Adventures from Western New York

This is a true story Karen told me on my last visit to Pittsburgh. I thought it was so hilarious that I had to write it down. As she told me the story, I could see the irony of the way men sometimes act on an all too personal level. Just read on and you will see what I mean.

Karen’s boys are always involved in sports either through school or within the community. As it is difficult to find enough money to finance sports for kids, booster clubs will hold various fundraisers. 15 year old Nate’s baseball team boosters were organizing a spaghetti dinner/bake sale. Each family was asked to help work the spaghetti dinner as well as to donate baked goods for the bake sale. As Karen had planned to be out of town the day of the spaghetti dinner and the boys would be with their dad, she called Terry and asked if he would be able to work the dinner with Nate. She assured him she would do the baking for the bake sale and he would just have to pick the goodies up when he picked the boys up on Sunday morning. He and Nate could deliver them to the bake sale Sunday evening. He agreed.

Karen spent the day before the bake sale making peanut butter cup cookies and a delicious tray of caramel apple bars. She packaged and arranged everything in individual bags, set them in a low cardboard tray, covered the tray with clear wrap, and fearing her cats might find the goodies, placed everything inside the oven for safekeeping.

Before going to bed Saturday night, she told Nate, “The cookies are in the oven. When your Dad gets here, make sure you get them out and take them with you.” He replied “ok”. She texted Terry to remind him to take the baked goods when he picked up the boys. The next morning she also left a note taped to the front door that said, “Grab the cookies (in the oven) when you leave”. She left the house before the boys awoke confident that all was in order.

Monday, as she drove home from work Karen was thinking how good a piece of those apple caramel bars would taste. She had thrown some of the ends/duds of the caramel apple bars into a plastic baggie when she was packaging everything else up for the sale. As she walked into the kitchen to retrieve the baggie of apple caramel bar crusts she was puzzled by the fact that the baggie was gone, as was the baggie of overcooked peanut butter cup cookies. The boys had returned home earlier from school so she thought that maybe they had nabbed them and were upstairs snacking on them. She called up to the boys but they hadn’t seen any baggies. As she walked back toward the kitchen she began to feel an underlying dread – like that feeling you get when you know you’ve locked your keys in the car, or when you go on vacation and are pretty sure you left the coffeepot on. Sure enough when she reached down and pulled the oven door open… there, just as she had left them, was the tray of cookies.

She said she yelled for Nate who came running down stairs sure that his mom was seriously injured or something was terribly wrong. He stood there dumbfounded as she just pointed at the beautifully arranged baked goods resting in their protected spot. Unable to articulate the anger, confusion, and growing panic that she was feeling she said, “What exactly did you take to the bake sale Nate?” He said, “I took those two bags of cookies you had on the counter, why?” To say that Karen was mortified would be a vast understatement, all she kept saying was “no….no, no, no….” Nate, sensing her distress, tried to help by saying, “Mom, I’m pretty sure someone bought them because they weren’t there when the bake sale was over.” Karen hissed, “The only person who would have bought two bags of crumbs at a bake sale would be a strung-out junkie with the munchies!” Nate wandered away completely baffled as to why his normally sane mom had gone off the deep end.

I’m not going to tell you what Karen said to Terry on the phone when she called to ask how it was possible that after all of the years they were married, he could think that she would ever send a bag of cookie bits and a bag of gooey apple pieces which had congealed into a ball by the time it arrived (as reported by Nate), to a bake sale. He responded, “Well, I thought it was a little odd.” And to add insult to injury, Karen had been in contact with the chair of the bake sale prior to the event. She had emailed her what she was sending and also that Terry would be there in her place. The idea of what the women who were organizing the bake sale must have thought when Nate waltzed in and plopped two baggies of yuck on their lovely bake sale table….well, it was a few hours….ok maybe days…before Karen was able to see the humor in the situation. Once she had gained a bit of perspective she sent a quick email to the chair apologizing for the mistake and explaining what had happened. The chair responded back cordially, but Karen is pretty sure that the boosters club won’t be asking her to organize any bake sales any time soon. She figures that she’ll be relegated to clean-up duty for eternity, which might not be such a bad thing.

Disclaimer: I want to give credit to Karen for “cleaning up” and editing much of this story. I tried to write it with a personal perspective of how men function differently than women and she expertly conveyed my thoughts as I originally wrote them. As she told me the story, I could see myself…not listening or paying attention…making the same crazy mistake. From time to time, even though not the same scenario, I’m pretty sure I’ve been there, done that.

