There I was at a long-awaited dinner with friends Saturday night, when in the midst of our chatting, I watched my right hand sneaking away from my side to grab my phone sitting on the table to check my e-mail. "What am I doing?" I thought to myself. "I'm here with my friends, and I don't need to be checking e-mail on a Saturday night."
The part that freaked me out was that I hadn't told my hand to reach out for the phone. It seemed to be doing it all on its own. I wondered what was wrong with me until I read a recent study in the journal Personal and Ubiquitous Computing that showed I'm hardly alone. In fact, my problem seems to be ubiquitous.
The authors found smartphone users have developed what they call "checking habits" -- repetitive checks of e-mail and other applications such as Facebook. The checks typically lasted less than 30 seconds and were often done within 10 minutes of each other.
On average, the study subjects checked their phones 34 times a day, not necessarily because they really needed to check them that many times, but because it had become a habit or compulsion.
"It's extremely common, and very hard to avoid," says Loren Frank, a neuroscientist at the University of California, San Francisco. "We don't even consciously realize we're doing it -- it's an unconscious behavior."
Why we constantly check our phones
Earlier this year, Frank started to realize that he, too, was habitually checking his smartphone over and over without even thinking about it. When he sat down to figure out why, he realized it was an unconscious, two-step process.
First, his brain liked the feeling when he received an e-mail. It was something new, and it often was something nice: a note from a colleague complimenting his work or a request from a journalist for help with a story.
"Each time you get an e-mail, it's a small jolt, a positive feedback that you're an important person," he says. "It's a little bit of an addiction in that way."
Once the brain becomes accustomed to this positive feedback, reaching out for the phone becomes an automatic action you don't even think about consciously, Frank says. Instead, the urge to check lives in the striatum, a part of the brain that governs habitual actions.
The cost of constant checking
For Frank, constant checking stressed him out and really annoyed his wife.
Dr. Adam Gazzaley, a neurologist at UCSF, sees another cost: Whenever you take a break from what you're doing to unnecessarily check your e-mail, studies show, it's hard to go back to your original task.
"You really pay a price," he says.
Habitually checking can also become a way for you to avoid interacting with people or avoid doing the things you really need to be doing.
"People don't like thinking hard," says Clifford Nass, a professor of communication and computer science at Stanford University. Constantly consulting your smartphone, he says, "is an attempt to not have to think hard, but feel like you're doing something."
How to know if you're a habitual checker
1. You check your e-mail more than you need to.
Sometimes you're in the middle of an intense project at work and you really do need to check your e-mail constantly. But be honest with yourself -- if that's not the case, your constant checking might be a habit, not a conscious choice.
2. You're annoying other people.
If, like Frank, you're ticking off the people closest to you, it's time to take a look at your smartphone habits.
"If you hear 'put the phone away' more than once a day, you probably have a problem," says Lisa Merlo, a psychologist at the University of Florida.
3. The thought of not checking makes you break out in a cold sweat.
Try this experiment: Put your phone away for an hour. If you get itchy during that time, you might be a habitual checker.
How to get rid of your checking habit
1. Acknowledge you have a problem.
It may sound AA-ish, but acknowledging that you're unnecessarily checking your phone -- and that there are repercussions to doing so -- is the first step toward breaking the habit.
"We can be conscious of the habit of checking. We can unlearn its habits," says Sherry Turkle, a psychologist at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and director of the MIT Initiative on Technology and Self.
2. Have smartphone-free times.
See if you can stay away from your phone for a few hours. If that makes you too nervous, start off with just 10 minutes, Merlo suggests. You actually don't have to stay away from your phone altogether -- you can just turn the e-mail function off (or Facebook or whatever you're habitually checking).
3. Have smartphone-free places.
You can also establish phone-free zones, which is what Frank did to cure his smartphone habit.
"The first thing I did was banish it from the bedroom," he says. "I would have to walk down the hallway to my study to actually be able to see it."
You could also force yourself to stop checking when you're in a social situation, like out to dinner with friends. (Last Saturday night, I shoved my phone way down into my purse where I couldn't see it).
Joanna Lipari, a psychologist who practices in California, uses this strategy when her teenage daughter has friends over.
"I have a rule. Like the Old Wild West which had you check your gun at the saloon entrance, I have a basket by the door, and the kids have to check their phones in the basket," she says. Otherwise, she says, the kids would stare at their phones and not interact with one another.
Sunday morning, I'm working at Starbucks, right, and I'm doing my thing and gettin' the coffee made and supporting Tampa Jay on the bar there and Melanie and Lizzy Bean and The Pitz, all working behind the counter and such...
I'm getting a sandwich or something, maybe getting a pastry and I see this short, stocky, somewhat older woman come in the door and head straight for me. She reaches the end of the counter and just stops and stare at me.
Now, its important to note that The Bux keeps coffee grounds for its customers. After a pot of coffee is brewed, before we brew a fresh pot, we dump the filter and grounds into a small garbage can at the end of our bar counter. When that bag is full, we take it and set it outside for customers to grab for free. People use these grounds and the bio-degradable filters in their own gardens, and the acidity in the used grounds help fertilize and provide nutrition for flowers in a garden... it will even make your hydrangeas purple!
However, we cannot put more than one bag of grounds outside in our bucket at a time... so if someone snatches that bag, the bucket is empty until we have more grounds to put out--and these bags can be upwards of 20, 30, maybe 40 pounds.
And it was about 30 minutes before our customer in question came in that I had thrown out a huge bag of grounds.
She asked me about getting some grounds, I politely informed her that I had, within the last 45 minutes, thrown away the grounds we had, but I advised her to check the bucket outside. She said she'd already seen that the bucket outside was empty, and I essentially told her that it was unfortunate, but check back later.
Crazy Coffee Lady: So, you threw out the coffee grounds? Me: Yes ma'am, the can was full, and we aren't allowed to pile up the bags outside, so I had to throw it out. Crazy Coffee Lady: And the bag went in the dumpster? Me: Yes ma'am
It was about here that I was working on a breakaway statement that will allow me to not only end this dialogue,but also get back to my work and also allow me to shush the others who are cracking up at the end of the counter.
Crazy Coffee Lady: Where are your newspapers? The old ones?
To set this part of the conversation up, know that our condiment bar is next to the door, and next to it sits a small basket where newspapers tend to just pile up until someone--usually I--come along and toss them. Today, however, there were no newspapers to be had.
Crazy Coffee Lady: They are gone. Usually they are in the basket. Me: Yes ma'am, but it looks like they have been thrown away as well. Sorry about that.
Then, here's where the conversation went off the rails.
Crazy Coffee Lady: Where is the dumpster? Me (pausing): Um... its outside in the back. Crazy Coffee Lady: Would you mind if I went there and got them out? Me (pausing again): Um... sure. Knock yourself out. Crazy Coffee Lady: Think the newspapers are in there? Me: I'll be honest... I have no idea. They weren't here when I got here, so they might have gone out this morning or last night. Crazy Coffee Lady: Can you maybe come out and unlock it for me? Me: Oh, there is no lock, just open the door. Crazy Coffee Lady: I love putting the grounds in my garden, it really helps my flowers and keeps out the weeds, and the newspapers do the same think, keeping out the weeds, and I like the Sunday paper because I like the coupons, I cut them out and send them to my daughter who is in South Dakota, you know she's paying off her bills and so she really likes the coupons and... Me (cutting her off as nicely as possible): Yes ma'am, I understand. Crazy Coffee Lady: Do you think one of you could come out there and help me out? Me (quickly): No ma'am, we are far too busy to assist in that, I'm sorry Crazy Coffee Lady: Well, could you come unlock the dumpster area? Me: There's no lock, I promise. Just go around the other side, and open the doors. Crazy Coffee Lady: Are you sure there isn't a lock on it?
What I'm thinking... Lady, I take out the garbage at this store about 10 to 12 times per week at this store, I promise you there is no lock anywhere around that dumpster shed, because even though I'm a little dense at times and tend to forget things and sometimes I'm not very observant, I promise you I would have, at some point, noticed a lock and/or some form of locking mechanism disallowing the entrance into said dumpster shed.
What I said: I promise you there is no lock on it. Go ahead.
She turned around and headed out the door. The baristas behind the counter then proceeded to observe how crazy this entire conversation had been. We all glanced out the window to see if the woman went to the dumpster, and sure enough, we saw her car pull around to the other side.
Twenty minutes later, here comes Crazy Coffee Lady, who proudly told me, "I got TWO bags out of there, and found a bunch of coupons in the newspapers!"
Me: Um... that's... that's awesome!
