Funny story.

There is this man who owns a store right by where I work. I met him on my way to the elevator in the morning at my work building. He is an elderly man, not too old, but probably about Grampa Simpson's age -- about 60-65. He asked me where I worked, and I told him, being the polite person that I am. He proceeded to ask me about his cellular service, as all people do after finding out my occupation. He wanted to know how much it would cost him to add another line. I asked him with what company he has service. He paused, evidently it was a difficult question for him. A good 10 seconds later (which is basically eternally long when inside an elevator with a person like this man) he answered my question.

"I have a Nike."

I really had to hold in my laughter. I looked at him funny, and he looked back at me equally funnily, as though he was amazed that I didn't know what a Nike was. Later he corrected himself, by saying that he actually had a "Nokia" and not a "Nike."

Oh yes, before I forget.

I heard something on the radio today that I really must write down here.

Remember that when you are pointing your finger at someone, that three of your own fingers are pointed at you.

And that is very true. Just try it. You extend the index finger and fold the remaining three fingers (excluding the thumb, of course) and it turns out that those three fingers are pointing at you. I guess the moral to that is, before you start blaming or looking down at others, look introspectively to see if you are doing anything wrong. Even the Bible says "let he without sin cast the first stone" or something like that -- I'm paraphrasing. So people. Before you point your fingers at anyone else, whether it is to blame, or to snub, or to criticize, whether it be your dog, your pal, your brother/sister, remember that saying.

Oof. I was told that what I thought was being meticulous (or anal) was not that at all. Someone has told me that it's just being true to my uber-geek self, rather than being obsessed with detail. Oh well.

Guess what I'm wearing. I don't mean to sound like something out of a pornographically enticing film. Literally, I am in boxer shorts and a short sleeved T-shirt. It's mid January, but no, I do not have the heater blasting. As I am always keen on the weather, I can tell you, weather.com says that it's 63 degrees, but it feels about a good 70 right now (it's past 10 PM, by the way -- more than ample time for the scorching SoCal sunshine to have cooled off). We had a high close to or about 80, and my coworker, who wore a black turtleneck under a thick sweater (which I bought him for Christmas a year ago) suffered from the heat. He nearly had a heat stroke! I, thankfully, wore a three-quarter sleeved shirt and jeans with open toed slippers.

The east coast, as well as places like Iowa and most of the U.S. are freezing. Iowa City is freezing now at 19 degrees (fahrenheit, folks!) -- their high was in the low 30's, and their lows are in the high teens. Dang -- their highs are still lower than SoCal's low. I watched a bit of the weather forecast on the news (my favorite part of news on TV, because they are so often wrong -- how hard can it be in So Cal, where 350 days a year are sunny and hot?) and the weather-man said, "this is why we live here." So true. I love So Cal. Although it does get sizzling in the summer, at least it's not muggy or humid. I heard from my friend that Iowa has humid summers -- which means catastrophic weather for hair! I love So Cal. Even if the Pastrami comes Hot and Cold.

I finally went to work out today. I was still sore from the half an hour of Pilates I attempted on Monday evening. I haven't done anything remotely close to exercise in months, so naturally I would be prone to such post-workout aches. I normally can jog (lightly) about two miles over a 20-30 minute time frame. It's a really slow jog, but nonetheless it's half an hour of cardio which I need. After about three months of not working out, my abilities as a runner has diminished. I ran about three quarters of a mile, and walked the rest at 4.0 mi/hr, which may sound like a slow pace, but for a short legged Asian which I am, it's a pretty brisk pace. I burned 189 calories and jogged/walked 1.93 miles over 30 minutes. I'll need to re-plan my schedules. Speaking of which...

I am a very meticulous person. In many ways I am not meticulous, but don't let that fool you. I saw a movie version of myself in a recent preview of a new chick flick/romantic comedy, Along Came Polly. Ben Stiller's character works for risk management. He is a risk-phobe who does everything his way, which is the safe way. Enter Jennifer Aniston's character, who is spontaneous and risque, if you will. She's everything that he's not, and while he fears that, he gets drawn in. He eventually opens up and loosens up, finding true love etc. etc. Well, Ben Stiller's character is very much like me, except for the tidy part. Of course my mess is not your normal mess -- it's organized mess, so I can still be considered organized, meticulous, and risk-phobic. But about fearing risks -- that's probably very true of me.

I don't like being in situations where I can't be in control. I love drinking, but I'd be damned if I let someone else (even if he/she is sober/designated driver) drive me home. I don't enjoy being picked up from my home and letting someone else drive. What if I want to leave and come home but can't because I don't have my own method of transportation? I guess that's being anal, but it's very true. I like to make lists, and make lists of lists. I like to set goals and write down each step to reach that goal. I plan out the classes I need to take semesters ahead. I already knew what I'd be taking this semester about a year ago. I do plan B. I also do Plan C and Plan D. For example, I was waiting to get into the nursing program for over a year. Every semester, I had plan A, which was to get into the program and start nursing courses. Plan B would have been a set of classes I would have taken if Plan A did not work out. Then I had Plan C, which was another set of classes, should plan B fail. I don't quit a job unless i have another waiting. I tote around a purse heavier than the earth on top of Atlas' shoulders, because I have to carry this and that, for "just in case." I have tattered band-aids that I've had for years (when would you really need a band-aid in urban civilization?) and a full make-up set (just in case I have a photo-shoot?) and a pepper spray.

