Posts Tagged ‘extrovert

25
Jan
25

The Waiter Gamble; How Much Attention Do You Give Your Customers to Get a Good Tip

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I’ve been occasionally discussing and hearing about introverts and extroverts. And, upon hearing something about restaurant service, particularly how introverts seem bothered by waitstaff who ask questions too hastily/often, it hits me. It’s the waitstaff gambling with their customers.

The game is sorting the introverts from the extroverts. If they get it wrong, the tip should suffer. If they get it right, the customer will not only welcome the social interaction but be more willing to give a decent tip. But, the game only pays off with extroverts.

I get it, now. Yet, if it was me, do I want to take that chance? ‘Probably not. I’d like to think there has to be a better way to satisfy the curiosity and both types of customers…because, seriously, I’m with anyone who gets annoyed when the waiter/waitress asks how you’re meal is before you’ve had time to digest any of it. Ask me if I need more drink or anything before I have an empty glass or plate?…you’re crazy to me, and I won’t feel good about tipping.

–For those of you with short attention spans, class dismissed. You can go on your way. But, if you are open to deeper discussion about restaurant/customer service, continue.–

I’m not comfortable with the concept of tipping, regardless, because it feels forced/expected, rather than something to show gratitude for good service. I feel like I’m at gunpoint with a risk of leaving someone homeless if I don’t tip well. But, if you want a really good tip, I require or hope for a few things:

In short order: reliable friendship (even better if you can pass a welcome note), observant courtesy (not a forced act that fails to notice my status) and, when I have the appetite, something chocolate (but not just any chocolate).

1) Establish a friendship with me (so I’ll be happy to come back and/or see you, again, someday).

I know it’s not usually (if ever) recommended for/at a job, but I am too often starved for friendship. So, if you can be someone I can count on when I visit your workplace, I will be more inclined to offer a (good) tip or, maybe, something else that still benefits you (which might be better than money). Word of (my) mouth can work wonders. You might think friendship would remove the desire to tip someone, but that’s not guaranteed. I think, once I feel at ease and realize a tip would be a nice gesture, I’ll give one. A tip shouldn’t be a hoop I jump through. I should feel you deserve it.]

[I guess I need to feel comfortable and relaxed to ease the grip on my wallet. Don’t toy with that feeling or put on an act.]

It’s okay to be uneasy or nervous, but don’t infect me with your anxiety. If you feel unsure about something, it’s better to joke or admit it without using the word “sorry.” [Sorry will raise my eyebrow and put me on edge because now I worry something is wrong with the food or my money.] If you tell me you are nervous, I’ll be more considerate…and maybe ask why.

[If you’re in need of money, for any reason, I am not the sort who responds well. I don’t mean to sound stingy/cheap, but a beggar doesn’t bring out my generosity. When I see someone in need and know I can help, I will hopefully feel compelled (to help). If your toilet is clogged, and we’re friends, I’ll probably go buy a plunger if you don’t already have one. If you’re hungry and I know I can fetch you something, I will. That doesn’t mean I’ll be able to bring food every time to every person who happens to be hungry (unless I’m a waiter with access to that food).]

As your friend, if I notice you are in need of something, I’ll be more inclined to offer money/help. [Doesn’t that make simple sense? ‘Versus putting your hand out and saying, “Give me more/your money.”]

If we can’t be friends, so to speak, at least show good manners (which will be further discussed in my second request). But, understand, if we don’t “gel,” I’m not happy to tip you (if that’s what you’re seeking). As long as you don’t annoy me, I’ll still respect you, though. And, some days, that’s just as good as a tip, to me.

Friendly interaction does not mean we get into heavy conversation…because that means you either have too much free time (not enough customers and a chance the boss will take that out on you) or you’re not letting me eat on my own clock. If you want to talk–and, sometimes, I do, too–be smart and invite or offer a means of contact outside the restaurant.

**Hand me a phone number or email address with your first name, and you’re likely (not assuredly) golden. Personalized notes are usually a treat for me (occasionally creepy). [I like passing notes…though I never got the chance or nerve to do it in school. I can’t say I’ve had much good luck with passing notes, though…no…I cannot.]

It doesn’t mean I’ll respond to everyone who does this…but it’s better than heavy talk while I eat. Talk and eating do not get along. Not to mention, talking while eating means I eat/enjoy less food/drink and thus am less satisfied, in the end.

[A business card isn’t as nice as a hand-written note. And, if the card is offered prematurely or too casually, I won’t approve it (though I am an artist who may approve of a nicely crafted one). I’ll probably hold onto and dispose of it, later. First, you have to be sure I’m happy (not forced) to talk with you, which usually means I feel awkward for being too chatty while eating (and that’s actually a good thing). That’s your window to offer a means of contact.]

[If I am the waiter and talk too much, I can almost guess when a customer will turn against me. I’m already using too many words for this topic. I have to discipline myself…more than I actually do…because it’s too easy for me to slip, sometimes. And, that’s me not being a very social guy…a borderline introvert.]