Which means that not only did she climb into our dumpster to retrieve a 25 pound bag of coffee grounds that I had tossed, she also managed to find an equally as heavy bag that had been thrown away probably the night before, which means it was not only IN the dumpster, but UNDER a ton of bags... AND she managed to pull out a stack of newspapers which was also BURIED under a bunch of bags.
That is a need for grounds that I'll never hopefully have...
Walking into Subway, wanting to eat fresh, picking up a sandwich for myself and for my awesome manager...
Habeeb, in broken English: Can I help you, sir? Me: Yes, I need to get two sandwiches.
Habeeb, in broken English: Yes, what two sandwiches would you like sir? Me: I need to get two sandwiches, both are six inch. One is turkey on white, the other is chicken on parmesan oregano
Habeeb, in broken English: Okay, turkey. Foot long or six inch? Me: Six inch. They are both six inch subs
Habeeb, in broken English: Okay, turkey on six inch. What bread? Me: White
Habeeb, in broken English: Okay, cheecken? Foot long? Me: Six inch. Parmesan oregano bread
Habeeb, in broken English: Turkey on white, cheecken on oregano. Both six inch? Me: Yes, both six inch.
Habeeb gets bread and cuts. He places chicken on one bread, turkey on the other.
Habeeb, in broken English: Cheese? Me: Yes, please. Cheddar on both, please, and both toasted. Habeeb, in broken English: Okay, cheddar cheese.
Habeeb places cheddar cheese on the turkey.
Habeeb, in broken English: Cheese on other? What kind? Me: Cheddar. On that one too.
Habeeb, in broken English: You want toasted? Me: Yes, please. Both of them.
Habeeb, in broken English: Cheecken toastes. You want turkey toasted? Me: Yes, please. Both of them.
Habeeb places both sandwiches in oven for 15 seconds. Both sandwiches come out, looking fresh.
Habeeb, in broken English: Okay, what on turkey? Me, speaking each ingredient slowly so as to allow him time to build the sandwich: Mustard... Lettuce... Tomato... Banana Peppers... Oil & Vinegar
Habeeb, places all these things on the turkey sandwich. I cringe as the same gloves used to pick up banana peppers with the juice dripping off are now placed on my own chicken sandwich.
Habeeb, in broken English: Okay, what on cheecken? Me: Mustard...
I watch as Habeeb uses an almost empty bottle of mustard to squeeze a blob of mustard onto one end of the sandwich, accompanied by that farting noise an empty bottle is wont to make.
Me: Mayo
I watch as Habeeb uses an overly full mayo bottle to squeeze out a line of mayo, from one end of the sandwich to the other, a line that looks about two inches wide.
Me: A little bit of ranch
I watch as Habeeb squeezes the ranch bottle a little too tightly, giving an enormous amount of ranch on one side, then realizing his mistake, he uses just a trickle to cover the other five inches
Me: Black olives
I watch as Habeeb grabs a few pieces of black olives and drops them right in the middle of the sandwich.
Me: Would you mind adding just a few more? Thank you.
I watch as Habeeb now grabs a handful and covers 94% of the sandwich in a inch and a half thick layer of black olives.
Me: And just a few pickles
I watch as Habeeb then grabs all the pickles his hand will hold, and drops them onto my sandwich. He's been burned already by having to go back to the black olive well, he's bound and determined to make this single pickle allotment the only pickle allotment needed.
Me: And that's all.
I watch as Habeeb folds my sandwich, using gloves that are drenched with banana peppers and black olive juice and pickle droppings.
Me: Okay, just make one sandwich into a combo, if you don't mind. Thanks.
Pause
Habeeb, in broken English, now standing at the register: Okay, what sandwiches you have again?
For those people who might be new, or fairly new, to read this here websity bloggy blogger site of mine, there are a couple of things you should know about me... well, there are a dozen things I could tell you about me, but most are uninteresting... however, for the purposes of this little jag, know this--I don't like spicy foods. I don't like fried chicken white meat, but I do love dark meat chicken. And bad customer service annoys me.
On Monday, The Lovely Steph Leann left town for a couple of days to do work in the A-T-L, leaving me to my own devices, not only for entertainment but also for food. And on Monday evening, I had a hankerin' for some fried chicken.
There are three main chicken establishments within a reasonable distance from The Cabana, that being Bojangles, KFC and Popeye's Chicken n'Biscuits. Bojangles is a little far to drive, and the two times Ive been there, I haven't been wildly impressed. There are two KFCs that I know of, one on Green Springs, which is on the edge of ghettoville, and the other near enough, but its attached to a BP station. Of my few rules of things that you do and don't do, one of them is "Never eat at a fast food franchise when attached to a gas station."
Sometimes, you can find some great food at a local gas station, because many times its cooked there, and kept hot and fresh. They have names like "Mama Nell's Diner" stuck on a Chevron, or "Billy Jack's Pizzaria" sharing a hallway with a Shell. But when its a McDonalds on a Marathon Station, or a Subway on a Amoco, or a KFC on a BP Station, the answer is no.
The other chicken choice is Popeye's Chicken and Biscuits, though in some places its called Popeye's Louisiana Grill, which I've noted before is a bit presumptuous. Anyway, its the closest, and normally its a good meal. I go in, order, sit and eat my chicken, listen to whatever on my iPod, refill my Co-Cola and then leave.
On this Monday, a few days ago, I went in. I noticed that they had a $3.49 special that included three, count 'em three, pieces of dark meat--a wing, a drumstick and a thigh--on a plate, along with one of them delicious biscuits. Drink was extra, but overall, I got the meal for about $5.50.
I ordered that very meal, mouth watering with anticipation of deep friend chicken, grease dripping off and eating through the tray, steam rising from the crispy skin, and that biscuit, oh that perfectly round, semi-flaky biscuit that is never hot, but just warm enough to enhance the butter flavor, the imitation butter flavor, and when Sabrisha turned her back to me to put those pieces on my plate, I was just so happy, knowing the chicken would be in my hands in seconds, in my mouth and gut in minutes and...
"...you okay with a breast piece? We outta thighs," she said, uninterested.
(cue record screeching sound, like the needle just slid off the vinyl LP)
"I'm sorry?" "I said we outta thighs."
Now, to her credit, Sabrisha offered me a piece of fried chicken that most would consider equal or higher value, but the problem is, I don't like white meat on fried chicken. I find the breast piece to be a little too dry for me, so I was sorely disappointed when the thighs were gone.
"Can I get another drumstick instead?" I asked with a sigh. Sabrisha didn't bat an over-sized eyelashed eye, she just tossed the piece on there and handed me the tray. It was good. Should have been a little more food, but I dealt.
So, Tuesday evening rolls around, and I'm thinking about going to the movies. The Lovely Steph Leann won't be back until tomorrow night, so again, I'm seeking some entertainment. Of course, I dilly dally around and by the time I get up to go to the theater, for a 5:10 show, its already 430. I'm kinda hungry, so I'm thinking I'll just pick up something on the way really quickly, then get some popcorn at the picture show.
What's on the way? You got it. Popeye's Chicken and Biscuits.
The Lovely Steph Leann has this thing where, if she has a certain type of food or a certain restaurant one day, she's good for a few days. She doesn't want to replicate for at least four or five days. Me? If I like it, I'll dig in several days in a row.
As I pull into the parking lot, my dear, beautiful, wonderful friend Melanie rings me on my celly, and I end up sitting in the parking lot talking for about fifteen minutes. The time is now 4:50, and I'm not making a 5:10 movie, not when I haven't even eaten, and not through traffic. Tis okay, I can save the money--at least I'll get the fried chicken, and hopefully they will have thighs!
Nicole is this blonde chick behind the counter, and let me tell ya, she loves her job. I mean, she loves being there, and you can tell she is so jazzed that she's having to work now. Sarcasm is free.
I again order the $3.49 combo, and can see across the counter into the chicken bin where there are piles and piles of chicken thighs.
"Mild or spicy?" she asks me. I tell her "mild" immediately. She punches it up, tells me my total, I pay Nicole, and step to the left. LaKwanzah puts my chicken in the basket, tosses it on a tray and hands it to me. As I step away, I notice the piece of breast meat sitting in the basket. I turn back and simply say, "LaKwanzah... I'm guessing you are out of... wings?" "Yeah." "Would you mind, can I get another thigh piece instead of a breast piece?"
Rule of thumb... when a restaurant, fast food or otherwise, has its food leave the counter and goes into the customers hands, if said food is forced to return back across that counter, then said food is disposed of. This is actually going through my head as I watch LaKwanzah grab the tongs, pick up the breast piece and toss it back in the chicken pile. She then tosses a thigh into the basket.
