Sheila’s blog

So, I'm driving home from rehearsal tonight and rockin' myself into a frenzy as usual to the radio.  With my eyes on the road, I reach for the volume and because the way the interface of my radio is the funky way it is, I'm *always* unknowingly hitting the freakin' "BASS" button, kicking the dang thing into a mode that allows me to control *only* the bass level. 

As I'm cursing my radio because I think it's busted again since the only thing cranking up is the bass, I realize, "Hmmm...I wonder....".  I bring it all the way down to -9 (no, it doesn't go to 11) and am instantly reminded why I love this instrument so much...you can't do a song without it.

Try it sometime...crank up a song on the radio and kick the bass out as much as you can kick it out, listen to the tune for a verse or two and then slowly bring the bass back in.  I can't seem to explain it, but it's like a tensity is created when it's absent and is only realized when you bring it back in. It's like a moment of revelation instantly hits you and you think, "Ahhh! *Now* it is complete!"  Music, in general, has a way of reaching way down deep into your core like nothing else can and in my mind, the bass is that last extension or push to help you finally get there.  

But, sadly, I also think it's one of the most underappreciated instruments and elements of a tune out there.  And because of that, we're gonna celebrate it with this blog. :-)

One of my favorite conversation topics is "What's your top 10 (fill in the blank)?".  When I met Geri's rockstar-bass player-gone-IT-guy friend, Howie, I couldn't help but ask, "Who are your top 10 bassists of all time?".   His eyes lit up and you could immediately see the wheels in his brain turning.  After much deliberation, Howie came back with the following list (in no particular order) (thanks, Howie!!).  I supposed I would consider this the making (or at least beginnings of) "the Bassist Essentials" list:

Victor Wooten, A Show Of hand, 1996 Compass

Jaco Pastorius, Jaco Pastorius, 1976 Epic

Stanley Clarke, Stanley Clark, 1974 Nemporer

Weather Report, Heavy Weather, 1977 Sony

(quite a thorough one, that Howie is, isn't he?)

Other bassists he noted to check out included Larry Graham, Verdine White from Earth Wind & Fire, James Jamerson (Mr. Motown), Marcus Miller, and Bootsy Collins.

He also included albums to check out, such as:

Marvin Gaye -What's Goin On

Bassist - James Jamerson

Also - Motown singles collection 1959-1971

Stanley Clarke - School Days

Bassist - Stanley Clarke

Also - If Only This Bass Could Talk, Journey To Love, East River Drive and 1,2 The Bass.

Paul Young - No Parlez / Secret Of Association

Bassist - Pino Palladino

For acoustic bassists, he notes Ron Carter and Ray Brown.

...and to that, I'd also like to add Paul Chambers.  Listening to his bowed solo on "This Can't Be Love" on the Red Garland Trio's It's a Blue World, made me wanna hollah! (go, Me'Shell...ooh, *another* kick-A bassist. Add her to the list up above).

Oh, and don't forget Jimi "Jazz" Prescott who I saw rock the hellz outta his beautiful upright when I saw him play with G. Love and Special Sauce last January at the SF Warfield. And of course, my teacher and friend, Kurt Ribak who never ceases to hypnotize me when he's slappin and poppin' away on Blondie.

I'm still learning a lot about the bass (amongst other things!) and am sure this list will grow so help me celebrate bassists and share *your* top 10 with me!

So, this is what happens when you decide to take a week off from work and have no place far away to go. 

After finishing off the last major deliverable for my recent project (see "Kindred Souls" blog below), I decided to take a little break.  My original plans were to go to the Philippines, but as luck (and the US government) would have it, I didn't get my passport in time, so I opted for a "local" vacation.  Last Wednesday was my first "official" day so I decided to do a quick run down to LA to visit with an old college roommate and her partner.  That was fun (but too quick!) and at the very least satiated my need to sit on a plane and fly someplace so I didn't feel completely jipped (how *do* you spell that word anyway?!?). 

