Category: “Other people”

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"Other people" Friends Home improvements

Payback

I have kind of a grudge against our upstairs neighbors.  They can be loud, both speaking (shouting?) and stomping.  Plus they have this dog that loves to whine loudly, and run back and forth through the apartment, especially late at night.  For some reason that sound travels right through the floor, which you’d think the carpet would help.  This is not some New York City parquet floor.

Also, their dog definitely goes crazy barking at people when they take him out for walks, which bothers me, because we all lived here first.  We got a flyer from the office on our door yesterday reminding us that everyone needs to pick up after their dogs, and in my mind, I’ve accused the upstairs neighbors of making those flyers necessary.

So on Monday night I was getting uptight because of all the yelling, screeching, and pounding going on up there.  We finally realized it was probably a football thing, which meant it went on for like 4 hours.  Annoying!  Please don’t disturb our 2-hour game of Super Scrabble.

But last night we got sweet sweet revenge, when eight of us piled into our living room to watch (and loudly approve of) the season 2 premiere episode of Glee.  Take that, tough-looking upstairs neighbors.

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"Other people" Work

The Phantom of Data Entry

As I flip through the stacks of prospect cards that have been mailed back by people interested in more information about the SF Opera, I like to visualize each person from only the clues I have in front of me.  It’s limited, but I can put together a stereotype in my head, and then I can either welcome that person to the Opera, if it’s a new account, or I can chastise them for checking the box for “special introductory offers” when they have clearly been in the system since 1994.

Incidentally, let me say that I have some mad skills at this job.  I know, I know, it’s just data entry, but some people (I assume) would type in the name, and when nothing came up, would just enter a new account.  (I’m guessing that’s how some of the dozens of duplicates I’ve found this week came into being.)  But I have, like, this sixth sense about these things, and I have found lots of people hidden under alternate names (nicknames or in one case, a maiden name) or misspellings or a spouse’s name.

So far, the cards that have made me smile out loud:

-An older person’s handwriting and name (Georgena or Ingrid or Henrietta, something like that), and under “email address” she wrote “NONE – AGE 86.”
-A woman named Carolina North, which actually made me giggle as I typed it in last-name-first.
-Upwards of 5 distinct (elderly) people who check the boxes next to “free performances,” “family performances,” and “subscription” to indicate their interest in receiving materials, and then next to “LGBT” draw an arrow and a ?
-Conversely, I adore getting the cards from old men who want info on LGBT shows.  I love it even more when the second name on their account is another old man, and their address is and has always been in a nice part of San Francisco.
-A woman wrote in large print “The writing on this card is ILLEGIBLE” and then just wrote down her name, address, and phone number, paying no heed to the lines provided.  They were too illegible maybe?
-A woman had written “I was a subscriber for 40 years” in old-lady handwriting, but when I looked up her account, I saw that she was marked as deceased.   I think her husband was actually the one who had died because the account was under “Mrs John Halloway” and her card read “Mrs Virginia Halloway,” but it was all the same address and phone and everything.  I tried to contain myself and asked the girl who’s been training me what to do, and she told me that once someone’s been marked as “inactive” you can’t undo that, so I should just set her up a fresh account.  Then I noticed that Mrs Virginia Halloway’s email address was @live.com.  Beautiful.

I’m realizing a pattern, and it has to do with the age range and demographic of the average SF Opera patron.  To mix it up:

-The girl whose last name I absolutely could not read (Drayton? Drayter? Draglen? Oh well), so I glanced down for her email address to see if it could help me out.  It was much more legible, but unhelpful: puddin69@.

Who in this day and age doesn’t have an email address that is just their name at some reputable domain?  I’m also surprised when I see people still have an email address with msn, juno, netscape, even hotmail and sbcglobal.  But it’s the “lilbear1986” ones that makes me want to email them a gmail invite.

Okay, really quick, the sad ones:

-I noticed on one old man’s account that he’s been buying tickets since the late 80s, and he only buys 1 ticket for each performance.
-I’ve gotten at least 3 that are marked “Please remove this person from your mailing list – deceased.”
-Today I got one from a Mr-and-Mrs pair, and the only box checked was “Free performances” and underneath it they had written “We can’t afford to go – only on social security.”  Hopefully they can afford some regular theatre tickets, if they want to, because opera tickets are seriously ridiculously expensive.

And there’s just one more.  What I wanted, was to steal this card and scan it in so you could read it but I’m 95% sure that violates the confidentiality agreement I just signed, so you’ll have to bear with my paraphrasing.  (It’s real close though – I knew I’d want to remember this.)