Smiling to myself at the ridiculousness of LaKwanzah's chicken toss and Nicole's apathetic ethic, I get my sweet tea and sit in the corner. I chomp down a huge bite of my thigh piece she just gave me, and immediately, my mouth burns. I just open my jaw and a half chewed chunk of dark meat falls out on the tray. A few gulps of the sweet tea, and I take my tray back to the counter.
Nicole sees me, and her face says, "What now?" "Excuse me," I smile, "I hate to be high maintenance, but the piece that you gave me--its all kinds of spicy. Can I get a mild piece?"
LaKwanzah looks at me, confused. "You wanted a mild piece?" "Yes ma'am." "What did you order?"
Uh, common sense would tell you that if I bring back a piece to you that was spicy, and am requesting a mild, then I probably ordered mild. Just sayin'.
"I ordered mild." "Well, cause all them pieces is spicy." "Well," I say, having a harder time holding in my impatience now, "I ordered mild. I can't do spicy." I look over at Nicole, who just shrugs.
I got my chicken right, finally, and though it was good, and hot out of the oven, just something about the whole experience just hindered the taste of the meal.
What happened to pleasant service? The customer is always right? Working in a retail food establishment, I can tell you, the customer is NOT always right, and in fact, many times the customer is a putz. But, that doesn't mean that you, as the representative of the business you work in, the face of the company you are employed by, can just... well, not care.
And yes, I just spent an hour typing (and you spent fifteen minutes reading) about my chicken dinner. Why use 500 words when 2,000 will do?
And though I can't be sure, out of the three pieces I brought back to the counter, covered in spicy spice, one half-chewed, I think two of them went back into the chicken bin for later sale.
Toni Rocki Honda is showing her age. I guess its expected, as she's fifteen years old now--I've only had over a little over 2 years, and she's only got 123K on her, but at fifteen, part after part is needing to be replaced, little by little, she's costing us a fortune.
My air conditioner went out on me in late August, as I was driving home to Samson for the day. It was working fine until I got to somewhere past Clanton. I stopped at a Hardee's, and after getting my food and getting back in, I heard a small pop of some sort when I started the car. And suddenly, Toni Rocki Honda was just blowing... air. Not cold air. Not cool air. Just air.
Its going to cost close to a grand to get everything fixed in the air, the compressor, the hoses and belts, whatever else. So The Lovely Steph Leann and I have gone back and forth--do we get it fixed, and then hope nothing else breaks, or do we make a plunge and go ahead and get something else... I've never had a new car. Matter of fact, every car I've owned has been nothing but a mechanic's dream--lots of maintenance. I feel like I've had not just a lemon, but a grove. A new car? Wow, that would be amazing.
Anyway, the Mizzus was in Pensacola Thursday night, for work, her time of the month. For the trip, I mean. So I headed on my own to do some reconnaissance work at two places we had discussed... the local Kia dealership and the local Hyundai. I know, I know, there are some people out there now that who hear the word "KIA" and "HYUNDAI" and shiver, and automatically think I'm in the welfare line... they give me the guv'mint Land O'Lakes, the guv'mint Kraft slices and the guv'mint Honda... and ten years ago, absolutely.
I remember some retreat I was involved in around 99 or 2000, and the speaker told a joke that a KIA Sportage is a combo of "Sports" and "Garbage".... but I did some looking on the interweb and it seems that both cars are much more reliable now. Plus, I know people who have newer models of both, and they love them.
So I stopped at Riverchase KIA over on Highway 31, and walked around. After a few minutes, a pleasant guy named Ken came out, shook my hand, and we chatted for a while. He wasn't pushy, he wasn't invasive, he built up KIA while not trashing other brands, telling me that Hondas and Hyundais are good cars, but (of course) he thinks the KIAs are better deals. And one I really liked was the KIA Soul... its a far less gay version of the Mini-Cooper. It might be a little out of my price range, but still...
The 2011 Elantra Touring
I left Ken and KIA and drove over to Tameron Hyundai. Tameron is the dealership that sold The Lovely Steph Leann the Honda she drives, and though I've never had a problem with Tameron, and they have always been nice enough, I don't know that Tameron Honda is where I want to go--likewise, Tameron Hyundai isn't where I'll probably buy a car, but I did want to look at some models, like the Elantra, the Accent and the Santa Fe SUV. I was all about the Hyundai Elantra Touring, a station wagon, but much, much cooler looking. Again, probably out of my price range, but we shall see...
The point of this little anecdote, though, was that at KIA, the guy came out after about ten minutes, which was fine with me. At Tameron Hyundai, I was there over 30 minutes, and not one single person came out to talk to me. Its not that I wanted a bunch of pushy salesman around, but seriously, nobody? Really?
So Friday rolls around, and The Lovely Steph Leann and I make plans to head out to just east of Birmingham, to the Roebuck/Center Point area--not the safest place to travel once night falls, but it was early in the evening, just after five pm.
Serra is a name attached to four or five dealerships along a stretch of Centerpoint Parkway, right next to each other--Serra Chevrolet, Serra Hyundai, Serra Kia, Serra everything else--and our plan was to go by Serra Hyundai. We have both been hearing on the radio "NEW HYUNDAIS FOR $8,000! WE HAVE TO MAKE ROOM FOR THE 2011s! GET A NEW HYUNDAI ACCENT FOR $7000! A NEW ELANTRA FOR $8000!" so we wanted to check it out... now, we are both realists, and we know that it cannot be quite simply "New Car for $8000", but it never hurts to investigate.
Worst case scenario, we come home with no new car, just the paid for cars we already own. Best cast scenario, we plop down $8 grand and I drive home with a brand new Hyunda Elantra. Its possible, even probable, that they were base models, so I told The Lovely Steph Leann we'd have to spend a little more on a radio... what is important to me is an iPod auxiliary jack. I want to be able to plug in my iPod or my iPhone and listen to it, be it a Harry Potter audiobook or Sara Bareilles' new CD, through the car speakers. Yes, I could toss in the CD into the CD player, provided it has one, but that's not the point.
Let's keep in mind, I haven't eaten yet. When I say that, I tell you that I've been at Starbucks at work from about 415am to about 130ish, and on my lunch break, I had to do two things--get tickets for Harry Potter (going the following night), get Melanie something (I told her I would grab her lunch) and get myself something. I had 30 minutes. I zipped down to Chick-fila to grab lunch, but realized I didn't have time to eat. When I eat Chick-fila, I have to doctor up my own sandwich, which takes about five minutes, which I had no time to spare, so I grabbed Melanie's food and then zipped down to the Rave to get tickets, which I did. And after I got off work, I had some errands to run and some other stuff to get done (Translation: I don't remember exactly what I did--it was two days ago) and when The Lovely Steph Leann got home, we jumped in the vehicle, her vehicle, and headed to Center Point. She had a late lunch, so she's not hungry. I'm getting kinda hungry.
Up 280, down I-450, onto I-59, then off to Roebuck Parkway, which turns into Center Point Parkway. The median length forces us to drive past Serra Hyundai, Serra Chevy and Serra KIA, but as I turn around the median, I told The Lovely Steph Leann I wanted to pull into KIA. She asked why, and I told her I wanted to look around. I mentioned that we could walk down to the Hyundai dealership, which is still our original destination. We stop, park, and start looking around. The Forte, the Optima, the Sorrento, the Rio and... The KIA Soul. A cherry red KIA Soul sitting on the end of the row. There was a white one there too, but it was white. And not red.
Its the commercials with the hamsters. Honestly, I remember the hamsters, but didn't connect it was a KIA commercial--or a car commercial, for that matter--until the sales guy mentioned in. Just sayin'.
A salesman comes out, introduces himself as Gene, and begins to tell us whats on sale. We do some looking around, ask some questions, answer some questions, and then the big question gets asked... whats our price range? Ah, that is the query, isn't it.
We look at a KIA Rio, which is a small, tiny four door car that I kinda like, and will do if need be. We take it for a test drive, it drives nice, but there are a few things I'm not excited about. The arm rest for instance--there is no middle console armrest, one that has a lid that you can put stuff in. There is an iPod auxiliary jack, but that's all the radio has to offer. The car is tiny. Of course, when we make it down to Serra Hyundai, the Accent and possibly the Elantra will be not much bigger, so I guess if I don't like the KIA Rio... well...
