Tuesday, December 8, 2015

Bull In A China Shop


On Monday morning, just as I was leaving my apartment for work, a loud knock was heard at my door. When I opened it, a big burly guy, followed by three or four much smaller people, entered my home. They were sent by the property management company to repair some cracks in my ceiling. They were already a week late so I wasn't really expecting them to appear, but they did. 

The tiny people were Latin Americans. Wishes thought they were playmates and he was so excited to see them he jumped up and hugged and kissed each one, much to their horror. I could see that this was not going to work out in anyone's best interest, so I made an immediate decision to take him to work with me at the Christmas shop.

Always up for adventure, Wishes jumped into the car and when we arrived at my parking garage he joyfully leaped out and gamely entered the elevator. He trotted right with me to the shop as if he did this every day of his life. Once inside, I gave him a quick tour of the shop, on leash, and then with a very long lead, I tied him to a support beam just inside the stockroom door which allowed him access to behind the counter, but not to the front of the counter. He could go just to the very edge of the counter and no further. (See floorplan).
People who spotted him could come pet him, but he couldn't get to people who didn't want to be bothered with this overgrown puppy.

Almost as soon as I got his leash tied off at the proper length the phone rang. It was a customer who wanted to order an ornament for her daughter and have it shipped. Just like at home, Wishes started barking at me while I was on the phone. There wasn't much I could do about it. I just kept asking the customer to repeat everything she said... name, address, phone number, credit card number, expiration date, security code, daughter's name, address phone number... I thought we'd never get through the conversation. When I explained my situation to the customer, she chuckled and it got so that she'd pause every time she heard him bark and wait until he stopped barking again.

Shortly after our conversation ended, the boss called and Wishes started barking again. Fortunately it was only a couple of times and fortunately the boss didn't seem to notice. I couldn't believe my good luck. After that, Wishes settled down.

All day long customers came into the store and most of them noticed Wishes. I spent the entire day answering people's questions about him. What kind of dog? Male or female? How old? What's his name? Can I pet him? Can I take his picture? Can we take a picture of the whole family with him? Can I text a picture of him to my son/daughter/sister/brother/cousin/aunt/uncle/mother/father... they need a dog just like him?

For a few hours, Wishes laid on the floor just inside the stockroom and took a nap. Most people didn't see him then and there was less commotion. When he awoke from his nap, he was even more chill than ever. During the late afternoon, he was standing stock still with his head at the edge of the counter just watching what was going on. One woman was perusing the Christmas items which I had displayed in front of the counter. She came to the edge, just a foot from where Wishes was standing, and began to carefully examine an etagere of tiny nativity scenes... and then she shrieked! She had just come nose to nose with Wishes and wasn't expecting it. When she recovered from the shock she began to laugh and laugh and called over to her friend, "You've got to come see this!" Her friend looked from me to her and said, "I'm not sure I want to, I'm afraid of what it is." When she finally cautiously approached and saw Wishes' fuzzy mug, she chuckled with relief saying she had expected to see a snake.

When my associate, Susan, showed up for her shift, Wishes began to get silly. Finally, someone else to join us behind the counter. She would wait on a customer and Wishes would jump up and stand next to her at the counter like he was working with her.

Finally my working day was over. Only one display of shatterproof ornaments had been knocked over by my oversized dog and only one ornament broken. Wishes trotted out of the shop with me like he does it every day and back to the parking garage. He slept all the way home.

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Middle Class Blues

"Been singin' for my rent and singin' for my supper,
I'm above the below and below the upper.
I'm stuck in the middle where money gets tight
But I guess I'm doin' alright."

"Doin' Alright" as sung by Jo Dee Messina

I had myself all psyched to move to a two bedroom apartment and to solicit perfect strangers to be my roommate in order to save exorbitant sums of money when I was dealt a shocking blow while I was shopping online for health insurance. I figured that taking on a roommate would give me an extra $400 - $500 a month giving me a little room to breath, a chance to save some money and the means to visit my grandkids a couple times a year. That's before I learned that the cheapest monthly premium is nearly $300 and that's with a $6,000 deductible! Of course, I could lower that deductible to $2,000 by paying $400 a month in premiums. Having no health insurance is not an option for me given my diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis.

I'm not exactly sure how this qualifies as "affordable" health care. It was much more affordable when I was living with Mom, making $14,000 a year and paying no premiums with only a $500 deductible. I know I can't be the only one who feels this economic pinch and my boss wonders why people aren't spending as much money on Christmas paraphernalia. Who can afford it?

My friends say I need a better job. I'm not so sure. The more I make, the more I'll have to spend on taxes and health insurance premiums. I don't think I'll come out any further ahead by making more money. No, I firmly think the solution is more affordable housing and apparently the notion of living in communal conditions should be looked upon as the new normal. Of course, immigrants have been doing  it for years and that's how so many of them have saved money.

It's not what I would consider the American dream, but maybe the dream has truly died. And apparently, it's time for one huge paradigm shift on my part.