There’s no information, just scrawling over the lines.  It reads:

“Are there so many homosexuals supporting you that you feel obliged to cater to them?  I previously canceled my subscription 2007 because of your favoritism.  There are no special nights for Chinese, Hispanics, monkeys, cab drivers, politicians, etc.”

I was desperate for an email address or something so I could a) learn more about this person and b) write them about their troubles, but no luck.  It’s probably better that way.

(PS. Names and identifying details have been changed.)

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"Other people" Awesome Exercise

Bally update

So “John” calls me 4 times in 2 days, and with some coaching from Molly and Drew I’m ready to stand up to him.  I call him back (his voicemails were all marked “urgent” by the way, which annoyed me) and get him on the phone.  (BTW, this really happened, I wish I had recorded it or something because I was super proud of myself.)

“Okay, listen,” I say, “I just wanted to call you to let you know that I was really disappointed and frustrated by the way things went yesterday.”  He starts to make some kind of “oh no, how could that be?” noise but I barrel over him.  “All I wanted was to come in and do some cardio, and you guys wouldn’t leave me alone.  I fully intended to use the free guest pass – YOUR CLUB’S PROMOTION – for a week, and then pay for membership.  You had my money.  But you kept trying to pitch to me, and now I’m not coming back in.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says.  “My manager and I just wanted to let you know about the deals and discounts, and we’re trying to help you get the best rate.  It seemed like you were on the fence about it–”

“How was I “on the fence”?  I keep telling you and I kept telling you yesterday that I knew what I wanted, and you guys wouldn’t let me go.”

“It’s just dollars and cents, and we’re just trying to help you save money–”

“John, you’re still trying to sell to me RIGHT NOW, even though I’m telling you it’s not going to work.  I just wanted to let you know that your strategies were a turnoff and way over the top, and you lost me as a customer.  AND, I was just on Yelp for the South City Bally, and it looks like a lot of people have had this experience.  [He and the manager were both actually mentioned by name.]  And I think it’s worth you guys sitting down and talking about it because apparently it’s not working.”

“Well, Syche, you’re still welcome to use your guest pass through the end of the week.  So why don’t you just hold on to my number and give me a call back when you’ve thought about this.”

7-8 seconds of silence while I process what he just said, almost respond with, “Okay, bye,” then pull it together.

“Nope, I’m done thinking about this, and I’m not going to change my mind.  I’m going to find another club and you don’t have to keep calling me to “check in with me.”  It’s not happening.”  He starts talking again.  “Okay, thanks, bye.”  Click.  (In a movie or book he would hear the dial tone here, but not on my watch.)

Then I got a promo email from them with the manager’s full name in it.  I unsubscribed but part of me is wondering if I should send him an email.  That part of me is also sort of hoping John will call back today so I can give him the short prepared speech I worked on last night, which ends with, “and if you call me again, I’m reporting you to the Better Business Bureau.”  Drama queen.

Also, I’m still super sore from the (short, tiny) workout he put me through 2 days ago.  The hamstring and ab soreness?  I recognize and accept.  The backache?  I’m not so okay with.  Hoping this will all dissipate soon, as it’s embarrassing to have to go down the stairs like a 2-year-old (step, together, step, together).  I’m going to try to walk it off some today.

PPS. Would you look at that?  The promotion they kept saying was ending on June 30th.

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"Other people" Awesome Theatre Work

WGAS closing; end of contract

I want to talk about closing night while it’s still fresh in my mind – also, I’m putting off doing Shred.

We had two performances yesterday – the matinee a rehearsal for closing, is how I think of it.  My San Francisco friends L. and J. came to see it and they said they enjoyed it but that they had some problems with it, which I’m fine with.  As long as they clapped along with This Land Is Your Land (which they did).  In the matinee, a woman sat in the front row (which is in the stage lights for most of the show) and ate an entire meal: Tupperware, fork, she had at least 2 bananas, a couple beverages.  Pretty brassy.  At intermission the house staff told her to stop, but then right before we sent the actors out for Act 2, this crazy opens up her laptop.  Headset conversation went something like:

Syche [hiding how frantic I am]: “Um…um…Heath…do you see her…with the laptop?”
Heath: “Oh. Yup. Let’s see, what’s she doing.”
Syche: “The actors are going to freak out.”
Heath: “She’s shutting it down.”
[Minutes pass.]
Heath: “Windows takes a long time to shut down.”

Finally, Crazy closed her petite, pink, bedazzled laptop and seemed to behave for the rest of the show.