I will say the Rio drives fine. Its a good little car, it picked up quickly, it was comfy and I'm okay with small cars, because good gas mileage is important to me. With Toni Rocki Honda, I fill up once about every three weeks, though it helps that I live 3 miles from the store and also that we usually take The Lovely Steph Leann's Honda because its a more comfy ride.
We pulled back in and Gene asked us to run some numbers. He did the whole "Now, you don't have to commit to anything, I just want to see what I can do for you." The Serra salesman sell cars across all three dealerships, so he filled us in on the Hyundai $8000 deal... you have to buy two. And that was in the fine print, of course. Yeah, he could have been feeding us some Bantha Poodoo, but makes sense.
Finally, I ask to test drive the KIA Soul. He goes and gets the keys, and we pull out of the lot, a car with 31 miles on it. Its... its just cool. Its just fun. Its bright red, a color that I usually associate with 21 year old guys in Mustangs or convertibles to pick up chicks, and higher insurance rates, so I ask about other colors, and am assured that if I want this car, they'll get me whatever color I want. Of course they will, its a car dealership.
I've already done some research on the KIA Soul, and have liked what I'd seen... its quite safe, it holds appreciation well, its sporty, its not too expensive, its roomier than most cars of its kind and so on. And in driving it... its fun. I like this car. And this is not good, because this thing is brand new! This thing is costly! There's no way we're going to be driving away with a KIA Soul. The Lovely Steph Leann won't allow such a mockery of Dave Ramsey Justice! Right? Right?
I noticed something as we walked around a little afterwards... the KIA Rio is about $1200 more than the KIA Soul. So... if we wanted to get the Rio, which The Lovely Steph Leann liked, then... wouldn't the Soul make more sense? Its bigger... and cheaper?
Smashcut to a half hour later... we are sitting in Gene's little cubicle and he's in front of us, hands clasped, elbows on table, telling us that he wants us to drive off the lot in a new car. Of course he does. This is a car dealership.
The Lovely Steph Leann and I listen to his pitch, and both simply tell him, "No". It was too much. Too much down, too much in car payments, car payments that we were trying to avoid all together. He had written down the details on a piece of paper, and they only would pay $500 for Toni Rocki Honda, which was a travesty in my own mind. Sure, she needs a $1000 repair in air conditioning, but I am pretty sure I could get a grand for her on Craigslist or even the paper, but $500?
And I watch the car salesmen tricks unfold... "Okay, what if I do this? What if [crossing out the number 500 and writing in pen] we give you a $1000 [writing the number 1-0-0-0] for your Honda?" We say "No". "Okay, well what if I say you don't have to put this much down [crosses out the amount down] and you only put this much down [writes down another number] and we say "No".
He says, "Okay, let me go run some more numbers", and runs off to do a credit check, leaving The Lovely Steph Leann and I alone. We start chatting quietly about what we are going to do, and suddenly, getting a new car, the bright red KIA Soul, is a distinct possibility. A real possibility.
The Lovely Steph Leann is the budgeter in our family, the "Nerd", is Ramsey speak. I am the "Free Spirit", the one who spends a little more than he should, so I'm leaning on her, my wife, heavily to help me through this (isn't that the way it should be, really?). She says one single "No way, we can't do this", then I'm not going to fight her for it. I tell her straight up that there is a certain threshold of savings I want to keep in there, and no matter what, we don't go below that. She tells me what the reality is of our budget.
Gene comes back with another set of details and agreements. I smile and simply say, "Okay, man, listen... this is a great deal. We have talked about it, and we agree this is a great deal, but we just don't think we can do it. We weren't looking for car payments, we don't want to kill our savings and really, if we have to say yes or no at this very moment, we'd have to say 'no'." Gene tells us, "I understand. But let me just tell ya, we haven't sold a car today. I'm going to do what it takes to get you into this car." He gets up and runs out.
Gene comes back in, with the same piece of paper, folded over, with words written in Sharpie at the top, saying "XMAS COMES EARLY HO HO HO", with some details on the bottom. And the details are great. I ask Gene to give us a minute to discuss, and he agrees and leaves. The Lovely Steph Leann and I then go to work.
The questions begin... "Can we do it?"... "Do we want to take on a car payment, even for just a little while?"... "We can do it, but do we want to do it?"... "How will this affect how we live?"... "What do we do about Disney World in February, and for that matter, in two weeks?" We talk for about fifteen minutes or so, and The Lovely Steph Leann leans her head back, puts her hands in her hair and just say, "Aarrgghh... this is like buying the house all over again!"
I smile and say, "We either do it or we don't. I like the car, quite a bit. But I'm not bothered if we walk out of here without it. We deal with my Honda for a while, and then we can decide how much money to put into it. Or, we take the plunge, deal with it for a while, and have a reliable car for a long, long time. What do you think?"
Again, she says, "Aaargghh!" and then laughs uncomfortably. Gene comes back in and asks what we think, holding out the paper with a line on the bottom. Without saying much, The Lovely Steph Leann just leans over and signs the paper.
We just bought a car. Its an awesome car. Its a 2011 KIA Soul, complete with a bright red exterior, four doors, a hatchback, Sirius Radio, an iPod auxiliary jack, 31 miles when I drove it off the lot and, unfortunately, for the first time in over three years since we have been debt free, a car payment. Just don't tell Dave Ramsey.
The following events happend last weekend, as they are written, with very few embellishments. Some stuff you can't make up.
FRIDAY NIGHT
So, The Lovely Steph Leann and I are having dinner downtown, right? We were sitting with MZ and her family having some food at Chris Z's... its this restaurant down by St. Vincent's, and was recently voted to have the best burgers in the city by Birmingham Metro Magazine. And the Chris in Chris Z is the hubby of the Melanie in the MZ. And the burgers are outstanding.
First Friday of every month is Middle Eastern night, where you can get fish and kibbie and hummus and all kinds of other stuff that I usually don't eat much of.
Anyway, we are sitting at the table, about to enjoy our food, when The Lovely Steph Leann's phone rings. She answers, has a confused look on her face, then hangs up. Apparently, whoever they wanted wasn't The Lovely Steph Leann, and she couldn't hear them. Rings again, she tries to listen, and I hear her say, "I think you have the wrong number," and she hangs up.
The phone rang again, so she gets up and takes it outside. A minute or two later, she comes back to the table with a weird look on her face. I ask her who it was, and she just shakes her head like she doesn't know. She tells me it was a little weird. The phone rings again, and she picks it up and shows it to me. The screen says, "PRIVATE NUMBER."
The Lovely Steph Leann hands me the phone and asks me to please talk to whoever it is. I take it and flip it open and say, "Hello?" There is a gruff voice on the other end, probably ethnic (for all you libs, that's my politically incorrect way of saying though I cannot be sure, I'm strongly believing the guy was black based on his speech patterns, tones and voice influction) who says, "Yeah, I wanna speak to Stephanie."
I reply, "Well, she's not available right now. Can I ask who this is?" Suddenly, the voice on the other end begins to yell at me, using foul language and such, calling me a few names, and tell me I'm not her G-D answering machine. I ask again who this might be, and again, I get called a few choice names and such. I hang up.
MZ is looking at me funny, The Lovely Steph Leann is shrugging to me "I dunno..." and I just put the phone down. The phone rings again, so I grab it and walk outside. I answer with a "Hello?" and again, HomeSlice on the other end asks me for Stephanie, not calling her Lovely nor using "Leann". Or "The" for that matter. I ask "Stephanie who?", hoping against hope that perhaps he's looking for a Stephanie Jackson or a Stephanie Wayans or a Stephanie Winan... but no, he asks for her by full name. I'm a little concerned by this turn of events in the conversation.
I hang up and immediately call AT&T, our service provider. I get someone on the phone soon, and ask about how to block a call, or how to unmask a private number. I am told that if the number itself is private, they cannot block it. And they are not able to unmask it, and I'd have to go to a third party to do so. I ask if they can recommend a third party that would be reputable, and she suggests "TrapCall".
In the meantime, HomeSlice has called The Lovely Steph Leann's phone two more times. I go back inside and sit down, asking The Lovely Steph Leann to send it to voicemail if HomeSlice called again. He does and she sends it on to voicemail. And that's it for the night.
SATURDAY
The next day, I've got my first Saturday at home since like, late April or early May, and The Lovely Steph Leann and I head to a double feature... being avid movie goers, we were interested in "The Social Network" and "Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps", so we got tickets for both, and had a good ol' time being together for the day. It was the first full Saturday I had off, and was able to spend at home (and by "Home", I mean just around here, not out of town somewhere) and frankly, I really enjoyed it.