[When my job is customer service, regardless what the business is, I make it my job to observe and learn from the customer, not enforce or expect based upon company policy. Good customer service is not dictated by one person who is not present in the moment; it’s not a standard you set or advertise. That sort of service is more like a souvenir or swag you come to buy than something that makes you comfortable and content. I enjoy customer service when I can read a customer and satisfy them without being a doormat and, ideally, without wounding my employer/business. If I don’t feel up to being that observant and/or courteous, the least I can do is maintain a respectful distance and let the customer request something of me; be available (but still not a doormat). Any employer who makes me feel pressured to be their doormat can rot in bankruptcy, no matter what you pressure me to say in an interview.]

[In my experience, friendship is better than a tip. But, I have yet to work a job that made me feel dependent upon tips. And, when someone, rarely, offers me a tip, I feel a little uncomfortable. If someone offers me good food (food I like) or something like clothing I would wear, as a “tip,” I’m more inclined to be grateful (if not a little speechless). I once had a customer bring me bakery from his daughter’s shop, and, even though it wasn’t food I particularly liked, it made me feel like a friend. A bonus or extra money for something I charge a fee (ie. a commissioned piece of art I made) is appreciated. But, if I’m not the one charging the fee for my service, if I’m not my own employer, so to speak, I’m unsure how to respond to a tip.]

[However, if I see someone working with me get a tip (and I don’t get one, too), I’m certainly agitated…and that has happened to me. I recommend discreet tipping versus overt tipping unless you have good reason. I’ve had moments, myself, when I felt someone deserved a reward/tip and made a minor public scene to deliver my offering (while casting a leering eye at those who did not deserve the same).]

2) Read the room…or, table, I guess.

This is not required in addition to #1. If you can adequately read the room/table without becoming a friend, I’ll still be inclined to tip you for being so intelligent and courteous. [But, a reliable friend would be nice.]

Reading the room/table shows you are being a conscious and, ideally, courteous server (though assistant would be a better word). That’s what gets tips (when a tip is a bonus for exceptional service). Any other type of behavior is some company enforcing a routine; you might as well be a customary hand towel or mint on a pillow. I don’t tip mints on pillows.

I’d throw in reading me like a book as a good thing. I fantasize about women being able to exhibit this skill (just as I get a little enjoyment when I feel able to read a woman’s thoughts and say something before she can put it into similar words). But, if you read me too well…and I detect that…and you seem to be enjoying yourself more than you’re making me feel comfortable (being so obvious)…I’ll turn on you. And, you won’t get a good tip from me. It’s great if you can figure out what I want or like, but don’t make it look so easy or amusing. Remain modest and polite. Reading someone is enjoyable, but when it’s too easy, someone may get hurt.

A good job of reading someone is knowing when a person is visibly stuffed or satisfied…or not stuffed or not satisfied. There should be visible clues. And, if you don’t get that much, don’t bother asking until the customer has emptied their plate(s).

[If I am sweating at my table or see someone sweating at their table, that is not the cue to get more anything. That means someone is overheated and/or bloated. So, if you ask that person about a refill or add-on, you’re stupid. If you’re going to offer a sweating customer anything, ask if they need water and what temperature they’d prefer. Water helps with digestion. You can’t exactly alter the air conditioning of the place to accommodate every customer, but you can possibly help them become more comfortable with clean, safe water at the right temperature. Maybe a handfan would help some customers, too. But, that isn’t something I expect any restaurant to offer; I’ve never seen a restaurant do that.]

Another suggestion might be finding a different choice of words, something other than “How’s everybody doing?” “How’s everybody doing,” to me, sounds like “How soon will you be done, so we can replace you with someone else.” It makes me feel like I need to get moving. I’m not eating fast enough to please your boss.

You pass by the table…you see what’s eaten or not fully eaten…you make an assessment and then decide if you need to say something. If you want or need to know if someone needs something, ask, “Does anyone need anything?” If someone at one of your tables doesn’t make eye contact, you don’t need to address them. You don’t have to go any further by mentioning an item (unless you’re good at reading the customer and thus can tell they want more). Let the customer fill in the blanks. You already said “anything.”

[A good sign of a customer needing or wanting more of something is when they smile and/or lick their lips after either sampling or finishing something. If you can notice that much, there’s a chance the customer will respond well to asking if they want another/a refill. Better yet, if you can offer one “to go,” the customer will probably–at least, I would–feel better about not only leaving your workplace but coming back to it, another time.]

[For me, personally, a chocolate dessert is almost always a good move unless I’m already bloated and/or sweating from what I ate (and probably need a “doggy bag” to finish at home). So, if you see me coming and offer something chocolate (not the dark or white kind), you’re on the right track. If I have enough room for dessert, I will reach out to the staff before I pay the bill. I don’t need to be asked about dessert…but I also won’t mind if you can tell I’m, at least, still hungry. But, more often, I will go to get something solely as a dessert rather than tack on a dessert to a big meal. Being stuffed doesn’t make me more generous with tips, either. That feels more like someone is inflicting pain on my body for money. And, if I am not visibly happy about my dessert, if I don’t lick my lips and flex my eyebrows while smiling, we both made a mistake…but it doesn’t mean I will tip more while feeling regret.]

