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Modern Love is (Not) Automatic

3/26/2013

I've been driving a Mini with a manual gearbox for over four years. It's the only thing I drive, so when I took it in for a service yesterday and got a loaner vehicle with an automatic gearbox, I was quite excited (sad but true). My left foot was looking forward to the rest, and my right hand was free to pick up my water bottle instead of changing gear every few seconds.

I know that sounds a little excessive, but I live at the top of one steep hill, Fiona's school is half way up another steep hill and everything I need in town is at the bottom of every hill. Second gear is tops for getting up, and I'm on the brakes most of the way down, which is why my car was in for brake pads, yet again. Flat land driving is rare for me. Being on a freeway is, well, freeing. I get to cruise in sixth at 80 (sorry, I meant to say "at whatever the posted speed limit is,") for a while - unless it's rush hour, which in California is every hour: except maybe between 10:00am and 11:00am.

So, I was heading home in the loaner, enjoying my tiny slice of automatic freedom - until I got to Laguna. I was shocked at how badly the gearbox reacted on the hills. It couldn't figure out what gear to be in at all, leading to embarrassing revving and slipping when I put my foot down and paralysis when I braked. I could almost feel it thinking, it was that bad. When I got to Third Street hill, which is notorious in Laguna - you can only go up in first - I needed to floor it to ensure the car would make it up. By the time I got to my house, the smell of brakes and rubber was a little overwhelming.

Later that afternoon I took the loaner back and picked up my own Mini. I was so happy to be changing gears again I was even OK with stop/start traffic at rush hour on the 5.

So what does this have to do with anything? Well, a lot of it has to do with control, and I am a little bit of a control freak. Another part is that I believe humans do some things better than machines and a decent manual gearbox with a decent human operator beats out an average automatic, in my opinion. I do know that some are better than others. The box in my BMW 5-Series was very responsive, for example, but you'd think that since Mini is owned by BMW the automatic would be better.

I also think it has a lot to do with terrain. If all you're doing is driving around on flat roads, especially long distances, then an automatic gearbox makes all the sense in the world. For me and my weird hilly driving, a stick shift just works better.

Oh, and for those of you who caught the gratuitous homage to a Flock of Seagulls song in the title of this post, congratulations. For those of you who didn't, um, there's a slightly changed Flock of Seagulls song up there. Now you're really glad you read to the end, because there's a picture!

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How the INS can learn from "The Biggest Loser"

3/23/2013

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Monday was one of those days where there was a surreal juxtaposition of one-off events. On the same day I attended my citizenship interview with the INS I also attended the live finale of The Biggest Loser in LA.

You may think that the two experiences are poles apart, and in many ways they were, but there's something uniquely American about applying to become a fully functioning member of US society and at the same time being part of a television reality show phenomenon that tens of millions around the country watch. The government can learn a lot from the entertainment industry. After all, it's where the majority of people spend their leisure hours: in front of the TV.

Let's start with the paperwork. A ream of documentation came from The Biggest Loser sweepstakes agency. I've been a fan of the show since season one and after listening to Fiona's exhortations, I entered online to win tickets to the finale then promptly forgot about it. It came as a shock therefore, when I received the email saying I'd won two tickets. This is the largest thing I've won in my life. (I need to play the lottery more often).

It was definitely overkill, having to have everything notarized, just so that they had my acceptance that the value of the winning tickets was... $10.00. Having said that, once the forms were returned, a couple of days before the show, another email arrived with explicit instructions about how to get to the studio, what time, where to park, what to wear and what not to bring.

Are you listening INS? The Biggest Loser right up front told us NOT to wear white, NOT to wear logos or patterns and NOT to bring cell phones, or you WOULD be asked to return them to the car. The fact that Fiona and I dressed accordingly and duly abandoned our iPhones, while most person in the audience seemed to be constantly tweeting and updating Facebook, is besides the point: you get what I mean. Clear instructions help. And obviously that's one strike against me as a "real" American. I follow instructions too willingly.

When we arrived at the studio, there were people in place to wave us to the correct parking garage level then there was the obligatory line to stand in to get the tickets and go through the metal detector. So far so good. Then we came to the holding area. Very similar to the holding room at the INS except this was outside: 900 people congregating amenably in sections according to our designated seating area. We were then prodded along like cattle to another area just outside the studio before being admitted to the sound stage. And yes, it was all very civilized.

I'm not a fan of crowds. My idea of hell is getting stuck on a Carnival cruise ship with 5,000 strangers, even if it's still moving in the water, but somehow the producers made this studio with over 1,000 people in it, including cast and crew, feel, well, intimate. We were part of the performance, part of the Biggest Loser family and it made us all feel good.

There's got to be a way this can be translated to one of this country's most important rituals. Becoming a citizen is a big deal, an emotional event, and no doubt the swearing-in ceremony will rise to that occasion. But it could start at the beginning - with a more informative, helpful and friendly process, and maybe even a goodie bag at the end. We didn't get much from The Biggest Loser: a canvas bag, a reusable water bottle and a granola bar, but it was still a nice surprise.

I, for one, would proudly carry a "I Heart The US" water bottle. Are you listening INS?