We arrived home late afternoon, and I plopped in my customary recliner, turned on the 47" Big Screen Television, and then turned on what I knew would be the debacle of a football game, aka, Florida at Alabama. The Lovely Steph Leann was unloading her purse, and she glanced at her phone. She looked up at me, held up her phone, frowned and said, "Another one."
"What?" I asked, incredulously. "HomeSlice called you again?" "Yep." "Did he just call?" "Well..." she said slowly, "...they... they actually called twice in the movies and again a few minutes ago." "Were you not going to tell me this?" "I..." she stammered, "I... was going to tell you..." "Alright, we are getting online, and we are going to block this call, and we are going to find out who this cat is."
I logged onto the website recommended by the spokeschick from AT&T, and looked around. TrapCall is a site that will allow you, for $4.95, to hook up with a system to "unmask"--that is, find out who private numbers are--and then you can turn around and block that number from calling you. According to the website, they call once, you send them to voice mail. They call twice, their number shows up on your phone as "unmasked".
Log on, block their number and if and when they call back, they get a message that your number has been disconnected. I entered the information, did what I needed to do, sat back and though I didn't want HomeSlice to call again, I kinda wanted HomeSlice to call again, so I could learn the identity of a one Mr. Slice.
Not that I would know what to do if I did learn any numbers or names, but at least I'd know if my $4.95 investment paid off.
SUNDAY
Sleepy Sleepy Sleepysleepysleepysleepy (noise) sleepysleepysleepy (what's that noise?) sleepy sleep sleep drowsy drowsy (why is that noise noisy?) drowsy drowsy waking waking waking wake awake
"Wha..." I mumbled, eyes half open, arm hanging off the side of the bed. "hmphpaahhaaaa..." came the voice of The Sleepy Steph Leann a foot or so away from me.
The clock said 5:29am, and since my clock is ten minutes fast (yes, I'm one of those people), its five twenty o'clock in the blessed blue morning. I sense movement, sluggish and slow, but movement nonethless. The Groggy Steph Leann reaches for her phone, which is going off.
I am only slightly aware of it when the phone rings again, but become more alert as The Drowsy Steph Leann says, "Its our friend..." I lay there wondering who in the world would call at 5am. Is this a running joke? Is it some get-high weekend where you have to prank call pasty white chicks a dozen times with tales of lurid fantasies and delusions of grandeur? Would this guy even know what "granduer" meant? Probably not.
Either way, I was slightly worried. A little while went by before I could fall asleep again, and it felt all too soon when the alarm went off at 730. The Lovely Steph Leann was already up and moving around--I had KidStuff at 830, and she was coming along. She went to the bathroom to get into the shower, and I reached over for the iPhone.
I pulled up TrapCall on the mobile interweb and saw one name and number...
ANDREA WEATHERS (205) 567-0471
I pulled up the Blocked Number tag and set it up.
SUNDAY NIGHT
One of our baristas and his boo are having a baby.
So, Sunday night The Lovely Steph Leann and I are sitting in the home of MZ and her family, having some good laughs, eating some good food and just having those party, baby shower type conversations that you have at parties and baby showers.
The Lovely Steph Leann's phone rings. She reaches down amongst all the loud chatter, looks at it, frowns and hands it to me. "PRIVATE NUMBER." I just snatch it out of her hand, walk out of the room and answer it.
"Hello?" "Yeah, I need to talk to Stephanay..." "She is unavailable. Can I ask who is calling?" "Naw, I need me some Stephanay..."
When I ask again who it is, he says his name is "Dang-a-lang". He asks who I am. I let him know that he's talking to "Stephanay's" husband, to which he says, "Aw, you the one she be callin' when she done with me..."
Then he proceeds to fill in the next minute or so with a Cinemax'esque type description of how he and my own wife spend their time together. I say Cinemax, but at least Cinemax has the decency to pipe in Herman Beeftink music while the goings-on are going on.
Rather than the belligerent tone that HomeSlice had carried in earlier conversations, he was actually rather pleasant... well, his voice was, discounting the vulgarity of every word. Out of nowhere, there was a female voice in the background.
"Hey, HomeSlice... is that Andrea in the background? Andrea Weathers?" I asked politely. "Uh..." for the first time, he stammered a bit, seemingly a bit off guard. "Is that... Andrea? Uh... naw, that ain't no Andrea..." "And is this (205) 567-0741 you are calling from?" "Um, naw, this is... this is a pre-payin' phone..." HomeSlice said. "Tell you what, HomeSlice, since you obviously think that Stephanie and yourself have some sort of relationship, then she probably has your phone number. Which means, if she likes you, and wants to, she'll call you, okay?" "Uh..." "Give Andrea my best. Have a great evening, HomeSlice."
I hung up, a little worried and nervous. I mean, seriously, this guy knows The Lovely Steph Leann's full name, and hopefully that's all--but what else might he know? I hopped on the iPhone and texted my buddy Moderate Brad, the Official Clouds in My Coffee Ombudsman. We chatted for a few minutes about legalities, what is considered harassement, and what can be done.
And if it happens again, we'll deal with it.
Five days later, it hasn't happened. And I figured I would write about it, as the more time passes, it becomes more humorous than anything.
So, HomeSlice, if you are out there, please don't call again. And Andrea Weathers, phone number 205-567-0474, please tell your brother/father/son/cousin/baby daddy/etc to not call. Thanks.
Continuing with another story from our July 2010 Disney World trip, attended by me, The Lovely Steph Leann and the In-Laws, Mama Ruthless and Big Daddy Ron. So far, we've done...
--PENSACOLA BOOBAGE... Spending the night in Pensacola, including getting flashed on the road side. --DISNEY IN HOT JULY... Day One of the trip, including the French Quarter, dinner at Epcot, the Electrical Light Parade, the Haunted Mansion Wailer and the Saturday morning's Soarin' snafu... --ATTACK OF THE LEFT EYE... How my contacts and my eyes conspired to ruin my trip through Ellen's Energy Adventure
On Sunday morning, we were up early because Hollywood Studios opened early, at 8am. We were up and at 'em at 7, ready to get on the bus soon enough, get over there, get in line and get into the park as soon as possible... what awaited us this morning was the event that any Disney trip worth its salt must make, that being the Toy Story Dash.
THE TOY STORY DASH
Upon entering Pixar Place, you'll see Toy Story Mania, if not for the signage, than for the 53,008 people trying to ride it.
Toy Story Midway Mania is by far and away the most popular ride/attraction in Disney's Hollywood Studios, and probably one of the most popular in the entire World of Disney. That means that within the first 30 minutes or so, the wait time for the ride shoots through the roof. In the down times, it gets anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour (and when I say "downtime", I mean a crowd slow enough to get on Rock'n Roller Coaster in like, 5 minutes) and on busy days, I've seen 80 minute to 120+ minute waits. I have the firm belief, at least for my own self, that NO ride is worth waiting 2 hours for, but if there was such a ride, Toy Story Mania might be it.
So, the answer is, Fastpass it. But there is a finite number of Fastpasses available per day... I found out later that what they do is insert a number of Fastpasses into a machine, and once those are gone, thats it. No more. Toy Story Mania Fastpass lines are sometimes longer than the initial queue for the ride itself, and if you don't get a Fastpass for it, you might not get to ride it, save waiting 2 hours of your already crammed Disney day in line. The ride opened early 2008, so the first time we were there after the ride was open was September 2008, when we went with DeNick and DeLisa... It was a short trip, and we got to The Studios later in the afternoon, with the wait around 90 minutes. In hindsight, I wished we had waited, but we elected to not ride it.
Thus, the Toy Story Dash. When you get into Hollywood Studios, like Epcot, they will only let you go so far before you run into a rope. At the park's opening, you have a crucial decision to make, one that will essentially set your schedule for you for the rest of the day... do you want to ride Toy Story Mania, yes or no? If no, then when that rope drops, you go right. Go ride Rock'n Roller Coaster, or Tower of Terror, and though there will be a small crowd to fight through, but nothing that will cost you more than 10, maybe 15 minutes of wait time for anything.
If yes, then you enter The Dash. When the rope drops, ticket(s) in hand, you begin to move quickly forward. Hundreds of other people are having the same goal as you, all to get a Toy Story Mania Fastpass, and like you, they are flooding that way. The goal is to not knock over strollers, even though moms try to run over you, to not bump into anyone, even though everyone is stampeding, not to flatten small children, even though parents are dragging kids along and those same kids are just all kinds of walking in front of you.