[Why does anyone ask before the customer is done with eating/drinking something? I blame “the game” and businesses driven by this odd pressure to engage customers without courtesy. Forced courtesy is not courtesy. Conscious attention to a customer’s needs and/or reactions is. Or, at least, be observant of the table’s status before you engage a customer. A half-finished item is not the time for a refill or add-on, no matter what anyone says. All-you-can-eat pressure helps no one, in the end. I’ve seen enough places file bankruptcy to verify my opinion.]

On the opposite end of the scale, if you wait on my table with either a cold or overly cheerful presence, I’ll be uncomfortable and wary. Overly cheerful staff, people who seem programmed to smile and make everything sound “super,” are an immediate red flag to me. I don’t tolerate phony well. And, I hate the “act.” I don’t like waitstaff doing it, and I don’t like places that enforce it. So, if you don’t get a good tip/response from me, it may not be your fault, alone. It’s just the (way of that) place. I’d rather you be unfriendly and lost in your own head…but that won’t make me want to tip you.

[Phew! That was a long one!]

3) That should do it. Just two rather roomy expectations. Though, the thing about chocolate desserts could be considered a separate third and a perk/gamble. [If the dessert, or any part of what I order, doesn’t satisfy me, you can forget about the tip (even if ordering too much or lacking food/drink is my own fault)…unless your personality is so stellar (in my opinion) that the food doesn’t matter.]

[I saw an interview with Daniel Dae Kim in which he said some part of Korea had buttons at restaurant tables to buzz for service, versus waving your hands in the air or waiting for someone to come to you on their own. I understand the minor introvert comfort in that button. But, being empathetic to the waitstaff, if I was one of them, I wouldn’t exactly want to hear/feel the “buzz,” especially if multiple tables did that. And, to be honest, I’d expect some fools at the wrong time of day to abuse that button, just for a laugh. It might help light which tables need something, but it could also put staff on edge. And, no one needs an edgy waiter or manager. But, maybe a button that just lights up something at each table would be enough for a waiter/manager to notice and investigate. Or, maybe have the accent lamp for each table change the color of its light when a NEED button is pressed.]

17
Jan
24

Wine Vending Machines for Morons

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It’s the latest thing in sampling wine; vending machines….or, rather, crowded tap stations lined with tiny faucets which are supposed to bring you the same joy you get from having someone who knows their wines (and hopefully won’t rub that knowledge in your face) serving one properly to please you. That is the point of all this wine. Right? To please people? But, where is the joy in sharing wine from a vending machine?

Let me get right to the bullet point of this piece. If you’re going to put wine in dispensing machines or cabinets, you might as well sell it in individual-portion bottles and cans, like every other commercially sold non-alcoholic beverage. You might as well lump beer makers in with your plan, too. Let’s give everyone a soda-can machine and be done with it. Spare us the long road through attempted bottle suicide.

If you need more information to convince you of what I just said, continue reading. ‘Better sit down and pour yourself a tall one; this is going to a long rant.

How stupid and anti-social do we people have to be?

Why haven’t wines been sold in cans and/or plastic bottles like soda and beer? Maybe because it’s not typically enjoyed that way. Maybe because you don’t let your soda breathe unless you want it to go flat. And, maybe because wine would lose all of its charm if you bought it for a few bucks from a humming, glowing, filthy box a short distance from where you parked your car.

Do you have to breathe or swirl beer or soda in a glass before you enjoy it? No. You also don’t need a GLASS to enjoy soda or beer. But, when you talk wine, people suddenly need fine glassware and a means to twirl their wrists every which way. I don’t see that happening with a vending machine that spares you the humiliation of mispronouncing wine names.

[I read an article, recently, which prompted this soap-box rant. And, it was littered with timid, anti-social stupidity bound to create some bacterial infections.]

Anyone who offers tap beverages knows they have to maintain those taps. You have to clear and clean them, all of the time (unlike a wine bottle which you just…cork). [And, if a wine bottle only lasts so long before you have to finish or dump it, what happens with those tap stations in the hands of modern staff who “just work there?”] So, just keep that in mind as I continue.

You know wine isn’t just something often hard to pronounce by name; it’s also the only alcoholic beverage that you can’t simply consume or mix with something else to improve the experience. You have to treat each wine like a fussy pet to get the most out of it…or so I’m told. If you feel discouraged by wine because you are not fully educated, join the club. And, news flash, having easier access to wines via a tap isn’t going to improve your knowledge…unless you are Adam or Eve and willing to risk being cast out of the vineyard of Eden.