But today, however, is my first stay-at-home-while-on-PTO day. I've never really done this before, so needless to say, I'm quite nervous that my antsy nature will get the best of me, and I'll end up doing work anyway. I did the usual vacation things today...slept in hella late, stayed in my PJ's until 1:00p, made some lunch (cuz I missed breakfast. ha!), watched some cartoons, re-runs of I Love Lucy, Leave It to Beaver, and a good solid 1/2 hour of Rags to Riches on VH1 with today's feature on Snoop Dogg (boo yah.).  Started a load of laundry, paid some bills....

toot too dooo...ho hum...it's 3:00p and I'm bored. So what do I do? Call work.

Me: Hey C (<--he's my manager).  How's it going? Just thought I'd check in.

C:  Hey Sheilani. What's up?

Me: Oh, nothing. Just thought I'd call. hmm hmm hmm....uh....anything new? How's the project going?  [he's covering for me while I'm out]

C: Great, great.  Had a good meeting this morning... [etc. etc.]

ok, so that lasts for about 13 minutes.  But at least I got it out of my system.  It's time to go mail those bills.

I wander down to the post office and decide that it's such a beautiful, warm day that I think I'll pick up some ice cream on the way back at the corner market.  I'm not a major ice cream fan at all but it just seemed good today.  I walk in, thinking I'm just gonna grab a quick ice cream samich (yes, "samich") and just chillin' in the back of the freezer (figuratively *and* literally) is a can of SheerBliss Ice Cream. 

Sheer-bliss-pomegranate-704838

I never heard of or seen it before. And after perusing their website, found out that they just started in 2005. But, what caught my eye was the packaging.  It comes in this kind of tin can looking thing and it makes you second guess whether it's supposed to be in the freezer or not.  But what also caught my eye was that it's Pomegranate ice cream.  Yeah, it's made with POM juice and has dark chocolate chips.  They market themselves as being "The Natural Gourmet Ice Cream" and even has a warning on the can: "One taste of SheerBliss Ice Cream will change your life.  It's that Good!"

...and they weren't kidding.

I took it home, popped the can open, grabbed a spoon and took a bite. I don't think I've *ever* had ice cream this good. EVER.  In fact, I don't think I'll ever want to eat any other brand of ice cream ever after this.  The first bite was really was just purely, 100%, undeniable SheerBliss.  Like with the tingles and everything--like euphoria in your mouth.  No lie.  I know it sounds wierd and melodramatic, but this stuff is so good.  I wasn't sure what to expect with "pomegranate ice cream" because POM juice is kinda hard to suck down if you're drinking it straight.  But the closest I can compare it to is rich raspberry, creamy sorbet with bits of chocolate chip mixed in, but much smoother and with an "even" tart---it's just absolutely perfect!

Check it out.  www.sheerblissicecream.com  They even have a store locator on their site.

YUH-HUUUMMMY!!!! :-D

I was this (  ) close to cancelling my Netflix subscription.  I mean, c'mon...who really has time to sit and watch movies these days to make it worth the monthly charge?  I even reduced my subscription to just two movies at a time and I still have the same two flippin' movies sitting on my coffeetable for the past two months! I'm sure I can find better ways to spend $11.95/month.

But with work kicking up even more lately, I decided to make myself sit down, have some Sheila time and get my now $23.90's worth. Hmmm, what kind of a mood am I in..."The Gods Must Be Crazy" or "Annie Hall"? It doesn't matter, so I blindly grab one as I'm walking to the TV and only notice that I've chosen Annie Hall until I'm putting it in the player. 

It must've been fate...

I've been in a bit of a funk lately for some reason. I try to keep it level and balanced most of the time, but I've just been anxious a lot more than usual about everything...work, relationships, health, etc.  But, particularly about relationships.  Just really flighty and indecisive about everything...I want this, I don't want that, I want this again, but I don't want that again...it's frustrating for everyone involved so then I do the usual number on myself where I just say "Screw it.  Too much drama. I'll just be by myself" and hide in my flat all weekend.

Annie Hall was a much welcomed distraction.  I don't watch a whole lot of Woody Allen films (or do and just don't know it), but when I do it's such a treat!  He's just so subtle and non-chalant, you just have to do a double-take before it kicks in for real--"Did he just say what I thought he said?". He's hilarious. And there are so many lines worth quoting from that movie.  Like when Annie and Alvy first met after the tennis match and she's driving all crazy and straight into a parallel park and Alvy gets out and says, "Don't worry, we can walk to the curb from here." or when Annie's wanting to light up some "grass" and Alvy talks about how it's the "illusion that it will make a white woman more like Billie Holiday." Stuff like that.