At some point, Cast Members must have figured out that just letting a mass of people storm the Toy Story Mania castle might be dangerous, so they have various Cast Members leading the pack with a small rope--go around that rope, and they pull you aside and you have to wait for everyone to pass. Kinda like how some shampoo bottles say "Hey, don't eat this!" on the bottle, because some dorkface ate it, I'm guessing they Cast Members are there now for crowd control because it was deemed necessary.
THE TOY STORY DISASTER Now that you know about The Toy Story Mania Dash, this is all leading to the Sunday morning of our Disney vacation. As I said before, we were there way, way early, and this allowed us to be first in line at the turnstiles. So, when they started allowing us to get in, I was first in. I walked at a brisk pace to down the street between the shops and Keystone Clothiers, to the rope. The rope. It was in my hand. I put my hand on the rope, looked ahead toward the Sorcerer's Hat, and knew... I just knew... I was going to be one of the first people to get a Fastpass. I would make sure I got tickets from Big Daddy Ron, The Lovely Steph Leann and Mama Ruthless, I would get our passes...
...and then we'd jump in the regular line, wait maybe 15, 20 minutes, then we'd ride Toy Story Mania! Oh, the fun time we would have! Then, we'd exit the building, and while the wait time had increased to 45 minutes, we'd head over to Rock'n Roller Coaster... we'd wait 20 minutes or so, and ride it. Then we'd do Tower of Terror. Perhaps by that time, we'd be able to get another Fastpass, but more than likely, we'd wait the probably-no-more-than-30-minutes-by-now wait time, and ride it. And by 11am, pehaps 11:30, we'd have done the three biggest, most popular rides in the park, with passes to ride Toy Story Mania again at our convenience. And we'd ride it again, or maybe we wouldn't... who knows! We have the power! All because I had the rope in my hands.
Rope in hand, I veered around to see Mama Ruthless coming up behind me. I was a little worried for a few seconds, but I saw that she was waving her ticket... had to have that to get all of our Fastpasses. My phone buzzed. It was The Lovely Steph Leann. I figure it will say something like "wait for us, need our tix" or "where r u?" or "see you, don't move, coming". But no. It didn't say something like that.
"Dad's ticket doesn't work"
Wait... what?
I reread it.
"Dad's ticket doesn't work"
Those four words means that the entire morning just came crashing down. All hope of riding Toy Story Mania in the next 20 minutes, gone. Riding Rock'n Roller Coaster in the next hour, gone. Riding Tower of Terror in the next 2 hours, gone. Getting those three big rides done by 11:30, all gone. Walking around, laughing at those people in the 120 minute Toy Story line, taking our pick of whatever ride we want because everyone else is on the the big rides, walking easily from ride to ride to ride, with Fastpasses burning a hole in our pocket, Gone Gone Gone!!!!!
LETTING GO As I turned around, my hand still clutched the rope. It didn't want to let go. It held on tightly, and after a few seconds, it gave one more squeeze... and released. As I moved away from the rope, like water filling in the space that a rock occupied, suddenly my little space by the rope was immediately taken by someone else who's entire party had working tickets.
I was ahead of all of these people. And now, like a confused lemming, am going back the way I came. Sigh. Not good times.
I made my way through the ever-thickening crowd to the turnstile, where Mama Ruthless and The Lovely Steph Leann stood on one side, my side, and Big Daddy Ron stood on the other, bar in front of him, with a ticket that just plainly did not work. And it dawned on me... the ticket didn't work for one of two reasons, the first being that the ticket was good, but they weren't taking it. I had hoped this would be it, because if it was, and we went back and got another ticket, even though we had a working ticket, we were totally going to Guest Relations and getting one of those All Day Fastpass Fastpasses. The second reason that it might not work, and the reason that was probably 97% more likely to be true, was that I had given Big Daddy Ron the wrong ticket. Remember, I had a stack of tickets that I had gotten checked, and though I thought I had kept them separate, this incident proved that they weren't.
The crowd, roaring and loud getting in, swirled around us, the Cast Member, though smiling, obviously impatient for us to get out of her line, Big Daddy Ron looking at me with a "what do you want me to do?" face. I leaned over and said, "We've got to get you another ticket..." and it then dawned on me that while the first two days of this trip I had carried my Kermit messenger bag (and every trip before this one had me taking a Mickey backpack), but today, especially since I was in glasses and couldn't wear contacts (thanks, Left Eye. Jerk.) I had no need for any sort of bag, save for the small pin pouch I was carrying.
The extra tickets that I had in the room were on the table... wait, no they weren't... they were... in the chair, I think... wait... they were in the Kermit bag on the bed, in the side pocket... wait, the front pocket... wait... I dunno... when Big Daddy Ron said, "Give me your room key, tell me where they are, I'll go back and get the ticket..." I stammered. I stuttered. I had nothing. I couldn't tell him, and the rushing swirl of people around people around us I sighed, my hand clinched empty with no rope to hold, no hope to have. I was going back to the room.
With one final glance at the Sorcerer's hat, maybe a hundred yards away, it might as well have been sixty miles away, and now with the crowd gathering into the hundreds between where I stood and the blasted, glorious rope, I turned to the exit, moved out of the turnstile and Big Daddy Ron and I walked out.
We noticed that the bag check line, the line we came through an hour or so ago with nary a soul there, had grown to about twenty, maybe thirty people deep. There was a flock of Internationalis Groupus swooping in as well.
BUS STOPPED We walked down the long walk to the bus stop and stood. Neither of us said a word, both of us frustrated at the entire situation. I knew looking back, and it proved to be true, that it would be rather humorous a tale to tell, but at that moment, it was terrible. We stood at the bus stop for French Quarter for what seemed like ages... I looked at my phone, and realized the park was now open. Bus after bus after bus after bus pulled up at the drop off points, some of them saying "Riverside", some of them saying "All Star Sports", some of them saying "French Quarter", all of them pulling away without a glance to the two poor saps standing in the heat, awaiting a ride back to the room to get a ticket that worked.
Finally, a Cast Member crossed the street over to us and asked, "What are you guys waiting on? A bus?" I told her yes, we needed a quick ride back to the French Quarter. She pointed to a blue bus in the distance and said, "See that bus over there? I'm going to call them over here, they'll give you a ride back. Otherwise you'll be here awhile, because the buses really aren't going to be doing any picking up for another hour or more." We thanked her, and within five minutes, the non-Disney-owned but Disney-licensed bus stopped and we got on.
The mood was a bit lighter on our way back, with both of us accepting the fact that it was what it was, nothing we could do about it now and so on. I asked him to go to the concierge's desk and make sure that in fact, his ticket was already used, and I would dash to the room and get a good one. He did, and I did, meeting up with him at the bus stop to Hollywood Studios. And yes, the ticket was bad.
A bus came, we were laughing about the whole thing by now, and twenty minutes later, we were back at Hollywood Studios, again, walking towards the entrance, again. The bag check had now grown at least fifty persons deep in each of the three or four lines, with the majority of the people wearing matching yellow shirts and other "I'm in a group of 75 chanting, obnoxious fer-ah-ners" garb. Big Daddy Ron, who had somehow procured a bag of bananas and water (maybe he went back to the room too?) looked at the line, pulled out a bottle of water, threw the bag of bananas in the trash and deadpans, "I'll buy her some fruit in the park. Let's go."
HOLLYWOOD... AGAIN We got in, the park was now packed, and met up with The Lovely Steph Leann and Mama Ruthless over at Pixar Place... using the Fastpasses that The Lovely Steph Leann had already gotten, the boys rode the ride (his first time, my 10th at least), we came out the other side, and our day at Hollywood was finally set on the right track.
Through the rest of the day, we hit the big stuff, like Rock'n Roller Coaster via Fastpass, a 30 minute wait for Tower of Terror, The Great Movie Ride (which actually had a line that started outside the door, which I'd never experienced), we had lunch at Pizza Planet, and about midday, we were done with Hollywood Studios.
Of course, I do need to mention the fact we met Lotso Huggin' Bear...
For those of you wondering, we smelled strawberries as we came around the corner, but Lotso didn't give off any kind of fruity smell. But, he's a hugger, as we all found out when he embraced each one of us.
And everytime we go to Hollywood Studios Art of Animation building, we do have to get pictures with The Incredibles.
As we were in line for Lotso, we could see up the stairs where The Incredibles were. At first, it was Frozone and Mr. Incredible--I've had a picture or two with each, but never together. By the time we were out of the Lotso line, Frozone had gone, and Mrs. Incredible came out. Which was quite alright.
Because this story took forever, as my stories are wont to do, I'll stop here, and do one more with a few fireworks pics, the quick wrap up on the rest of the trip, and maybe a few things I missed... because I absolutely forgot to mention Captain EO... and it must be mentioned.