If you have access to a food or drink of any kind and do not know it comes with rules for proper enjoyment, you’re going to mess yourself up, somehow, without that instruction when you access it from a tap. But, certain vendors of wine, including coffee houses (which I think should be content focusing on being the experts in coffee and coffee-based products), trying to increase their customer base, are turning to vending taps and claiming consumers won’t have to suffer the same difficulties they had in the past with becoming part of the wine-loving community. [Yeah. Right.]

One key line I read mentions avoiding the embarrassment of mispronouncing wine names by drinking them from taps. But, here’s the kicker; the same article mentions you may have to go to the bar/service counter to request a certain wine (to have it supplied to the tap station…because there are so many varieties, even in what seem like the smallest of facilities). So…if you cannot pronounce the name, how are you going to have better luck asking someone to supply it to a tap on the other side of the room? [Morons!]

In the spirits of improving your interest in this latest vending enterprise, the informants of this recent article say not to worry about tapping cheap, “boxed” wines; they want you to have access to some of the finest wines available, as if that will make you come back to get more…from a crowded tap station…because nothing says I am enjoying a fine beverage crafted by human hands (or feet?) than standing next to a half-dozen other crazed wine seekers, pouring my own glass from a tarnished and/or stained spigot. Don’t give me that Pepsi or Miller wine; no. I want the finest from Italian vineyards…poured from a faucet.

Come on, people!

You’ve turned what has always been something unique from other beverages into a game of rock, scissors, paper. There is no finer selection and distinction of a beverage other than maybe tea. But, you want to make it more convenient to a wider audience. You might as well just leave out bottles and let people go to town on them in alleys and streets. You might as well put out dog bowls.

Wine is like intimacy, but some people treat it like orange juice or coffee. They can’t get through a day without a big ol’ swig (or gallon jug). [I suppose some people get sex the same way; they can’t get through a week without it.] You don’t buy personalized affection or love from a machine. You might pay a prostitute for some form of sex, but you’re not getting the pinnacle of love from that experience unless you actually love the prostitute. You’re just one of many customers, and you’re on the clock with someone being managed. And, getting sex from a prostitute may be dangerous…like getting a fermented beverage from a poorly maintained tap station, situated in a coffee shop, where the staff is educated in coffee while they still need an encyclopedia and manual to explain the wine machine.

Do you want tainted wine? Will tainted wine bring you the same pleasure as un-tainted wine? What happens if your tap malfunctions? [You’re going to point at the label, mumble like a fool and hope someone can help fix and refill the damn thing.] Will you know the true potential of any particular wine without someone there to show you how it is to be enjoyed?

You may be uncomfortable with know-it-all wine salespeople and waitstaff, but throwing money around just to do as you please with something crafted by a budding artisan isn’t helping anyone do anything other than be lazy and careless. If 3-D art, which you just bought, requires special glasses to enjoy it but use the art as toilet paper, what sense does that make? If you cannot identify what you just drank (because it was stamped with a name you cannot pronounce), how will you identify it the next time you want to drink some? That one with the what taste? What color was it? [Yeah. Good luck, you idiot.]

If you are already educated about wines, then, sure, it’s a convenient way to go somewhere for a glass of a wine you already know and bypass the ceremony. You know what you want and can operate a tap with the best of them, as long as you don’t mind bumping elbows with some giddy fool who just wants to get drunk or experiment. I could also buy a boxed tea similar to one served in a real Chinese tea house and believe I am getting the same benefits.

But, if a consumer is uneducated and simply samples at will (and cost), that’s foolish and haphazard. They spare themselves nothing more than a quick “Tsk” from a more educated person over their shoulder, which they will still likely receive when they decide to investigate what they just drank. That’s a heap of machinery installed just to prod more people into sampling wine; and, if they are turned off or sickened by the experience, what did you vendors gain? There is a reason we get educated. And, the only education you may get from a tap station is how to operate one and what will or won’t make you sick, if you can even remember what you ate or drank.

I remember being a little kid at a funeral that had a coffee-dispensing machine. It wasn’t even electronic. It was just a simple plastic? box divided for each type of coffee…and creamer, sugar, etc. I didn’t know what I was putting in my cup. I just saw adults doing that and wanted to try it. That’s about as dumb as what is being done with wine, today.

Is this how we get more people interested in wine? Handing out bottles would make more sense. At least, the drinker would have a label they could take with them and show someone when they want to know or sample more.

I think there was so much buzz about making your own wine that too many people started doing it and then failed to figure out how to get people interested in their own varieties. It’s like that sour-dough craze that started with the quarantine of 2020. If you get everyone around the world to believe they can be artists, they will all fetch the tools they think they need and craft something for sale. But, if everyone is an artist interested in selling their work, how many will buy artwork from another artist? If everyone is grilling burgers and brats, who is buying and/or eating them?

[Personally, when I go to art fairs, as a capable artist, I ask myself…couldn’t I make what that person has for sale?]

On that note, would you spend money on a wine you cannot pronounce, which was made by someone local yet unknown to you, and enjoy it? There is a chance. There is as much chance drinking from a bottle, in the dark, not knowing what you are consuming and caring about as much. Are you such a risky gambler?

