Hey, Alexander

On my way to work this morning, walking from the train, a sign taped to a streetlight caught my eye.  It was bright yellow, maybe goldenrod and it was taped around the pole with clear packing tape.  In Times New Roman font, large size, were two words:  

Hey, Alexander

I walked past it at first then stopped in my tracks.  Was it a band?  Was it some artsy fartsy thing? What is some person’s crazy rant posted up for all to read like Martin Luther?   I retreated a few steps and read it. 

Hey, Alexander

I’m not sure you’ll remember me, but my  name is Dana and we met one night a few weeks ago when you came to a party I was working and you came outside for a smoke.

Oh, interesting.  One of those I saw you and now I want to find out notes that are in the missed connections section of Craig’s list and the back of the Chicago Reader.  Cool.

In summary, the girl wrote her phone number down on the guy’s bar receipt, but wrote it down wrong (hey, girls have totally accidentally given me the wrong number, too).  She had just lost her old phone and got a new one with a new number and didn’t have it memorized.  She said they hit it off and had really interesting conversation.  My favorite part was where she said she was nervous putting her email out there because she knew she’d get Rick Rolled.

It was cold, so I stopped reading and moved on.  But all day long, I couldn’t get Hey Alexander out of my head.  I started spinning my own story around just the first two words, “Hey, Alexander,” hoping it would turn into a short story (and it still might).   I thought about the girl wondering why the guy didn’t call (six days, right Swingers fans?) or maybe the guy calling the wrong number and wondering why the girl gave him a fake phone number.  Did he give up then?  How long did it take her to realize she gave him the wrong number?

Serendipity.  Good luck.  Fortune.  Fate.  Whatever you want to call it.  These people met once, by chance.  What tiny little change could have prevented them from meeting at all?  What if he had met his friends at another place before going to the party and was having so much they never left the first place? What if she worked a different part of the party and just never ran into him?    What if didn’t catch the first cab he hailed and instead took a second cab, which got him to the party later and as he walked in he bumped into an ex-girlfriend who he still loved.  What if Dana hadn’t left early for work and got the message from her boss who told her not to come in because he thought it would be slow at the bar?  Who controls these things? 

The night before Halloween in seventh grade, my friends and I had a sleepover where we did Mad Libs.  Yes, those Mad Libs. When asked for a girl’s name, I blurted out Rachel Lakeman (name changed because she might be reading this).  My friend wrote in  her name.  The next day while trick-or-treating, we ran into Rachel Lakeman dressed as a punk rocker trick-or-treating with her friends.  

 

Serendipity or coincidence?

My friends called out to her and we showed her the Mad Lib book, which, for some reason I was carrying around with us.  She read it, saw her name, ripped out that page and tossed the book back at us.

After that, our paths kept crossing.  We had a few classes together and now she started paying attention to me and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her.  A couple months later, Rachel and I were going out (or whatever going out means in seventh grade.  To tell you the truth I didn’t really get it then).  We went out for a few months and she even gave me the Mad Lib back.  It had been ripped then taped back together, with one piece missing: her name.  (Aww, how sweet.  She kept it that whole time).

Was this fate?  What if I had written down another girl’s name?  What if we hadn’t seen her while trick-or-treating?  Why on Earth why I was carrying the Mad Libs book when we were trick-or-treating and why did we show it to her?

Fate?  Love at first Mad Lib?

Well, no, it turns out.  We lasted a solid two months going out, which is a long time in junior high, and I was even her first dance at her Bat Mitzvah, but that was  it for our relationship, except for a few awkward moments at our ten year high school reunion, which is a story for another time. 

Then I wondered how enthralled by someone you’ve shared a single meeting with do you need to be to make a sign with your name and phone number on it and plaster it all over the city.  I remember riding my bike past Rachel Lakeman’s house after we broke up because there was something about her I couldn’t get over.  But I’d know her for months, and even had kissed her a few times when we went to the movies.  And I was thirteen, and man, thirteen year old boys are pretty clueless when it comes to matters of the heart.   I got over it eventually, until the next girl came along and broke my heart.  And so on.  That’s how it is.

