Tag Archives: conversation

Apr 09 2014
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Instructive

There is such a thing as a free lunch

freeI’m afraid I’ve been remiss but please don’t mistake this for an apology. It’s more of an explanation really. The thing is I started this blog for a couple of reasons. The first was to help people better understand the benefits of living life as a shallow person. I hope I have done that by sharing with you some of the stories of my life. The second was to provide those of you inclined to follow in my steps with some tricks and tips for doing so. And this is where I think I may have stumbled just a bit. Because I haven’t really focused on the “how to’s” which isn’t all that surprising since I have never been one to tell people what to do. Except of course the kids. But that’s to be expected. So, I was quite pleased the other day when I came upon a situation that reminded me what this blog was all about and how I might have gotten slightly off the path I was trying to beat. It was, as they say in my world, a teachable moment.

It all started with a coffee meeting set up to discuss some really important work stuff. A little before we were to meet, my wonderful colleague (yes, she reads the blog) let me know that if she arrived before I did she would pick up my drink for me. My immediate reaction was “how lovely of her” followed closely by “so what would it hurt if I’m a couple of minutes late?”. And sure enough, when I arrived I found both her and my drink waiting patiently for me. It was at that moment I realized there really is such a thing as a free lunch, or at the very least, a coffee and that perhaps this particular skill of mine was something to be shared with others. Because, as you can see, it’s about the timing. Late enough to ensure she would get there before me but not so late to cause her to become irritated. Or let my drink get tepid. But while the timing is critical, what is even more important in a situation such as this, is to shed any shred of guilt you might feel about pulling this off. Which, goes without saying, is not all that difficult for a truly shallow person.

Let’s look at another example. You’ve just finished a delish repast with a friend you haven’t seen for perhaps forty years or so. You’ve exchanged the requisite numbers of stories about kids, travel and first husbands when it occurs to you that a moment even more uncomfortable than the conversation you have just experienced is still to come. Let’s face it. You know the server will place the cheque strategically at equi distance between you and your lunch partner so here’s what you need to do. Hesitate for just a moment. If you have to, save that last forkful of desert for this very purpose and when your new found friend reaches to pick up the cheque, resist any urge you may have to suggest a different solution to this problem. No matter what that little voice inside your head tells you just say “how nice”, and “thank you”. To assuage any twinges of guilt you may have at this juncture, think of it this way. Either she has enjoyed your company so much that she’s happy to pay or she has way more money than you do. One way or the other it’s a win-win and you just got a free lunch. Remember, timing and guilt.

Of course it won’t always go this way. There are those who prefer a more collaborative arrangement, a “round robin” of sorts where they get this one and you get the next. Go ahead and make that deal. But may I respectfully suggest that before your next date you take another boo at “Forgetting…it’s an art”. I’m guessing that little refresher will come in handy right about now.

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Sep 29 2013
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Informative, Instructive

Blimey! What’s that you said?

DSCN0795smallSo here’s the thing about travel. It’s complicated. First there’s the security line with all of its rules and the decisions you have to make. Do I take my shoes off or don’t I? Should I throw out my water or drink it, a decision I may later regret should the seat belt light stay on too long after take-off.  Was it a 1 litre bag or a bag of 1 litre bottles that I’m allowed? Should I opt for the machine or the pat down? Once you get through all of that there’s the airport signage to decipher and the total recall you’ll need to try to remember whether your gate was B39 or D93 which, given the long and opposing corridors in many terminals, could significantly impact your chances of making it onto your plane.

Now as a shallow person I do my best to live my life in a way that is as uncomplicated as possible. For that reason I have a distinct preference, once I make my way through all of the previously mentioned chaos, to disembark at a location where I am able to understand what is being said.  And while I can read, write and say “the house is near the garden” in Hebrew, I’m not sure that qualifies as a second language. As a result, I am most comfortable in my native English. Which, imho, made my recent foray to London a particularly good choice.  At least I thought it did.

Let me start by saying that having grown up during the “British Invasion” (no, not the 1812 one) I was aware that I would find some discrepancies in the meanings of words between my homeland and the Mother country. Face it, how many times did one have to hear Mr. McCartney refer to his “blokes” before realizing he was talking about the gentlemen standing beside him. And it’s pretty common knowledge that a “lift” is something that elevates you and  a  “brolly” is used for protection from the rain. Of course it didn’t take me too long to figure out that at the end of every meal when I politely inquired as to the location of the “washroom”, there was a reason for the funny look I got as the server wondered why it was that I wanted to bathe before going home. And I will admit the use of “toilet”, in this case, is much more direct and to the point. I can’t say however, that I was always prepared for the challenges I faced as I encountered a rather heretofore unfamiliar version of the language I speak each and every day in my home and native land.

