me, Doogie" to get past him to reach the milk for their non-fat triple caf latte. Doogie, I mean Brian, also stands around with a Crackberry, pretending to read important messages. I'm sure he's really just reading fan mail he had his assistant scan in and email to him. Little letters saying "I loved you in Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle" and the like.

2. A brand new grandma started at our firm yesterday. Today she wore dark red leather pants. With a heavy cable-knit yellow sweater. She looks like the type of woman to be named Linda or Barbara, aside from the leather pants. She doesn't sit near any of the other grandmas, and I'll try to find out this week if she's an actual grandma or just of grandma age.

3. This morning when I went in to Nice Partner's office he was leaning way back in his chair with each foot planted firmly on the edge of his desk. Remember when Ross when to the doctor with Rachel and he hopped up on the table and put his legs in the stirrups? Yeah, just like that.