Also in the first act of the first show, we had a guitar problem, so I had to go out onstage in a blackout with a backup guitar and trade off with the actor, without him knowing this was coming.  This worried me because I know it’s really distracting to lose a prop with no idea what’s wrong, but he was fine with it and later said he could hear that the mic on the guitar wasn’t working.  Anyway, lots of excitement during the first show.

For the second show, the audience flipped their lids starting from the very top, applauding and cheering and going crazy, which is the perfect audience to go out on.  We had another mic problem at intermission but everything was fixed by the wizard sound designer who was also mixing, and I guess it was fine in the second act.  After the show, the actors came off in a huddled heaving mass and cried – not teared up, but cried.  I will never forget that.

We went out after and I’m VERY glad I went, and it was all around a good time.  So to Lisa, Megan, Sam, Berwick, Matt, Tony, Chuck, and Harry – I am really really glad I had the opportunity to work on this show.  I remember applying for this job last August, and looking at the shows I’d be working on, and not really having anything to say about a show called Woody Guthrie’s American Song.  But it’s really been much more than I could have imagined.  And to Doug, Ted, and Myles – thanks for letting me tag along.

But life goes on.  And today is Day 1 of unemployment and I am going to get stuff done and take names.  Then Drew and I are going to see Toy Story 3 and have dinner at Moss Beach Distillery, which I am very excited for.  They have a ghost who steals earrings, so I’m debating if I shouldn’t wear the nice ones.

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"Other people" Awesome Theatre

Musicians and theatre people are…not the same.

This was just funny and I have never mentioned it, which is a shame, because it happened nigh on a month ago.

One of my Production Assistant duties is collecting valuables.  The first three nights I trekked upstairs to the musicians’ dressing room (they’re not technically sequestered but maybe it is for the best), and knocked on their door to collect any valuables.  Two of them declined politely, but the third had something to say.

Day 1
Syche: “Do you guys have valuables?”
“Harry”: “Yeah, here.” [Hands me valuables bag.] “It’s just full of weed.”

Day 2
Syche: “Hey, do you guys have valuables?
“Harry”: [Handing over bag] “Well, I had things in my pockets.”

Day 3
Syche: “Valuables?”
“Harry”: “Nah, I couldn’t think of anything funny to say.”

LOL.  LOL indeed.

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"Other people" Being a girl Endings Not awesome

Sunday Night Adventures and Heroes

So Sunday night, the end of an 8-show week, I’m worn out and over it and my attitude is souring fast.  Everyone still keeps asking for things, right up to the end of the second show (“The bathroom in the boys dressing room is out of soap.” “Okay, use the other bathroom, it’s like 20 minutes until the end of the show.”) (Although then I totally did refill the soap for them.) (I can’t exactly figure out whose job that is, which makes me think it might fall under the “production assistant” umbrella).  Anyway, it’s been a long week.

I finally get out of the building, get in the car, start digging for my iPod, Himself has been off work and I just want to get home and sit around and watch TV with him…and I remember that I left my food in the fridge, and I was going to eat it tonight.  I debate for about 3 seconds, then get out of the car, slam the door, and start striding back toward the building.  Feel for keys in my hoodie pocket, and…nothing there.  Keys in purse, which is actually in my hand?  Nope.  Keys in the ignition of the locked car?  Check.

I call Himself because I’ve heard you can use a remote fob thingie and unlock a car from far away, through your cell phones.  He’s not at home but heads back there.  There may be a little bit of crying as I explain what happened, because this is just embarrassing.  I locked my keys in the car like an idiot because I had to go back inside to get my food?  Come on now.

I climb up onto the trunk to sit there and mope, with maybe a few more tears.  Suddenly Ted the sound designer/mixer calls from behind me to ask if I’m okay.  Instead of responding how I’ve been responding to any personal inquiries all week – “I’m fine” – I let it out.  He pulls his car around and parks next to me, asking questions like “Power windows or manual?” and “Have you ever broken into your car before?”  Which, funnily enough, I haven’t.  At some point, Himself calls back and we try the remote-unlocking, which of course totally doesn’t work.  So he and the two friends he was out to dinner with start the drive to Marin.

Ted works diligently using a heavy-duty coat hanger we steal from the costume shop (I also shamelessly pick up the oh-so-important food), while I hold the flashlight and make helpful comments like “Seriously, thank you so much.”  At some point the stage manager comes out of the building and stands near us, but I get rid of him pretty quick.  About 5 minutes in I get the brilliant idea to see if the passenger side window is down any further, which it is, and even better, I can wrench it down another inch or so.  So we’ve got about 2 1/2 inches of room to work with, and luckily Ted has little girl wrists.  He sticks with it though, and it’s 15 minutes later, maybe 20 minutes tops, that he pops the door lock with the coat hanger.

