Mundane Adventures

Tonight, my tutoring session ended early, so I popped over to the grocery store.

I usually go to Whole Foods, not because I am a pretentious hippie, but because it is usually pretty quiet. The workers are super nice and friendly and know things about food, like what kind of cheese to buy for a picky eater.

But tonight, I happened upon the Central Market and decided to try it out. I’ll be going back! It’s like Whole Foods and a regular grocery store had a huge baby. A very huge, meandering baby.

Saki

I didn’t buy this saki, because it’s alcoholic (right?) and I consume very little alcohol. I had a martini last Friday and that will probably be the only alcohol I drink this month.

But isn’t this bottle super gorgeous?

Caviar

I also didn’t buy any caviar aka roe aka fish eggs, but I just had to photograph it because it is so beautiful. Look at all those tiny little would be fishes!

Bakery

I never go into a store without looking at the baked goods. I didn’t buy anything sweet; I just admired the artistry of the bakers and the gorgeous arrangements and displays.

Teas

I also didn’t buy any teas because I have SO MUCH TEA (see post from two days ago.) I almost wanted to donate some of my tea so I had a legit reason to buy more. Ah! I’m a tea hoarder!

I liked the names of these teas.

Curiosities

I have never seen a red pear or dragonfruit in real life. How delightful! And apparently you can buy a bundle of mushrooms. Fascinating!

What I Actually Bought

Sooo…I bought a random assortment of things.

I bought some of the most gorgeous scallops I’ve ever seen and will cook them tomorrow for lunch. I almost can’t wait. I also bought salmon and two peaches; the other things are shown clearly in the photos. I bought a bath bomb for $7. I can’t eat it, but it’ll be such a lovely thing to experience when I use it.

I hope your day was full of some kind of low key adventure.

If it was , leave me a comment below and tell me about it.

Until tomorrow my friends…

I’m Tired Of This

Whose idea was it for me to write every day for a year?!

I haven’t made it through even 60 days of the challenge and I’m kind of sick of it!

Me and my bright ideas!

Maybe today I’m just feeling tired and a little burned out, but also, I know that almost no one is reading this,which is demotivating.

Is this important enough for me to keep writing just to keep the promise to myself?

Well, I suppose keeping a promise to yourself is the best kind of promise you can keep.

But today, tonight, honestly, I just want to throw the whole blog and promise in a big, shiny trash bin and light it all on fire.

Speaking of trash bins, I keep mine in the garage and I swept the garage early this morning. Have you ever swept a garage? After it was done and the floor was all clear, it was SO SATISFYING! My gawd! I actually stood there, still wearing my robe and bonnet, hands on my hip, and admired how nice it looked after I swept. It was amazing.

Maybe I should start writing about cleaning hacks? Just kidding, other than sweeping the garage once a year, I know almost nothing about being a super tidy person.

How was your day?

If you’re out there in Internet land, please like or comment on this post.

Let me know that you’re reading my weird blog and are enjoying it.

If you hate it, keep that to yourself. I have enough critical nature in my own mind and I don’t welcome it from outsiders.

Unless you mail me a snickers bar.

Until tomorrow, my friends…

5 Things I No Longer Apologize For

Who am I kidding? When have I ever apologized?

Just joking…I have apologized before, but I have to admit that I have used apologies quite sparingly in the past.

These five behaviors are really more like five things I have been embarrassed about in the past and perhaps no one that I know would have any idea that I used to be a little self conscious about these things.

My Affinity for Mayonnaise 

I am that person who asks for a little more, and then some more, and then just one more pass, and then just a tiny bit more mayonnaise at Subway. Or McDonald’s. Or Burger King. Or anywhere. I absolutely love mayo and when I first when to Paris and learned that the French eat mayonnaise with their fried potatoes, I felt that I had finally found a lost piece of my heart and soul.

My Affinity for the Color Red

A few months ago, a friend commented on how there’s a LOT of red things in my house. He opened the cupboards and counted all the spots where he saw something the color red. He counted a lot of things.

I absolutely LOVE red. Red anything. Lipstick, standing mixers, cars, doors, pens, it just doesn’t matter. Red is the color of life to me. Once, I was brave enough to paint the biggest wall in my apartment bright red, like stop sign red. Needless to say, that was my favorite apartment.

My General Dislike of Most of Humanity

I’m not a people person and I don’t understand how anyone could be. I have a LOT of respect for people who seem to just endlessly enjoy the company of other people. I am not one of them.

