#128 – Year of the Ring

If you haven’t read it yet, please jump to #87 – Weddings Beware. It will put this blog in the right context.

I hate weddings. Have a low opinion of the whole thing. Too much energy, effort and $$ spent on the wrong thing.

Finding the right one is among one’s biggest life challenges. Finding the one for which the compromises required for a solid, happy, long-term partnership are done without a 2^nd thought is, for some, on a scale of a miracle. It’s something that one feels deep inside, at the core of one’s essence, identity and being – if all goes well. Too often, the couples shift from Breaking the Glass to breaking the reunion.

It’s personal. It’s between you and your partner.
And you are so happy. You want to shout it, you want to share it… you want everyone to know.
Great, understood.
But why does it have to be shared and communicated with such extravaganza? The louder the noise, the bigger the venue, the greater your happiness? I don’t think so. The richer the buffet, the richer the future? Not at all. If anything, the richer the buffet, the greater the bills to pay.

And yet, so many do it; often more than once.

Having long experience in finding the wrong ones, I never got as far as doing it myself, and after going through too many as an observer, I realized that I simply don’t like weddings, don’t enjoy wedding; don’t care about weddings. Happy to share your joy, from afar. Don’t send me an invitation; send me the URL to your gift listing, or an account #. I’m happy for you, deeply, and would be happier if you won’t ask me to go through the motions of wow, this is amazing, of course I’d love to have a picture with you… and the food is so unique… your mom looks amazing tonight… And yourself – WOW.

To be honest, I don’t limit my aversion to weddings. Bar Mitzvahs are just as bad. Coming to think about it, since my youngest brother’s Bar mitzvah, I’ve been exactly to one, and there were mitigating reasons.

Sorry, I’m kind of repeating myself, 2.5 years after I wrote #87. Why?

Because for me, this year, the Year of the Rat, is The Year of the Ring.

Not one, not two, THREE weddings I cannot escape. People are creative. The better they know you, the better they know how to manipulate guilt or just make it impossible for you to say NO!!!

Israel, Germany and N YC, all in one year, all requiring my presence, all know me well enough to get me where they want, i.e. in their WEDDINGS.

The Israelis used multi-method “attacks”, spamming all my email addresses, phone numbers and when we met in CA, in person. It’s hard to say “NO” to the people you love, it’s not so fair to use it against me. And it worked.

The Germans had a plan. They nominated me to be the bridesmaid. Yes, that’s right. Call me when you collect yourself from the floor after you are done laughing.

How did they do it? Smartly. I’m the only one, chosen and appealed to by both, and as long as it’s not jeans, there’s no dress code. Out of all the things I could say, “no” didn’t seem like a real option.

That’s two, one more to go. And I will go. To Manhattan in November. Why? Because of my sheer stupidity, and… love for these great friends.

I have these two great friends, sexual orientation does not matter, that when they moved-in together, happy as I were for them, I promised, scout’s honor, that should they ever chose to get married, I’ll make an exception and attend their wedding.

How on earth was I supposed to know that they’ll pick the same year? Didn’t I tell you? It’s my Year of the Ring.

Though my phone have been awfully quiet.

 

ClipArt Credits:

• http://www.webweaver.nu/clipart/img/holidays/weddings/greek-wedding.gif
• http://www.davechidley.ca/assets/images/autogen/a_04Chidley.jpg
• http://www.safetygearhq.com/images/handcuffs-hinged-orange.jpg
• http://www.tickle-me-elmo.co.uk/elmo-images/elmo-laughing.gif
• http://blogs.guardian.co.uk/news/archives/images/brides.jpg
• http://www.tparents.org/Library/Unification/Photos/Bless-Ph/brides&grooms.jpg – the photographer is Kris Cleponis/ Reuter
• http://www.ckmark.com/UserFiles/ProductImage/1148285854tb_m40.jpg

The Links that don’t work [in PDF version]– WHY???

• http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/313726/jewish/The-Breaking-of-the-Glass.htm
• http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rat_(zodiac)

#127 – I Killed Kimberly

It all started seven or eight weeks ago. Phone buzzes. I pick up. “Hello?”

“Can I speak to Kimberly please?”

“There’s no Kimberly here, you got the wrong number.”