But was there ever someone who I would do that for?  Well, of course.

My wife.

It didn’t start out as love at first sight.  Not exactly.  We shared multiple awkward moments the week we met.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Without getting into too many details let’s just say there had a been a lull in my love life, and it wasn’t for lack of trying.  I had tons of bad dates, blind dates, group dates, getting set up, trying again with the girls where I had bad dates, doing and saying the wrong thing, doing and saying the right thing at the wrong time.  I was at the bottom.  I had sworn of girls, given up trying.  I was “concentrating on work.” Things were not going well for me.

 

Then I met the girl who is now my wife.  And yes, things were awkward at first, but that’s a story for another time, when our kids are older, much, much older.  Then we got over the awkward part.  And I still remember the first time we talked on the phone.  It was a Monday night, and we talked for hours.  And trust me, It was hours.  I know because I hate talking on the phone but with her it was easy and enjoyable.  When we were done, and I was finally going to sleep, sometime around midnight, I said to myself, “I really want to talk to her again.”  And I can’t remember the last time I’d felt that way about someone.

So, the next night I was going to call her.  But she beat me to it.  She called me.  She could have waited for me to call, and I was going, but she called me.  I'm happy to say things went well. Here we are eleven years and two kids later.  Things are great.  Going back in time, if we had only talked that one time, than one night and somehow, I had lost her number or she had lost mine, or something had kept us from talking again, I’m sure I would have gone back to where we met and posted up a sign and tried to track her down.  And if I only got the one time, well, I’m sure I would have survived but you gotta try.  If you feel that way, you have to try to go hunt that beast down.  Take the chance.  What’s the worst that can happen?  You are no worse off for trying.  So what if you get a few crank calls. 

 

What if Alexander is at the bar drinking with his friends and he walks outside to have a cigarette (the poster said he smokes).  He’s been down in the dumps because this girl he met the other night, who he thought he totally hit it off with, gave him a wrong number.   As he’s cupping his hands around his lighter to keep the winter wind from blowing it out, he sees the goldenrod paper out of the corner of his eye.  His eyes lock on the words Hey, Alexander, and he steps to it and reads it.  He starts to smile, takes a long drag on his cigarette then pulls his phone out of his pocket.  He dials the number he sees on the poster.  A woman’s voice answers.  “Hello,” she says.  It’s her.  It’s Dana, the girl from the party.   “Dana?  This is Alexander,” he says.  “You are not going to believe this, but I’m standing outside of Jak’s and I saw your sign.”

This is the perfect ending for a movie, maybe with Ryan Reynolds as Alexander and Rachel McAdams as the plucky Dana.  Man, I hope it turns out this way.

All day, I keep thinking about the poster.  I wish I had read the entire thing.  I leave a couple minutes early hoping to read the whole poster on my way home. But it’s no longer there.  In fact, there’s nothing posted on any streetlights or street signs on the entire block.  They’d been stripped away sometime during the day, left bare like a mini mart before a hurricane.  There had always been things posted on this block, band signs, Radiohead Hail to the Thief stickers, lost dog signs, political signs.  Why, of all days did they clear them today?

Damn.  I will never know the fate of Dana and Alexander.

So, Dana and Alexander, if you are out there, I’m pulling for you.  I hope you find each other.  Call it luck, fate, serendipity, whatever you want to call it.  I just hope it happens.  After all, Valentine’s day is in a few days.

Thanks for reading.  All 36 of you.

Things about Traveling that I like

Last post I ranted on all of the bad things about traveling.  This week I’ll put a positive spin on traveling.