I am not introverted, however. On the rare occasion I do find a person I quite enjoy, I could spend lots of time with them and not get sick of them. I am pretty friendly and can be quite social. I just strongly prefer my own company and the peace that being alone provides. Is that weird? Don’t answer that question in the comments section.

I have been reprimanded pretty much my entire life, from childhood to yesterday, about how I have such low interest in other people. I am an intensely private person and usually operate under the presumption that so is everyone else and they don’t usually want to be bothered.

I suppose I look at it as if I DO hang out with you, you can be 100% sure that I like you and I want to be there. I think that’s better than the plethora of phony friendships that most people experience throughout their lives. In a way, perhaps I am a trendsetter.

My Indifferent Feelings Towards Mexican Food

I might lose a lot of friends because of what I am going to write next, but, I am not a huge fan of Mexican food. Where I live, in Houston, err body and their momma has a favorite Mexican place, and it’s usually not Taco Bell. Aside from some stellar street tacos I had one time, Chinese food remains numero uno in my book. I also have a very, very high affinity for Indian and Italian food.

How My Aging Body Looks and Feels Sometimes

Have you ever lived in a body that has lived over THIRTY FIVE years? Goodness grief, let me be the one to tell you, living thirty five years is an awesome blessing, but by this time in the game of life, your body might be telling you to sit down sometimes.

So, now when I am tired, I rest. If I am sick, I rest. That might mean cancelling plans sometimes, but I am over apologizing for it. Still being alive is a blessing and having the life experiences to teach me to better take care of my body is *also* a blessing.

I also wax my eyebrows less regularly and I occasionally just put on things I want to wear, with little regard to how well it matches. Last week, I wore a red and white whale print cardigan with a pair of burgundy and white checkerboard boat shoes. I could tell that the two reds did not perfectly match, but I looked in the mirror, smiled, and said, “This is what I look like today.” No one gave even half a shit and this strange outfit did not affect my day in a negative way at all. It was glorious.

New style trend to watch for in Vogue: plaid and whale prints.

 

What are some things that you don’t apologize for anymore?

Let me know in the comments below! Also, I TOTALLY FORGOT to write yesterday. I literally have no excuse. I just plain ole forgot. My bad, y’all.

Until tomorrow, my friends…

Whoop Whoop

If you grew up in the 00s and 90s, you’re probably familiar with a song that goes :

“Pull over, dat ass too fat! Whoop, whoop!”

It was performed by a female rapped named Trina and some dudes whose names I don’t remember.

Today, I was pulled over, but not for having a fat ass.

My version of the song goes: “Pull over, dat ass TOO LOST!”

I was pulled over today by a lovely campus police officer as I drove around trying to find the right place to park.

In my attempts to focus on where to go, my ability to focus on what I was doing, fell by the wayside and I made an illegal left turn.

Luckily, I got off with a warning. Thank goodness I wasn’t wanted for anything else.

How was your day?

Until tomorrow, my friends…

What It’s Like: Working With a Muslim Family

I want to start off this post by saying that I am very grateful for my life and the series of choices and happenstances that have put me in this exact spot, in this very moment. I am very, very fortunate and I am practicing being more grateful and observant of my good fortune.

One of the things that I am most thankful for is the many opportunities I have had to meet different people. And by different, I mean people who are of a different race, religion, background, nationality, gender, and experience than I am. You know, all of the typical things that humans use to segregate themselves and to judge the ones not in their special little circle.

Sometimes the opportunity to meet different people come because of me reaching out or because of some other self-directed involvement or effort. Most of the times, however, I find that opportunity comes simply by being open to it coming.

A few months ago, I started tutoring two children from an Eastern block country, near Russia. I will provide as few details as I can about this family, in an effort to protect their identities and keep the focus on the story and my experience, and the religion of Islam, which I am in no way qualified to even begin to discuss.

The first time I went to their house for a tutoring session, there was no answer on the phone for 15 minutes. Tardiness angers me, and over time, I have had to learn to manage my anger when people are late. But, this time, anger kind of got the best of me. I’d driven almost 50 minutes in hellish Houston traffic, just to be on time. And there I was, still on time, even after navigating around a big wreck, and the people were not answering the phone.

I looked at the clock on my dashboard and said to myself, “I’m only waiting 15 minutes; then, I’m leaving.”

I also had a bunch of other bad thoughts about these people BEFORE I even met them. Perhaps they were sharpening their saws, so they could cut me up into little bits? Is there such a thing as the “Tutor Strangler” in any popular movies? They must be absolutely terrible people; how dare they be so late?

