Summer not-so-lovin'

Really, I can appreciate that teenagers and college kids need summer jobs. It was not so long ago, after all, that I myself spent a summer in "customer relations" at the Crystal Springs Aquatic Center, as well as in "sales" at Laura Ashley, where I literally could not bring myself to take advantage of the employee discount to buy anything other than a single black dress, and which I am surprised to learn is still a functioning corporation.

That said, it is so annoying to deal with teenagers behind an ice cream counter who really don't care whether I get the vanilla cone or the strawberry cup with marshmallows. Somehow, with their intense apathy, they manage to make me feel like I am the one asking them for a favor, like if I weren't there tasting different frozen yogurt flavors they'd be sunning on the Amalfi coast.  It is hardly my fault their boss pays minimum wage, is it? A little bit of courtesy would go a long way. Just saying.

Hung out to dry

For a variety of aggravating reasons (which may be fodder for another vent sometime), I can't really do laundry in my building, and because I despise laundromats (which will definitely be fodder for a vent sometime), that leaves me with little choice but to outsource all of my laundry. This may sound luxurious, but let me assure you, the expense is sufficiently obscene to limit total enjoyment of the convenience. The real problem, however, is that sometimes, the wash and fold people and dry cleaners lose things. Often, these are things I enjoyed wearing, which are never to be found when I call. Or, they are socks, which is understandable, and not something I can really call and complain about, but leaves me with too many pairs of mismatched socks! 

The most annoying of all is the story like this one: I call the dry cleaners and am told, no, they don't have the white belt that matches my white jacket. I turn my apartment upside-down to find said white belt, without which the jacket just doesn't work. Then, when I don't find the belt, I call again, just to check, and -- within about 2 seconds -- the belt is located, tagged, and delivered to me. So where was it the first time? On an employee? Used as a headband for someone ironing? I will never know.

I knew I wasn't the only one to think the MTA is a disaster, and today I am vindicated by the New York Times. Not only have I suffered many times at the hands of the seemingly endless delays the article mentioned -- 20 minutes last night for the B train! -- but I'm also mystified by their new "bonus" system for MetroCards. If you have never purchased or used a MetroCard, then on paper the concept seems simple enough: you get a bonus of 15% on every purchase of $7 or more, and the cards are refillable. Thus, one would think, you can simply add on to whatever is left over, and eventually your change will equal the cost of a train ride.

Right?

Well, not exactly. The problem is that fares are currently $2, and it is so impossible to figure out how a 15% bonus on $7+ will get you anywhere near another $2 that the math requires normal, non-math types like me to rely on websites like NYC MetroCard Bonus Calculator to figure out what amounts make any kind of sense to add. Back when fares were a measly $1.50, it all worked out so neatly. But now, there is some transaction I occasionally stumble into where I end up with a $1.05 bonus. What am I supposed to do with five cents?!

It feels like the MTA is attempting to solve its $900 million budget problem by, literally, nickel-and-diming the public. Which is not a very enjoyable feeling at all.

Driving...me crazy!

In my memory, drivers' ed goes something like this:

Lesson One: ignition, gas pedal, brake pedal.
Lesson Two: drive, neutral, reverse. (this may also require lesson 2.5 on a stick shift, I don't know, I can only drive an automatic.)
Lesson Three: THE LEFT LANE IS FOR PASSING!

Perhaps the lessons are different on Long Island. Perhaps my memory is fuzzy; after all, it has been quite a while since I was a student driver. But even if this rule is not quite as high-priority as I recall, it is still the rule, right? So why do people feel it is ok to casually cruise along at 60mph in the left lane of the LIE?! Move over, people! There may be plenty of other traffic, and it is certainly quite possible I won't get home any faster, but I will at least feel better if the rules of the road are being observed.

Office hijinks, continued

Some woman who uses the ladies' room on my floor, which is shared by several companies, has recently embarked on an interesting pattern of behavior: lining a toilet seat very neatly and very completely in paper towels, which she then leaves behind. Leaving me to have to idea whether she ever sat down on said paper towels. Clearly in either case I am not disposing of them, but she keeps doing this, in the same stall, every day. One of these days I just know I am going to have to use the bathroom, the other stalls will be taken, and then what do I do?! Ick.

Is this thing on?

me: omg
the_venter: ?
me: so my cube is across from two offices. two people who work together on stuff a lot. and right now. they have their doors open. And are on speakerphone WITH EACH OTHER. !?!??! and there's an ECHO.
the_venter: ha
me: i mean, who DOES THIS? the dude is always leaving his door open when on loud conf calls, too. SO ANNOYING.
the_venter: HA
me: they are steps from each other. or like PICK UP THE FREAKING HANDSET

...

me: omg she just awlked over there. AFTER THEY GOT OFF THE PHONE. OMG INSANE
the_venter: wait, just with each other?
me: YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
the_venter: not other people on the call?
me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.it's like, another universe. my brain just exploded.

