I Hate Doing Things Twice

Lately, I have been wondering what I would do with all the free time I would have in my life, if I only had to do things once, instead two or three times, to get things right.

Let me clarify.  As I have recently examined how I spend my days, it appears that I have to "re-do" many tasks that I think are finished.  My life is complicated and busy enough to begin with.  In fact, I have a 16 page, "To-Do" list that helps me track my various business, charitable, and social interests.  

I usually start off each week with a general idea of where I intend to invest my available time and effort.  The plan is based on commitments, interest, momentum, priorities, time lines, and window of opportunity.  However, what continues to catch me off guard is that, when I plan my days and weeks, I forget about allotting time for unforeseen circumstances, initiated by others, and even more, for the need to revisit tasks that I thought were completed and already crossed of my to-do list. 

As I have been pondering this issue of late, I realize that I arrive here because of a couple of key factors.  It all boils down to communication, competence, trust, and follow through.  While it might not all be my fault, it might be my responsibility, even if these are difficult considerations to assess and address.  

If I want to make things better, easier, and better for my life, then I will have to do a better job communicating from day one, and assessing other people's ability to understand what is involved, trust in their competence, and ability to follow through as we agreed and when we agreed.  There are no short cuts.  

When it comes to communication, I have realized that its important to communicate to all involved, up front, to make sure all concerned have a chance for input, to be fair, so that any stragglers cannot derail the momentum of a task downstream.

I make mistakes because I am in a hurry, and don't consider all the "pros" and "cons" of an issue carefully, before I make a decision.  Its this "buyers remorse" or additional input that complicates issues and pushes me to revisit my decisions and tasks.  If I commit to this vetting earlier in the process, I will probably save myself a lot of anguish.

Of course, trusting others to do their part is equally frustrating.  Especially if you are unfamiliar with them.  

For example, I recently purchased a new bed.  The salesperson and I arranged to have it delivered on a certain date, but he needed to check with shipping, etc and he agreed to call me, by a certain date, to verify the information, and tell me for certain that the bed would be delivered on a certain date, and at a certain time.  I expected him to do this, but he didn't call me on the date he told me he would, and he hasn't called since either.  

The delivery date is approaching fast. Now, I find myself having to track him down to be certain.   I don't know if the bed is coming or not.  I don't know how to schedule my day. He has not been back to work and others at the bed store cannot seem to understand the paperwork.  When I call, he is on the phone and they say he will call right back.  He doesn't.  I call back and he is now at lunch. They will take a message.  No call.  When I call again, he has gone home for the day. What should have been a simple transaction has turned into a situation where I feel as if I am stalking the salesperson to get a simple answer, and I am spending far too much time stressing about it.

The bed example is just one little item that needs "re-doing" several times in my life.  But it is symbolic of why I feel tired a lot.  I am sure I'll get it sorted out today and everything will be fine.  But what would I have done with all the extra time I would have had if things had worked out as planned?  Ah, well, I guess that's life!

Speaking English with a Foreign Accent

I have this really stupid thing I do when conversing with people, if English is not their primary language.  It seems, I immediately "dumb down" my dialogue to simple English words and broken sentences, and speak with a quasi synthetic accent of their native tongue.

I realized this not long ago when I was speaking to my housekeeper.  She is from Guatemala and has a decent understanding of English, but prefers to speak in Spanish.  When she does speak to me in English, its filtered through a thick Latin accent.  I, on the other hand, have an adequate Spanish vocabulary, and can speak marginally fluently, even if I occasionally have difficulty conjugating my verbs.   When I get lost, or don't know what something is, I can point or mime my way through it. 

But naturally, when I speak with her, I still use my broken English, and mimic her accent, as if by some ludicrous logic, this will help her understand me better.  Its a pointless exercise and a typical lazy American gesture.  However, I can't help but rationalize that it  improves our communication and somehow helps me bond with her.

On deeper reflection, I realized I was accent filching more often than I thought.

On another occasion, I went to lunch with a group of friends. We intended to try a new restaurant, and I called ahead to make reservations to assure that we would get a good table at the time we wanted.  When I got off the phone, I was asked if the new restaurant was French.  "Yes", I replied, "Why do you ask"?  "Because", they said, "You quickly adapted a French accent on the phone."  Oh my God!

The restaurant proprietor who took my reservation did indeed have an indiscernible French accent, and as I have now mentioned, I have a tendency to slip right into those situations without realizing it.  We were having a bit of an issue understanding each other and I automatically started conversing with my rendition of a derivative, thick, French accent.  Similar to the discussions I have had with my housekeeper, I assumed that my accent would help him better understand me, even though I was still speaking in English.