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Becoming American

3/18/2013

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I've lived in the US for 22 years. For the last 17 of those years, I've had a green card, enabling me to legally live and work here. Prior to that I had work visas. I finally decided, late last year, to apply for citizenship: a process which is going surprisingly faster that I ever thought. From submitting the application in November, it's taken under four months to have my interview with the INS.

Before I get into today, a word of advice for other green card holders who are thinking of applying for citizenship: don't wait 17 years! Why? Because part of the application process asks you to list EVERY trip you've ever made outside the US in the time you've had the green card: where you went, for how long and why you went there. For someone like me, who was working for a British company, launching cars all over the world, and who has family in Britain, this was, well, a little challenging.

This morning, I duly showed up for my 7:50am appointment. Thank goodness I was early.

First problem: I approached the building to see an empty lobby and a line of about five people outside. Why on earth were they standing in line? Why not just enter? I found out why, after the stern admonishment of the metal detector supervisor to get out. Visitors stand outside and are let in one at a time. I guess we could be dangerous. So, I stand and a helpful person in front of me asks if I have my cell phone with me. Why yes, I do, who doesn't? She told me I had to go back and leave it in the car: that no one was allowed into the building with a phone.

So, in the copious documents the INS sent about what to bring, where to come and what time to come, no one thought to mention in writing the tiny issue about not bringing a phone into the building when literally 100% of people over the age of 10 carry a cell phone? I strode back to the car, deposited the phone and came back. The line had grown, but was moving. After making it through the metal detector I was now in the lobby.

Second problem: No signs to say where to go. No information on the form other than: "Report to Examiner 4." Very 1984. I eventually found a sign saying "Immigration" with an arrow. I followed the arrow to... nowhere. A dead end hall with restrooms. Two other confused souls were following me, equally perplexed. Finally a staff member told us to go to the second floor, pointing in the direction of the elevators, while standing underneath the sign for Immigration with the arrow pointing in the opposite direction. Maybe this is all part of the test.

Third Problem: On the second floor we enter a holding pen. No other word for it, really. I'm still early, which is good. Upon entering, we are told to deposit our form in the black tray at the front, then wait to be called. Have you guessed the problem with this yet? Yes, the people who got there early and whose appointments are earlier, have their forms at the bottom of the pile, while the people who enter later have theirs on the top. I sat next to one lady who'd been waiting over 45 minutes, while another person who came in 15 minutes after me, deposited her form on the top of the stack and was called two minutes later.

Sigh... I could so improve this process and I wish I could talk to someone, but rule number one: don't piss off anyone from the INS. They could deport me in the blink of an eye at the slightest provocation.

I was eventually called for my interview by a friendly and efficient lady who was very grateful that I could actually speak English. I got to hear more of her personal life than I really wanted, but then again, she probably doesn't have many people who understand what she's saying.

Half an hour later, after she'd apologized for having me take the English test, since my English was better than hers, and after I'd corrected her abbreviation of Maryland to MD, from MA, explaining that MA is Massachusetts, we were done. The "thud, thud" of a big red "Approved" stamp echoed through the room, and, just like that I was told that the next swearing-in ceremony would be in about a month in LA. She apologized for the delay. I expressed astonishment it would be that fast. She laughed and said that no one had ever used the word "astonished" in their interview before.

Oh, and for the record, my "English test" went like this. She gave me a piece of paper with this sentence and asked me to read it. "Who elects Congress?" I managed to get through it. Then I had to write on a piece of paper, the following sentence she read to me: "Congress is elected by the people." I got through that one too.

So there you have it. I can officially say that I am fully proficient in English, rubber-stamped and approved by the INS. I'm ready to become American.

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Lost In Translation - Books

3/13/2013

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First of all, apologies for being tardy on the blog post front! And thanks to those who've mentioned it: glad you're out there waiting with baited breath (sure you are...)

Before I start, I have to mention an example of what I wrote about in my last blog post: the use of the telephone to cover an urgent business matter that could and should have been asked for and answered in an email exchange at least a week earlier.

Let me explain. I wrote an article for a magazine which had a deadline of February 24. I met the deadline and also submitted contact information for the people I'd interviewed so that the photographer could touch base with them for the photo shoot. As I was leaving another meeting today, my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number but picked it up. it was the photographer needing to know NOW the address of one of the people since he was driving NOW to their house to shoot them. Um, OK, so now this is my problem? I wasn't at my desk, I didn't have my computer and I was in the car at the whim of a photographer who just realized he didn't have the information to complete his assignment: ten minutes before he was due.

Now do you think that's a breach of electronic etiquette? In the end I did call him back with the information he needed, but we could all have done without the fire drill.

Anyway, onto the subject at hand - books. I love technology as much as the next person. I am replete with iPhones, iPads, iMacs, a DVR, a Blu-Ray DVD player, Netflix on demand, you name it; but I'm still not sold on ebooks. Yes, I have the Kindle app on my iPad and yes, I've actually downloaded a few books onto it, but I haven't read them. I ended up buying the "real" books instead. Pathetic really.