For a while now I’ve been thinking about commenting on the comment. At the end of every post there is a section devoted to the purpose of capturing a few thoughts by the reader. It is a place where we express our impressions, offer up an opinion, and often ask a question that probes deeper into the story. There is nothing that compliments a good post more than a few well thought-out comments by the reader. But on the other hand, bad judgment and incompetence from the commentator can ruin a post, leaving an embarrassing place no one wants to return to.

Sometimes you can tell by the comment how much we enjoy renewing connections with each other. I think most of the time family members are just hungry for news and we tend to ask a lot of questions in order to keep the dialog going. Especially for me, having lost so much time from the family, I enjoy reading your posts more than I can tell you.

For the writer, feedback we get from a comment can be encouraging. Everyone likes to think that his or her stories and essays are interesting for the reader. Those of us who are beginning bloggers have that deep-down fear that what we write isn’t very good, and it always makes us feel better after an encouraging comment or two. Writing becomes easier when we know the reader cares enough to respond to our thoughts.

Once in a while the comment section turns into a forum of debate. This usually happens when politics enter the discussion, but it can also involve preferences for various electronic devices and mobile phones in particular. It’s usually lighthearted and takes the form of kidding more than anything else. (Did I hear today that Apple will soon release the iPhone to Verizon?)

For me, the art of commenting is not my strong suit. All too often my comments have taken an underlying twist of meaning. I try to be cute and it comes out degrading; I try to be funny and it has undertones of sarcasm; I try to be witty and it turns out silly. Honestly, it’s never my intention to say anything that would hurt anybody’s feelings; it just comes out of me and I can’t control it. I know I should never write anything late at night and hit the send button before I’ve had a chance to proof read in the morning. To show you how twisted and warped my sense of humor is – I was thinking of posting this with comments closed!

I just purchased a Verizon wireless USB760 modem for my laptop. It is super fast, portable, and easy to use. When I had the browser on my Blackberry it seemed to be slower than dial-up at times, occasionally it would sit and wait for what seemed like an eternity before it would catch again. I was a little bit reluctant to go this configuration after a disappointing experience with the phone, but I’m very pleased with the performance I’m getting on my laptop.

It actually runs faster than DSL and I can attest that it is far superior to the wireless performance I was using previously. The only drawback is the access fees: $39/mo for 250 megs, $59/mo unlimited. I thought I could get away with 250 megs but they were gone in two days so I switched up. Streaming movies gobbles up bits by the carload, and if you go over, the fees are astronomical. The lady that called from Verizon said that at the rate I was going, I could end up with a bill of $600.

I’m not sure how this would compare to a satellite connection. If you are way out in the desert in some remote area between Arizona and California, you may not get a good signal, but it sure would be easier to set up!

I have been told by many of the people that I work with, “You thought the grass was greener on the other side.” I humbly admit that they were right. For the last three months my old Lockport route has never become permanent home to either driver or pharmacy, continually bouncing back and forth with substitute delivery and unhappy stores. Several drivers had tried the route. They always came back with stories of too many miles, large loads, and horrible traffic out of town. The pharmacies were upset with late deliveries and rude drivers. I thought it over and decided to see if I could get the Lockport route back.

There were several reasons to change back: The South-Town route was longer than the Lockport route by twenty miles. Every day I had to pay tolls on the NYS Thruway. My first stop didn’t open before 9:00 am and on the days when I did get an early start, I found myself waiting for the store to open. And don’t even get me started on the weather systems off of Lake Erie!

All in all, both routes have their pros and cons. The South-Town route passed through the Indian Reservation where I could get gas cheaper. I had made good friends with the people I met every day and it would be hard to say good-bye again. And every time you make a change there is a little uncertainty and skepticism that you are doing the right thing.

I knew the management was desperate to find a permanent and responsible driver for the Lockport route. The South-Town route was located where it could be split with other deliveries in the area. With that in mind I went to them and pretended to reluctantly agree to take my old route back if they gave me more money – It worked! They were hesitant to agree at first but after several days of complaints by unhappy pharmacies, the route was mine.

My first day back was filled with awkward hugs and questions. There was a lot of catching up to do. I tried to be friendly but still not linger too long. A few minutes lost at each stop can add up when you have 14 pharmacies to go to.