1. Frequent flier free drink coupons.  Beside the ones I earn, I have a few other souces.  Now, before you get all in a huff, I’m not downing gin and tonics at seven in the morning on my way out.  But a nice jack and coke on the evening flight home is great joy.
2. When I get the free drink, and they actually give me the entire can and entire mini bottle of Jack Daniels.  Yum.
3. Food I can’t get at home.  Don’t over think it people.  There’s nothing  better than a double double at In-n-Out burger accompanied by a facebook post of the meal.  My friends who love In-n-Out and don’t get to eat it post profanity laced comments while those who can get it any time mention how much they love it.    Chick-Fil-A in the south (although we have them in Chicago now).  Del Taco, well, never.  It’s just not very good.  But you get my point.
4. Do it yourself waffle irons.  Some of the mid-tier hotel chains entice you to stay with them by offering a free breakfast.  Many are nothing more than a box of cereal, some tasteless cut up pineapple and watermelon and luke warm, bitter coffee.  The good places have a waffle iron.  You fill a tiny cup with batter, pour it onto the waffle iron and in just one hundred and thirty seconds, a perfectly browned Belgian waffle is yours.  With practice, I’ve been getting better at not overfilling the waffle iron and causing it to spill on the table.
5. An entire row to myself.  Remember back before 9/11 when planes didn’t seem to care if they sold all the seats on the plane?  There were always empty seats.  Nowadays, airlines are scraping for every penny with bag fees, ten bucks to check in early, headset fees, snack fees, barf bag fees, don’t even think of asking your flight attendant for anything fees.  It seems that every flight is full.  But I keep running into one except.  One place I fly, the flight there is always full, but the flight home usually has empty seats.  It’s nice not to get elbowed by the guy next to me who is asleep, or have the person in front of my jack their seat back the second I open my laptop.  This week I had the entire row to myself.  I stuffed my bag under the seat next to me, stretched out my feet and kept my books and magazines on the seat next to me.  It was awesome.  Now if I just knew why so many people fly to Oakland but so few out.
6. ESPN’s Sport Center.  I don’t watch Sports Center much anymore.  In college, I watched it religiously.  But in hotels, I start my day with Sports Center, because no matter what time I get up, in exactly one hour, I will have seen everything I need to.  I still want to find the person who thought having news people standing up while on camera was a good idea.  They are always fidgeting and rolling their scripts, and rocking back and forth.  Get back behind the desk.  Make me wonder if you are wearing pants or not. 
7. Fun rental cars.  This doesn’t happen much.  I usually end up with a Ford Tarus with 30,000 miles, and there was that one time I had a Hyundai Sonata where the power steering didn’t work,  but every once in a while, you get a car that’s fun to drive.  On this last trip, I had a Buick (insert).  Once I got used to starting the car without the key and the terrible blind spot, it was fun to drive.  It had some balls.  It helps that my normal cars are lacking in acceleration and are, well, very practical.
8. Having extra time to relax.  On a good trip, I get to stop working at a normal time.  Usually the hotel is close to the office, so my normal commute is gone.  I get to work out, then head out for a nice dinner, with no cooking or cleaning involved.  Since I am not at home, there are no after dinner chores to do.  No taking the garbage out, no sifting through piles of junk mail, no cleaning the litter box.    I don’t have to worry about picking clothes for tomorrow because I’ve only got three shirts with me.
9. Coming home.  This is the best thing.  I know, totally cheesy, but  I’ve never been on a trip that I didn’t want to come home from.  Even better than that is the rare time the flight home lands early and the kids are still awake, not knowing that I’m getting home before they go to bed.  The welcome home hugs and kisses are a lot longer and tighter if I’ve been gone for a few days.

Things that drive me crazy when traveling

Forgive me as I bring out my inner grandpa man for this post.  Here's a list of things that drive me a little crazy while I am traveling.  Most are minor annoyances but still bug.  They seem to bug me more when I am traveling alone.