I like reading actual books, with places that you can stick a bookmark. I travel on planes with books - it's insane. I'm the person on the plane next to you with a hardback book, yes, hardback and how anachronistic is that? They weigh a ton and I'm aware it's not efficient, but there are three, admittedly personal, reasons why I prefer paper to screen.

1. I like the way books smell and the way they feel in your hand. There's just something about turning pages, whether they're old or new, that's reassuring and solid. They exist in the real world to be inhaled, devoured with your eyes and your mind, and treasured for the long term.

2. I love the way books look on a shelf where you can peruse the spines, reminiscing about those you've read, looking forward to those you've yet to get round to and picking up once more, those you read again and again. What kind of library doesn't have real books? Imagine places like the Library of Congress, or, The Bodleian library in Oxford, with just a shelves of iPads or kindles.

It reminds me of that classic scene in the movie The Time Machine (the original, thank you, not the really bad remake with Guy Pearce), where Rod Taylor is in the future with the Eloi and asks where their history books are. He's taken to a room where he sees shelves of them, much to his delight, but when he picks them up, they crumble to dust in his hands. Their version of books were rings that you spin around to listen to a voice articulating the information within.

Now there was a man ahead of his time: H.G. Wells wrote that book in 1895 and here we are listening to books on spinning CDs and podcasts as well as reading ebooks.

3. You can share books. If you've read a great one, you can extol its virtues and pass it along to someone else whose desire to read is as great as your own. I'm aware that this comes with its own pitfalls - like maybe never seeing said book again - but you can pass a book around to anyone you want, any time you want and as many times as you want. How on earth do you share an ebook? I had the ridiculous situation a couple of weeks ago where Fiona wanted to read a particular book and I downloaded it onto the iPad. Then, she needed the book at school so she got it out of the school library and never touched the iPad again. I can't be the only person this has happened to.

So yeah, call me old-fashioned - I am in this respect. But I'm definitely not the only one out there who loves real books.

I am probably the only person out there who refuses to have a TV in the bedroom though. And that's a whole other story!

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Electronic Etiquette

3/4/2013

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Now that everyone seems to be permanently tethered to portable devices, there's a lot of debate about electronic communication versus face to face communication. I absolutely agree that there's a certain etiquette to be followed regarding texting. In our house, the electronics reside in the kitchen at night to charge - no iPhones in the bedroom. Plus, there's no texting during dinner and no texting if we're at a restaurant. I expect the same from other adults too. There's nothing worse than sitting in a meeting with someone who is surreptitiously checking their phone every few minutes, or, being at a restaurant with someone who is clearly somewhere else mentally.

But I have another pet peeve and that's the telephone. In the old days when email and texting didn't exist, before answer machines and caller ID (yes, believe it or not, this was less than 30 years ago,) the good old telephone, with a cord, and maybe a rotary dial, was the primary method of communication. When the phone rang, it was fun! It was exciting! Who could it be? Wow - someone wants to talk to me! And generally, it was someone we wanted to talk to. At home it was a friend or family member. At work, it was someone who needed to talk about a business issue. If we missed a call because we weren't in, or at our desk, the person calling had to try again; there was no way to leave a message and start the phone-tag game.

The problem now is that a phone call can be more of an intrusion than a pleasure. Blame telemarketers for starting that. In addition, our days and nights are more packed than ever before, with meetings, after-school activities and travel. The ability to be able to talk to someone 24/7 via portable devices means that instead of becoming more productive, we get less done because we're all jumping to reply to the next "urgent" phone call, or, we're at the mercy of someone who's on a long car journey or sitting at an airport, bored and wanting to pass the time. But there is a way to avoid this.

I'll use myself as a prime example. When I worked in an office, I was in meetings most of the time so phone calls rarely got answered in real time, and even if I was at my desk, I was working on something that really needed to get done and I usually ignored calls, letting them go to voicemail. This wasn't being rude: rather a deliberate decision on how to spend time wisely. The problem was that these calls still needed to be responded to. Who hasn't had the feeling: "Phew, well, I did call, but I got voicemail so now they'll have to call me back!" Productive, right?

Now, I work from home, and I generally plan phone calls. Why do I do that? Because I appreciate and respect my own time and that of other people. It's rare that I get an unscheduled business phone call, and it's also rare that I call someone out of the blue. My version of electronic etiquette means that I usually send someone an email first, asking what their schedule looks like for a chat. I find it much more productive to do this. A planned phone call means that both parties are prepared for a conversation and are looking forward to the call. How many times have you been blindsided by someone calling to ask something that you weren't prepared to answer? You feel unprofessional even when you do have your act together. It's just that you were probably working on something completely different and your brain was in a different place.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't ignore all phone calls. I will pick up for friends and family and if I have a sense what the person on the line may want, but if I'm in a meeting, I won't, unless it's an emergency. Treat people how you would like to be treated, If I'm in a meeting with you, I'm with YOU, no-one else, and YOU will get my full attention.

Need to chat? Just drop me an email and I'll get right back to you.

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Modern Love is (Not) Automatic

How the INS can learn from "The Biggest Loser"

Becoming American

Lost In Translation - Books

Electronic Etiquette

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