One week after I took back the route north into Lockport, the area was hit by a freak “Nor’ Easter’” that swirled in across Lake Ontario, dumped several inches of snow, and brought high winds with it. As I write this, it is still sitting in the same place swirling and snowing away. Sometimes you just can’t win.

When I first took over this new delivery route to the South Towns, I was somewhat puzzled by the way I was treated.  It seemed that the pharmacy workers I met had an attitude of distance, mistrust, and coldness, almost conveying to me the feeling that I was not even welcome in their store.  The technicians responsible for checking in the order would sometimes ignore me or make me wait on some paperwork detail I needed.  It was a disheartening feeling and I was saddened that I had even changed to a different route.

On my last route into Lockport, almost everyone I met greeted me with warm smiles and inquisitive talk of my well-being.  We would chat about the weather, how our day was going, and later after I knew them better what our children and grandchildren were up to.  I introduced one person to Geocaching – which became our prime topic of conversation – and another has a golf tournament as a memorial to her father, and I have played in that the last two years.  I always left their stores with a warm feeling and friendly good-byes.

As I began to gather information from my fellow workers and new customers, it became apparent what was happening and how it had happened.  The driver on the route before me developed an attitude that the store personnel and he were always in conflict.  If the workers in the pharmacy were busy and couldn’t check in his order immediately, he would get mad and threaten or leave without completing the delivery.  He always thought everyone was out to get him, make him wait, or somehow make his job miserable.  It became a competition about who could mistreat whom the most.

There is an old saying, something about ‘flies’ and ‘honey’, that really is true.  After I was on the new route for a few days and once I got to know them and they got to know me, the job became immensely more satisfying.  I always have a smile and a friendly greeting for everyone I meet during the day.  If there is anything I can do to make their job easier, I try to do it.  If they are busy and can’t get to me right away, I tell them that I understand and it’s all right.  And I always leave by saying their name in a sincere  thank you and a friendly goodbye.

Now, I’m not saying that I’m a pushover and subservient in my job.  Everyone can have a bad day.  Sometimes things go wrong and something happens that’s just not right.  They know when I’m not happy with a certain situation, and I make sure they realize that a delivery person’s time is important too.   But mostly now they can’t do enough for me.  A lot of the time it seems like they fall all over themselves just to help me out.  When I roll in with my dolly, I hear “Dale’s here”, and they rush to check in my delivery.  The ladies at Wegmans always give me a coupon for coffee and an independent pharmacy offers me candy and drinks every day.  I can now say that I am friends with everyone on my route and happy to see them everyday.

I’d like to think the world would be a better place if we looked more for the good in people instead of the bad.  I guess both sides of politics would work better if we…opps, that’s a topic for another post.

Last weekend my Son and Daughter-in-law stopped by to enjoy with me an afternoon meal at Applebee’s restaurant.  I had recently received a gift card from one of the stores I would no longer be delivering to and I had asked Dave and Lisa if they would share the gift card with me.  We enjoyed a good meal with plenty to eat, but the appetizer platter Dave ordered left us too full to finish most of our main meal.

Afterwards, we sat around the living room talking, and I mentioned to Dave that it would be nice if I could stream some shows from my computer to the TV.  I couldn’t justify spending $80/mo. to hook up cable when there is almost nothing on that I want to watch.  With more and more free programs and movies available online, I was wondering if he knew of a way I could hook the computer to the television.   We checked the connections and discovered that because of the television age and my base model laptop, no cable would connect them.  Dave picked up his iPhone and after a couple of minutes of research told me he had an idea.

First, he installed PlayOn on my computer, a media app that is used to transmit shows from various venders over wireless connections to gaming consoles.  Next, he configured the kids Wii to find the wireless signal and connect to the Internet.  After a few minutes of experimenting with different settings he had it all up and working.  Apparently, the signal comes from the wireless router (not even in my house) to my computer, then back to the router, then back to the Wii, then to the TV!  It all boggles my mind.

I recently accepted a new delivery route at work and several of the workers I have seen every day over the last two years showered me with cards, cakes and gifts on my last day to their store.  It was really a touching gesture on their part and I was very moved by their thoughtfulness.  I thought about all the friends I had made during that time  – I knew over 50 of them by name – and it was sad to realize that our paths probably wouldn’t pass again for a long time.  One thing I know from my job as a delivery driver is that out of casual greetings and little pieces of information passed on every day, you get to know people quite well.  As we shared hugs and said good byes, we promised to keep in touch.  I hope someday that I will sub for the driver doing the route now and get to say “Hello friends,” again.