I worked myself up into an almost seething frenzy when my phone rang at exactly 14 minutes past the hour. I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

The frenzied sounding father apologized profusely and asked me to please excuse them and come up to tutor the children. Not wanting to break the rule I’d set for myself, I reluctantly went up to meet them.

I immediately thanked myself for the decision to try, the decision to trust the universe, which is absolutely not something that I usually do.

Upon entering, the entire family came to warmly greet me, one by one. The father told me that he appreciated me tutoring his children and that he trusted my abilities as a teacher. Having taught public school in rough areas for several years, hearing the words “appreciation” and “trust” the first time I interacted with a parent was a rarity, to say the least.

After the session was over, the mother meekly came up to me, and handed me a warm, paper towel wrapped bundle. I said thank you as graciously as I could, not knowing at all what was customary or rude to them, realizing I knew nothing about the culture of their home country, and also realizing that my “American guilt” is still pretty strong.

I left the apartment and walked to the elevator and opened the napkin. She had given me two freshly baked rolls of bread, the steam gently greeting my grinning face as I pinched off a piece and ate it.

At that moment, I realized that something really beautiful had happened. A shared experience between people who are seemingly nothing alike, joined together by the universe’s pull and their own collective abilities to extend a bit of trust to another human being.

For the family, they had trusted a strange American to enter their home, the first time they met them. Given the media and hatred and negative messaging about Muslims in America, if I were them, I do not think I would have had the courage to invite a strange American into my home. But, they did.

For me, I had continued with the tutoring appointment, even though I was angry that they were late and a little afraid of going into a strange home. I also greedily ate home made bread from a stranger, something that I am pretty sure children are taught not to do, and there I was, as an adult, eating a stranger’s food, in an elevator, no less.

By the time I reached the first floor, I loved those people. I loved the children. I loved their kindness. I loved the open and loving energy that you can feel in their house. I texted my mother and told her I was all right and that everything went well and I even told her, “I love them already.”

I continue to work with the children and the family continues to treat me better than any parents have in all my years of teaching. They have invited me to stay after the session to have dinner with them. They have given me other food gifts. They’ve taken the time to share things about their culture and food with me. They’ve even let me hold their infant child, which for a woman who is terrified of small children, was a big feat for me to even agree to do such a thing.

Somehow, the fact that I know almost nothing about Islam, or their home country, or their language, yet I am still able to share very human experiences with the family makes me feel incredibly fortunate.

My experience with the family is truly a testament to what great things can happen when, even if you are scared or emotional, you can summon up the courage to trust others and the universe.

You just might not be disappointed.

Until tomorrow, my friends…

 

Cheat Day Writings

Is everyone and their momma still posting about the Super Bowl? Is that why my Internet is so slow?

Ha!

Congratulations, Philadelphia Eagles. I did not watch the game. I did laundry and washed my hair. But I read online that it was riveting and I do love it when an underdog wins.

I washed my hair and clothes for a little too long and had a late dinner. So, here’s a cheat day writing from almost 10 years ago. I wrote this little thought piece back on July 7, 2008.

Until tomorrow, my friends….

 

Fighting Cynicism

Lately, I’ve been fighting with feelings of cynicism.  Some people fight with obesity, depression, self-hatred, hatred for others.  For myself, my internal fight, at least at this stage in my life, is definitely with cynicism.

I can remember back to when I first became familiar with the idea of cynicism, even before I knew that it had a name.  I was perhaps in sixth or seventh grade, and we were learning about the life of Anne Frank.  I remember being immediately infatuated with her life, her letters, and her struggle.  But the thing that fascinated me most was her seemingly unwavering belief in the goodness of human beings.

Thinking about Anne Frank and my first associations with her life makes me feel hopeful, yet ashamed.  I feel hopeful because if Anne Frank could maintain her positive outlook on human beings, then I know it is entirely possible.  I feel hugely ashamed because my own life hasn’t been nearly as eventful, trying, or terrifying as Anne Frank’s, yet I still find myself battling daily to maintain my love for people.

In all honesty, I’ve never been much of a “people person.”  I have never used that term to describe myself.  I’ve never been that bubbly, personable person with whom others fall in love quickly.  I’ve never been a great salesperson, or even terribly interested in the mundane, everyday activities of other people.  I’ve always found it weird and uncomfortable if anyone ever showed any interest in my everyday activities.  Not to say that I am heartless; I strive to be very kind.  Contrarily, I have found that general “niceness” is overrated for the most part, unless it’s used to talk one’s way out of a speeding ticket.