I call Himself and tell him to turn around (luckily he hadn’t made it very far) and tell Ted about ten times that he’s awesome.  I’m home by 11:00, which is only maybe half an hour after I’d planned to be home.  Not exactly the relaxing Sunday night I had envisioned but it could have been a lot worse.  So I’m bringing Ted a 6-pack of Stella today, which will come in extra-handy, since they had a 5-hour music/sound rehearsal today at which I wasn’t needed.

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"Other people"

Stereotypes

Last night driving home I was behind a Subaru that was so covered in mud I had to really search to figure out what kind of car it was.  There were two surfboards strapped to the top and a bike latched on the back.  It looked like a car straight out of one of those commercials for cars that can take you out in the middle of nowhere.  The license plate was NO SOFA.  That kind of pushed it over the edge into just parody.

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"Other people" Being a girl Drew Family Not awesome

The Wedding Photographer from the Black Lagoon

So, I got married last November.  It was a wonderful affair, with wine and family and dancing and cake and guests coming from New York and Spain to help us celebrate.  It was really much better than I expected and lots better than I even wished for.  The caterers were thorough and invisible when they were supposed to be, the DJ played all the right music and none of the wrong music, and the cake was 5 layers, not 4 like we were expecting, because the baker wanted to give it some extra drama.  I love me a 5-tiered cake.  The photographer and his assistant were everywhere at all times, stayed from 11 in the morning until 11 at night, and didn’t mind when our set-up shot plan changed 3 times.  They left the reception when we did, and promised us our pictures in “4-6 weeks! by Christmas!”

Here is a timeline of how the next 4 months have gone.

Dec 15, haven’t heard anything from him, so I email him just to find out if he’ll post them soon. We’d love to sit down with our sets of parents and go through the pictures.  Photographer doesn’t respond.
Dec 22, Facebook informs me he’s going to Mexico for Christmas.
Dec 22, I email him again because I haven’t heard back.
Dec 23, Photographer informs me via email that he’s “out of the country” for the holidays and will return after the New Year.
Jan 6, I email him again asking because I haven’t heard anything.
Jan 6, He writes back saying he’s almost done!
Jan 11, They’re posted! We’re so happy. I email him back asking for a couple others shots – one, a group shot with the girls I used to babysit, which I definitely remember being taken. Two, anything, from any point in the night, of me and my mom together. He tells me he’s out of town until Jan 17 so he’ll get back to me.
Jan 26, I call him. No answer.  No callback.
Feb 12, I email him. No answer.
Mar 2, I call him. No answer.  No callback.
Mar 6, I call him around 9:30 in the morning..  He answers!  Holy cow!  He tells me he’s “just looking at the pictures” and he can’t find the one of me with my babysitting girls.  Also, he says, “this has never happened before” but he can’t find anything of me and my mom.  He’s “never had to set that up before, it always happens naturally.”  I basically give up and say sweetly through my teeth, “Okay, well, everything else is great, so can you mail us the DVD?”  He says he’ll do that right away.
Mar 11, Silly me, I assumed “right away” meant he’d mail the DVD on Saturday, or Monday at the latest.  No DVD has shown up yet and shipping from San Francisco to San Bruno shouldn’t take long.  I email him asking if he’d sent it because I wanted to take it to my parents’ house over the weekend (not true).  He writes back saying he’s at a “wedding photography convention” in Las Vegas to get some new slick DVD cases that he likes.  He’ll overnight one to my parents’ address, if I’ll give it to him.  I give it to him (anything to get a copy of that DVD!).
Mar 12, In the morning he leaves me a voicemail saying he’s been to the post office, UPS, and FedEx and no one can get it there by Saturday.  I text him saying to just send it to me here.

Today we got home and there was a (granted, pretty slick) DVD case leaning against the door.  Which means he just brought it by and left it at some point today?  There are 2 DVDs inside, one saying in Sharpie, “Copy 1” and the other, “Copy 2.”  For needing to be placed in such a slick case, the DVDs are pretty unimpressive, but if I pop them into the computer and my wedding pictures exist thereon, everything will be forgiven (if not immediately forgotten).

So here it is, over 4 months later, and we have our pictures.  The next step is to upload all 600 onto some photo sharing-and-purchasing website, send the link to everyone, and then order the prints.  Now the only thing to kind of bother me is the fact that everyone else has that one great the-happy-couple-kissing-in-a-very-posed-manner-in-front-of-a-tree picture, and we, for some reason, have none of those.  I mean, we have lots of good candids and that’s what I wanted anyway, so it’s all good.  I just kind of miss not having that gazing-at-each-other-lovingly-in-front-of-a-pond picture.