Now don’t get me wrong. Some of the local banter is rather intuitive. I mean I  get why they call their subway the “tube” because the little round cars that you can barely stand up in live up to the name. And it doesn’t take much to understand why the “lady” on the loudspeaker repeatedly reminds you to “mind the gap” since if you don’t, you’ll find yourself removing the wheels of your luggage from the rather significant space that exists between the train and the platform in the 10 or so seconds you have to exit your car. “Take out” and “take away” mean pretty much the same on either side of the pond although the latter seems infinitely more popular than the former. The same can be said about walking on a “footpath” because you’ll actually think you’re on a  “sidewalk” even if one sounds slightly more “paved” than the other.

Smooth sailing? A cakewalk? Think you’ve got this carpet beat? Well hold on ‘cause the ride’s not over. It’s not all peaches and cream and at times it gets downright confusing. So you’re at the theatre and you feel like a little popcorn. You ask for the “concessions” and a nice young man lets you know that senior’s tickets are available at a discount through the wicket. Which I suppose is the true meaning of the word. Then there’s the time you want “fries” and have to ask for “chips” or you want “chips” have to ask for “crisps”. But I was particularly flummoxed by the tendency to make less more by turning “Yield” into “Give Way” and “Detour” into “Diverted Traffic”, which seems slightly more complicated not to mention the resultant need for larger signs. But all of this pales to what you might face when you want to eat. So listen carefully.

When confronted with “bubble and squeak” on a breakfast menu all I can say is “Don’t order it! Just don’t order it!” because it has nothing to do with either of those things. Which brings me to a little tidbit I would like to share with you should you decide to venture into a land where you have little experience with the spoken word. This is important. If you learn nothing else before you go, learn to say “chicken” in whatever language(s) you think you may encounter. Here’s why. One evening you may find yourself comfortably seated in a four star restaurant and upon carefully perusing the menu settle upon something called “rognons de veau et champignons à la sauce moutarde” because you remember a little of your high school french but clearly not enough. When it arrives at your table a very polite server looks directly at you and says “the kidney is for you madam?”. Your look of astonishment will tell the tale but, even so, the lovely woman from Miami sitting at the next table won’t be able to stop herself from proclaiming “I wondered if that was what you really wanted”. To which you reply (but only in your head) “Well if you knew, why didn’t you open up your mouth and say something when it mattered?!” all the while wishing you had stuck with the chicken. Perhaps however, that’s a story for another day.

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Mar 18 2013
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Instructive

Blasts from the Past

emailThe internet has changed everything and I can say that with some authority since I spend an inordinate amount of time on it, both at work and at home. Of course it goes without saying there’s good and bad stuff about this relatively new phenomenon and it also has the unique characteristic of being both a time saver and time waster. I mean, let’s face it. All those hours you used to spend at the library seeking just the right book to support the rather spurious arguments you were making in your final history paper have been replaced by a quick search on Google Scholar where in just minutes you can find a multitude of like-minded authors making the same spurious arguments. And imagine the time and money you could save if, like me, you register for a course, free of charge at Harvard which, when successfully completed, will garner you a frame-worthy certificate to proudly hang on your office wall confirming to everyone that you really are as smart as you think you are. And I’m pretty sure you’ll be successful even if you check off the box promising not to cheat, which is important because this is Harvard and there’s an expectation of rigour associated with the ivy league. And let’s not forget the shopping. The internet has given new meaning to the “let your fingers do the walking” ditty as now one visit to your fav “bricks and mortar” store to nail down sizes will suffice and all future purchases can be made with just a click of the wrist. No more driving through traffic, combing the mall parking lot for a spot or paying exorbitant fees to occupy a ten by eight section of pavement for a couple of hours which, if factored out on a yearly basis, would probably cover the rent on a small penthouse.

But it’s not all “raindrops and roses” or, like my Mother says “peaches and cream”, as anyone who has ever whiled away more than a few hours managing a fake farm, building towers out of oddly shaped blocks or shooting throngs of attacking aliens, knows. The internet has led us down some less savoury paths, ones which are perhaps better off having not been chosen. Not that it hasn’t been exciting. I mean we can now connect to just about everything and everybody at the touch of a button, but there’s a flip side to that coin. You see it’s given rise to an odd sort of epidemic and since it’s caught up with me I’d bet a buck or two that it’s caught up with you too. What you ask, is this affliction to which I refer? Well, let’s just say that, of late, there has been a rash of people who, despite their better judgement, feel compelled to reconnect with old pals, most likely because they have shown up on their “people you might know” block on LinkedIn. Or maybe one day, with nothing else to do, they decided to google everyone in their high school yearbook, just for fun. Which would be fine if that was where it all ended. But it doesn’t.  I have to confess that this new trend confuses me a tad. Because when I think about it, I realize that communication tools have been around for some time and yet have not traditionally been employed in this manner. Perhaps they’re just so free and easy now, like my course at Harvard. Regardless, the bottom line is that one day, when you least expect it, you will open your inbox and find an email from someone who hasn’t contacted you in 40 years, and it will go something like this:

“Hey! Long time, no see. Saw your pic on [insert your favourite social media site here] and can’t believe you haven’t changed a bit. So what’s been happening?”