This entire blog really leads to one punchline using the word "poo" that really only I will think is funny, cause really, many things I think are funny aren't really funny to anyone else... along the way, I figured I'd toss in my growing dislike for large crowds, those great "where we going to eat?" conversations and a trip to The Summit.
Why this? Well, I had to have something to talk about while sitting in the living room with The Lovely Steph Leann, who is actually (re)watching "A Cinderella Story" starring Hillary Duff. Wish I were kidding.
I used to love crowds. Seriously, I would totally dig parking, walking and enjoying huge concerts, or festivals or large gatherings. I don't mean fraternity parties, or church functions where you'd see 50 or 100 people or something, I mean those huge gatherings where 500, 1000, 5000 people are all gathered together.
Now? Not so much.
This marks the first time in recent memory there was no City Stages here in Birmingham. City Stages was this large music festival typically held in an early June weekend, featuring hip hop acts, country stars, pop and rock stars, folk and indie acts and even more. The last time I went, I was able to see Martina McBride, though I vaguely remember it, and I think I also saw Three Doors Down, though it could have been Nickelback--they really are the same band, I think.
I say "the last time I went", though I did go just a few years ago, but only because I was working for a TV station, was there during the early part of the morning and was out after lunch. Why? Cause I wanted to avoid the crowds.
Maybe its my old age, or maybe its not wanting to find places to park at large gatherings, or maybe its a huge aversion to two hundred cars all trying to leave at the same time from the same place... I dunno. I even heard Hootie & the Blowfish was supposed to perform at a local Spring music festival here, and I had a chance to go on the cheap... and I declined. Too many people, all in a field, everyone standing in a puddle of beer, sweat, urine and Hootie. Just not my cup of tea. I think I tossed in "Cracked Rear View" in Tony Rocki Honda's CD player and jammed out to "Hannah Jane" while enjoying the quiet solitude of The Cabana.
College football? That's an entirely other matter. I'm there.
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Speaking of avoiding crowds, The Lovely Steph Leann and I went to The Summit today.
We have a small spectrum of restaurants that we frequent, including Baha Burger, Chipotle's Mexican Grill, Dale's Southern Grill, Jason's Deli, Surin 280, Mellow Mushroom and Purple Onion. Oh, we visit other places too, but chances are if we've gone out to eat, we've visited one of the aforementioned eateries. We're actually afraid to eat at one of these places with Hurricane Rhett or Amarylis by Morning (up from san antone) because of the fabled Barnett Curse that ruins experiences.
Now, when deciding what to eat, here's a typical conversation... stop me if you've ever had this...
Me: What about Baha? Her: No... I had a cheeseburger yesterday, and I want something a little healthier this time. What about Jason's? Me: I really don't want Jason's tonight. Chipotle? Her: Well, we're meeting MZ and her reality show at Pablo's on Thursday night, so I don't want Mexican now. Me (starting to get a little desperate): Oooh... what about Surin 280? Her: Too expensive. Mellow Mushroom? Me: If we can't do Surin, we can't do Mushroom either. The Purp? Her (rubbing her tummy): Oh, I don't know if I can handle Purple Onion tonight. Me: Dale's Southern Grill? Her: I had that with my parents a few days ago. Don't want that again, I don't want to get burned out on it. Me: Yeah, but I had to work, and I haven't had Dale's in like, two weeks. Her: I know, I know, but I don't want Dale's Me (getting irritated): What about Arby's? Taco Bell? Zaxby's? Waffle House? Her (getting irritated back): Now see, you are just bringing up places that you know I don't want. Me: So, where do we go?
About this time, The Lovely Steph Leann does one of two things... she relents, and says something like "I don't know, I can't decide." She'll sigh deeply, and say, "Wherever you want to go, that's fine", which puts me in a bad position because no matter where we go, she won't really enjoy it as much as I'd like her too, though this might be a mental thing for me. I'll ask her later if she enjoyed dinner and she'll say, "Yeah, I was alright." Then I'll feel slightly bad for taking her to somewhere she didn't really want to go...
OR
She'll pop up with something like "Um... what about Bella's? Or Zoes? Or O'Carrs?" These are three restaurants that aren't in my wheelhouse, and that I don't really enjoy all that much (that being said, O'Carrs has the most incredible cheesecake EVER). So when she pops up with these, I know she wants to go to one of those. Much of the time, I shoot 'em down quickly... because whereas she might not want to go to Chipotle, she will still at least partly enjoy her meal. However, if I go to Bella's, Zoes or O'Carrs, unless I get the hot chocolate cheesecake with the warm whipped cream oozing down the side, I don't know that I'm finding anything I will enjoy.
But this weekend, I wanted to just make The Lovely Steph Leann happy. I went and got her a chicken salad fruit plate from O'Carrs yesterday for lunch, and today for lunch (I had to work, so we didn't get to go to lunch until 1) and relented quickly, and agreed to take her to Zoes Kitchen.
Zoes Kitchen is a little restaurant that specializes in veggie-filled, pita covered, rolly uppy kinda dishes. But, off we went... to...
The Summit.
Its huge, its expansive, its filled with lots and lots of cars and lots and lots of people and lots and lots of stores and mommies with strollers. Weekends at The Summit are things I tried to avoid. And Zoes was usually a place I tried to avoid...
Have to admit, though, I kinda enjoyed lunch. They have new steak roll-ups, which I ordered, and found myself thinking that lunch was tasty, and as long as this was on the menu, Zoes was a place that I might be able to withstand in the near future.
We weren't at The Summit just for lunch, though... The Lovely Steph Leann actually did have some things she wanted to purchase, namely at a store named Chico's, which meant I had to drive, which meant I had to deal with the traffic. Randomly, we were turning into the lower part of The Summit where Chico's was located, and on the sign that tells you the stores in that section, there was some small writing in-between Saks Fifth Avenue and Panera Bread that caught my eye. Sitting in the turn lane, I squinted and said, "What does that say?"
The Lovely Steph Leann said, "What?" I pointed at the sign and as I turned, I said, "Oooh... it says Peas in a Pod..." She looked confused, saying, "Yeah, Peas in a Pod."
I replied, "All I know is, a store called 'Peas in a Pod' is something I care nothing about. I thought it said, 'Pic in a Poo', and I was about to tell you we are going there, like, right now."
I then proceeded to laugh my fool head off, because seriously, any store that is named Pic in a Poo is a store worth a visit. Just sayin'.
WHAT'S NEXT FOR d$ Funny thing happened on Tuesday morning, though. The sun came up. And later that night, while I was driving the county highways between Samson and Enterprise on the way to Po Folks to meet up with some friends for dinner, the sun was setting. And Wednesday? The sun came up again. The world kept turning, as I knew it would.
The next immediate step for me was easy... taking a few days off. I had already informed The Lovely Steph Leann that after the store closed, I was taking a few days for myself. I went back to Samson to see Mama $ for a day, I did some stuff around the house like painting baseboards, I ran some errands, finished a book ("Under the Dome" by Stephen King--amazing) and started another that I had to stop because it creeped me out ("The Regulators" by Richard Bachman), renegotiated our DirecTV rate, watched "Con Air" about 4 times, along with "Wall*E", "Cast Away", "Clear & Present Danger" and several other movies as a result of those renegotiations, and slept. Alot. Why? Because I could.
The Happiest Place in the Mall, in full glory at Christmas of 2008
My next step is Starbucks. I've been with the company for awhile, and I'm very blessed to have a great relationship with MZ, the manager. She is a dear friend, and she is great to me when it comes to helping me with my schedule... I've committed through the summer, so we'll see what happens from there. Who knows.
As far as where we are, let me just say that The Lovely Steph Leann and I are very, very blessed. We are by no means rich, unless you ask those who would like to tax us, but we're doing fine. This is one of the reasons we are debt free--not to just to enjoy the freedom of not owing anyone anything, but also to be ready if one of us loses a job, or has a major pay cut... and that's what happened. Don't worry about us, though... we'll be just fine.
Alright, before the big question, let's answer some quick questions that were commonly asked... and I'll give you pretty much the questions as they were asked...
"Our store in Huntsville/Montgomery closed recently closed! Are all the Disney Stores closing?" First, your store in Huntsville closed almost 2 years ago. The Disney Stores, though owned by Walt Disney, were sold to The Children's Place retail in the early part of the decade--and it did, in fact, save TDS chain. But when The Children's Place put TDS up for sale, Walt Disney, in a much better position to do so in 2008 than in 2000, bought them back. And as part of that change over from TCP back to Disney, about 98 stores-including Huntsville--were closed. That closing has nothing to do with this closing. Right now, they are closing about 22 stores, maybe 25, I dunno, for various reasons, including under-performing... you'll find out about our store by reading below. As for that store in Montgomery, it closed like, 8 years ago. Stop calling yourself a Disney Store fan.