Which sounds better? You know who made the wine you are drinking, like everything about them and their product (personality, morals, taste, packaging, advertising, etc.). Or, you know nothing about who made what you are consuming other than a name you fail to pronounce and a possible location from which it was made. If you eat cookies, like I do, you might be compelled to ask, “What is in these? And, who made them?”

Now, if, for any reason, there was concern about consuming said unknown/unfamiliar food or beverage, something that would impair your health, wouldn’t you want to be advised? In recent decades, we started putting more and more informative yet equally intimidating labels on products to inform consumers what is in store for them. But, the way wine is being promoted; you’d think labels be damned. Who cares? Drink up. It doesn’t matter if you have an allergy or develop a skin condition no one in your budget range can explain.

With so many making their own wine, selling and distributing it has become a tedious game of Monopoly. Everyone has a small property and is just trading rent. Maybe someone is profiting from the “parking” places. The jails are probably buzzing. There’s no sensible business left in it. You might as well stop trying to make a buck and share your creations at friendly gatherings.

Here’s to ending the economical madness we’ve endured so long. Here’s to free craftsmanship and sharing of creations.

What separates one wine maker from another and limits the field of competition? Presentation, story and, quite simply, quality. The same goes with many artistic creations. When you have the story behind a product or creation, you give it greater value; your enjoyment exceeds that given by something you just picked up at the store. You return to the place where you acquired the product to get more of that warm feeling, more time with the makers of the product. Nothing replaces that feeling, not even memory. I could chug a hundred beverages and barely remember what separates one from another. And, if they all taste alike, simply because one is red and the other is white, what difference does it make what I consume?

Oh. You say there is a difference? Well, you’re not going to prove it by having me sample from a faucet.

Why do I get this feeling the wine crowd is somewhat jealous of what may be called the beer or other beverage crowd? Have wine fans become the preppy snobs in the school of hard chugs? Are beer fans the jocks giving the wine nerds a hard time? Have the “snobs” finally lost their pride and started cowering? This is not a reason to turn wine into a raging kegger. I don’t want a wine bong at my party.

[Heck. I don’t want wine at my party unless it’s a quiet gathering of a few trusted friends, not casual, superficial acquaintances you call friends.]

If I understand anything about wine, it’s not something you just buy in a six-pack and chug til you burp or puke. You don’t smash a wine bottle on your forehead and chest-bump your pals. Nor do I want to put wine in a paper cup, like a sample serving of snack mix at the local grocery store, and simply wonder what makes it taste so strange (because I’m too cowardly and anti-social to ask about something I cannot pronounce, anyway). Or, is that the future of wine?

If the latest wine taps were something harvested from inventors in the Far East or parts of Europe known just as well for favoring tea, I’d say this was a clever ruse to improve the customer base of tea shops and ceremonial establishments. Make all those wine-chasers so stupid and sick until they desperately seek an alternative and turn to the “healing power” of tea. Talk about a religious conversion tactic.

[But, remember, your targets are fools, in part, because you added to their foolishness. And, what goes around wine will then come around to tea. Eventually, no beverage will be safe from the trending consumer madness unless we stop the cycle somewhere (break trend).]

Bottoms up, you fools. But, I’ll be over at the can-dispensing machine and walking far away from you. I never was a fan of wines, and, now, if this is the way things are going, I’m even less interested. All that talk about the proper treatment and serving of wine, and you turn it into a circus of experimentation, anyway. All that craftsmanship wasted on making fruit juice that tastes a little strange and makes you sick if you drink too much too fast. You could do as well serving it to toddlers. Maybe some of them got their allowances early and can spend it at your establishments. Whatever.

Hey, Orson Wells! I guess it’s time for wine. Or, if it’s not, you’re not around to stop these idiots. [Burrrp!]

14
Feb
22

Staging Super Bowl LVI in the Black

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Categories: Concerns and Alerts and Uncategorized
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I tell you this with nearly 100% certainty; Super Bowl LVI (56) was staged. Staged how you say? No, I am not referring to stages like the ones topped by those hip-hop “legends.” I mean staged as in the whole thing was a promotion and campaign for “Black Lives Matter” and the L.A. Rams. The Bengals were just guests in the arena, or, maybe, the lions in a three-ring circus. And, yet, this isn’t new. I think most of these big games are, somehow, staged and set in some team’s favor.

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By the way, the stages were cooler than the performances, in my opinion. The strongest component of the sampler, sadly, was Eminem, the only “white” guy in the group. His performance of that infamous song from his movie, 8 Mile, which I thought he had once said was part of an identity he was leaving behind, was perfectly paired with a rare opportunity for two football teams. In fact, that song might as well be a Super Bowl theme. But, I don’t think the parts about parenting and financial struggles are all that appropriate.

Not including Mary J. B., the other “talents” seemed ignorant and careless at a time when the world is being force-fed constant concern over a deadly virus. A club crowded with flaunting “hoes” and cloned men boxed together so tightly in an attempt to make a cool formation; not smart, right now. The desperation of wealthy extroverts is apparent…and apparently putting everyone at risk, making all those Jurassic Park and zombie apocalypse movies more of a reality; ‘spare no expense.