Before I go on, let me stop for a moment and explain that I have actually successfully connected in this way with one or two people from the past and have very much enjoyed becoming reacquainted. In fact some of you may be reading this blog but these are exceptions to the rule. Because even as a shallow person who is no stranger to the niceties and nuances of meaningless chit chat, and who, if I have to say so myself, is pretty darn good at it, I find most of these “blast from the past” conversations to be a bit of a stretch. Honestly, “what’s been happening?” Would that be over the last 40 years? Let’s see, where do I start because 40 years is a pretty long time and this could take a while. I mean it took Moses 40 years to get the people of Israel out of the desert and some pretty significant stuff went on during that time. And don’t get me started on that “you haven’t changed a bit” malarky which could only be true if I was prematurely wrinkled and gray at 20. Or just maybe I have had tons of “work” done, as they say, in the interim. And you gotta know I’m not going to share that information with someone I haven’t heard from in 40 years. The bottom line is you’ll probably share an email or two, promise to get together next time you’re in town, and then promptly forget that you did.

So here’s my advice. Next time you get the overwhelming urge to entertain the ill conceived notion that the internet should be used to connect with people from your distant past, think again. I’m guessing that in most cases you’ll quickly realize there was probably a pretty good reason that you didn’t stay in touch in the first place and won’t hit the send key. And please don’t worry about taking as much time as you need to decide. After all, what’s another 40 years between friends?

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Mar 11 2013
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Instructive

Scooped!

ice_scoopI’ve been scooped! And as a shallow person, I’m ok with that. I mean I suppose it really is the highest form of flattery. As a matter of fact it’s kind of impressive to have someone think so highly of something I shared with them that they wanted to write about it even more than I did. Or at least they got around to writing about it before I did which is not all that surprising since, as you may have noted, my “not writing days” have begun to outnumber my writing ones. But that’s only because I returned home to the North and had a whole bunch of other stuff to do, which included deciding how many colours I could put together to cut down on the number of loads of laundry that were piled up in the basement. And then there was all that food shopping since, upon return, the cupboards were quite bare. Not to mention that, of late, I have been charged with doing some writing at work and there are only so many words in one’s head at one time. And the roads are slippery as all get out which I know doesn’t really have much to do with me writing the blog but thought I could throw it out there since I’m complaining anyway. You have to admit though that those first three are fairly plausible excuses that have me, at least, convinced that this temporary slowdown is justifiable. But now I’m back at it and since I am not going to share with you the link to the culprit’s (well that’s what I like to call him) blog, I figured it would be pretty safe to write about what he wrote about. After all, it was my idea in the first place and besides, it has lots to do with all those hours I spent drinking coffee on the patio and right now I’m feeling a little nostalgic about my recent time at the beach, especially since temps here are having  some trouble moving into the plus category. Done whining.

The origins of this escapade that I am about to describe go back to the days when the Kev and I (you remember the Kev) spent many hours going for coffee in one place or another, and I am being accurate here since it was the ‘90s and there was actually more than one place to go for coffee. A little aside here. What most people don’t realize is that there is a difference between “going for coffee” and “having a coffee” the explanation of which is much too involved for this post and will have to be picked up at some point in the future. Suffice to say that the former is what I am focusing on as it tends to be the more interesting of the two options. I think however, you can imagine that when you go for coffee with the same person day after day after day it can get a little challenging to come up with new and engaging topics around which to banter. I mean there’s work stuff, family stuff and general stuff but after a while all of that gets a bit stale and so you start to look outward for some inspiration. I have always found that if you keep one ear on the tables around you it’s possible to learn something interesting and maybe even confidential as most people forget that they are not Maxwell Smart and there is no “cone of silence” (if you don’t know, here’s the link). One caution here, if you happen to accidentally overhear what you think is a great stock tip don’t run back to your office and put down your life savings ‘cause unless you happen to be lucky enough to be sitting beside Mr. Buffet it’s probably not going to pan out.