An hour or so the phone buzzes.

I pick up. “Hello?”

“Can I speak to Kimberly please?”

“There’s no Kimberly here, you got the wrong number.”

The following day we go through this 3 times. A different girl every time, all want to speak to Kimberly.

After a week or so, I’m not so nice any more.

“”Put your supervisor on”, I demand. By now, I figured that it’s not that Kimberly has an infinite number of girlfriends; all she has is one annoying calling center.

“There’s no supervisor available at this time” was the annoying answer. “I’ll hold.”

By the end of week 2 I agreed to be recorded saying “Do not call this number, there’s no Kimberly here, remove this number from your damn database”.

“Sure, thank you” was the response. On the following day, no surprises; the daily harassment goes on as usual.

Now I’m in Canada, and each call is airtime + roaming. Damn Kimberly. “Who are you?” I demand. “We are Beneficiary”.

“And what do you sell?”

“We sell nothing, it’s a service”

“Well, I don’t want your damn service, and don’t call. Can you please get it into your head and database?”

I’m recorded again.

And surely enough the calls continue.

By now, I’m in Barcelona and pissed.

“Can I speak to Kimberly please?”

“Can you hang yourself with the phone cord please?”

A second later, I already feel sorry. Not that poor girl’s fault. Working in a call center is pretty close to living hell in my mind. As always, the better response springs to mind AFTER the call. I should have killed Kimberly; that’s what I had to do. Veronique and Dan share the idea.

Luckily, I didn’t have to feel sorry for too long. The following day, as we walk to the Sun’s party, the phone rings and surely, it’s the same maddening number from area code 909.

“Can I speak to Kimberly please?”

Now I’m ready. In a sober, serious voice I say, “I’m sorry, Kimberly was killed in a car accident yesterday, and we’d really appreciate if you’d refrain from calling. It’s really hard on us.”

A pause… “I’m so sorry”.

I hang up.

Jumping in a Barcelona street screaming “I did it; I killed Kimberly” felt great.

Needless to say, they had to call once more. And that was it.

RIP Kimberly.

Clipart credits:

http://www.telephonemagic.com/images/chameleon/call-center-diagram-1-400.gif

http://inrepose.typepad.com/in_repose_blog/images/2007/09/04/istock_000002707902xsmallcellphon_2.jpg

#126 – Man’s job, woman’s job

There are accepted activities that belong in one’s Sunday morning, and there are things I don’t expect to find myself doing on a Sunday morning. To finish reading Monstrous Regiment (by Terry Pratchett) is accepted and fun. To follow their act and do a man’s job? Unexpected, undesired, unwanted.

And if unexpected, how did I find myself on a Sunday morning crawling behind the TV-receiver-DVD player-CD player-Sonos-cluster rewiring speakers. And if one crawls behind that mess, one has to clean up all the dust and whatever accumulated back there among the wires and cables. There are things I simply don’t care to know, don’t want to know, and much less do. However, giving up music is not a real option. So after the Comcast guy ripped the wires of the right speaker on Friday, I found myself @ Frys on Saturday, getting speakers wire, and perspiring on the carpet on Sunday. Striping the wire ends and screwing the ends into their homes, without messing up the + and the – is no fun.

While the women in Monstrous Regiment had to fight for their right to perform and get recognized for their manly military actions, I share no such desire. As far as I’m concerned, equality should mean that men get to do feminine work, and women get to chose what they want to do… Can’t recall any man complaining about having such options for generations. 100% accuracy is not what I’m going for here, in case you wonder about facts and gender PC. All I want is the ability and ease of delegating such projects to those who for years felt it’s their God-given territory. I guess I could blame my dad for recruiting me to wiring projects in one of our never-ending renovations while in elementary school. Or the appeal of painting the gables of our home instead of dusting books or whatever caged-in-the-house task my mom would have me do. True, my progress was dependent on the availability of a manly figure to move the ladder, but if anything, that meant long breaks between one segment to the next. And, unlike dusting, you do it every other year, not every week.

So speakers are working, tools have yet to be put away, and it’s time for some womanly unpacking.

 

 

Credits:

http://img167.imageshack.us/img167/3719/ragmopms9.jpg