American Service. Getting Better?

     Page One Hundred Eighty-Nine.
     In the last few months, I've had to come to terms with a computer and phone being on hospice care simultaneously. It's always difficult when electronica is on its deathbed. Friends and family try to be supportive, but really, they don't know what to do. They bring over food. They offer to take you out... just to be among people. Your truest and dearest friends even offer to come over and keep you company while you're caring for the item in question. But ultimately, every computer and phone were made to die. The question is... when? That's just God's will.
     In my case, I had to go purchase a new computer 9 days ago and a new phone 4 days ago. I'm surprised I didn't need intensive inpatient psycho-therapy. They used to refer to it as a "nervous breakdown" but you rarely hear that term anymore. Not sure why, but I digress.
     Here's the most interesting detail of the entire experience: while purchasing the items, both sales-people tried to save me money. I went to Microcenter, showed the guy what I thought I wanted, then answered his question: "What do you really use your computer for?" After a few minutes of conversation, he said, "Get this one. It's cheaper." It was. In fact, it was $120.00 cheaper than the one I'd initially picked out. I was pleasantly surprised.
     Then, I went to T-Mobile. He also asked me what I needed from my phone. I told him. "Go to Target. They have what you're looking for cheaper than we do. Then bring it back and I'll set it up." Boy, was I shocked, as was the Target employee when I told her.
     Now, really, neither of those situations constitute a globally improved American service scene. In that, I waited in 4 different lines in Microcenter prior to exiting. Each an average of 15 minutes or so. Happily, there was no line in Target and the 2 lines in T-Mobile were each under 5 minutes. That tells me that Target and T-Mobile were staffed properly, but not so, Microcenter. I went there on President's Day and they told me that they weren't expecting any unusual crowd. They were staffed for a normal Monday. In fact, they'd been doing inventory the night before until 3AM. Subsequently, much regular staff was happily home, sound asleep, dreaming about girls, pizzas, fast cars and beaches.
     But still, I was terribly impressed by how badly those 2 guys wanted to save me money. It was like the scene in the classic Christmas movie, "Miracle on 34th Street". Except, instead of Santa telling the lady where to get the right firetruck, it was 2 guys just trying to save me some serious bucks. How glorious.

He Needs A Jewish Mother!

     Page One Hundred Forty.
     I take way too much pity on people sometimes.
     This guy who's home I'm painting, Claude, is a prime example. He's 25 and as a chemical engineer is able to afford to purchase his first home. It helps that his parents completely paid for his B.S., so he graduated from college virtually debt free, too. The home is here in Cleveland Heights. It's a pleasant 1920's shingle style, center hall colonial and it's located on a beautiful street. So far so good. Only problem is: Claude. He's so young that he hasn't yet learned how to take care of himself or a home. He owns three bath towels and two, count 'em, two dinner plates. He has curtains on one bedroom window, but not the other. He hasn't got a laundry basket, nor a dresser to put any clean clothes into. (Clothing, clean or dirty, goes onto the floors. The different piles designate used or unused.) He cleans the kitty litter once a week. He's also a slob, but I digress.
     Meanwhile he's spending like a drunken sailor on the landscape architect, the interior designer, new furniture and me.
     To back up a touch, I've known him almost a year. I met him socially through his interior designer, Dan, who's been a friend of mine for thirty years. Claude is a very nice person, young and stupid, but very pleasant. So, a couple of days ago while painting a wall, I took a break to heat up some leftover beef fried rice from China Gate. I really got sick and tired of having to take one of his two dishes out of the dishwasher and hand clean it so I could microwave my lunch. I decided right then and there to take matters into my own hands. I went to Target and bought him a complete set of dishes (for four) and a set of tumblers and water glasses (for six).
     For the record, soon after moving into the house, in August, I gave him a house-warming gift in the form of a Swedish Ivy. With all his post-college moving, it was the first house-warming gift he'd ever received. He was very appreciative. So these dishes and glasses were my sympathy gift (and for me to eat off of while painting.)
     If he lived in the same city as his parents, I'm sure his mother would be over to visit regularly and see what he needed. She'd then go out and slowly purchase said household items. However, they're in Pittsburgh, so that leaves me. I'm miles, nay, continents more domestic then any of his other friends. So I'm the person who's most qualified to teach this idiot how to wipe down a kitchen counter and why he should have a one quart saucepan.
     Having said all this, he never asked me. But I suspect he's smart enough to realize the advantages of a civilized lifestyle. I'll simply offer myself up as one who can go with him to purchase the essentials of an evolved home: salt & pepper shakers; Kleenex; dish towels, Windex; a Teflon skillet; a kitchen sponge and soap. Lord in heaven.
     You cannot believe how many times I've been referred to as the consummate Jewish mother. But I use my powers for good not evil. This is one of those situations.