1. People who update their facebook status with the arrival city the second they can turn their phones back on. (Full Disclosure: totally guilty, but my phone kept auto-correcting Hotlanta back to Atlanta).
2. The weird sized pillows hotels give you.  I don’t need five cold-war era surplus Soviet square pillows.  Can I just have two regular-sized adult pillows?  Please?
3. Regular coat hangers in the closet.  Do people really steal coat hangers from hotels?  And can I have more than three?  Please.   I promise not to stuff them in my suitcase.  (Okay, I once to a hotel room glass when we went to Springfield for our 7^th grade trip, but my mom chewed me out when I got home).
4. The business jerk in boarding group six who stands right in front of the jetway entrance while groups one through five board. 
5. Hotel Alarm clocks.  I used to get around this with wake up calls but now that wakeup calls are pre-recorded messages, they freak me out.  I set the alarm clock convinced I am setting the alarm for PM or setting the volume too low.  I use the alarm on my phone as the backup but still can’t sleep restfully because I fear oversleeping.  Most mornings I wake up well before the alarm goes off totally not well rested.
6. Bad restaurant advice from hotel clerks.  While I know Cheesecake Factory is pretty good, there’s got to be somewhere else for me to eat.  (Full Disclosure: I had Chick-Fil-A for dinner)
7. The same business jerk who won’t end his phone conversation while the flight attendant is asking him to turn off his phone so we can take off.
8. The same business jerk again who can’t figure out how to turn the speaker phone off as his phone starts reading his emails after we land.  Sadly, there was not a spam message that said, “Have a small penis?  Make it bigger!”
9. iPads.  Do they do anything but play Angry Birds?  Fine, I’m just jealous because I want one.
10. That jerk who is sitting next to me in coach trying to read the newspaper who keeps bumping me when flipping pages.  Oh wait, that was me.
11. The USA Today.  Enough said.

Next post will be the list of things I like about traveling.  Thanks for reading. 

Doggie Doo and the Ghost of Christmas lists past

This Christmas, my son had a short but consistent wish list from Santa.  He asked for trains, Star Wars and pirates.  He came home from pre-school with a drawing that said “For Christmas, I want trains, Star Wars and pirates.”  One day while eating lunch, he saw a pen on the table and asked if he could write his list for Santa.  He is only four and still learning how to write, so he asked me for help spelling the words.  When we were done, he had written three things: Trains, Star Wars and pirates.

As Christmas approached a new item got added to the list.  Due to his changing tastes in television (Yo Gabba Gabba and Go Diego Go aren’t doing it for him anymore) my son is now watching channels that air commercials.  This makes him say, “Daddy look at that.  We should get that.”  My standard response is, “You should ask Santa.”  Most things he quickly forgets about but there was one commercial that was repeated ad nausea.  The commercial was for Doogie Doo.  I’ll let my son describe it.

“Daddy, we should get Doggie Doo.  He’s a dog and you feed him and he poops.”

  

This commercial  was on every eight minutes from early November until Christmas.  Every time it came on my son would ask for Doggie Doo.  I told him to ask Santa.  He did.  He wanted it bad.

Now, clearly I don’t understand this thing.  It's game with a dog.  You feed him.  And he poops.  And you have to clean it up.  The winner is the one who cleans up the most poo.

This is fun?  I'm sure there is a place somewhere that needs some real dog poop picking up.  I'm sure you could make a game out of that.

Sadly, Santa didn’t bring a doggy do to our house.  Fortunately, between the rest of his Christmas take, my son didn’t seem too disappointed that he didn’t get a Doggie Doo.  Even now, he still has some toys from Christmas he has yet to play with. 

This got me thinking back to Christmas when I was a kid and a toy that I wanted more than anything.  Every year in late September, the Sears catalog would show up and my mother would pass it around the house, asking us to make a list.  Of course, I turned right to the toys-- what loser kid ever asked for clothes for Christmas.  I would quickly find the G.I Joe toys. Not the twelve inch dolls, er, action figures.  I was a child of the 80s, we grew up with the three inch plastic G.I Joe action figures with movable arms and cool guns, and the Snow Cat, helicopters, and other cool vehicles.  And what I wanted, more than anything, was the Cobra Rattler airplane.  It was the coolest G.I Joe toy, it was blue, had a rack full of missiles and bombs and a swiveling turret gun.  I wrote it, highlighted it, and circled it with starts.  I did everything to hint to my mother (or Santa) that if I only got one present for Christmas, this was the one I wanted.  So on Christmas morning, I was expecting a G.I Joe Cobra Rattler plane with its pilot Wild Weasel.  And I didn’t get it.  After wading through present after present, there was no miracle gift pulled from behind the desk, like in a Christmas Story, the last minute, best gift.  I was bummed.  Really bummed.

