don't knock it till you try it: attempting to make a difference

This past Tuesday I courageously decided to skip my dance class so that I could attend a town hall meeting about Pawlenty's horrible state budget suggestions. Among his many ill-advised cuts was his proposal to destroy the Perpich Center for Arts Education, also know as the Arts High School, in Minnesota. 

The whole idea of this makes me sick and angry. I graduated from the Arts School in 1997, and I have only positive things to say about my experience there. How many people go around saying that kind of thing about their high school? Basically, Pawlenty wants to end the "outreach" part of the school (the agency that provides teacher training, arts programs in rural areas, etc.) and turn the school into a charter school. I could go on and on about why turning that school into a charter school is a horrible idea and why it would be as good as shutting the school down for good, but I will leave those thoughts for the legislative people I've been writing to. 

Anyway, so when I heard about this proposal, I felt like it was my "civic duty" to try to do something about it. So when I heard about the town hall meetings being held to address the proposed budget, I thought it would be a good idea for me to go and say some articulate, persuasive things about why the arts school has to stay the way it is. So I filled out the online form saying I wanted to "testify," and showed up at the meeting, full of purpose. 

The meeting was held at the Minneapolis Park Board building in north Minneapolis (within a few blocks of Stand Up Frank's). There were tons of people there. Probably hundreds--I think I have a learning disability when it comes to estimating anything, but the room was full. I lurked around, waiting for the meeting to start. 

Finally, some state representative kicked things off. He told us everyone would get one and half minutes to speak--no longer! Then some other representative type showed PowerPoint slides and read exactly what was on the slides. We all had copies of the slides, as well. I thought it was "interesting" that he glossed over the slide that showed the negative funding going to the arts school. 

The first representative guy got back on the microphone to kick off the "testament" part of the meeting. He reminded us of the time limit, and asked that we not clap or heckle. The first speaker was R.T. Rybak. 

Ryabak eventually got cut off, but they totally let him speak for over 1.5 minutes. But I guess maybe you've "earned" that, if you're the mayor. Then the unwashed masses began to speak, and the boredom really began to set in. But I stayed where I was, even though I really wanted to dash off to the bathroom. What if they called my name when I was gone, and I lost my turn? I couldn't risk that! 

I guess what I learned while listening to everyone speak is this--most people are pretty bad at public speaking. Sometimes the message is unclear. Sometimes embarrassing gimmicks are used to make a point ("Footprints" style stories, for example). But a lot of the time, you just can't focus on what someone is saying because they mumble or whisper or hold the microphone at their waist. 

I'm sure a lot of the speakers had good points, and I heard a handful of them. One articulate young woman who spoke about cutting funds for poor mentally ill people almost made me teary-eyed. Of course, I was super hungry when she got up to speak, so maybe it was just low blood sugar. Regardless, I wanted to make sure her funding wasn't cut. 

Hours passed, and my name was never called. During this time, two older gentleman got up to speak on behalf of PCAE. Both were current or former parents of arts school students. I was glad that someone was getting to talk about the school, but I wanted to hear from some students, too. 

Around 8:30, the moderator announced that the meeting was officially scheduled to end at 8:00, and warned us that the legislators might start leaving, but that at least a couple of them would stick around to hear everyone out. "Everyone" amounted to over 60 more people. 

I waited around for another 15 minutes or so, and finally just gave up. By the time my name was called, no one would be there and it would be an exercise in vanity, I figured. 

So that didn't really work out as planned. I was reduced to sending emails--when what I really wanted was to impress the legislative people with my exciting, easy-to-understand testimonial. I'm disappointed that I didn't get to make dramatic public statements like everyone else. Knock it: Poorly planned town hall meetings.  

don't knock it till you try it: loss of composure

My beloved and I celebrated Valentine's Day by having a brand-new oven delivered to our house. I was so excited--I hadn't had a functioning oven in over four years! For the week leading up to the delivery, I had domestic fantasies involving roasted vegetables and frozen pizzas. I knew the purchase was going to completely revolutionize my life. 

Then the day of the delivery came, and we uh, like totally missed the arrival of the delivery drivers. Although someone from Appliance Smart told Nick the oven would arrive between 8:30 and 9 am, evidently the delivery guys showed up at around 7:45 and didn't knock very hard on the door or something. Nick received a voicemail message a little after 8 am from a dispatcher, informing him that the delivery people had showed up, waited around for "45 minutes," and eventually left, taking the oven with them. 

Nick placed several phone calls, attempting to convince someone to have the delivery dudes come back to our house later in the day. Everyone he spoke with told him this was absolutely impossible--we had our chance to get the oven, and we messed up. We would simply have to reschedule, probably for Tuesday, but maybe not for over a week. They were not interested in hearing that the delivery guys showed up way before schedule, and made valiant attempts to pin the blame squarely on us.  

Although Nick is very persuasive, I could tell that the situation called for a woman's touch. He admitted that there was some weird "dude energy" with Patrick, the dispatcher. So I gathered a variety of phone numbers and started making some calls. 