I am not a "bot"

But sometimes, I can't for the life of me decipher the shaded, twisty, numbers and letters that I am supposed to enter to prove I am a human being when making certain online purchases! Give me a break, Ticketmaster. Your fees are already through the roof. Must I also feel like an old lday at check-out as I squint at my computer screen? Is that an "S"? An "L"? A "1"? Good grief.

Read and learn, people

Today at myDailyVent, I offer a link to a brilliant vent that puts anything I have written so far to shame: http://www.bsideblog.com/2008/06/taking-on-24-hour-fitness.php

Please, read, enjoy, and then send me more vents like it! (not necessarily so long, detailed, or well-written; this guy's a professional for goodness' sake. But do consider emulating his passion for the subject matter.)

It's a little tiring to complain every day all by myself.

Why do I bother?

As someone who didn't even have a computer at my first job out of college, I totally, fully appreciate the joys of instant communication over email. And as someone who suffered through high school in suburban New Jersey, where I couldn't even drive til I turned 17, and even then, had limited destination options aside from the local all-night diner, I also totally, fully appreciate the joys of living in Manhattan, where you can do things like participate in a baseball contest on a random summer afternoon.

But: when the abundance of activities -- to say nothing of the professional demands in this town -- collide with 24-7 remote access to email, often on a small hand-held screen, there is a social cost. Nobody reads my darn emails with anything resembling full attention, and I can't take it anymore! My own friends, and this includes close ones, routinely: get dates wrong; forget about plans we made; completely misunderstand my terribly witty comments; admit they didn't read my emails; believe they have replied to me when they have not; and on and on. And I am not breaking my own self-imposed rule which prohibits me from venting about a specific person on here, because this applies to some degree to just about everyone I know!

Friends: I realize I'm not the center of your very existence. But a little bit of extra attention would go a long way. And wouldn't it be nice if you could make it to my next cocktail party or bbq on the correct day because you took the time to read your email?

I will not miss my international ISP address at work

I'm starting a new job soon, and frankly, I'm a little excited by the possibility of listening to Pandora, finally getting a reservation at Ko, or being able to post a listing on craigslist during business hours. Yes, I know business hours are for business, but I like a little background music at my desk, the reservation list opens up every day at 10am, and inevitably business will be the reason I can't see Cold War Kids and need to unload my tickets at the last minute. So, goodbye European server! (Just hoping it's not hello, massive firewall....)

Soggy salad, anyone?

I never will understand why grocery stores feel the need to spray down their produce section to the point where lettuce leaves become unrecognizable and cucumbers turn to mush. I don't really get the whole produce mist rationale to begin with -- is it a question of cleaning or freshening or what? Farm stands don't do this, which makes me suspect that either (1) misting is actually bad for the vegetables, but is some weird grocery store holdover from another era when people also thought smoking was good for you, or (2) the distance that conventional grocery store vegetables travel, and the length of time they sit on the store shelves, renders them vulnerable and in need of moisture (which would actually be good for them if perhaps more lightly dispensed than is the case at most Ralphs or Gristedes stores). The former would be disappointing and the latter, well, gross, given that the idea of vegetables to begin with is that they're supposed to be fresh!

In any event, it really annoys me when all I want is a nice crisp head of green leaf lettuce, and over-misting has resulted in a pile of slimy leaves that I could never serve to a human being. Or pet rabbit, even.

Please, Mr. Postman!

I really do appreciate the convenience of online shopping, but despise the inevitable crush of catalogs that arrive in my mailbox when I place an online order at any of the major chains or department stores. What a phenomenal waste of paper and postage! The worst offenders seem to be the home furnishings stores, which makes me wonder whether there is some particular appeal to ordering furniture from a catalog? In any event, the issue that that I ordered the stuff online in the first place -- who says I want a paper catalog clogging up my little apartment-sized mailbox?? Sometimes there are so many catalogs in there that I fear missing actual mail!

I'd imagine the Postal Service needs the revenue these days, but what about the vast resources being wasted on sending me the AllPosters.com catalog, for which I have no idea how I got on the list, and will never, ever order from! There should be a law: (1) you should have to opt-IN to catalog deliveries, not out; (2) if a person doesn't order directly from any one of the, say 1,000 catalogs you deliver in a year (yes, I'm talking to you, Bloomingdales), then that address should be removed from catalog distribution.

Next paper saver: no more receipts!

Nuts!

An open letter to the proprietors of Stackhouse Bros. Orchards:

You lured me in with the delicious taste of your natural almonds when I sampled your wares at that nice market in Seattle. Many natural -- that is, non-roasted and non-salted -- almonds seem to be flavorless, but yours were delicious. I brought home many bags. Not long afterwards, I ordered a few more bags.