The lack of caution carried over into every interview before, during and after the game. Reporters standing very close to the players, staff, owners, whoever; it didn’t matter. No one cared; you’d think it was 1992 instead of 2022. The whole scene reminded me of the Heston classic, The Ten Commandments, when the naughty people partied and abused the most beautiful woman on holy ground. SOME people had masks but carried them on their chins; fewer folks actually had masks over their faces. If no one is reported sick in the following weeks, either a vaccine mandate worked (and everyone at the game got a temporary dose at just the right time, which seems miraculous and unlikely) or our fears are truly inflated and enflamed by television.

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When the Milwaukee Bucks won their recent basketball championship, they had an expensive “pad” already built at home, waiting to be put to good use. Had they lost the tournament, what would have happened to the posh estate? Oh, let’s not even dwell on the grim possibilities for the city…because they won! Right? It was in the bag! No. I think it was very secretly arranged…and staged. Oh, the wonders that mighty dollar can achieve…for a team that gave up its purple to look more green.

Now, the L.A. Rams host a Super Bowl in a newly furnished stadium, costing over five billion dollars…with the “man of the year,” Mr. Charity, on their team, given a spotlight…along with a few Hall-of-Fame legends who were the first black men to play football, also given a spotlight…and the families of those who no longer are able to play the sport, also given a spotlight…and a star defender seeking a coveted prize, given a spotlight and place on the team logo whenever NBC goes to commercial, while the Bengals flash images of their lean, rookie, WHITE quarterback…and you just try to tell me it wasn’t all staged. How could the Rams possibly lose? [But, if you saw some of the camera shots the Rams’ head coach received, you’d think he was rather nervous about losing…until it was in the bag.] It’s almost like the talk about China covering its back in the Winter Olympics by featuring the very people some voice concerns about sparing from further harm. If you doubt the Rams’ right to winning, just look at all of the money and perks put on the table for the world to respect. Throw in a few sad, abused animals seeking your monthly donation of twenty bucks, and the package would have been complete.

[Sadly, the team with the largest number of “black” players, during Black History Month, the Bengals, did not win…even after one dirty play that should have received a penalty. Well, I guess losing the game is a penalty. And, why is it every big game has to have that one dirty play that could spoil the whole victory? But, in this case, it didn’t spoil victory…for the team in the favored, heavily sponsored and recently furnished seat. Had the Bengals not made that foul play, could they have won? We’ll never know.]

Topping it all off, you get “the Rock,” Dwayne Johnson, to introduce the teams, wearing a shade of purple which looks closer to the Rams’ blue than the Bengals’ orange and giving greater emphasis in his voice when speaking of the former. [I detected the difference.] And, during the rather weak game which might as well have been played in a snowstorm (for the lack of points put on the board and the number of mishaps that occurred), we see both star quarterbacks fall to the ground, grabbing their “wounded” legs, making very painful faces…only to get back on their feet and play like pros a few minutes later. Hmm. What does that remind me of…oh…I know…WWE wrestling. Someone might as well have hit the quarterbacks with a “steel” chair. Puh-lease! Injured my foot. The only injured person was Odell B., Jr., who looked like he had been stripped of the right to play and his pride in favor of letting Kupp take all the glory…because…let’s be honest…the shaggy white guy got the job done in the end. Isn’t that just like Tom Brady and his pal “Gronk?” Oh, no, wait. It’s not; the Rams have Reggie White…I mean…Aaron Donald to praise, as well. Thank goodness it wasn’t just two white guys getting all of the credit…in a staged championship…where plenty of wealthy faces can be seen and share in the excess. No one can say an Aaron or a Donald failed to get the job done. [Is that going to rally Trump supporters?]

The best commercial–for Salesforce–was being aired days if not weeks before the Super Bowl; so I can’t include it in the lot of possible “hits” but give it credit…though I know nothing about Salesforce. And, the ad, as poetic as it is, doesn’t define the company, similar to most insurance commercials, in which we get an amusing scene but little to no content to justify an interest in investing in the companies. Plenty of good intentions but no clarity regarding how the company assures/provides them; I could just as easily say I am pro- every noble cause on the planet and then commit some scandalous crime with your financial contributions and labor, unseen, simply because I pleased you with my good intentions. Amusement does not equate personal security/safety.]

The Uber Don’t Eats ads made one thing rather clear. The company you trust to deliver good food today could easily send you something not good to eat tomorrow when they buy out some other company or dip their toes into other non-related businesses to boost profits (greed spawned from fading leadership/responsibility leaking opportunities to ambitious fiends). We need to be mindful of companies like Uber Eats and not just turn mild amusement into blind compliance and financial support. If we just laugh and use those “services,” we contribute to the next big monopoly to send people into space in rockets shaped like male genitals and replace human workers with robots until only a select few actually have the financial resources to enjoy life on this planet, while the rest crumble under the illusions of televised advertising and “fast” convenience.

