I have one last thing to finish on my Mom's house before it goes on the market -- the cooktop in the kitchen. They installed a beautiful piece of granite and will cut it when the cooktop arrives. We ordered it with plenty of time but, for some reason, this is difficult to get.
The cooktop world started to unravel yesterday afternoon.
Doctors don't let you leave your cell phones on and I had an appointment yesterday. It was long as it involved tests, so I was out of the communication string for about two hours. It turned out to be two critical hours on Friday afternoon. Why does everything happen on Friday afternoon at 4 PM? It's a universal truth. You can't do anything to correct it at 4 PM on Friday and everyone is already packing to leave for the weekend by then. You're lucky to even get someone by phone. And, you have no hope of fixing the problem until Monday morning at the earliest.
Yesterday's hell was that they delivered an electric cooktop (to my Mom's) instead of a gas one. It's been on order for three weeks and now it is going to take another three weeks to get the right one. Sounds a little bit like France, doesn't it? So, later today, I'm heading out to the kind of stores I hate the most -- appliance stores to see if I can find anything myself.
Picture me, on a Saturday afternoon in Home Depot. The store is so big that I get nervous just walking in the door. Everything is huge and I can't lift it and I have a small car. It's also in a bad neighborhood. Then, picture me at Pacific Sales. Also big, but a little accessible. But, Saturday afternoon is a nightmare with millions of people trying to buy things and only one salesperson per department.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Car Max
I'm at Car Max selling my Mom's car.
My "rep" is named Luis so I naturally pronounced it like in French--Looee.
We're in CA, land of the Hispanic pronunciation, so you can probably imagine that Luis and I are already not communicating.
It's Looues in CA, I've been informed.
One of the guys who was working on Mom's house was Manuel. Following Hispanic rules I called him Manwell and was corrected with Manual. It's all too confusing.
Hopefully Luis will return soon, maybe with a check.
My "rep" is named Luis so I naturally pronounced it like in French--Looee.
We're in CA, land of the Hispanic pronunciation, so you can probably imagine that Luis and I are already not communicating.
It's Looues in CA, I've been informed.
One of the guys who was working on Mom's house was Manuel. Following Hispanic rules I called him Manwell and was corrected with Manual. It's all too confusing.
Hopefully Luis will return soon, maybe with a check.
Monday, February 15, 2010
We Still Haven't Heard The Last of Ruth
I thought that when the estate sale was over (two weeks ago now), I'd be free. But, it was really just the beginning of an extended nightmare. No idea how it will all end. I keep reminding myself that these are petty annoyances, yes, they might end up costing a little money, but it's not life or death.
Tell that to my heart when I wake up in the middle of the night, anxious beyond logic. The middle of the night nerves of adulthood are just like the monster under the bed when I was little, reality isn't represented but I'm still scared.
The homeowner's association has demanded that we be present at a hearing, stating that we have broken a rule. Evidently they think that having an Estate Sale is against one of their rules. I don't know how or why a person in the United States can't do something that is not illegal within the walls of his or her own home. It seems a little like our freedom is being denied. Since we aren't the owners of the house and we don't have the rule book, we aren't going to attend. They will not send us the regulations so we really aren't sure where we stand, but we aren't going to drive to San Diego to sit in front of a group of like-minded homeowners.
But, the most stressful part of the Estate Sale is still Ruth and her gang. The sale is over, the house has been renovated, it is already on the market. Ruth mailed a check from the sale proceeds along with a key to the house and some credit cards to us. When they didn't arrive, we started to look for the package. The post office says they delivered it. But, not to our house. We searched the neighborhood, actually going door-to-door. Terry went to three post offices. We talked to our normal mail carrier who was off on the day the package was delivered. The mailman of the day was a temp. He has no idea where he left the package. All I know is that 6 -7 of my parents' credit cards, all the receipts from the sale, a key to the house and a check are missing. We discovered the problem on Wednesday. It's now Monday. Ruth has finally organized and is sending out a new check today. But, it's a holiday. And, lo!, they didn't put the key in the missing package, they found it on someone's desk. So, now all I have to do is wait for the new package and cancel or change all the credit cards. Of course, since they didn't keep a copy of the cards, I don't know which ones they are.