I planned to lose weigth this year and join those who are not over-weight (yes, I am slightly overweight -- I am not some weight-obsessed freak!). I have planned out each step of the way written in my organizer. What exercises I would do, how many minutes of them I would do, when I would do them, and how much calories I would consume. How much I should weight after a month or so, etc. etc. I don't know when I started to become so anal -- ahem, meticulous -- I used to be such a free person. I feel nostalgic about being the list-free person I once had been, but I feel much more comfortable in this risk-free zone that I'm in now.

I'm covering a lot of ground today, although not as thoroughly or as focused as I should or like to be. I actually went to Ralph's website, to send a comment to them about my Pastrami incident. I re-read what I wrote, but realized that I would need to taylor it a bit -- calling the Ralph's workers an evil demon probably wouldn't make me too credible. When I get around to it, I will. Because I have been wronged, and I will not stand for that kind of ill behaviour. I wonder if they would even read it, much less re-act to it. Hmm. If they did or didn't, how would I know? I guess I have done the best that I could do.

Hot Pastrami, Cold Pastrami

Yes, I actually have a title today. I almost forgot to blog about this incident, which happens to be extremely blog-worthy, because I was going to right after lunch, but I was extremely busy the whole day! I didn't even have time to check my e-mail or make myself a cup of coffee!

My day was going pretty smoothly, until I went out for some errands. On my way back, I wanted to grab some lunch for my boss, my co-worker, and myself. I had to go to Ralphs for water and soda, and I found that they were selling submarine sandwiches as well. I figured, why drive around looking for parking, when I can kill two birds with one stone here? After contemplating for a few minutes on the very very brief and concise menu, I decided to get a large pastrami sandwich, and a small turkey and bacon sandwich. They had two columns on their menu which was on a large board. It was friendly on the eyes with large fonts; one column was labeled "COLD SUBS" and the other column, on the right, said "HOT SUBS." Under cold subs, there was 5 or 6 kinds of sandwiches -- ham and cheese, turkey, turkey and bacon, etc. On the hot subs' side, there was just two -- steak and cheese, and pastrami.

Being the clever girl that I am, I figured out for myself that the Pastrami would be a hot sandwich, and it sounded tasty, so I decided to get that. I also ordered a turkey and bacon sandwich which didn't sound too bad either.

Ana* came to help me, and she was very friendly. Her bright pearly whites complimented her brown, healthily tanned skin, and she was courteous. I placed my order, and she began to make it. First when I told her about the turkey and bacon sandwich, she looked puzzled. She asked me, "you want turkey... and bacon in one sandwich?" As though I was making up a menu item that they did not have! I told her yes, the third one down from that menu, and she nodded and smiled, as though my inept ability to place an order had confused her.

She asked to confirm what the second sandwich was supposed to be, and I told her, "pastrami." She went to the other side of the counter to slice the pastrami (or what I hope was pastrami). She then took out the bacon which was heated in the microwave. She placed the bacon on top of the turkey and finished creating that sandwich. She then placed the pastrami onto the sandwich -- the pastrami was not heated. I asked her hesitently, if she had heated the pastrami. She did not respond.

I assumed that the pastrami would have been heated, because she obviously has worked here a while, and would know more about making a sandwich than I did. I assumed that when a sandwich is listed under "HOT SUBS" it would be hot, although inevitably it would cool down afterwards. At least at the beginning, shortly after its creation, it would be hot -- I assumed. And we all know what happens when we assume. I had forgotten.

She rang up my order which came out to something close to nine dollars. She handed over the sandwich, as I handed her the money. I felt kind of iffy, so I felt the sandwich through the bags, and they were cool -- not as though they contained hot pastramis inside. So I asked her if she heated the pastrami. She said, "no, both sandwiches are cold." I really did want to beg to differ, so I did. "The menu says pastrami under 'HOT SUBS,'" I said. She said, "they come both ways, hot and cold. You didn't specify which kind." I didn't want to pick a fight, because I had to get back to the office where I had work piled up high. I asked her in my nicest voice, "would you be able to heat them? I was not aware that I had to request that the pastrami be heated." She said that there were other customers waiting, and that I would have to wait in line again. So I did.

Ana and her co-worker, Alina* flicked me with looks that was harsher than any spoken words could have been. I waited about 10 minutes, and was helped by Alina. I was hoping that Alina, sweetly demure in her dark-framed glasses, would be more understanding. It wasn't just a matter of having hot pastrami. It was the fact that Ana snubbed me when I was clearly right. I may be a shy person, who is an introvert, but I really can't stand to have something wrong me as Ralph's cold pastrami had.