Kindness, on the other hand, has always been hugely underrated to me.  It seems that as humans, we put greater  value on how we are perceived (as nice or not) rather than what we really are (kind or totally unconcerned about the welfare of others).  I, rather it happened purposefully or not, have always been more concerned with trying to actually be kind.  I learned at a very young age that I am unable to pretend to be nice, but I’ve never found it hard to be kind, even to assholes who are totally undeserving.

Cheat Day

The past two weeks have been so busy. My candle wick has been burned down to a tiny little nub.

Here’s to a cheat day!

This is a poem that I wrote on January 8, 2018. Not that long ago!

Have a great weekend and as usual, see ya tomorrow, friends…

What’s in the sun’s rays?

It’s the boyish grin of a fella on a first date,

It’s the warm smile that a balding father gives to his kids,

It’s the delight of children who know that they picked the right day to play sick,

It’s the lonely eyes of the writer, the observer, who watches it all

What It’s Like: Teaching Kids

Some contents of my purse serve as the muse for tonight’s post. Inside my purse are some meat-pie looking pastries, carefully wrapped in a napkin, a gift from an Azerbaijani grandmother.

I tutor two great kids a couple nights a week. I tutor them in English: reading, writing, and speaking. Their grandmother is in town, visiting from their home country, Azerbaijan, a place I’d barely heard of before meeting these children a few months ago.

About 12 years ago or so, I started a career as a school teacher. I taught elementary aged kids. After I did that for a few years, I transitioned to a job in corporate America, and taught at the collegiate level (freshmen and juniors) on the side for a few years.

Now, I am tutoring two kids and two adults. I’ll write about the adults in another post, perhaps.

When I changed from teaching kids to college adults, many of whom were older than me, everybody and their momma asked me the same question: How is it different? My go-to, cheeky answer was always, “You don’t have to take adults to the bathroom.” Karma laughed at me and once sent me an adult student who did ask, on several occasions, if she could go to the bathroom.

Teaching is kind of “old hat” to me now; even when I meet new students, I have now done it long enough that I can at least PRETEND to know what I am doing. It takes a lot of practice to even get the confidence to be able to pretend to be a confident teacher, unless you’re kind of a pompous, know it all asshole, which in that case, please do  us all a favor and stay out of the classroom. What I’m trying to say is, teaching should have a sense of respect and humility, both for your students and for your profession.

Teaching kids is challenging in its own way. Children are PAYING ATTENTION. Don’t believe the horseshit you hear on the news about how six in one children have ADHD. They might, be even then, they’re still closely paying attention to everything you do. EVERYTHING. Understand the difference between paying attention and judging you. The kids are attentive; the adults are probably judgmental.

Children aren’t thinking about bills or if they took the chicken out to unthaw. Depending on their age, they may not have a good sense of embarrassment or self awareness. They’re doing their thing and watching you do yours.

With kids, it’s a lot of work to exemplify an excellent role model, pretty much at all times. When I taught elementary school, I did not cuss, not even on the weekends. I just recently started to feel comfortable saying the word “stupid”, even though I’ve taught for years. Working in the oilfield helped me develop a hearty potty mouth, which I thoroughly enjoy, but you’d never know that when I am around young and impressionable ears.

Kids are also way smarter than most adults give them credit for. Children pick up on and absorb energy better than adults, too. If you let your child know your burdens, they will help you carry them, regardless if you have asked them to or not. I once worked with a kindergartner who came to school looking very concerned. He eventually began to cry. When I pried an answer from him, he told me that he was worried because his mom and dad “were down to their last $5,000.” He had overheard them fighting about money and even though he couldn’t even count to 500 or 5,000, his little mind could clearly interpret that something big and scary was wrong, so he worried about it. He internalized it.

I have dozens of stories like that; stories of children truly being sponges, and not always soaking up the good stuff.

Teaching a child also has a weight to it, at least it does for me. Since children have much less life experience, I find it to be so important to do two things: 1) be present with them while you are around them because 2) that affects their perception of the world.

A child that experiences an angry parent can grow up to be worrisome and fearful. A child that experiences a neglectful (physically or emotionally) parent will fight the demons of inadequacy for the rest of his life.

It is really an honor to be able to be a teacher. The job REALLY SUCKS, but it’s still an honorable one. Between utterly ridiculous parents, pushy school districts, and insane principals, I have no idea how I survived with even a shred of sanity in tact. Oh, and don’t forget the year that I had strep throat three times and my vocal chords became infected, which irrevocably changed the sound of my voice. Almost no one that I know now actually know what I used to sound like. Ah, that was fun. Good times.