Oh yeah, and I need to write that photographer a scathing review on Yelp.  My only question is, is this the kind of thing where I should warn him beforehand?  Or should I just cut into him via the faceless internet?  Major dilemma.

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"Other people" Being a girl Drew Memoir

The Starbucks Exchange

Last fall, I had this running joke on Facebook about the Starbucks employees having major problems getting the name “Drew” onto my drinks.  By all rights, at some point, I should have just switched to another one of the several thousand names in the world that are easily recognizable and have one spelling.

(Like…”Drew”??)

But I thought it was funny and each day I wanted to see what new perversion the baristas could come up with.

I stopped going to Starbucks to save the money, and for months I drank coffee brewed at work.  A three dollar bottle of generic vanilla creamer could last two weeks.  Such thrift!  My mother would be so proud.  But no one ever wrote on my cups for me. 

Then, after the fiasco with our wall (which is, in fact, finally finished and repainted!) the rental office very thoughtfully gave us a gift card to Starbucks, as a way to say “We are so very sorry about the ridiculous delays, and thank you for your patience.”  I basically grabbed it out of Drew’s hands and ran-not-walked to the nearest Starbucks to rediscover my addiction.  (Not true.  I did wait maturely until the next morning.)

And here is where, can I just say, Starbucks, I missed you.  I have been rediscovering the joys of my morning venti-nonfat-vanilla-latte.  I fear I may be off the wagon.

One morning recently, I gave the young gentleman behind the counter “my” name, and he looked at me thoughtfully for a minute, pen poised, before asking “D-R-U?”  I said with a tight smile, “D-R-E-W.”  And he said, “Oh, right,” and wrote it down. 

“Is that a girl’s name?” he asked.  It was high time for me to have moved down the counter.

“Drew Barrymore,” I offered.

“Right,” he said.  “Is it short for something?”

Should I have said, “It’s not my real name, here, write down my real name, it’s Syche”?  I just said it wasn’t short for anything, grabbed my drink and made a hasty exit, noting the correct spelling on the cup.

Maybe it’s time for me to pick a new name.  Maybe it reads too “clingy girlfriend” that I use Drew’s name.  Maybe I should just give them a number.  What’s the consensus here?

In the meantime, I leave you with today’s cup of fame.  Today, my name is Drak.  Address me accordingly.

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"Other people" Not awesome

Trouble in Mill Valley

Yesterday I saw a couple high schoolers scam an old man.

I was at the Safeway in Mill Valley, one of the ritzier parts of already affluent Marin County, and the Safeway happens to be across the street from Tamalpais High School, so every afternoon it and the shopping center around it are flooded with high schoolers making trouble and buying energy drinks.

I was in the checkout line, with an older man behind me buying mostly yogurt and high fiber bread, and a high schooler behind him.  Another kid comes up to that kid.

Wandering kid: Hey Aiden, loan me a dollar.
Kid in line (Aiden): No, why?
Wanderer: I don’t have any money and I’m starving.
Aiden: Why didn’t you go home?
Wanderer: I missed the bus.  I’m going to have to sleep here tonight and I need dinner.
Aiden: You’re sleeping here again?
Wanderer: Yeah, I’m going to sleep at the bus stop.

At this point, the old man behind me pulls out his wallet and passes the kid money, I don’t know how much but it sure looked like more than one dollar, and the kid goes, “Really? Oh, really? Thank you sir!” (At least he was very polite.)  Then he kind of leaves but lingers in the aisle behind us looking at ice cream toppings, which he was surely not going to buy for dinner.  The kid in line very kindly helped the old man unload his groceries onto the conveyor belt and then kind of…left, at which point I realized he didn’t have anything to buy anyway.  Then I also realized the poor sleeping-at-the-bus-stop kid was the one that I had seen walking back and forth across all the checkstands (casing the joint?), deliberately making his shoes squeak, which I noticed because it annoyed me.

The thing is, it was pouring rain and for a minute I felt bad for the kid too, like, I was wondering if I should buy him a sandwich with my nonexistent money.  But then I became pretty sure that if he’s going to high school in Mill Valley, dressed as well as he was, he’s probably not starving or stuck without a ride home.  Although if it was a scam, it was sure a polite one.

Then this reminded me of The Great Fake Scavenger Hunt…but that’s a story for another time.