It turns out that Ana was lesser of two evils, because Alina was simply devilish. I tried to explain the situation. I originally wanted an apology, because when it says pastrami under the words "HOT SUBS" the consumer naturally wants hot pastrami, or something remotely close to hot. But definitely not cold. Since I started working in the cell phone biz, where I deal with contracts on a daily basis, I have learned to read the fine prints. All of them. I tried desparately to find any on the menu board or any other place. Perhaps somewhere they had fine prints -- "menu items listed under "HOT SUBS" may not be hot -- they will be served hot or cold at the server's discretions." But there were no fine prints. Time was ticking away, and I really had to get back to work. If it was my day off, or even if I had more time, I would have definitely asked for the supervisor (who probably would have snubbed me further) and ask if there was a regional manager I would be able to speak to about the misleading menu board and the unhelpful wretched workers who knows nothing about customer service! But alas, I had to compromise with reality. The reality was that I had to get back to work. My boss and coworker were waiting for their lunch. It was 2 PM.

I didn't want an apology. I compromised. But they had to meet me halfway. I started out my part by sounding apologetic for taking up Alina's time. I said, "I'm sorry, but would you be able to heat these? I was not aware that I am supposed to ask that a pastrami sandwich be heated." To my surprise, Alina said, "Y O U A R E." And that is all she said. But she did proceed to take the sandwich apart and remove the pastrami. She basically threw them in the microwave for a minute or so, and then slapped them back between the bread and re-wrap it.

If anyone who works at or manages (even better!) Ralphs, you need to hear this. If you are a consumer who has been to Ralphs or will go to Ralphs at some point, you need to be aware. Just because it is listed under HOT SUBS, it doesn't mean it's hot. In the land of the politically correct, where thanks to a certain lady, all coffee cup lids come with a warning "The beverage you are about to enjoy is extremely hot!" (as if that's necessary) it is never safe to assume. I have been to Subways and Togos, and other independently owned sandwich places, and never had I ordered a pastrami to be hot. They were always hot. I am sorry for assuming, but one can't assume anything else, when the word pastrami is clearly listed in the column labeled "HOT SUBS" in bold capital letters! I am not one to be nit-picky about things like that. But if a pastrami sandwich does come both hot and cold, should not the worker ask, "would you like this HOT or COLD?" Although it is unknown to me that a pastrami sandwich could be served cold, I feel that it is uncommon enough for Ana to ask me about that option.

What about hot soup? Would that mean I would actually have to see if the soup's hot? Because of course the soup could be cold. The maker of the soup could claim that their soup comes both ways, hot and cold. What happens then? What about something like onion rings? "Oh, I'm sorry ma'am. Our onion rings come both ways, stale and cold." It's not about having a cold sandwich for lunch that angered me. It is first that the server would not admit her obvious mistake. Secondly, she made me wait another 10 minutes or so on a busy Tuesday, without a word of apology. I did not want her to admit guilt or condemn herself as the evil demon that she really is. I just wanted some sort of sympathy or understanding about an obvious misunderstanding. It could have resolved as a miscommunication between two people. Even if I were told to wait, had I received some kind of acknowledgement that this was a miscommunication, I would have been less angered. I was also angered because Ana's coworker, Alina, who grudgingly heated the pastrami, had only said TWO words to me, which were NOT "thank you."

In a total unrelated (yeah right) topic -- the sandwiches SUCKED. There is no tasteful way to describe the crappy sandwiches that were sold to me. It just plain sucked. At least they didn't claim their sandwiches to be delicious on that menu board of theirs... because then I would have been hoppin' mad!

*Names have not been changed to protect the innocent, because they are obviously NOT innocent at all -- they are evil evil people and thus should be regarded as such forever more.

I know it is kind of late, but I have gotten started on feeling New-Year-sy. I have vacuumed; I doubt I vacuumed more than once in 2003. I will try to make it at least a monthly ritual. My bathroom is tidier than normal, and my desk is free from clutters. I paid a whopping three grand to school for the spring semester's tuition -- well at least close to three grand -- almost 2900! That's a lotta dollars, especially for someone like me. So what other way to vent and release stress than -- blow even more money! Yes. I originally went to Express to see if they had a shorter length for the jeans I had purchased a week ago (I purchased a "Regular" but it turns out that I am vertically challenged -- despite my 5'6" height). They did not have that size, so I gave up and decided to wear them folded at the ends or something... I tried to look for heels high enough to cover the length, but clunky platform high heels are completely out of style these days. Furthermore, flats are in and so your short-legged heroine felt increasingly down in the dumps. And nothing brings you out from the dumps like shopping. So I did. I was already at the mall, so I figured why not?

I hit Bath and Body Works, which is connected to Express, and bought a pearberry shower gel, which smells heavenly, and bought two soaps, all on sale. The total transaction was $7 + 8.25% tax. Then I went into several stores, including Gap, where I found a rather homely skirt on sale for 9.99, and black corduroy pants for 19.99. So instead of just the exchange I was supposed to do, I spent even more money. Sad part is, this winter I spent so much money that I am waaaaaay over my budget. So much for living frugal.

I did do some pilates, which I haven't done for ages. My abdominal area is pulling a bit. I really need to start working out again. I think I will start tomorrow. So basically, nothing too exciting in my life now.