Was it a good idea to have an Estate Sale, yes. I would do it again. Maybe.
Tell that to my heart when I wake up in the middle of the night, anxious beyond logic. The middle of the night nerves of adulthood are just like the monster under the bed when I was little, reality isn't represented but I'm still scared.
The homeowner's association has demanded that we be present at a hearing, stating that we have broken a rule. Evidently they think that having an Estate Sale is against one of their rules. I don't know how or why a person in the United States can't do something that is not illegal within the walls of his or her own home. It seems a little like our freedom is being denied. Since we aren't the owners of the house and we don't have the rule book, we aren't going to attend. They will not send us the regulations so we really aren't sure where we stand, but we aren't going to drive to San Diego to sit in front of a group of like-minded homeowners.
But, the most stressful part of the Estate Sale is still Ruth and her gang. The sale is over, the house has been renovated, it is already on the market. Ruth mailed a check from the sale proceeds along with a key to the house and some credit cards to us. When they didn't arrive, we started to look for the package. The post office says they delivered it. But, not to our house. We searched the neighborhood, actually going door-to-door. Terry went to three post offices. We talked to our normal mail carrier who was off on the day the package was delivered. The mailman of the day was a temp. He has no idea where he left the package. All I know is that 6 -7 of my parents' credit cards, all the receipts from the sale, a key to the house and a check are missing. We discovered the problem on Wednesday. It's now Monday. Ruth has finally organized and is sending out a new check today. But, it's a holiday. And, lo!, they didn't put the key in the missing package, they found it on someone's desk. So, now all I have to do is wait for the new package and cancel or change all the credit cards. Of course, since they didn't keep a copy of the cards, I don't know which ones they are.
Was it a good idea to have an Estate Sale, yes. I would do it again. Maybe.
Friday, February 12, 2010
I've Given Up All (mostly) Worldly Possessions
After spending most of the last two months going through my parents' house, taking what I want and getting rid of the rest, I've decided it's time to re-think the idea of "stuff". I don't think I want it any more.
So, I wrote to my sister and told her that I've given up all worldly possessions except clothes, shoes, makeup and cute underwear. I can't add books to the list because I have a Kindle and you can delete books from it at will.
There are some important things that I'm keeping. The family china and silver, old books and family Bibles. My computers, iPHONE, scanner and all their related cables. My car, of course. My watercolors, brushes and paper.
I'm cleaning out every day. Goodwill has made me a regular stop on their route.
It all turns out to be unimportant in the end.
So, I wrote to my sister and told her that I've given up all worldly possessions except clothes, shoes, makeup and cute underwear. I can't add books to the list because I have a Kindle and you can delete books from it at will.
There are some important things that I'm keeping. The family china and silver, old books and family Bibles. My computers, iPHONE, scanner and all their related cables. My car, of course. My watercolors, brushes and paper.
I'm cleaning out every day. Goodwill has made me a regular stop on their route.
It all turns out to be unimportant in the end.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Si or Oui?
It's not what you think.
I'm in California, where English is a second language and Spanish is the spoken word. Yikes, I'm barely dealing with my french noun-verb agreement and now I'm thrown into Spanish.
I know a few pleasantries. I can't read or write a thing in Spanish.
I'm dealing with expats who are the "trades" working on the renovation of my Mom's house. I have Zak, the Palestinian. We are OK, he can speak, read and write English and he is polite and culturally American. No idea how long he's lived here.
But, the rest of the group are hispanics. They communicate in Spanish. So, when the guy was measuring the kitchen for the new granite, he asked me if "lunes" (SP) was OK for delivery. I quickly translated "lunes" into "lundi" into "Monday" and said, "Oui". A huge question mark appeared on everyone's faces. What did I say???? I answered him in French. Then, I had to try to explain in my non-existant Spanish. Me yamo Sherry (SP) won't do, nor will, "Donde esta los banyos". I feel like it's 2002 in Paris. I am getting sweaty and everyone is looking at me until I realize that "Oui" is "Si" in Spanish. Of course, "si" in french is a contradictory yes and I never use it because if I did, I would have to defend my contradiction in french and I don't have that much life left in me.
We finally work out "si" and the granite is ordered, and even more remarkably, it arrives on Monday. I feel tri-lingual for a brief moment.
