Another one down

I’m happy to see that 2010 is winding to a close. It’s one of those—many—years I’d really like to forget. It’s hard to find much about it that’s worth keeping.

But perhaps I’m approaching this from the wrong direction. Maybe what I should be thinking about are the lessons I learned this year.

I learned that I should not try to override my core feelings, what you might call my instincts. Two and a half years ago, at my first interview for the job that took me to Seattle, I knew the hiring manager was crap at communication and that it would be damned near impossible to work for her. I was so besotted with how quickly a Fortune 50 company moved to hire me, I completely ignored that sense that it was not really right for me. Lesson: if there’s a Voice telling you something’s really, really wrong, listen to it.

I also learned that, if something’s innately wrong for me, no amount of effort is going to make it right. Lesson: square peg, round hole—just not going to work.

I learned that there are some locations that really wear on me. I knew that DC was as far South as I ever want to get (and I’ve lived in North Carolina), but I bought into the whole Seattle-is-cool crap. Lesson: I should have been more diligent about due diligence.

I learned that Fortune 50 companies can still have divisions that are dysfunctional, unprofitable and completely lacking in sense. And I do not thrive in such an environment. Lesson: pay attention when an interviewer describes the place as “like a startup with money.”

I learned that my self-confidence is much more fragile than I’d realized before, and that I need to figure out how to strengthen it. Lesson: like putting on weight and taking it off, letting a situation erode self-confidence is a lot easier than rebuilding it after it’s gone.

I learned that people I love can be taken away from me at a moment’s notice and that it’s a lot better to keep in touch with them no matter how miserable I feel about my life than to disappear into silence and then find out I’ll never be able to speak with him or her again. Lesson: being a friend means being there, regardless of what I have to offer at the moment.

I learned that a friend undergoing chemotherapy can look absolutely gorgeous when I do get a chance to see her. And that hearing her laugh at something I said is the best possible Christmas gift. Lesson: sometimes I get a reprieve at being a friend.

I learned that yoga does actually make me feel better. Lesson: some things just seem whacky until you actually try them.

So—assuming I can apply these lessons—2010 wasn’t a complete waste.

Customer service

While in Palm Springs I made the obligatory trip to Bristol Farms to get ingredients for two of the dinners my sister and I cooked.

I’ve been a BF fan since the 80s, when I lived a mile away from their South Pasadena store. You could get things there, like chayote or farro, that you couldn’t find at any other super market. A couple of years ago I picked up orange and lemon bitters there to take back to Virginia. It’s definitely upscale, but not as OTT as some places.

On this trip I had occasion to use the ladies room and saw something I’ve never encountered before:

I didn’t put it to the test by flipping the switch. I wonder how many false alarms they get on that?

Back to the Bay

The drive back to the Bay Area from Palm Springs was much less eventful than the one down. Nothing but sunshine and semis, pretty much.

At least I could see the countryside—California’s central valley is a vortex for the state’s huge agricultural business. I passed orchards, vineyards and pasturelands.

There was also what I took to be an industrial-strength feedlot for cattle, which made me think (again) that the raising of animals for food on that scale isn’t a particularly good thing. There were thousands of cows there in corrals that went on beyond the horizon. And the stench went on for miles.

It’s interesting to me that to get from the South Bay to I-5 (the primary north-south superhighway) you have to make a jog from US 101 over to the valley, and 20 miles of that is on a two-lane road going through Gilroy.

That means that you’re at the mercy of HGVs, Sunday drivers, and local farm trucks, going 35-45 mph. Kind of throws your trip into slow motion. And you’d think that with the number of tractor-trailers making that joggle, someone would have built a better way.

I suppose it’s such a small portion of the overall trip that I shouldn’t cavil about it. It just seems so 1950s in a state that has always touted itself as a bellwether.

This'll cut down on regifting...

This being Boxing Day, it seems appropriate to find out that Amazon has received a patent for an application that will allow recipients of gifts bought through the online retailer to swap them for something more desirable before they’re actually shipped.

If I understand this correctly, it would allow a user to register his/her standards (for want of a better term) for receiving items, either by type or by sender. This goes beyond the current wish list that you can post online letting the world & his wife know you’d really, really like an official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle; a Tickle-Me Elmo; & two-carat FL princess-cut platinum-set stud earrings. Instead it allows you to instruct the greater Amazon marketplace that you won’t accept cubic zirconiums from anyone, or anything at all from Uncle Fred. That being the case, if Amazon detects any purchases of CZs (or anything from Uncle Fred) headed your way, it’ll alert you & allow you to convert whatever it is to something you’d prefer. Perhaps, in the case of the CZ, a Tickle-Me Elmo.

& it won’t notify the sender that you’ve made the swap.

(Amazon’s not doing this to make you happy, BTW. They’re doing it because it costs them money every time a piece of merchandise is returned & they’re looking to eliminate the cut into their profit margin.)

Now, I’ve been on the receiving end of some pretty ghastly presents, & I well know that some people just don’t have the gift for picking out the right gifts. But even so, I’m not sure I really like the idea of recipients essentially cutting the heart out of the concept of giving.

& if you can’t man up enough to explain to Uncle Fred that, while you really appreciate him sending you that very festive can of reindeer meat, you’ve been a vegan since you were 12 & are just crushed that you can’t enjoy his gift to the extent his thoughtfulness merits—then I’m not sure you deserve anything beyond a holiday card.

But I’m sure that most people will look upon this as a giant leap forward for raking in as much loot as possible with the least amount of ancillary trouble that accepting someone’s gift involves.

& since the Amazon patent includes the option of having the system send a thank-you note for the original gift, you’re off the hook for any display of civility at all in the transaction.