 

And I was even more bummed when two of my friends both got the Rattler and my other friend got the Aircraft Carrier.  The good thing is that I was already a Cubs fan, so I just waited ‘til next year.

Sears Catalog shows up in September.  I highlight the Rattler.  Come Christmas, I don’t get it.  Disappointed, sure, but I'm eternally optimistic. Santa wasn't going to stiff me three years running.

Year three.  Same request.  Same result.

Year four.  One more.  Still no Rattler.

By now, I was getting too old to ask for G.I Joe toys.  In fact, we had one last giant battle at my friend Mitch’s house the summer before high school.  We were going to finish the next day so I left them at his house.  I haven’t seen them since.

But man, it still bugs me that I didn’t get that Cobra Rattler.  I could probably go buy one right now on ebay. But I can't afford it now.  Well, I probably could but I couldn't even imagine spending $700 on a toy.  Plus I don't even want it now. I wanted it then.  

So, if my son is still looking for Doggie Doo next Christmas, I’ll make sure that Santa gets the hint.  Thirty years from now I don’t want him writing some rant on whatever technology replaces the Internet about how he didn’t get a Doggie Doo even though he really wanted one.  Of course, by then we might have a real dog and once you have a real one, who needs a toy dog that poops?

PS- The thing my children played with the most from Christmas?  A cardboard box. 

Thanks for reading.

New Year's Resolutions

I've never been a big fan of imposing new rules on myself just because the calendar flips and we add one to the current year to come up with a new year.  But, this being a blog, I need something to write about.  Below are some New Year's Resolutions and my hints at how you can succeed in keeping these resolutions.

1) Spend more time with Family & Friends

 To me this one is surprising, mainly because so many people have been out of work for parts of the last three years.  I took a few days off between Christmas and New Year's and I'll tell you after six straight days with my son and daughter, I was ready to get back to the quiet of my office, even if it was for just a half day.

2) Get fit

This one is pretty easy.  Get your fat ass off the couch, away from the computer and stop eating so many damn potato chips, fatty.

3) Lose Weight

See above.  It's pretty much the same concept, but I'll throw something else in.  Next time you are at McDonald's and you order a double cheeseburger, a large fry, an apple pie and diet Coke, I have a suggestion.  Skip the diet Coke. It's not what is putting you over the edge.  And drop the Apple pie.  Get a small fry instead of a large fry.  Or just don't eat at McDonald's every day.

4) Quit Smoking

Having never smoked, I have no advice for this.  If a winter like we had last year where smokers stood outside in three feet of snow when it was ten degrees out didn't make you quit, its never gonna happen.

5) Save Money/Get out of debt

This one is easy.  Eat out less.  Buy less crap you don't need.  If you don't have money for it, don't buy it.

6) Quit Drinking

Come on, no one likes a quitter.  How about just drinking less to start off?  Pass up the Irish coffee in the morning and say no to that extra beer at happy hour.  Or when you are out at a bar and someone hands you a beer and you don't want, wait a minute, then find another person to hand it to.  It works trust me.  Oh, and if you drink less you will lose weight.

7) Learn Something new

This shouldn't have to be a resolution.  You should be doing this every day.  Today I learned that even though I warned her, my daughter likes the spicy Doritos.  At first.  Then the spice hits and she doesn't like them so much.

8) Finish things that you start.

This is easy.  Just set simple goals like, "I'm going to climb those six stairs."  Then climb them.  Hopefully you have been working on numbers 2 and 3.  That will help, too.


Now, just to get in the spirit of things, I did make a few resolutions.

1) Floss more. Trust me, I don't know if I could floss less.

2) Post more to this blog.  If I break thirty readers, I will totally do this.

That's it for me.  I'm hoping I can keep these modest resolutions.  For those who are losing weight and getting in shape as part of your resolutions, I'll see you in the gym this week.  And that's probably it because you will stop coming next week.

Happy New Year.  Thanks for reading.