In working with a renovation in US, I realize all the subtle differences between this work and our recent work in France. The language barrier is consistent. Even if I was relatively fluent in French, the terms for building are new to me. And, in California, it's mostly Spanish. Culturally it's quite different too. If I have an issue to discuss with a contractor in the US, I speak my mind and the contractor will say "yes" and then decide on his own whether to actually abide by this "yes" or not. I will never know unless I check. In France if I request something or question something, the tradesman flies into an immediate tantrum, screaming and flapping his arms. The basis of the emotion is that "I have no confidence in him". Of course, this is true, but you have to deny it or he will walk off the job, with your deposit, never to return again.
So, in general, despite the linguistic challenges, I am doing better in the US when it comes to a home renovation.
Note that I am "nul" in Spanish, so my spelling might be completely wrong. I meant to say, "my name is Sherry" and "where are the bathrooms", two of the most important phrases in any language, in my opinion.
I'm in California, where English is a second language and Spanish is the spoken word. Yikes, I'm barely dealing with my french noun-verb agreement and now I'm thrown into Spanish.
I know a few pleasantries. I can't read or write a thing in Spanish.
I'm dealing with expats who are the "trades" working on the renovation of my Mom's house. I have Zak, the Palestinian. We are OK, he can speak, read and write English and he is polite and culturally American. No idea how long he's lived here.
But, the rest of the group are hispanics. They communicate in Spanish. So, when the guy was measuring the kitchen for the new granite, he asked me if "lunes" (SP) was OK for delivery. I quickly translated "lunes" into "lundi" into "Monday" and said, "Oui". A huge question mark appeared on everyone's faces. What did I say???? I answered him in French. Then, I had to try to explain in my non-existant Spanish. Me yamo Sherry (SP) won't do, nor will, "Donde esta los banyos". I feel like it's 2002 in Paris. I am getting sweaty and everyone is looking at me until I realize that "Oui" is "Si" in Spanish. Of course, "si" in french is a contradictory yes and I never use it because if I did, I would have to defend my contradiction in french and I don't have that much life left in me.
We finally work out "si" and the granite is ordered, and even more remarkably, it arrives on Monday. I feel tri-lingual for a brief moment.
In working with a renovation in US, I realize all the subtle differences between this work and our recent work in France. The language barrier is consistent. Even if I was relatively fluent in French, the terms for building are new to me. And, in California, it's mostly Spanish. Culturally it's quite different too. If I have an issue to discuss with a contractor in the US, I speak my mind and the contractor will say "yes" and then decide on his own whether to actually abide by this "yes" or not. I will never know unless I check. In France if I request something or question something, the tradesman flies into an immediate tantrum, screaming and flapping his arms. The basis of the emotion is that "I have no confidence in him". Of course, this is true, but you have to deny it or he will walk off the job, with your deposit, never to return again.
So, in general, despite the linguistic challenges, I am doing better in the US when it comes to a home renovation.
Note that I am "nul" in Spanish, so my spelling might be completely wrong. I meant to say, "my name is Sherry" and "where are the bathrooms", two of the most important phrases in any language, in my opinion.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Flashback to Noos
We had Noos in Paris for our internet and it worked very well for several years.
Then we moved. They came to our new apartment and strung cable from room to room. But the internet never worked.
It was a nightmare for three months. We had a contract. It could not be broken. But, they could not deliver what they promised, the internet.
So, we went to their offices, thinking that it would be easy to sort it all out in person.
But, this is France. We went, with all our equipment in a sack, to their main offices at Bercy. We thought we were being smart, we arrived before they opened. We were there with about 20 other people with the same idea, with the same ugly bags of routers, modems, cables, etc.
The doors finally opened and we filed in, heads down. Each of us took, a number and sat down. There was one person behind the counter. Each new person had a big problem and each problem took a long time. We waited and waited. Each person's request was summarily rejected. Still (naively) we were optimistic.
We started to get hungry. Lunchtime came and went. We waited. Eventually, our number was called. We approached the lone man in his kisok. He asked a few questions, walked away for a few minutes, which made us hopeful, and then came back to pronounce that we had to pay for our internet through the contract period even though they were unable to deliver the service.