Ok, ok, so that's a little outta context if you haven't seen the film, but I just finished it about 10 minutes ago so it's all still fresh.  I just couldn't stop laughing.  He's really a comical genius.  I don't know much about film at all, but I would guess that for a movie done in 1977, it did what movies done in the 80's, 90's and even now are still trying to capture.  And I gotta say, I like Annie and can relate...mostly (if not only) because she drives crazy, *is* crazy and rambles like nobody's business.  But, the cool thing about her that is admirable is that she kinda marches to the beat of her own drum, and is pretty upfront about what she's thinking and just goes for it but doesn't exert her independence in an aggressive, in-your-face kind of way---and she can dress like a dude and still work it!  (oh gawd, I'm starting to sound like the guy in line at the movies that drove Alvy crazy with all his "pontification" so will end here...)

Don't get me wrong.  The movie's *far* from being overly and deeply profound, but bottom line, it thew a lifesaver out to my perspective on relationships and put me back on the right path about how to view them from a practical sense which I think was the intent---and for that, I'm thankful. Should probably pick up a copy for my personal collection for those days when I'm wondering why on earth anyone would bother with romantic relationships. They do drive people crazy and you wonder why people expend so much energy over them, but people still continue to do it. Guess Woody's right---some of us just "need those eggs".

Thanks, Netflix.

Dining alone is an interesting experience.  Everyone should do it every now and then--intentionally--just to mix things up a bit.  Until you do, you never realize how much of the world you miss around you.  Having the chance to just soak up even the little things around you can make a world of difference in your outlook. Besides, you're kind of forced to entertain yourself and what better way to do that, than to watch other people. (hee hee)

It's Memorial Day weekend so no work on Monday (thank GAWD!!!).  As a result, my weekend's been consumed with cleaning, playing music, more cleaning, rummaging through junk, playing more music, doing laundry, etc. etc.  But, I can honestly say that this is the first weekend in a long, LONG while that I actually feel a little rested and I can also honestly say that I can't believe one person can accumulate so much crap! sigh...but I digress...

Suffering from a serious case of cabin fever, I decide to go out for dinner.  Picante on Sixth St. in Berkeley has been calling my name for the past week.  A quick 7 miles and 10 minutes later, there I am, standing in line of the cute little cocina mexicana place perusing the menu, scanning for anything that says carne asada (mmmm...).  I make my selection and await anxiously for my turn to order.  I grab my number, walk to the dining area and find a table.

Over the course of my meal, I learned a couple--although at first glance, seemingly unrelated--things:

First, I never realized how many families there are in Berkeley.  Let me rephrase...I never realized how many little kids there are in Berkeley.  Oh wait, let me refine that...how many families have 2-5 year olds in Berkeley.  They're *everywhere*!  I even counted the number of kids per table and came up with approximately 2.3 (see "entertain myself" comment above).  No joke.  Don't get me wrong, I *love* kids, but, man, that place was looking like a Wiggles concert in a Gymboree store.  The place is packed and the only two tables left are, of course, the ones that accommodate only two people and are sitting right next to the station where the cleanup folks dispose of unfinished enchiladas and taco crumbs that didn't quite make it and pile up all the dirty dishes to bring to the back...but that's ok. I'll just use my arm as a shield while I eat.  Besides, I'm too distracted at the 2.3 average that's now grown even within the last 5 minutes. But, seriously, I'm not complaining.  The point of the observation is that it was comforting to see families making an effort to be together, especially in this day and age where both parents are working and the weekends seem to be the only opportunities for good, ol' fashion quality time. Nice. :-)

I finish my meal and head out the door.  Which leads me to my second observation--it's amazing to me how drastic an environment can change simply by walking through a door.  On my way in earlier, a homeless man is standing outside of the restaurant.  Tattered clothes, worn shoes, etc.  Despite his situation, he quietly greets me with a rather pleasant disposition, holding up an old, worn issue of "Street Spirit" and asking if I could help him out on my way back out.  Let me pause for a moment...