Catching up

Okay, time for some updates on previous posts.

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)

I survived another NaNoWriMo, just barely breaking the 50,000 word mark.  I had a good start, a terrible middle and a great finish, including days 20-29 where I average 2450 words a day.  Was there a lot of garbage in my 50,000 words?  Yes.  Did one of my characters stop to write blog posts?  Yes.  Did I write the words "I am so tired," over and over again every once in a while?  Yes.  Is my novel finished?  No.  It is terrible?  Pretty much.  Am I going to let anyone read it?  Um, not quite yet.  Am I going to keep working on it? Yes.  Are there at least some short stories that will come out of it?  You bet.  Did any of you write 50,000 words in a month?  Then shut it.

Besides just being a place for me to show off my word count, NaNoWriMo also runs a young writer's program.  To learn more or to donate, please visit http://www.nanowrimo.org/.  Hopefully you all will be reading my first novel in the near future, as soon as I finish writing it.


Winter Beers

Since we last talk, I've tasted a handful of the winter beers now clogging the aisle at liquor stores everywhere (seriously, I was at Binny's today and there must have been at least two dozen winter seasonals in stock).  I'll admit that I'm enjoying the New Belgium Snow Day but there has been one major drawback.  Every time I have drank Snow Day, I woke up the next morning with a headache.  Mike, you say, you cannot drink that much anymore.  Slow down, you say.  But I did, I answer.  I had three the first time, then only two, then just a single Snow Day.  The next morning each time I had a headache.  So I like the Snow Day, though not nearly as much as 2 Below, and I have even bought more.  Next time I won't drink three shots of whiskey before I drink Snow Day.

For those that want to hear a bunch of guys talking about beer, give a listen to the Broadcast Basement, where we will be tasting beers every few episodes and talking about what we like.  Well, some of us will taste them (sorry, Wild Bill).  


Gobble, Gobble, Tech Support and a Fish

I'm back in cable hell.  After the first round failed to solve the problem long term, I again jumped on-line for support.  And again I talked to Pashtel.  He must be the busiest cable tech support rep out there, or there is more than one Pashtel in the world.  We ran through the basic steps again, and quickly scheduled another visit.  This time, the only misunderstanding was when we picked the time, and Pashet gave me the 12pm-4pm slot and told me the tech would call before his arrival and I said 10-4. He responded with "There is no 10-4 time slot."  Ha.  Ha, ha, ha.  I guess they don't have CBs in India.

The second tech was here for almost five hours.  Problem solved?  Well, no.  It's better, but let me tell you how funny watching a hockey game is when the picture and sound are out of sync.  At least when the sound is ahead of the picture, I can hear about the big hit then look up and see it.

Halloween Candy

There is a single bag of candy left in the break room of our office, right next to the coffee pot.  In the bag are about eight pieces of.... wait for it... that nasty peanut butter candy!  If they are still there at the end of the year, I will toss them.  Or stick them in a drawer and foist them on unsuspecting co-workers next Halloween.

Thanks for reading.

Gobble, Gobble, Tech Support and a Fish

The reception on our TV had gotten bad the last two weeks.  It started simple, a little freezing here and there when watching a recorded show from the DVR.  But then it got worse.  The sound would get out of syn then sometimes just disappear.  The little bits freezing turned into seconds of blackout, followed by pixilation, followed by me threating to throw something at the TV.  Sometimes, I’d turn the cable box off, turn it back on a minute later and it would be better.  Sometimes I’d do that and it would get worse, making me realize that what happened after I restarted it was completely random.  It finally became too much on Wednesday night when the Blackhawks game became unwatchable because of the jittery screen. 

It was ten o’clock the night before Thanksgiving.  The chance of me talking to an actual human being on the phone was zero, so I fired up my laptop and started with my cable company’s on line help.  After navigating through a few of the help wizards, all of which ended by telling me to restart all of the cable boxes, which, of course, did nothing, the next step was to go to the on-line support’s chat line.  So I clicked on the yellow box and the chat session started.  