We felt bruised but not defeated and we eventually won, signing up with France Telecom for internet, which has been sightly better than Noos (now renamed Numericable, probably because Noos had such a bad reputation).
Today, several years after our Noos episode, it was time for a flashback. I'm in San Diego where people are nice and there are no lines for services. Our internet provider is Time Warner. We have used them for years, with a high degree of satisfaction. When something breaks, we call, they come to our house and it is fixed.
I had to return a router for my Mom. She's moved and has a new router. They can't close her account until I return the old router. It didn't seem difficult. I have my iPHONE GPS so I thought I could find their office. This was the first problem. Their office is in one of these business parks with the byzantine systems of connected parking lots that lead to another parking lot but never the parking lot that you need. So, I drove around and around for about 30 minutes before I found the (unmarked) TIME WARNER building. I parked. I got the router and walked in to the lobby. I think I was expecting to walk right up to a counter, turn in the router, get a receipt and leave. Au Contraire. There was one of these machines where you take a number. So I took a number. I got 782. Then I looked at the lobby. It was full of people with bags of equipment. Lots of people. People sitting and people standing. People pacing. No one was smiling. Except me. I quickly wiped that smile off my face in order to conform. A man approached me.
"Lots of people have left," he said. This still didn't register until I did the math. The number of the screen, showing the last person served showed the number 750; That's 32 places away from 782.
My life flashed before my eyes. I cannot possibly re-create the horror of Noos in San Diego. It's not possible! I ditched number 782 in the trash can and threw the router in the back seat. I have no idea how I'll ever get my Time Warmer account closed but I'm not waiting for 32 other people on a beautiful February afternoon.
Then we moved. They came to our new apartment and strung cable from room to room. But the internet never worked.
It was a nightmare for three months. We had a contract. It could not be broken. But, they could not deliver what they promised, the internet.
So, we went to their offices, thinking that it would be easy to sort it all out in person.
But, this is France. We went, with all our equipment in a sack, to their main offices at Bercy. We thought we were being smart, we arrived before they opened. We were there with about 20 other people with the same idea, with the same ugly bags of routers, modems, cables, etc.
The doors finally opened and we filed in, heads down. Each of us took, a number and sat down. There was one person behind the counter. Each new person had a big problem and each problem took a long time. We waited and waited. Each person's request was summarily rejected. Still (naively) we were optimistic.
We started to get hungry. Lunchtime came and went. We waited. Eventually, our number was called. We approached the lone man in his kisok. He asked a few questions, walked away for a few minutes, which made us hopeful, and then came back to pronounce that we had to pay for our internet through the contract period even though they were unable to deliver the service.
We felt bruised but not defeated and we eventually won, signing up with France Telecom for internet, which has been sightly better than Noos (now renamed Numericable, probably because Noos had such a bad reputation).
Today, several years after our Noos episode, it was time for a flashback. I'm in San Diego where people are nice and there are no lines for services. Our internet provider is Time Warner. We have used them for years, with a high degree of satisfaction. When something breaks, we call, they come to our house and it is fixed.
I had to return a router for my Mom. She's moved and has a new router. They can't close her account until I return the old router. It didn't seem difficult. I have my iPHONE GPS so I thought I could find their office. This was the first problem. Their office is in one of these business parks with the byzantine systems of connected parking lots that lead to another parking lot but never the parking lot that you need. So, I drove around and around for about 30 minutes before I found the (unmarked) TIME WARNER building. I parked. I got the router and walked in to the lobby. I think I was expecting to walk right up to a counter, turn in the router, get a receipt and leave. Au Contraire. There was one of these machines where you take a number. So I took a number. I got 782. Then I looked at the lobby. It was full of people with bags of equipment. Lots of people. People sitting and people standing. People pacing. No one was smiling. Except me. I quickly wiped that smile off my face in order to conform. A man approached me.
"Lots of people have left," he said. This still didn't register until I did the math. The number of the screen, showing the last person served showed the number 750; That's 32 places away from 782.
My life flashed before my eyes. I cannot possibly re-create the horror of Noos in San Diego. It's not possible! I ditched number 782 in the trash can and threw the router in the back seat. I have no idea how I'll ever get my Time Warmer account closed but I'm not waiting for 32 other people on a beautiful February afternoon.
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