I was surprised the Bengals even made it to the Super Bowl. How did that happen? Was that…arranged, too? Considering they were there in the year of the (Water) Tiger, in terms of Chinese astrology, how perfect would it have been for them to win the thing? But, as I’ve read about tiger years, you have to expect some shocking disappointments. And, this Super Bowl was one.

[And, the Bengals’ head coach? Don’t ever wear that black cap, again. That looked stupid. You could barely see the “B” because the whole thing was black! That’s not your team logo.]

Commentators; I’ll say it again; they suck. They predicted big things for the last game between the Green Bay Packers and San Francisco 49ers. But, they didn’t have a clue about snowy weather in the Midwest. Point predictions were WAY off. Now, being closer to their own homes, they simply predicted the Rams as the winners, no point spreads given (unless you count that confusing talk about betting pools and who got what square). Well, one chose to back the Bengals, but he looked like the sad, odd white loser in the group, anyway.

And, who needs someone pointing out statistics like the odds of winning a coin toss and losing the big game. Why do we bother watching if we predict the winner from the coin toss?! Who won the toss? Oh. Okay. Game over. Pay up. We don’t need to sit through all of this. Let’s go hit the club and spread germs, instead. I’d rather party with Charlize Theron and Jennifer Lopez.

I chose to back the Bengals for a number of reasons, one being I like tigers and thought it was cool how the quarterback came from a town called Athens (being I’m a fan of Greek mythology and, particularly, the goddess Athena who won a contest to claim rights to Athens, Greece). But, I guess, none of that matters in a contest of riches and racial exhibition. You’ll never see me sport a set of Rams horns (at least, not yellow and blue). You’ll beat them, next time, Bengals. Just don’t spoil my support.

31
Jan
22

My Response to In-Laws Need to Stop Hugging Me (Ask Carolyn Hax)

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Categories: Responses to Ask Carolyn Advice Columns
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Ask Carolyn (Hax) column originally titled “In-laws won’t stop hugging even when asked to stop”

This one is oddly endearing; I actually find myself attracted to Grumpy, the author of the letter, not Carolyn (never). But, “Grumpy” doesn’t want anyone showing her affection or intimate interest, right now. And, Carolyn needs a little help punctuating her titles, for grammar’s sake.

“Grumpy” is the introverted wife of a man who tries to cushion the blow of discomfort caused by his parents who, above all others the woman knows, make her uncomfortable with their incessant need to hug at every possible instance/impulse, not limiting this sort of affection to greetings and/or goodbyes. And, because Grumpy resists, they throw in the occasional teasing which makes Grumpy feel even worse.

The key notes to remember here are:

1) Grumpy tries to be nice-er and understanding of the desire to hug in others. She’s not entirely opposed, but her comfort level is not rising when others make jokes and leave her feeling like a “weirdo.” [Technically, from a therapist’s perspective, she is to blame for how she allows herself to feel in response; so she might be choosing to feel weird.] She’s doing her best to put up with the differing interests of others yet still struggling and desperate for relief. Translation, she’s swimming outside her comfort zone and starting to sink.

2) Grumpy’s husband has been known to deflect and/or reject jokes made about the wife. He’s not pressuring her to give up her discomfort boundaries, completely. He’s trying to play the middleman, which is why Hax’s advice is all the more confusing and unhelpful…again. [Her track record is really tanking.]

Carolyn puts the blame on the husband for being insensitive and tells the wife to put her armor on before telling the husband to get with the program. She also has a heavy-worded way of confusing the crap out of me; what is she even trying to say in most of the column? Good luck, Grumpy family, on sharing a bedroom and anything intimate a couple should enjoy.

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Grumpy, I adore you (and women like you). You are not so stuck in your mud that you cannot admit to the awkwardness you feel in social situations. You’re touchy and quirky (like me). And, I just get this feeling; if we were stuck in a room together, there would be friction. But, the friction would quickly dissolve into reassuring warmth and sympathy when we share our mutual discomfort and shed the concerns/defenses.

NOTE: I have a “bad habit” of becoming drawn into “none of my business” and expand upon my initial opinions, the more time I am allowed or allow myself to dwell upon the matter at hand, even if I am “dismissed” and no longer in the company of those involved. This response started out “in short” but has grown with my lack of resistance to revisiting it. And, this…tends to happen with most of my responses.

I totally understand your need for personal space. I appreciate your self-awareness, regarding the possibility of handling social situations in a nicer way than you normally, reflexively do. You want to be more socially accepted and tolerant; but you retain a measure of discomfort which leaves you feeling soiled and/or violated. And, it can be difficult bridging the gap without feeling as if you lose or sacrifice a part of your soul. I get that. [And, God bless you calling yourself a weirdo. I know it hurts to say it; but it’s strangely endearing.]