Kudos to you if you’re a teacher. The job can be so damn thankless, but from one former teacher to another, I THANK YOU.

Until tomorrow, my friends…

What It’s Like: Being an Entrepreneur

It’s horrible. The END.

 

Wait, sorry, please come back, and I’ll tell you what it’s like to be an entrepreneur. And, before you stop reading, this is not some post trying to sell you a class on entrepreneurship. This is just an honest, one woman account of what it’s like to be an entrepreneur.

First, a little bit of my backstory.

I guess I could say that entrepreneurship is in my blood and my nature. My father was an entrepreneur for as long as there are stories about him, at least the ones that I have heard. I did not grow up around him, but I know some things about his entrepreneurial adventures.

My father owned a nightclub, neighborhood grocery store, and a mechanic / tire shop. My mother told me that she had no idea why he owned a nightclub; he did not like people and he especially did not like drunk ones. I suppose that I get my misanthropy and dislike for alcohol through my father’s blood line.

All of his businesses were successful and he was successful. He lived well and drove nice cars and had a nice house. I never saw the inside of the houses or the car, at least in my memory, but I have heard about them.

My elderly uncle once told me a story about how my father was also kind of a shrewd / asshole / rule following kind of guy. My uncle said that once, a guy went into my father’s grocery store and practically begged him to let him buy beer on a Sunday. My father told him no, and didn’t budge.

I am starting to see a theme here: I look like my mother, but the inside of my head and the darkness of my soul are thanks to my father. I would have done the same thing, if it were me. Get out of here with your Sunday beer money, sir. Come back when the laws change, duh!

I’ve never had much interest in rule or law breaking unless it’s speeding while driving. I just cannot stand to go 35 mph. I simply must go 38 mph. Call me a rebel.

My own foray into entrepreneurship began in middle school. In between the bell rings for us to change classes, I sold cookies to the greedy and hungry kids. I even sold them after I was caught with “contraband” and sent to the principal’s office. I retract my previous statement about not breaking rules. Those rules would have negatively impacted my business. So, perhaps, I would have sold that guy a beer on Sunday.

I majored in Business and Entrepreneurship in college. Then, one day, years after graduating from college the first time and the second time, I had a dream of opening a bakery.

Over the years, I have toyed with the idea of opening a bakery. The idea of it is crystal clear in my head. I even recruited a friend to help me figure out numbers, costs, all this stuff. It’s a somewhat secret dream of mine (as in everyone I know knows about it), and I would like to make it happen one day, hopefully soon.

But for now, my life as an entrepreneur is based on the reality of needing money and paying bills, you know the unsexy stuff. Right now, I am loosely a writer (kind of) and I work for clients. It is terribly unsexy, but it is a good way to put my pinky toe into the world of being a bonafied business owner, a self employed guru in the making.

So, what’s it like?

IT IS TERRIFYING.

I do not have the finger strength to write all the things I could write about the fear I have experienced and continue to experience as an entrepreneur. When you’re first starting out, the learning curve is so steep, that you just have to commit to feeling like you’re drowning. You might feel like that for the foreseeable future. So, commit to being uncomfortable and get on with it.

YOU ARE NOT SLEEPING ALL DAY.

This past week, I have worked so much that I couldn’t even turn my brain off. So, even when I was asleep, I was still having some weird dreams about due dates and such. I barely took lunch breaks and I certainly was  not napping!

YOU WORK NO MATTER WHAT.

Sick days? GTFOH. Pain? Work anyway. Tummy aches? Work anyway. Sick and tired? Get your ass to the desk.

THERE IS ALWAYS WORK TO DO.

As a service based entrepreneur, it’s kind of like feast or famine. You either have so much work that you want to run away or there’s no work and you consider becoming a street beggar or gypsy.

YOUR BRAIN IS RARELY OFF.

See above explanation.

IT IS REWARDING.

Yay! The “man” is YOU. You get to boss yourself around and make yourself miserable! It’s great.

YOU HAVE SOME FREEDOM.

Unless you’re farther down the entrepreneurial road than I am, then there’s not a shit ton of freedom. You have to find your own customers, please the customers, deliver the product or service. Basically, you might be able to work from 9:48 am – 7:02 pm, but you’re still bound by your need to make your business successful.

YOU HAVE ALL OF THE RESPONSIBILITY.

This one is a doozie. It is both liberating and misery inducing. You are the king of the castle and it’s great until you realize that all of the knights and peasants are looking at you to direct the show.