Street Spirit's website (http://www.thestreetspirit.org/) describes it as this: 

"Street Spirit is a publication of the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC) that reports extensively on homelessness, poverty, economic inequality, welfare issues, human rights issues and the struggle for social justice. For the past 10 years, Street Spirit has been dedicated to empowering poor and homeless people and giving a voice to the voiceless, at a time when the voices of the poor are virtually locked out of the mainstream media." 

Basically, it's a newsletter for the homeless community. sold for $1. For years, I've always seen folks standing on the corner all over the Bay Area selling issues, but never once stopped and showed interest because I was distracted by my own "problems" while I rushed off to the next thing.  So back to Picante...

I'm walking out, and he's still there, holding up the same issue of Street Spirit, asking passersby if they'd like to buy his issue.  Yet again, my reflex is to politely rush by mumbling, "No thanks" and be on my way.  But tonight was different. He doesn't ask me again, but instead just smiles so I stop.  I ask for a copy, and hand him a dollar.  Embarrassed by the condition of his paper, he warns me that it's an old and worn one and asks if it's ok.  I say yes but then realize it's his only copy left.  So I tell him to keep it and the dollar so he'll still have something to sell. He thanks me sincerely and says, "I'll give you a fresh copy the next time I see you, I will, I really will!" I'm thinking to myself, "Sure, but at least it was nice to say,"and say ok anyway.

Moments later, as I'm walking down the street back toward my car, I hear him yelling, "Hey! Hey! Lady, hey! I got one for you! I got one for you!"  I turn and there he is, running/gimping down the street chasing after me with a fresh copy from a fresh batch that his supplier just gave him in one hand and a dooby in the other (hee hee). He catches up to me and says, out of breath, "I have one for you and wanted to make sure you got a fresh one, just like I promised. Here...(gasp gasp) you go (gasp gasp)." I don't think he had to do that, but he did. 

What ended up initially being a quick, quiet dinner just to get me out of the house turned into a realization that no matter who you are, taking time out for people can really mean a lot.  Whether you're a 3 year old from a seemingly well-to-do family playing with your burrito while your parents watch on, a homeless person who made a sale with just a humble smile, or a person being chased after in an effort to fulfill a simple promise---it ALL counts.

Ok, so it may see like I'm over-reacting to such simple, everyday events.  And no, I'm won't be buying *every* issue of Street Spirit offered to me and talking to every stranger I meet.  But it is a reminder to myself to make that effort to smile and look at someone even if to say, "No, thank you" regardless of what age, social background, etc. from which they come.  We're all the same so share the love, share the love... 

(Man, what'd they put in my sandwich?!?)

Whoa...two posts in one night.

This'll be short, but it's just in response to comments from a recent blog.  Quick recap:  did a demo and finalized those tracks Monday night.  Personnel includes:  Greg Sankovich (piano), Kurt Ribak (upright bass), Matt Willis (drums), Bill Bentley (engineer and guitar solo).  oh, and me on vocals. :-)

One is Curtis Mayfield's 'People Get Ready' and the other is Hoagy Carmichael's "Nearness of You".  We also did Don't Get Around Much Anymore and Girl From Ipanema, but I'll save those for another time.

Enjoy!

People Get Ready

2 comments

Nearness of You

3 comments

What are those exactly?

Dictionary.com led me to a variety of definitions for the adjective form of "kindred":  associated by origin, nature, qualities; having the same belief, attitude, or feeling; related by birth or descent; having kinship; belonging to kin or relatives, etc....

As a management consultant for our internal consulting group, I get to work with a variety of people within a huge healthcare organization.  Everything from nurses to doctors, to senior executives to marketing people to regulators to union reps--you name it.   It just depends on the project.  My current project is interesting--to say the least.  But "interesting" in the same way my mom always told me to never call anything ugly---just say it's "interesting".  Oh, mom. J

It's more like stressful, crazy, frustrating, [insert usual moan & groan complaint]....but this one's pretty, uh, "special".  But maybe what makes it seems a bit more "special" than usual is because it's a completely different group--in every sense: content, people, environment, culture, workstyle, etc. *and* it has this really interesting mix of people (i.e., demographically, interpersonally, etc.). 