"I would like to reserve a table for lunch today" was intercepted and volleyed back to me with a "Yes, we serva lunch today".   I shook my head, and when my followup, clarification comment, "I would like to make a reservation for four people four lunch at noon with a table near the window" struck out, it was quickly condensed to  "You speaka English? Four people, eat lunch, 12 O'clock noon, today".  I mouthed this into the phone, in a bastardized  Spanish/Italian/French combination, as if its mere utterance would click a light bulb on in his head and he would now recognize me as a fellow Frenchman.  To appreciate the full measure of my indiscretion, imagine that my accent was as bad as that of the famed Peter Sellers portraying Chief Inspector Clouseau from the Pink Panther series of 70's.  I sure hope he wasn't offended.

While we are off topic for a moment, I love this scene where Inspector Clouseau is looking for a room but the innkeeper has difficulty understanding his accent.  The additional video is just a tribute to the comedy inspired by Sellers and his character.

Clouseau: Do you have a REUM?
Inn Keeper: I do not know what a REUM iz!
Clouseau: Zimma
Inn Keeper: Ahhh.. a RRRUUUMMM!
Clouseau: That is what I have been saying you idiot! REUM!

Just to be clear, my accent pilferage issue isn't just limited to Spanish or French. I am prone to the same faux pas whenever I travel abroad.  The country is irrelevant. Canada, England, Scotland, Ireland, etc., in fact, I don't even have to  leave the country to make a fool of myself.  I can just go to the South or the Northern Midwest and I start right in with the "you'alls" and "aboots".

While I realize that my accents are a little foolish and don't help communication or really make me appear native, I also know that I don't do it on purpose and that I am not alone in this transgression.   Hollywood has has taken its shot at making fun of this showcasing it in both film and television.  If you need proof, watch almost any episode of I Love Lucy.

Airline Travel

I still remember how exciting airline travel was when I was a kid.  Our family never traveled by air for vacations, as the cost was probably out of reach for us.  Family vacations were either road trips to visit the relatives or camping trips.  Flying was reserved for when we moved from one city to another, which was often, and the cost was covered by the company my father worked for.

There was an allure to flying in the 60s.  It was special.  We held our airline captains and flight attendants, in their snappy pressed jackets, with little wing pins on their lapels, in high regard back then.  Passengers also dressed up in their Sunday best to travel.  We so marveled at the miniaturized meals served to us on fine china that we didn't mind the cigarette smoke wafting through the aisles.  The experience was as much like an amusement park adventure as it was an expedient mode of transportation.  Ahhhh! 

So what happened? 

As a million mile traveler, I have traveled so often by air for business that I really dread flying anywhere that I don't have to.  Similar to George Clooney's character in his recent film, Up in the Air, there was a time in my life that I was in the air every week. 

The continual threat of terrorism, an uber painful economy, airline mergers, bankruptcies, and diminishing services have contributed to the loss of flying's appeal. I frequently find myself driving from San Francisco to Los Angeles instead of facing my own airport anxiety.  

However, sometimes, flying is the only realistic option, like it was last weekend.  An occasional quick round trip to L.A. is a good lesson for me on how to embrace those irritating annoyances, take a deep breath, and learn to relax.

From the get-go, there are so many issues to resolve and questions to answer. After adjusting my meeting schedule multiple times, I was finally able to zero in on the flight days and review airline, flight, payment, and class of service options.  While major airlines like United and Alaska still offer First Class cabin service, their flights are often compromised and they have limited flight options.  Besides, as much as I prefer to fly in first class, I only  do so when I can use points, and I can handle coach for a fifty minute flight anyway.   

California is well served by Southwest these days and they have done their best to make checking in and boarding more efficient and less stressful.  I was able to pay a small extra fee and actually check in and issue my boarding pass 36 hours in advance instead of the usual 24 hours.  Its important to me to get in that first group of A-1 to A-30 so that I can board the plane early enough to pick a comfortable seat and stow my luggage on board.

Security is another reality all together.  Administered by the Transportation Security Administration (TSA), it is as clumsy and awkward as ever.

It was early when I arrived at the airport.  I had a 7 am flight and I was tired.  So I immediately headed for the Starbucks and thought I was a lucky soul that in spite of the crowds of people around me, no one was in line.  I rushed right up to the counter and was able to purchase my venti black coffee.  I gasp at the $4.17 price that would have been $1.95 or less anywhere else.   But it is like a security blanket and I can handle any unforeseen crisis ahead as long as I am caffeinated. 

With cup in hand I prepared myself for the long snaking security lines, making sure that I have my drivers license and boarding pass ready before I move into position.  As I am juggling my cup of coffee to get my documents ready, it dawns on me what an idiot I am.  The reason the Starbucks line was empty was because it was on this side of security and I would not be able to bring it through.  Still piping hot, Into the trash it goes.  What a waste.  Drat!

