Difficult Conversations

Find me a more awkward talking situation than being in an elevator with people you don’t know. For whatever reason, people are terrified of chatting with randoms in elevators and it makes the whole elevator ride miserable. Now most of you who know me are well aware that I am a pretty big talker (despite my always quoting Old School by saying “I’m not a talker”) and even I have difficultly once those elevator doors close. Yet I think someone needs to do something about it to start an elevator talking revolution.

It amazes me how uncomfortable being in an elevator can make a group of people. I can be in the most stimulating conversation of my life leading up to the elevator with a group of four people; laughing, talking loudly, enjoying myself. Yet if one person is in the elevator who we don’t know, when the doors close suddenly everyone becomes terrified to even whisper. It’s as if the slightest noise will make that tiny rope holding the elevator snap, crashing the car to the bottom. Every move is carefully orchestrated as to not frighten the other passengers. You stand perfectly still and hope to god that the trip goes as planned and you make it to your floor.

The behavior of people in the elevator is very predictable and goes in a standard textbook routine. A new entrant will begin by eyeing the crowd and seeing if there is any chance of a conversation starting. As is usually the case, most people stare down, frightened to make eye contact with the dangerously silent strangers. Then naturally you begin to drift your attention upwards to watch the numbers light up on the screen in sequence. It’s as if our childhood memories of Sesame Street are reborn as the numbers flash before our eyes and we try to guess which one comes next. A forty-five second ride feels like 90 minutes and you are so relieved to get out of there. When your floor comes up, it’s as if you won the lottery. You half acknowledge the “losers” behind you and you walk out of that elevator down victory lane, proud, thankful, blessed…alive.

I don’t really understand the big deal regarding talking in an elevator. I’m not going to lie and say that I ramble on when I’m in a cramped elevator car. However, I do think everyone would be much happier if people talked more and someone is going to have to step it up for the rest of us. I propose that in order, everyone just mention something interesting about their day: My foot hurts, I was fired today, someone gave me Ebola, I don’t know where I am, anything that can make the patrons feel more comfortable. If you’re feeling up to it, just jump right into a song and dance number, I hear that strangers love singing to calm them down. Maybe start reciting your favorite Brittany Spears song, that really relaxes people as well.

Next time you’re in an elevator, think about the other people and just start blabbing away. You’ll feel better, they’ll feel better, and maybe you’ll meet someone new and interesting.

Everything's Going to be OK

So it's been a while since we've had consistent posting going on here at the The G-Man News-Stand. I've been receiving concerned emails and phone calls asking me why the site isn't being updated everyday lately. Let me take a moment to respond to some of the rumors floating around right now and calm everyone's worries.

I have not been sick, severely beaten, lost, put in prison, deported, or recently found out I'm pregnant. Unfortunately I've just been very busy lately between working, having a social life, and being active. But does this mean that The G-Man News-Stand is done? Absolutely not, because Goonies never say die. I actually still don't know what that really meant or what a Goonie is, but that's not the issue here. We'll start getting the comedy rolling again eventually and some funny routines up and running.

For those of you who feel there lives have not been complete for the past 2 weeks of non-regular postings, I understand your pain. For those of you who felt I have broken your hearts for not posting everyday, grab a tissue and cry on the shoulder of the person sitting next to you. For those of you who hate my site and don't think I'm funny...I don't have anything clever to say to you, stop being so angry.

Hit up the site sometime tomorrow for a new funny routine. Four days till the weekend, be strong.

Major Breakthrough

There are very few inventions that you can honestly anticipate changing your life. I presume that the day the refrigerator was introduced, that probably turned a lot of heads. Jet airliners which could transport passengers had to have been another one of those, “the world will never be the same” inventions. The creation of the computer and internet transformed business and communication forever. Yesterday, I officially called and ordered another invention which may change my life forever. Am I nervous for the future and what is in store for me? Of course, but I’m ready to embrace this invention and live a better life. I’m tired of living in the past; it’s time to move on.

At 8:45pm, I officially ordered a Digital Video Recorder from Time Warner Cable for my television. Basically, that’s a fancy name for an imitation of Tivo that you just pay a few extra dollars a month for and you can record any show you want. I’ve been talking about ordering it for a long time and now that I’ve done it, I feel like I can take on the world. It was a rough adventure, they put me on hold for about 15 minutes but I fought through the urge to quit. I knew that if I just held myself together for a little longer, a representative would come on the line and make it all better. So I persevered and made it through the holding phase, ordered the DVR service and scheduled an appointment for Saturday between the hours of 12 and 4. I’ll get into that window of service shortly.