 

With all of those things in mind, I am still incredibly fortunate to even have the opportunity to be an entrepreneur. My route to entrepreneurship was convoluted and almost terrifying (to say the least), but I am happy to be on this road.

Enough talking to you; I’ve got to get back to alternating between working and crying in the corner.

Until tomorrow, my friends…

PS! Are you an entrepreneur? If so, what’s your business? Leave me a comment below!

Polite Fighter

The idea to write about this just came to me, as I was stepping out of the bathtub, after a long, hot soak.

As I was stepping out of the tub, I had a mindful moment, where I acknowledged how thankful I am to have a bathtub and warm water and epsom salts. And through those things, I was able to find relief from menstrual cramps, right before bed. Ah, how nice it is to give yourself some self care sometimes.

Then I thought, self care is not really just about bubble baths and beauty products. Self care is also about knowing when to stand up for yourself, too. Self care is like self guardianship.

Here’s a story from my life that demonstrates my idea of self guardianship:

About 8 months ago, I bought a new computer. Seems like a pretty uneventful thing, except I HATE BUYING ELECTRONICS. I have never bought a television; each one I have ever had has been a hand me down.

The first computer I owned, I gave a Dell salesman my meager budget and he picked it out for me. The second computer I owned, I did pretty much the same thing, except I had about an extra $500 I could spend. The third computer I owned, I let my then-boyfriend pick out all of the components. He enjoyed building the computer; I enjoyed not having to make the decision. That was almost 10 years ago, and I’m using that same computer to write this on, right now.

I bought a new computer because my current one works well, but it is HUGE and heavy and was starting to run out of space. I wanted a light, sexy little number that I could take to coffee shops. I also needed something that had a dedicated graphics card (don’t ask).

So, I went to Best Buy in my hometown, and some bright eyed, golden haired lad helped me pick the computer. I gleefully paid for the protection plan, and skipped out of Best Buy, sure that I wouldn’t have to go back into that awful place for another 10 years.

Three months into owning the computer, it froze and wouldn’t do anything. Not turn on, not a damn thing. It was a very expensive, brand new BRICK.

I went back to Best Buy and figured, oh, they’ll fix it, no problem. Trouble is, they couldn’t fix it, either. After several weeks of phone calls and emails, they told me that they couldn’t fix it and that particular model was out of stock.

I went back to the store to get my refund (thank goodness for the protection plan). As the gentleman was helping me, I had a thought:

WAIT A GOT DAMN MINUTE! I WANT EVERY GOT DAMN CENT OF MY GOT DAMN MONEY BACK! I WANT THE PRICE, TAX, AND PROTECTION PLAN MONEY BACK!

I’d basically spent a lot of money to “rent” a computer for less than 90 days. As the slow, rusty math gears in my mind started to churn, I turned to the guy and said, “Wait, I want ALLLLLLLL OF MY MONEY BACK.” Realizing I was maybe a bit terse, I added, “Please.”

He started to hem and haw about what “the system” was going to “give me” back. I listened, politely, making mental notes of all of his pre-excuses, and then used them back on him as I made the argument, politely, that they’d sold me a faulty device AND  a protection plan on a faulty device. Even they couldn’t fix their faulty device and it was ridiculous that I suffer the cost of a protection plan on a faulty device that they sold me less than 90 days ago and that they couldn’t fix. COUGH COUGH, AHEM, SIR.

He again assured me that he would give me back everything that the system would allow. I again, slowly, calmly, with almost comically patience, assured him that his system, and his logic, could both go take a got damn hike and frankly, he better get me my got damn money.

I said all of these things politely, of course.

I stood there politely.

I smiled politely.

I re-iterated my point politely.

I suggested he call a manager, politely.

At the end, he did not have to call the manager and he gave me every red penny of my money back. My polite and repetitive requests were met. Months later, I returned to Best Buy and bought another got damn computer. The new one seems to be working just fine.

The moral of the story is, don’t forget to be your own best advocate; your own guardian. Whether it’s the guardian of your feelings, your money, your time, or your energy, it is your job, and only your job, to be the guardian of the things that will affect you. Don’t leave that job to someone else. You will only get what THEY think you deserve and you can see from my story, it’s likely that it will be less than you actually deserve.

Sometimes it’s easy to do when it comes to money, but it’s probably even more important to do when it comes to bad friends, bad relationships, time wasting bullshit, etc.

How do you practice self guardianship?

And when was the last time you bought a computer?

Until tomorrow, my friends…