But sadly, our love affair does not seem to be mutual. You see, SBO, the last batch of almonds I have from you are a bit stale, and I would like to order new ones. I've called the phone number on your label several times; no answer. I have left my name and number on your answering machine. Three times. Speaking slowly and clearly, repeating my number twice on each message. You have not called me back.

Under these circumstances, it is difficult for me to continue our relationship. I'd like to buy your products. You seem far less interested in selling them to me. I find this odd, and I hope you can appreciate my disappointment. You are terruble businesspeople, but I suppose your almonds may still be delicious. I only wish it were possible for me to enjoy them.

With frustration,
The Venter

In the category of extreme triviality, as contemplated by Ground Rule Number One

It's been wildly humid in New York City for several weeks now, and my hair is just a disaster.

Thirsty

I know they weren't ecologically correct or economical, but man I miss the big bottles of spring water we used to have at my office. I hate cold water, and the new water filter thing we have now doesn't have a room temperature option. Nor does filtered water taste quite so refreshing when left to sit until reaching room temperature. Also, I am madly addicted to the Ritz crackers in the office pantry.

In conclusion: I'm parched.

Saks off!

I would really, really appreciate the opportunity to walk directly to the elevator at Saks in order to avail myself of the many, many items currently on sale right now (rescessionary Theory pants, anyone?) without being aggressively and repeatedly asked to sample various cosmetics and perfumes.

I would especially appreciate never having been told, "we can make it all better" by the woman behind the Cellcomset counter. I did not stop to find out what in the world she was talking about, but suspect nothing in my life will be improved by $230 body cream.

Let's go to the movies!

As is evident from certain of my posts, I am exceptionally Blackberry-dependent. What can I say? When they do work correctly, Blackberries are genius devices, and frankly everyone who can afford one should own one. (I have never used an iPhone, but I suspect they are nice also.)

However, what the Berry strangely lacks given its ubiquity these days is a sufficient number of useful mobile applications, and I am aghast that so many websites with obvious mobile appeal are not capitalizing on the possibilities! Foremost among the offenders in my view are the movie ticket sites like fandango and moviefone. They're basically impossible to navigate, yet of all the things I might want to do on a Blackberry (aside from checking the weather forecast, for which weather.com is actually not bad), finding a movie and maybe even purchasing tickets to said movie would be near the top of my list.

These sites are really missing out, and making me vent, to boot!

Waterlogged

In the spirit of Independence Day, a summery vent: how exactly does water get stuck in my ears after I am in a pool for 5 minutes, and what do I do to prevent this from happening? Frolicking in the water=great time. Jumping up and down for the rest of the day because everything sounds muffled and fuzzy=not so much.

Modern "convenience"

Damn you, technology, for getting me so completely dependent on you and failing me for no apparent reason. Admittedly, I'm a little clumsy, and I drop my Blackberry (which is also my phone), well, kind of a lot. When it subsequently refuses to cooperate, I feel there is some justice in this and don't get too bent out of shape.

But lately, the thing's been conking out on me all of a sudden without warning and certainly without being dropped -- sometimes while I am actually on the phone. And this is not a service issue where anyone's call might cut out. No, I am in a special league: the "sim card error." I have no idea what this means. I find myself removing and replacing the sim card multiple times a day, gritting my teeth against the interminable reboot time. I blow on the sim card to free it of any dust particles which may be causing the error, although much like my dvd's on which I've been using this technique for years, I have no idea whatsoever whether it is sensible or even effective. I feel oddly cut off from humanity when the device doesn't work, yet it seems to function correctly entirely according to whim. Then when it doesn't work, I am both angry at the mechanical failure and angry at myself for being so dependent! Double the good times. I mean, I didn't even have a cell phone at all until sometime in college, and that was for emergencies!

Sim card, I love you and hate you, dude. Please work for me from now on.

Torture at the hands of Microsoft Word

You know how, sometimes, you working are in a Word document, and it ends up being just a line or two into a new page at the end, and you finally edit down the rest of the document so that the one-line new pages is no longer necessary, yet Word won't let you delete the page for no apparent reason? AGGHHHHH. Why does this happen and what can be done about it? I sit and sit, highlighting and deleting empty spaces, and nothing changes, and ultimately I am forced to email around a document with a giant empty blank page at the end.

In a jam...

Really, at Dean & DeLuca, with my $2.50 scone and $2.50 small iced coffee, when I ask for jam, I get one of those ultra-cheapola Kraft grape jelly situations? Which may or may not have been packaged in the late 1980's, and I would never know, because it would taste exactly the same?

Come on now.