Lingers

Some of my clothes still smell like tatami.

On a Whim

Philadelphia is the kind of place where you can find an Emily Street nine blocks south of a Watkins Street.


I think I'll move there someday.

Moon

Every time I see the full moon, it reminds me of Japan, cos I left Japan on a full moon.

Oh Emily, how maudlin can you get?

Yeah, I know. But it's true. Both the leaving and the remembering.

Sister-in-Law

There have been a number of changes in my life in recent months, and chief among them is my ascendancy to in-lawhood. My brother got married April 12th in a beautiful wedding in Dover, Delaware. His beloved, Kim, had asked me to be one of her bridesmaids, so I got myself all gussied up (even painted my face) and crammed my feet into pretty little three-inch heels and watched my brother become a husband. Talk about a head trip. But she seems to love him, despite his being my younger brother, and I know he adores her, so I wish them all the best.

I got myself a seat in the limo between the church and the reception hall with Chris and Kim and a few other members of the wedding party, including the flower girl and ring bearer, both four years old. For Aubrey, being a flower girl is a position she wears easily, but Devon took some convincing. The two of them became fast friends at the rehearsal the night before, and continued to entertain each other all the way to the reception hall.

Aubrey: Knock knock.
Devon: Who's there?
Aubrey: Car.
Devon: Car who?
Aubrey: Car... BANANA!
Both [after one second of silence]: Hahahahahahahaha!!

Really, they entertained us all.

My New New Job

When I started working in the jewelry department, other people said, "Oh nice, no fitting rooms." I didn't understand why this was something to be relieved about, but I took their word for it.

Now... ahahahaha... ha hah ... aheh....

Attention Departo shoppers: If, at any time during your shopping experience, you look around and think, Why can't I find anyone to check me out? this is because we're in the fitting rooms cleaning up after you, and the piles of inside-out shirts left on the chair, and the Kix you ground into the carpet, and the senso tags you unsuccessfully tried to remove from those Tommy Hilfiger capris.

I keep telling myself that this is a step up, because now I'm a specialist for a particular line we carry, and I'm making a little bit more an hour. I keep reminding myself that I hated my first month in jewelry, too, because I didn't know anything about the merchandise or how to sell it.

But every day when I go home, I have more clothes that need to be put away than there were when I arrived, leaving someone else to essentially pick up after me. My brain was not made for spatial organization, and unfortunately that's exactly the skill this job requires, so I feel fairly overwhelmed every time I attempt to straighten things up.

And now my store manager would like me to start a training program to become a department manager. I have the personality for it, apparently. Out of the frying pan and into the fire?

What would you do

if there were two other people out there with very similar e-mail addresses to yours, and you sometimes received e-mails intended for one of those two other people, and your attempts to communicate the error to the senders of the e-mails were sometimes met with gratitude, sometimes with rudeness, but usually wholly ignored?

I don't even know what the real e-mail addresses of these people are, else I'd go to them directly and say, "Hey, you might want to emphasize that minor difference between your address and, say, somebody else's, when you share it with others."

Some of the people I notify continue to make the same mistake (and sometimes with important things to say, like, "I've bought the tickets; meet us at the station at 3"), and I've already been yelled at for being insensitive (by replying bluntly to everyone on the CC list). In the last four years, two, maybe three people have written back thanking me for catching their mistake. I'm getting pretty tired of setting myself up for disappointment, but I worry that ignoring these e-mails could create conflict and misunderstanding in the lives of others.

What responsibility do I have to any of them?

My New Job

A few weeks ago I scored a full-time position in the jewelry department at Departo.* This is somewhat different work from my previous part-time position in Customer Service. I'd been kind of hoping I'd have to deal with fewer frustrating customers, but this isn't so much the case.

Customer: Is it okay if I try on these earrings?
Me: We prefer that you don't.
Customer: You prefer. So that means I have a choice?
Me: Mm... no.


*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.