Everyday, on my way home from work, I like to take a few moments to decompress and just reflect on the day.  It helps keep perspective (and sanity).  Today's workday was very long, as has been the past few days, even weeks.  I've been working closely with this new department so tonight's thoughts wandered towards certain relationships I have with a few people in the group.  For the most part, I get along (at least I think I do) with everyone in the group (knock on wood).   But a few folks really stand out and not in a way that's the usual "play nice with your clients" kind of way, but more of a non-pickup-line "Hey, I know you from someplace before?" kind of way. 

One of them is with a pretty high-up leader guy who's probably about 20 years my senior who I just completely adore as a little brother while respecting as an older one at the same time; the other is with a woman who despite having moved to another group within the company, we still work with and has just such a calming, strangely familiar and comforting spirit; and another one is with a woman who is a straight-up, no-nonsense, but gentle and (as my manager so accurately put it) has "an old, wise soul".

It just made me then wonder about all the other people in my life and how/why there's a deeper, instantaneous connection with some more than others.  My Christian faith grounds me by believing that everything happens for a reason—people come into and go out of your life for a reason, seemingly random events occur for a reason…

But sometimes, too, I like to toy around with the idea that God isn't wasteful so my silly, spiraling logic then runs this way:  when a person is born, they're given a spirit and soul.  When they die, the spirit goes back to God and the soul, well, it goes whichever way that free-will life dictates.  So then I think, "Well, if heaven and hell has souls running around in it,  are the spirits just chillin' out in some lounge having an afterwork drink saying, "Good job, Joe.  Boss is gonna like that one"?  I mean, where do *they* go? They gotta go somewhere right?

Hmm…reincarnation? 

Maybe. Maybe not.  I don't know if I really believe in reincarnation, much less know much about it to have an opinion. The idea of it seems present in a lot of "belief systems", but each calling it it's own thing.  It's all semantics really and I'm not really looking to categorize it or even find a solution--it's just a thought to help pass the time.  But it does make me think: Are these people kindred spirits?  Have we met sometime before and are just now reconnecting?  or are these people who just share common interests; who just can sympathize with the stress we're all undergoing with this crazy project? 

Who knows.  But at least it made the train ride home pass more quickly. J

"Love of life! Love of life!" 

That's what the RA (resident advisor) of my freshman dorm in college used to run around saying.  Ah, Gabe...who would've ever guessed that your three simple words could be so profound. :)

I just got back from a studio session for my demo.  I'm trying to pull together a really nice, solid, demo of jazz standards so I can get out there and gig more instead of having the infrequent (but fun!) shows and needing to "start from scratch" every time.  On my drive home, I was thinking about how fortunate and blessed I am to know and have friends that are such extremely talented and supportive musicians---a combination that can sometimes prove to be  rather difficult to find. 

Tonight, the session included Kurt Ribak on upright bass, Greg Sankovich on keys and Matt Willis on drums with Bill Bentley behind the sound board.  I prepared for 6 tunes (aggressive for a 3-hour session, but went in with the expectation doing 3) and quite pleasantly nailed down four.  We did Don't Get Around Much Anymore (swing), Nearness of You (slow ballad), Girl from Ipanema (bossa) and People Get Ready (slow rock/soul)--a nice mix of rhythms, I think, for a demo. (ok, so People Get Ready isn't exactly a jazz standard, but c'mon now, gotta give props to Curtis.  After Kurt suggested it, I had to get it in there especially with these guys in the studio together. hee hee)  They are truly truly a gifted bunch and not only are they extremely talented, but on top of that, they're just some of the nicest, easygoing guys you'd *ever* meet. period.   

During the whole session, I'm standing back and listening to them play and just feeling this wonderful sense of calm--a more than welcomed contrast to my "day job" life in the corporate world.  As I'm singing through the tunes, it's like a blanket of tranquility dropped itself on my head and said, "Hey! The work's gonna be there tomorrow. Quit yer worrying.  It's *this* stuff that's what life's all about!" 