My advice: Keep doing what you do to test the social waters and improve your tolerance, reducing the chance of being seen as weird. You’ll widen your social circle and find more opportunities. But, you do not have to give up your “spidey sense,” completely. If anyone who wishes to be (more) affectionate triggers a red flag, sets off your inner voice of warning, feel free to step back and deny the physical contact. Your intuition is not the enemy. The invader is. And, it’s only right to be cautious.

[I confess I have shaken hands and hugged people I now regret giving that ground. They did not deserve the kindness. I remain a bit uncomfortable with the violation. I participated to get the job, smooth client/customer relations or just keep family from making me feel strange for being different/distant (like you). And, I never truly felt or saw the benefit. I felt like I let myself down and let some thief take something from me.]

The only thing you are lacking is a bit more backbone (as am I). We need to set boundaries but also be polite and vocalize those boundaries without other self-conscious side-effects (like feeling sick to our stomachs for having to repeat ourselves, when we’d rather be wearing a sign that says “DO NOT HUG, RIGHT NOW; ASK FIRST”). Once people are aware of our desires, they have the responsibility of respecting them. At least, ask before going for a hug or handshake. That’s polite (on their part), too; just as they seem to expect everyone to be okay with a hug or kiss on the cheek.

I think much of the social problem comes from lack of communication (which is sort of key to being…well…social); instead, people assume and don’t read the signs well. You assume people won’t hug you when you don’t want a hug, but then you also go without hugs when you need/want them (because people become affraid of upsetting you), thus losing out on some valuable affection. Others assume you are open to hugging (and the rest) and then feel awkward or offended when you resist; they fail to supply the courtesy of a question.

Let me ask you this. If you were in a foreign country, where the custom greeting seems to be a hug or kiss, how would you convey your boundaries when you cannot speak the native language? Would you cede your resistance and comply or cope with the awkwardness when you fail to communicate your preference? [Knowing me, I’d probably fold and go along for the ride, putting up with the questionable discomfort, later.]

I’m not a professional psychologist, but I’d be inclined to consider the possibility you suffer from a form of autism, not significant enough to be clearly defined as such. You collect stress triggers like fly paper, instead of making contact with one and shedding it. The triggers continue to bother you until you are faced with a social/affectionate situation and impact your response. By the time someone is looking for that hug, you look like a cat covered in sticky candy wrappers and chewed gum. If you were not bothered by the “million other things,” you might be more receptive and/or understanding of someone’s desire to touch/embrace you. It may not entirely be the affectionate one’s fault when you bristle. Right?

So…suggestion? The next time you find yourself approached by someone wanting a hug, if you know other “items” are bothering you at that moment, acknowledge the “other” discomfort and either tell the heat-seeking hugger or accept the hug. You now know the person does not deserve the blame for your present discomfort…the “other things” do.

If you choose a more self-defensive route, verbally make your boundaries known; do not bristle and assume the sign is clear. Let word spread. People who don’t know you or don’t get the message will eventually have to learn. Let any concern for people thinking you are weird slip away from you as you exhale and cast off all internal distress. If people seem unable to learn (after having ample chances), walk away without further explanation; you already told them what they need to know. When you feel comfortable sharing a handshake or hug (or kiss), bridge the divide and offer one, yourself. If you know the other person is receptive, they should not complain (like you would). If they are like you (and me), then ask first. Then you are in charge of your body and should not have any further discomfort.

Also, ignore Carolyn (unless you misrepresented your own husband’s behavior). Don’t blame him. It sounds like he’s trying to mend bridges, not burn them. He seems like an okay–not great–guy. And, he’s putting up with the influences of his parents, as many must do.

You married him, not his parents; you are within your right to deny them affection if they don’t respect your preferences. If you refuse the affection of your husband, you two have some balance yet to correct. If his parents (and any other family members he might have) continue to belittle you, ignore and/or avoid them because they refuse to be more understanding of the woman who married their son. But, because this is a “civil union” of two “families,” you, too, must understand some people are just…”handsy,” including those in-laws. You can subject them to any number of penalties to satisfy your needs; but they will remain who they are until they die. And, your husband came from them; he still has to respect his own parents and decide (for himself) how much affection he will permit. If they change to respect your boundaries, it’s a miracle.

Consider this last bit of advice a consolation prize. Should you choose the humbling, submissive route, you could accept the hugs with a contingency plan in place. After putting up with the invasion of your comfort zone, you are permitted to have some alone time away from the husband and his family. But, this requires you being comfortable on your own away from home (and a measure of trust between lovers). At least, it’s a brief vacation, now and then, from what bothers you, allowing you to purge yourself of some discomfort and recover.

And, breathe. If you feel any discomfort after what I’ve said, go take a hot bath or shower and make yourself comfortable in a private, quiet space with something to entertain yourself for a little while. You’re okay.

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If you are reading this, like what I have to say and seek advice to your own nagging question, feel free to submit a letter to my mailbox. [Use the Contact Me page/info link at the top of the page.] And, I will give you a personalized response, like certain advice columnists try to do but without the reflex of handing you over to a professional therapist (which you can handle yourself if you so choose).

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