"Are y'all relocating? Where y'all going?" No, we are not relocating. Those who can do it are transferring to either other stores, or to the parks in Orlando.... well, one Cast Member is going to Orlando. The rest are just losing their jobs, including myself.
The Happiest Place in the Mall, one week after closing. Stuck the camera through the metal gate and snapped this photo. The Lovely Steph Leann and I went by the mall the other day, and the guy who runs the nearby Cheap Sunglasses Kiosk, The Reverend Pimp Daddy, saw us looking at the empty store. "It done closed. Shame, too," said The Reverend Pimp Daddy. I feel the same.
"What y'all doing with that stuff up top?" Goes back to the company. Ask me for further explanation when I am not writing it. Because as Ferb says, "The internet is forever."
"Why are y'all closing?" That is the question you want to know, isn't it?
WHY WE CLOSED Let me be up front here... anything I say is only my opinion. There is nothing I've read, there is nothing I've heard, there is nothing that I will share that should be construed as speaking for The Walt Disney Company, the Disney Store, or any other entity involved. Also, there is nothing that I say that should be taken as gospel... again, this is only what I can guess. And... I'm not going to share everything I know. Why? Because the bridges I've built with The Happiest Place in the Mall are precious, and should not be burned.
To be clear: I don't officially know what happened. And I probably will never know. I just give what I think happened based on my own experiences and observations.
I have three theories on what might have happened to our magical place of employment.
THEORY #1: THE MALL SUCKS This is kind of a case of the theory being proved true, cause really, General Growth Properties, who owns The Riverchase Galleria, does, in fact, suck. Our closing is not necessarily a reflection on the sucktitude of GGP, they will probably continue to bathe in sucktivity long after we are gone, but if Theory #1 is to be believed, then their suckocity added to our demise.
I'm guessing all malls work the same way to a point, but when a mall wants to get rid of someone, they raise the rent. Some businesses refuse to pay, they leave, then the mall can get in whoever they want. Right now, the hot part of the Galleria is the Sears end... head to the other end, and you got stores like Spencers and Lidz and a few others like such... its got a reputation for more of a "thug" type go towards Sears, on our end of the food court, the higher end, higher quality stores like Gap, Talbots, Vikki's Secret, The Children's Place and of course, us.
Essentially, we sent the mall a lease, they rejected it. They've done similar things to other stores... I talked to someone at a shoe store in the Galleria, and they said they had sent a lease to the mall based on fair market value, and it was rejected in lieu of wanting 50% more. Another store I know of was asked for 75% more. When the mall wants you gone, they get you gone, or you pay a high price to be there.
This theory basically states that mall wanted us gone. We were a thorn in their side. We had dozens, sometimes hundreds of boxes on our back dock on a daily basis, we kept driving our U-Haul truck to the sidewalk to load up, they cited us for cardboard in the trash dumpster (which is a whole other ridiculous story)... perhaps they were just ready for us to get out. And in their incompetence, it happened.
THEORY #2: MICKEY WANTED US GONE This one is a hard pill to swallow... I mean, for a job that we all loved so much, no one wanted to admit or believe that it was our own company who sold us out. We were one of the top stores in the company of, at the time, 210+ stores, so if they wanted us closed, it would have to be a good reason.
What if they wanted us closed for a while? You can't justify closing one of your top stores, so what if... what if they just sent a lease to the mall, one that was so ridiculous, that the mall itself would not and could not entertain accepting. They reject it, Disney throws their hands up and says, "Whoops. Guess we're out!" I mention this theory really to play devil's advocate, just to be fair.
THEORY #3: BECAUSE THE MALL SUCKS, MICKEY SAID "WE OUT" Here's what I think happened. The Disney Stores have unveiled a new store design that will end up integrating into every Disney Store across the country. They'll pour about a million dollars into each one, turning it from a magical little store to an Apple-esque interactive magical experience.
And we, our Happiest Place in the Mall, the oldest store in the company, would get one of those re-dos at some point. It might be years down the line, but we'd get one. Back when Just For Feet was a mega-company, they had a huge store right in the middle of our food court... rumor, unsubstantiated but plausible, had it that Disney lobbied for that spot but was unable to secure it.
So what does Disney do with us? We're a store that will have to be renovated, certainly, but we need a bigger space. Add in the fact that only one side of the mall is even desirable, and Disney has limited options all around. Not to mention they are dealing with a mall that is... well, owned by a bankrupt bunch of suits. It doesn't help when negotiations for a new lease break down, and the mall just flat out rejects the lease agreement sent forth by Disney.
The Disney Store has two options... pay the price asked for, or close up shop. Pay the price, keep a money making, successful store open, but when the remodeling comes to Birmingham, there are a whole new set of problems... bigger location needed, relocation of the store, transfer of Cast Members, transfer of merchandise... not to mention they've had to deal with a mall giving them grief at every turn, and might possibly be locked into a long term lease they cannot move around in.
Or, close up shop. It will be a little painful at the beginning, but remove themselves entirely of the Birmingham market, step back, and when the time is right--if it ever is--go in fresh, go where they want, hire the Cast Members wanted, and do the new store design from scratch. All the merchandise will be brand new, all the CMs will be brand new, the store will be brand new... and The Happiest Place in the Mall will be forgotten as it once was, replaced by the Most Magical Coolest Place in the Mall.
Yes, yes, there is The Summit, an outdoor mall that is the style of the new trend of malls in the last decade or so. Its possible The Happiest Place could open there... but I don't think so. The Disney Store is an indoor-type store, a stroller store, a place where moms and dads bring their kids. Not a lot of strollers when its July and 98, or when its January and 31 in the sun, or when its driving down rain.
The bright spot is the possible takeover of GGP. Simon Malls, owner of such malls as Town Center in Kennesaw, GA, is trying to buy GGP. And from what I understand, Disney and Simon Malls are like, besties. If that is the case, and Simon Malls buys out GGP, becoming the new owners of The Riverchase Galleria, then who knows?
These are my theories, and what I believe. And I'm probably a thousand percent off base. And that's okay too... I'm not important enough to know whats up.
THE FINALE Another chapter in life, another "season" if you will--and its been a magical season, hasn't it?--has finished. Clouds in My Coffee has not only been fun, but also therapeutic for me... for some of you who have been longtime sippers of the written Coffee, you might remember my struggle, or lack thereof, to leave NBC13, which put me at Starbucks as a career path. And many of you remember my struggle to leave Starbucks (Between a Mouse and a Bean Place), and also when I finally did leave Starbucks management for The Walt Disney Company(Taking the Mouse, Leaving the Bean Place, which also deals with a closing).
For me personally, if I'm being totally honest, I'm glad its finally over. Don't get me wrong, I'd much rather be discussing how I'm overworked by doing both The Happiest Place and Starbucks, and the decisions about what to do... as it is, I'm full time coffee now. Its hard, though, because if we were closed due to lack of sales, we would hate it, but we could look to ourselves and say, "We didn't get the job done." But our closing was due to circumstances beyond our control, which is the hardest pill to swallow.
I loved my job so dearly. I loved going to work. I loved seeing the people I saw every day. The store had true magic, magic to make people smile, to turn grown men and women into little kids by saying to themselves or whoever would listen, "When I was little, I would come in here and..." The Cast Members were magical. We cared about one another, like a family, like a bunch of brothers and sisters. We are like an orphanage now, one that has shut down and has sent all the kids to live with brand new parents, some great (like my new "parents"), some not so great. I was blessed to not only have one job, but two jobs that I love and am happy to be a part of--The Disney Store and Starbucks. So, while I'm sad, broken hearted if you will, that I lose one, I'm very happy and excited that I have the other waiting for me.
People are always saying that change is a good thing. But all they're really saying is that something you didn't want to happen at all... has happened. My store closed last week. I work in a magical store, did I ever tell you that? It's a lovely store, and in a week it'll be something really depressing, like an Al-Queda run toy store. Soon, it'll be just a memory. In fact, someone, some foolish person, will probably think it's a tribute to the Riverchase Galleria, the way it keeps changing on you, the way you can never count on it, or something. I know because that's the sort of thing I'm always saying. But the truth is... I'm heartbroken. I feel as if a part of me has died, my Cast has died, and no one can ever make it right.
And with that, head high and smiling, I leave the Mouse and take the Bean Place.