I can't seem to ever be able to explain it, but whether you're playing solo or with others, there's just something about music that can sometimes find it's way to a "groove" (and you just *know* when you're there) and you feel this sudden, heightened burst of eurphoria like no other that it's as if nothing else in the world matters for just that quick instance.  And to be able to remain suspended in that state, even for just a few moments more, would be like a gift from God.  I don't know what it is, but for some reason music is so very capable of tapping into that part of your soul that nothing else can ever reach.  It makes you wanna play music even more with the hopes that other people can experience that, too.

But alas, nothing that good lasts forever.  I finally get home and reality hits as I enter my oh-so-neglected apartment with its piles and piles of laundry (albeit all clean), papers and half-baked "quick weekend projects" strewn all over the floor that you'd think you just stepped into an abandoned refugee camp.  Ah well...love of life! 

YUM!!   All I gotta say is go to El Nuevo Frutilandia out in the Mission and get the mofongos with the pork and garlic sauce.  It's basically fried plaintain that's trying to be a potatoe salad but warm (for lack of a better description), but also has pork and instead of mayonnaise as an added "liquid" to prevents complete dryness, it's drenched in a light, but flavorful garlic and herb sauce.

3077 24th Street,  San Francisco, CA 94110

It's a Cuban and Puerto Rican joint on 24th in between Folsom and Treat.  Catch the BART and get off at 24th Street.  You'll be glad you did that instead of doing the usual San-Francisco-circle-around-the-block-for-an-average-of-15-minutes-until-someone-leaves-their-space thing. 

oh mah goodness....mofongos.

I had dinner there tonight with a friend from outta town and it was definitely a place I'd go back to. Everything tasted like someone's abuela was in the back cookin' just for you. Their chicken soup was rockin' like a rock star, too.  and so was the ropas viejas.  Juuuuicy and mmm, mmm, good!

Thanks to Geri (and Chris?) for suggesting it.  They haven't been there either, but it was a good risk to take. yay!

The other night, I was having dinner with my parents.  It's 7:30p and the phone rings.

Ring ring....ring ring...

Dad: Hello?

[Mom and I lower the volume of our conversation, but continue on just the same..]

Dad: Who's calling?

[Me and mom still talking....]

Dad: This is he. What do you need? 

[Mom still talking...]

Dad: No, no.  I don't want to refinance. [slightly raising his voice] What? Why do you need to know who my bank is? I said I don't want to refinance.

[now mom and I start giggling, trying to see how Dad's gonna get outta this one.]

Dad:  Sir, I said no. I don't want to refinance. Good night.  What? Huh? No. No. What? No. I said no!  

click.

Dad will humor them for maybe 30 seconds *if* they're lucky, but that's about it.  Mom, on the other hand, likes to have a little bit more fun with them...you know, keep talking like she's interested or gonna buy something, and then sike!  She figures that she's "letting them down easy" using that method whereas Dad's just straight up no-nonsense "No!".

My advice to my parents was that if a telemarketer calls, they're better off using Dad's method.  It saves everyone time, plus is probably a courtesy to the telemarketer so they can move on to the next call that might increase the 1 in a 1,000 odds that the next call will sincerely "bite".  Within a matter of seconds, I immediately flashed back to my first college job as a telemarketer for a financial planning company down in Orange County (SoCal) who, for the sake of anonymity, we'll call "Whoa is Me Financial Planning". 

I'm 19 years old and frantically looking for a job that isn't retail, is close to home, and pays more than $3.75/hr (minimum wage back then).  My friend, Kiki, sees an ad in the school circular that says, "pays up to $15/hr."  $15??!?  To talk on the phone? Sign me up! 

A phone call and interview later, we find ourselves sitting in a small office each in neighboring three-walled cubes at 5:50pm on a Monday night with nothing but a phone, highlighted phone book, and a stack of empty lead sheets.  I got my headset on my head, my handy dandy script with my intro and list of responses for any possible kind of negative reaction and I'm ready to go!  I've rehearsed the script, got my pencil on the empty lead sheet, finger on the number and am dialing my first *ever* telemarketing call.  Oh yeah, bring it on. Just 3 short hours and I'll be rollin' in my $45 paycheck for the night. Eaaasy money, baby. Easy money.