While listening in can be one way to perk up a break it is a little passive so I’d like to help you take a more proactive approach to passing the time. Whenever the Kev and I got a little bored with each other we played a game that we like to call “Who’s that Guy/Who’s that Gal?” There are no rules to this game and it’s pretty straight forward. All you have to do is look around and find someone whose life you can recreate. That’s right. You are going to figure out who that guy/gal is without actually talking to them or anyone they know. It goes something like this.

Me: See that guy in the corner with the ponytail sipping on the frap? 
Kev: Yeah. Looks like he just lost his job as the cameraman at the local network affiliate.
Me: Bet he’s trying to figure out what he can do now without chopping off that hair. Good thing he has some severance to tide him over.
Kev: He’s just stopping off here on his way to pick up a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots.
Me: So he can mosey on down to Cow Town and join the rodeo.
Kev: As a clown.

And that’s it. Before you know it you’ll be sitting with some of the most interesting albeit bizarre people in the world.  Now that I think about it, there is one rule. Never let any of them know what you’ve done because their new life just might be better than the old.

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Jan 07 2013
6 Comments
Informative

By the Deep Blue Sea

my_sunglassesI’ll be the first to admit that I’m struggling a little here. Most of you don’t know this but I hate the cold which is more than a little ironic given that many, many, many years ago I moved from a somewhat moderate Canadian climate to one of the coldest cities in the country. That’s why, now that I am entering my more golden years, I chose to spend at least a portion of the frosty season in the southernmost part of California where the temps fall well within my rather limited comfort range and the livin’ is easy. It’s pretty nice here, what with the miles and miles of sparsely populated beaches that provide a sidewalk both north and south to possibly the best ocean view Starbuck’s patios this side of the Rockies. And now that you know this you’re perplexed and wondering what the heck I am struggling with. Well let me tell you.

I know you’re thinking that this part of the country in particular is a mecca for those of us who subscribe to the shallow way of life because, from all that we see and hear, that’s what we know to be true. I mean this *is* California, the centre of blatant and unabashed consumerism and the birthplace of those “Housewives”. Well I was with you on this one, that is until I got here. The first inkling I had that my expectations were not to be met occurred on the morning after arrival when I embarked on my inaugural visit to Costco, making my way along Coastal Highway 101 past the surf shops and the local pizza joints. The vistas are truly spectacular so it would be easy to miss the small sign, but not so much the temple like archway that serves as the entrance to the “Self-Realization Fellowship” as you journey from one beach town to the next. If you haven’t heard of it, this organization (can I call it that?) was founded in 1920 by Paramahansa Yogananda and it’s purpose is to help people “realize and express more fully in their lives the beauty, nobility, and divinity of the human spirit” which I can confidently say is anything but shallow and probably also explains the existence of the “Swami” cafe, and the “Swami” taxi company along with the fact that there are more yoga studios than I can comfortably count on all of my extremities. And that’s just the beginning.

As I navigate my way through the streets I begin to notice I’m a bit of an anomaly in my somewhat larger than I prefer carbon emission rental vehicle, being significantly outnumbered by the plethora of “Leafs”, “Prius’ A, B, and Cs”, “Smart Cars” and various other hybrids, electrics and heretofore never seen environmentally friendly options with which I am unfamiliar, not surprisingly so since I hail from one of the largest oil producing provinces in the world. And while I don’t really have a beef with environmentalists I’m not all that thrilled about having the prime parking spots set aside for them while I do battle for the few remaining ones at the back of the lot . Not only that but it’s a veritable “Tour de France” what with all of the bikes sailing past in their designated lanes.

Returning with my oversized packages of just about everything I breathe a sigh of relief as the familiar green umbrellas come into view and I hold out hope that things are going to take a turn for the better. At the Starbucks, where by all rights I should have been sitting beside overly tanned and too blonde dudes and dudettes saying surfer stuff like “hey bro, that was an awesome ride” and “Cowabunga! Eddie would go”, I instead find myself sharing space with a group of business types making arrangements for a session on team building with a woman whose qualifications are not limited to but include, being a member of a world class mountaineering team that won a championship climbing competition somewhere in Borneo. To be honest, it’s a tad disorienting and I’m already finding myself shopping at places like “Whole Foods” and “Sprouts”. Next thing you know I’ll be walking into the holistic healing centre located right next door to my temporary digs to see what they can do about the blisters I’m getting from all the walking I have to do to get from my car to the store.

So there you have it. I’m going to do my best to stay the course but I’m beginning to think I might have to wear my shades and baseball cap in an effort to generate some Babs sightings just to be sure that I have something to write about. Because apparently the ocean isn’t the only thing that is deep around here.

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