Before I continue, I should mention that I kind of hate making phone calls. Just ringing up a store to ask about the availability of an item can send me into a spiral of anxiety, as if I am also required to ask the salesperson on a date. Also, I dislike confrontation and am rarely very forceful about making my case. I think I'm so guilty from years of Catholicism that, deep down, I don't really think I deserve anything good, and that if the oven didn't get delivered it's really pretty much exactly what I deserve. 

Anyway, so the phone calls were an effort. I started with Patrick, the dispatcher. I attempted to sound sweet and reasonable as I asked him if he could maybe just possibly give his delivery drivers just the quickest little call to see if just maybe they could swing by our house again that day. But Patrick wouldn't have anything to do with my charms, and he coldly informed me that he could give them a call, but he'd just be going through the motions because there was NO WAY anyone would be delivering anything to our house today. So I got a little irritable, and went all type A, asking to talk to his boss. He said he'd ask him to give me a call. I said I'd be expecting a call within half an hour, or I'd be calling Patrick again to see what was going on. 

Meanwhile, I called Appliance Smart and got on the phone with some sales guy. I told him I had an issue with my delivery, and he told me that was unfortunate, because the delivery department was closed that day. Although he thought the case was closed, I went on to explain what had happened, and asked if there was anything he or someone else at the store could do. He said no, and then launched into a lengthy description of why the delivery schedule is made the way it is, and why there are no exceptions even when the delivery people show up at the wrong time, and basically he was hinting very strongly that the whole thing was our fault. 

So I suggested that we might simply have to cancel the order and stop payment on the credit card, to which he responded, "Well, that's too bad." I asked him if he'd rather lose a sale than make even the tiniest effort to even act a little bit sympathetic. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but rules are rules and you can reschedule your delivery and this is just our policy and it isn't my fault that that's how it is..." And on and on. So I kind of lost it (in the way I lose it, which is mainly by getting flushed and adopting a bitchy tone), accusing him of terrible customer service, telling him that his reaction to the situation had caused me to become "hell-bent on ruining the reputation of Appliance Smart" which I was going to accomplish by sending out messages to my "500 friends on Facebook" (that last part was a lie--I only have about 52 friends on Facebook). 

In other words, I pulled a hysterical female act. I rarely use this approach (I generally think it's detestable), and when I have, it has usually failed to achieve the desired results. But not this time! After unleashing my rage on several by-the-book phone-answering men, the delivery guys showed up within half an hour. I felt a little bad about my behavior on the phone, but not as bad as I would've felt if I'd had to wait another week for the oven!!!!!!! Don't knock it till you try it: rampant selfishness.   

don't knock it till you try it: a job

In an earlier post I wrote about being unemployed. Those were the days--I got to sleep in, wander aimlessly around the house for hours and take mid-morning exercise classes at the gym with all the stay-at-home moms. 

However, all good things must come to an end, and even though we're in the middle of an "economic crisis" with record levels of unemployment, I somehow managed to acquire a job. No rest for the wicked, huh?  

So I'm back at what I do best, apparently--doing "writing-related" stuff at a suburban corporation. I'm not complaining--I'm getting some money to pay off my unemployment/wedding/honeymoon debt, I get to work with a friend from a former job, and my boss is really low-key and not "managerial" at all. 

I've only been at my office for a few weeks, and so far it's just fine. Generally I plunge into a pit of depressive anxiety whenever I start a new job. "Here we go again," I think, resigning myself to the existential nightmare of being an associate project manager for an educational assessment company in Maple Grove. 

However, this time around it's not so bad. For one thing, I actually felt like the people really wanted to hire me, for once. Usually when I get a new job I get this sense that they think they're doing me a big favor by offering me three days of vacation after a six-month waiting period. But in this case, it seemed like they were actually interested in getting me to work there! 

But despite all the positive things about my new gig, it is impossible not to take note of some of the "quirks" of having a corporate job. For example, I was blown away when I opened the freezer door in the break room. The selection of Lean Cuisines was incredible! "How do people find their lunches?"I wondered. Then I noticed that most people had written their names on the boxes. 

And speaking of food, there is always the intense pressure to eat many sugary treats while on the job. I think I consumed a cookie, a piece of cake, and one or two "bars" during just my first week, all in enforced socializing situations. I would mill around for a few minutes at the birthday party or "recognition" event or "status" meeting and would attempt to avoid the snack foods. However, someone was always on hand who would begin pushing the treats, saying, "Come on, just have one, it's okay, one won't kill you," and you know how it is, you just have to do it or risk being labeled as a dieter or anorexic. 

Another troubling part of having a "normal" job is the fact that you have to hang around the office all day. Seriously, how does anyone do this? At my last job, we were allowed to work from home if we wanted to, and even if I went into the office, it was a rare day that I was in for a full eight hours. I'd usually cut out early and finish up my work at the dining room table while listening to records. 

But that's not an option now. Everyone gets into work obscenely early (8 am) and works until 5. Based on the Lean Cuisines and all the people I've observed eating at their desks, it seems that no one even takes a proper lunch break, either. I guess I'm just lazy, but there is something so grueling and awful about sitting around an office for nine nonstop hours. To keep things interesting, I drink boatloads of water so I'll have an excuse to get up and wander to the bathroom about thirty times a day. Hey, follow your bliss, right?