Many of you out there who know me might be asking yourself, “Gary…why would you ever get the DVR if you don’t really watch TV?” That’s a valid question, one I have been thinking about since I ordered the service. It is true, the only show I actually watch on television is the show 24 and recently reruns of Family Guy. But that doesn’t mean I can’t turn over a new leaf and become a real couch potato. At the very least, I can finally attempt to prove my theory that the show Golden Girls can be found on some channel 24 hours a day. Who would ever want to miss out on those quick antics of Sophia, the 60 year old slutty thing going on with Blanche, Rose and her Homer-esk replies…and Dorothy, she’s just kind of boring, but as a whole, what a show, what a group of ladies. And I’m sure I’ll catch on to watch some new programs out there that I’ve been hearing so much about. I can’t name them right now, but they’re out there.

The installment window does bother and confuse me. I asked if sometime Saturday morning the representative who will change my cable box between the hours of 12 and 4 could call and give me a heads’ up on when he will arive. They did not appear to like that idea, probably because that would make my life easier. Who doesn’t want to just sit at home waiting for some stranger during a 4 hour window? I swear that if this person comes around 4, I expect more than just a changing of my cable box. For that amount of waiting, I require the cable box changed, a 3 course meal prepared, maybe a song and dance number as well. I should just pull a Kramer and leave a note on my apartment door saying, “Sorry, you must have just missed me. But I’ll be back between the hours of 3 and 6 so I’ll see you soon.”

So if you talk to me or see me after Saturday, expect a new Gary walking around. I might not increase the amount of time I put in or programs I watch on television, but at least I could if I wanted to. And that makes all the difference.

Getting to the Gym

Part of the lifestyle of living in Manhattan involves going to the gym. Just about everyone has a gym membership somewhere, whether you go to the gym on a regular basis is a whole other story. Some use the gym as a social atmosphere where there are tons of young people to meet. Others go strictly for working out purposes and have no interests in talking to anyone. There are many reasons why you go to the gym; it’s just a matter of having the strength to get over there.

I’ve read many publications which go into details about the benefits of exercise and weight lifting. The most common payoff to working out according to many fitness experts is a relief of stress. As an on-and-off regular to going to the gym, let me state my strong opposition to this alleged benefit. Don’t get me wrong, when I go to the gym and finish a workout I feel great. I shower up and go home feeling excited and proud of myself. Rather than waste my time and be unproductive, I got the chance to exercise and be healthy. My confidence goes up and my stress level goes down. So why do I think that the gym increases stress? Well the scenario I just described only works if you actually make it to the gym. Leading up to that point, all I was thinking about all day was excuses to not go to the gym.

The common person wakes up with a game plan of going to work then hitting the gym. Somewhere near the end of work, I start thinking about any possible excuse I can use to get out of exercising: My back hurts, I have some phone calls to make, today was the day I’m possibly meeting others for dinner, it’s cold out, today is Tuesday, I coughed yesterday, etc. Anything that can convince me that it is a bad idea to go to the gym will do and then I enter the stages of guilt. I start feeling bad for myself and maybe get a little nauseous. Then the cold sweat begins and you start making promises to yourself you can’t keep: I’ll go tomorrow, I wouldn’t get much done today anyway, I can do sit-ups while I watch TV, my roommate is working out for the two of us etc. I think I burn more calories thinking about going to the gym than I do at the gym itself. In the end of it all whether I guilt myself into going to the gym or stay home, I feel terrible, I’m stressed out, and I probably would have been better off just not having a gym membership at all.

Sometimes I get so close to going to the gym but then I give up at the last second. I’ll be coming home from work and have a game plan that I’m going to go into my apartment, change real quickly, then get to the gym. You change into shorts and a T-shirt and you’re all ready to go, then something interesting sounds from the television. Since this could be the most important telecast in broadcasting history, you make the biggest mistake of all; you sit down for “a second” just to see what was on TV. That turns into a three hour sit-down followed by ordering dinner and going to the gym becomes a faint memory. A few hours later when you come out of your trance, you remember that game plan of hitting up the gym and you go through the stages of guilt once again. But that damn couch is just so comfortable and enticing; it’s hard to blame yourself sometimes.

After this whole routine I still haven’t gotten into actually being inside the gym. Perhaps later this week or next week I’ll have a follow-up on strange behaviors in the gym because there are a ton of them. Don’t have a case of the Mondays today, be strong.

Menu Madness

When you think about ordering food in Manhattan, the first thing that probably crosses your mind is the thousands of restaurants in the city. There are so many choices to order from that you may think that the decision of where to eat is near impossible. Choosing a place to eat is extremely difficult but it’s not from the options out there.