Tech Support: Good evening my name is Pashtel (named changed to protect, oh hell, who am I kidding; I can’t remember the name but it was something close to Pashtel). 

Now I’ve heard lots of stories about getting support from overseas, and I’ve had some myself.  I still miss those few years when every time I called IBM tech support I was connected to a call center in Ireland where I talked to people with a thick Irish brogue.  With chat support, it was even easier for companies to send their support overseas to cheap call centers where operators could follow a script and instead of having to talk to people, they just needed to press a button and the words would automatically be relayed the chat session.

I briefly explained my problems with the picture to Pashtel and the steps I had already tried and he (or she) send back the appropriate “I am sorry you are having trouble, yadaa yadaa.”  He followed his script and asked a bunch of questions, had me check the picture on some other channels, all things I had already done.  Then, he told he was going to reset the box. My first reaction was “I already did this,” but then I thought, hey this guy is sitting in a cubicle in some giant cubicle farm in some giant office building in India and he can restart my cable box.  In order for me to do that, I would have to get up off the couch, navigate the sea of scatter toys my children left all over the floor, bend down, press the power button and hold it for at least five seconds, then wait to see what happens.  Or I could just let Pashtel do it for me.  Isn’t technology cool?  We’ve come a long way since the clapper.

So after trying what I had already tried, we had come to the end of the tech support script and Pashtel had to schedule a technician to come to my house.

Pashtel: Do you have any pets?

Me: Yes, two cats.  (pause).  And a fish.

I don’t really have a fish, and if I did, would it matter.  I understand asking about cats and dogs.  Every cable guy who came to our house when we had our pit bull-boxer mix was deathly afraid of him, even after I told them the dog was blind.  But I wanted to see if Pashtel would follow through his job or figure out I was joking.  But just having him write down that I had a fish wasn’t enough.

Me: Are your technicians afraid of fish?

(Long Pause)

Pashtel: I don’t think so.

He asked a few more questions and we scheduled the appointment for between 8am and 12 noon two days later, which was not too bad.  Right about here through I wondered why they could restart my cable box from thousands of miles away but couldn’t give me an appointment window smaller than four hours.  Then can tell what time I started an on-demand episode of Yo Gabba Gabba, but they can’t figure out how to schedule their technicians to fit into a reasonable time slot.  I’m going to tell my boss next week that I’m going to come to work sometime between six and ten and see what he says.  But I digress.

As we were wrapping up, Pashtel was copying and pasting the standard end of chat session messages, thanking me for being a customer, and making sure I was fully satisfied before ending our session.  Then, the final exchange.

Pashtel: Thank you and I hope you and your family have a happy Thanksgiving.

Me: You, too.  Gobble, Gobble.

Gooble, gobble is my standard goodbye greeting right around Thanksgiving.  It’s really the only time of year it is appropriate unless you work on a turkey farm.  But clearly not everyone is aware of this.  There was a long delay then the chat session let me know Pashtel was typing.  Finally, his text came through.

Pasthel:  I’m sorry but I don’t understand.  What does gobble, gobble mean?

I laughed out loud.  No really, I did. I wasn’t rolling on the floor laughing my ass off but for once I could have just said LOL and it would have been accurate (did you know that LOL does not get auto-corrected by Microsoft Word?  Damn you, texting!).  My head started racing. What kind of story could I make up about the meaning of gobble, gobble.  I could go into some long winded, overly detailed diatribe about something entirely unrelated to turkey noises, and I gave serious consideration to it.  But then I realized that Pastel was just a guy (or girl) doing his job, following a set of procedures and that he would stay on with me until I was completely satisfied.  So I cut him some slack.

Me: It’s the sound a turkey makes.

He ended our session without another word.  On Friday, two technicians came to my house and spent nearly three hours chasing down gremlins.  They replaced coax in the house, checked signals everywhere and even swapped out my HDMI cable.  For a short time the picture was better but not for long.  As I write this, the TV still pixilates every few seconds and during the Bears game, I’d sometimes see two plays interlaced on top of each other.  But while they were here, the techs new I had two cats.  And a fish.

Thanks for reading.