I survey the security lines and the dazed travelers shuffling through them. The TSA now has the good sense to divide us up into (1) Special Needs Travelers; (2) Experienced Travelers; and (3) Casual Travelers.  The only problem is that they have the three lines with only two agents and one agent is handling both the casual traveler and the experienced traveler line. They have bungled it again.  Even on my worse day, I probably don't qualify as a special needs traveler, and would be embarrassed to try.  Even so, there are only two wheelchair bound travelers in that line and it will probably take 15 minutes each to move them through.   

There doesn't seem to be any advantage to me entering the experienced traveler line  either, because the agent is just going back and forth between the two lines.  Furthermore, it  appears that only experienced travelers seem to know they are the only ones eligible to be in the line.  You can tell that casual travelers are intermixed by what they are waring, the way they handle their luggage, documents - everything about them screams novice.  I guess it subjective to begin with, and my coffee faux pas of the morning probably disqualified me as well, as I should have known better.   Hope no one witnessed that.

The key is not so much which line you get in to enter the security check point.  No, the security line you get in to have yourself and your possessions scanned is much more critical.  You have to have a keen eye to size up all the travelers in front of you.

I have done this so many times.  I know what shoes to wear, how to pack my luggage, how to break it down to quickly to remove my computer, quart-sized bag of toiletries, shoes, jacket, miscellaneous electronics and other metal objects.  I load them on the conveyor belt, separated in the proper plastic buckets, in the order I wish to retrieve them on the other end. This way, I can slip my shoes back on, pocket my iphone, open my luggage and shove my toiletries and laptop back in in 15 seconds flat, all the while why shaking my head at all the other poor suckers.  Its a rare and valuable skill I am rather proud of my ability to perform.

I look around to see some of the casual travelers I avoided.  They seem to be plugged with metal, are being patted down, have no idea how to breakdown their strollers, disrobe, etc.  One flashily dressed woman has knee high 5 " heeled lace up boots.  Good lord!  She'll be there for 10 minutes.

I keep hearing about how they are deploying more of the new full body scanners to speed this process up.  I pity the poor TSA agent that will have to scan and observe my naked body with all its parts mushed and pushed up against everything.  

I am already racing off to merge into to groups of zoned out travelers who insist on  blocking left lane travel on the moving sidewalks, walking down the Concourse, starting and stopping suddenly, 5 abreast at a slow and inconsistent pace, dropping their luggage, and blocking everybody behind them.  Yes, this is what I love about the airport.

I can't wait to get on board, and avoid eye contact with the other travelers; part of my strategy to select a good seat.  No body likes to sit next to the fat guy, and that includes me.  However, when I am the fat guy no one wants to sit next to, I use every trick I can to put an empty seat next to me.  I sit next to the window, puff my body out (as if it needs any additional puffing),  spread out my personal belongings, cross my legs, with my right  shoe right up in the middle seat area, spread my arms, open a large newspaper, pull down the middle tray, and put something on the middle seat.  What a theatrical routine!  An elaborate rouse that flight attendants and other experienced travelers can see right through.  All to get a little more space without paying for it.  But this is war and there is no room for the meek.

If the flight is going to be pretty full, I look for a small child or a small framed woman and move in next to one of them.  Another good option is to look for a young couple in love.  Guys usually prefer to sit next to the window or the aisle so I can sit next to the woman in the middle seat who will spend most of her time leaning into her boyfriend.

Yep, if you can handle security, casual travelers, boarding and the actual flight, in coach, then lost luggage, car rentals, delayed and canceled flights seem like child's play.  If you can't then its best to drive or pop a few valium, cause you are going to need it! 

Drive At Your Own Risk

I can still remember how excited I was to get my learner's permit and ultimately my driver's license.  It was my passport to freedom.  What suburban American teenager doesn't dream of the day their parents hand over a set of keys and allow them to take the family vehicle for a spin?

I was no different.  The odds were already stacked against me as the driving age was 17 in New Jersey.  I was one of those unfortunate kids that didn't turn 17 until the fall of my senior year.  I really appreciated my older friends and envied their freedom. It felt like I was a year behind everyone else, but when that day finally came, I couldn't be happier to run the family errands.  "Sure mom, you need a quart of milk?  I'll run to the store and get that for you.  Be back in a few hours!"

Like anyone else, I started off as an ultra careful, and well behaved neophyte.  I drove the speed limit, regularly checked my side and rear view mirrors.  The radio volume was always tuned to an acceptable volume, and I wouldn't have dreamed of pulling out of the driveway if my hands were not at the "ten" and "two" o'clock position.