After living in the city for a year and a half, I have learned that there are basically four options when ordering food: Chinese, Sushi, Deli, and other stuff. How is it possible that of all the genres out there we are left with these four? I can pin it down to one general reason. Everyday when I come home from work, there are anywhere between one and four delivery menus in my apartment. The local restaurants pay their delivery people to walk around apartment buildings and drop their menu under the door. When I first moved into the city, I thought this was the best concept ever. I didn’t even have to leave my apartment to select the take out menus I wanted; they would just appear every day. But 5 menus turned to 15. And 15 grew to 45. Now, I have a stack of 400 menus sitting in a drawer, some places having 3 or 4 of their menus representing. I guess the logic is that if you get the menu in the apartment, there’s a small probability that you will select their menu. Once I make the difficult decision of selecting Chinese, Sushi, Deli, or other stuff, then it’s down to sorting through the hundreds of menus I have and picking a place. After a while, they all start sounding the same, the prices are all in the same range, and very little distinguishes one from the other. For a restaurant to be selected by me to order from, it’s kind of like them winning the lotto. The grand payoff of this lottery, $8.50 for my Sweet and Sour Chicken Dinner Special but they earned it with their hard menu handing out strategy.

For some strange reason, the “other stuff” restaurants have not figured out the menu dropping strategy. So we’re all clear on what makes up the category, other stuff is comprised of many different genres such as Mexican, Pizza, Italian, and whatever else might be near your neighborhood. In my stack of 400 menus in my apartment, I think I have two Mexican menus both from the same place, one pizza menu for the infamous Pizza 33 which is very overrated, and maybe a Tai Food place. The key to winning the “where is Gary ordering from sweepstakes” is to get at least one entry in the game. You can’t win if you don’t play. It’s kind of like the NBA lottery; having more “balls” in selecting who gets the first overall pick gives you a better chance of winning. Same thing in ordering food, the more menus you have in the better chance you have of me picking it. The major problem with this analogy is that in the NBA, it’s the worst team in the league with the best chance. I’d hate to think that all this time I’ve been picking the worst and most unsanitary Chinese restaurants in the city just because they’re dropping a ton of menus under my door. But if they are, I’d have to say that I’m impressed with the effort and they earned my business.

Although this routine appears to be praise towards the menus under my door, it actually drives me nuts always walking into my apartment and stepping on menus. Eventually, I’m going to start blacklisting the restaurants who continually feed me menus. And I would love to catch those people in the act one day, just so I could hand him the 30 menus he’s littered in my apartment over the past year. Why should I throw out his garbage, he should take care of it himself. That’s all I have for now on food delivery, I think three routines is enough.

Care to Share?

One of my favorite parts of going to a meal with friends is splitting an appetizer. I love appetizer foods and if they weren’t the unhealthiest foods ever, I’d probably consider getting them for the meal instead. So when I’m with a group of people, I look forward to ordering an appetizer for the table to get my fix. But what happens when sharing certain appetizers goes bad?

Now everyone out there loves to eat nachos, especially when there’s all kinds of stuff piled on top like cheese, chicken, sauces, etc. However, in all of my years of nacho eating, I have never come across a time when the cheese was equally distributed over the entire plate of nachos. This is where the issues come in to play because everyone wants that big lump of cheese. The question is who is clever and strong enough to make the move to get it first. You have many different types of food sharing people: those that just don’t care and attack the plate no matter who gets hurt and others that are more passive and wait for an opportunity to get that big chip with tons of cheese and other stuff on it. There’s potential for a lot of broken hearts when the “nacho bully” comes around, grabs that huge chip with the large piece of cheese hanging on it you’ve been eyeing and leaves just naked chips left on the plate. And then there’s that one chip sitting in the middle that looks all innocent but happens to be connected to 17 other chips, thus giving that lucky person the majority of the food. There needs to be some kind of appetizer sharing etiquette. I’ve seen friendships end and families torn apart from bad appetizer sharing experiences.

Another issue to consider is when there’s one chip or chicken wing left on the plate. Everyone wants to eat it but no one wants to look too selfish. The most textbook move is to ask everyone “do you want the last one?” because of course no one is going to say, “yeah, it’s mine.” The person who asks the questions is always the person who will get to eat it. As an accountant, I’m all for doing some kind of formula for a distribution based on the number of pieces of food remaining, the amount everyone has eaten thus far, potential dinners on their way, and an X-factor of people I like best. I’ll have to crunch some numbers and see if I can come up with something that makes sense. Along the same lines, if you’re on a date, as a man are you required to give the woman the last piece? I don’t think so, especially if the guy is paying. Woman can show their appreciation by letting your hungry guy get that last mozzarella stick, it goes a long way.

So next time you’re all eyeing down the last cheese-filled nacho or fighting over the final french fry, consider your appetizer etiquette. A small sacrifice now can pay off big in the long run.