Oh, those were the days my friend!  What I first recognized as a privilege, morphed quickly into a "right" as I gradually transitioned into another sloppy road zombie.

My long forgotten right of passage, evolved from youthful romps and spirited getaways into a necessary mode of transportation, and my attitudes and experiences changed along the way as well.

Nowadays, I barely even look in the side view mirror during an entire voyage, with my my left elbow slung out the window and my right hand resting on my knee.  With power steering, I don't need anything more than the "tips" of one or two fingers on the wheel at anytime.  After all I am only driving down a freeway at 75 miles per hour, in a two ton Range Rover, with thousands of other drivers.  What could happen?

Just the other day, like Jekyll & Hyde, I became one of those crazed lane changers in my effort to get home. Geez!  Someone in front of me is going 45 mph, but cars are whizzing by in the lanes to my right and left.  Its not safe yet, so I wait for my chance.  Quick!  Now. Now. Now!  Success!  I am now in the faster lane to my right.  Victory is mine.  But wait, what is this? Traffic is now slowing ahead.  Damn!  I am stuck again and turn to my left to see the slow poke that I was just behind go past me. Argh!

Sometimes I am amazed that I even get home in one piece.  More than once, I have actually pulled up in my driveway without recollection of the past 15 minutes on the road.   Simply on some sort of auto pilot, my eyes, hands, feet and body are doing the job, but my brain was elsewhere. And even as I write this, and disclose to whomever is reading, I still believe I am one of the good drivers.  You heard me right.  I am one of the good guys on the road.  Its the other guys who are idiots.  Can we talk?

As bad a driver as I might be, the others I am forced to share the roadways with are far worse. I witness atrocities daily and always consider it a miracle when I get home alive and in one piece. So, I have summed up the other drivers and their driving practices into a few different categories.  These are some of the notorious examples of bad driving I have experienced:

1. Not Paying Attention Drivers.  I have seen seen women putting on makeup, drivers, with their heads turned, eating food, checking on small children and pets, or trying to read maps.  I even saw a person once playing an oboe that was in their lap as they were about to drive through the Caldecott tunnel!  Unbelievable.  Even though California bans "non hands-free" use of cell phones, it is not illegal to text while driving.  The $50 penalty doesn't seem to stop most people from ignoring the law.  Their incessant calling and texting ensures their erratic driving and requires that I be even more of a defensive driver while eating, singing and texting myself!

2. Driving Like A Maniac. This group includes speeders and the ambiguous lane changers. The guys that are always weaving and bobbing from lane to lane.  No one is ever moving fast enough for them.  They always think the other lane is moving faster until they shift into it.  Then it becomes the slow lane and they need to move back.  God forbid they move back a full car length and their trip takes an extra 5 seconds.

This group also includes motorcyclists.  If they have aircooled engines, they are permitted by law to weave between cars to keep moving forward.  But I have seen them weave and drive "between" lanes and between cars at 75 miles per hour.

Maniacs are also the guys, who when entering the freeway expecting everyone to yield to them as they merge instead of the other way around.  If they are the guy on the freeway, they will be the first to cut you off.

But be careful.  They can be hot blooded!  Years ago, one of them cut me off, and as I sped to catch up with them and possibly "flip them the bird", the driver pointed a revolver at me, and I hit the breaks fast.  Crazy!

3. Angry and Inconsiderate Drivers.  These are the guys who are always slamming on their horns if you don't accelerate in less than 1 nano-second after a green stop light flashes.  These are also speeders.  They don't use their blinkers unless they turn them on AFTER they have changed lanes. These guys are also the drivers that will merge at the last second.  Even if "Merge Ahead" signs are well posted, they go racing past all the people who are properly merging and expect someone in the very front to let them in at the last second.  I wouldn't be the first person to get frustrated and actually risk damaging my car to block them from merging at the last second. 

4. Shouldn't Be On The Road at All.  These are generally super senior citizens who haven't been inside a DMV for years and keep getting automatic license renewals.  Sometimes the poor dears can't even see over the steering wheel.  They are our parents and grandparents, and we love them, but, their driving days are nearing an end.  They are often so cautious that cause backups when they are driving 35 miles per hour on the freeway.  They start and stop very slowly.  This group also includes drivers whose vehicles shouldn't be on the road.  They drive some aging rust bucket will holes in the floor board that make the Beverly Hillbillies' vehicle look like a brand new limo.

5. Dear in The Headlights Drivers.  These are all the drivers who short circuit whenever they encounter something out of their normal routine.  They don't know how to adjust their driving in rain or fog.  They become the "lookie-loos" when there is an accident. 

Hopefully I haven't fightened anyone too much.  The question I put forth is this.  Are you safer being in my vehicle while I am driving or on the road next to me?