Ring ring...ring ring...

[a lady's voice answers pleasantly]:  Hello?

Me: Oh, hi.  Is Mary* home? [in my pretend-like-you're-calling-your-old-buddy voice]

Mary*: Yes, this is Mary [in a happy-and-ready-to-be-surprised voice as if she just got a call from her old buddy]

*Names have been changed---as if I'd remember what the real name was anyway. 

Me:  Hi, this is Sheila from Whoa is Me Financial Planning, and...

Not even 3 seconds in my opening line and Sybil busts into full force:

Mary [EXTREMELY pissed off]: What?!? Who the h*ll is this?!? How did you get my number? Who the h*ll gave you my number? You know I can sue you for calling me? Don't you know it's dinner time??!? Don't you have a conscience?!? How can you have the audacity to sit there calling and disturbing people during dinner time??!? Don't you have a life?!? Take my phone number OFF your list IMMEDIATELY before I call the Better Business Bureau on you.  I know my rights! I can send you AND your boss to jail for this. 

Me: [freakin' the frick out cuz I'm believeing everything she's saying]  uh...uh....[scrambling through my script of quick comeback responses to negative reactions.  "No thanks", "Not interested at this time", "I'm already investing." Dangit! Where's the "Crazy Lady Who Wants to Bite My Head Off And Put Me In Jail" response?!?] uh...uh....I apologize for disturbing you, ma'am.  uh...uh...

Mary: well? What do you have to say for yourself?

Me:  [click.]

oh. my. gawd. I'm going to jail. I'm only 19 and I'm going to jail for calling some lady during dinner time.  What kind of illegal operation is this?!? But wait, she couldn't possibly remember the company's or my name. I didn't give her my number.  Why am I shaking? Huh, what? Calm down...calm down...it's just a phone call.

...but then, my phone rings. I pick it up...and guess who decided to try her phone's brand new *69 (call-back) function? Yup, Mary.

crap!

Mary: Who in the world do you think you are calling ME during dinner time and then hanging up?!? How rude!!! I'm going to call your company tomorrow and report you!  CLICK!

She did it, too, and chewed the managing principal out while she was at it.  My first ever telemarketing call and it's some woman who wants to send me to jail.  All I could think about was, "Damn. I'm gonna get fired, go to jail *and* I have 3 more hours of this?!? crap." 

But in retro, I'm oddly glad I did it.  The benefits were just realized later in life.  See, when she called to chew out my boss, he didn't even flinch.  In fact, nobody did.  That's what sales was all about---making those calls, keeping up the motivation, getting those leads and believing you can do it.  It actually built character. It toughened my skin to rejection and taught me how to be persistent without ever losing sight of the goal.  I know I sound like one of those motivational posters with the eagle soaring high above the plains with the blurb about Teamwork at the bottom, but it's true. 

That night, I only made $24.75.  Turns out that they pay on a sliding scale:  0-10 qualifying leads pays $8.25/hr (still higher than min. wage), 10-15 qualifying leads pays $12/hr. and 16+ pays $15/hr.  I stuck with the job for quite a few months after and on occassion did get the $15/hr (and two job offers over the phone from the occasional entrepreneur looking for tele-sales people for his startup). In the end, it wasn't such a bad job after all.

Would I do it again?  Heck no.

Move over Glaceau Green Tea Vitamin water.  Make way for: Veggie & Flaxseed Tortilla chips from Trader Joe's. 

oh. my. gawd.  Is it odd to blog about tortilla chips? Oh well, I'm gonna anyway. 

At first glance, they look all granola and *too* healthy, with it's green, red and orange triangles speckled with barely crushed flaxseeds and grains peeking out at you from inside the red-trimmed bag. They look dry and bland and almost make you wonder if it's some corporate TJ marketing person's sneaky way of making you feel like you have to buy salsa or some other saucy dip to get you through one bite.  Added to that, having a bag of flaxseed anything would run you the risk of looking like a poser, hippy-type (as if it wasn't too late).  In my case, it'd be worse because I look like one that was born 15 years too late.  See like this:

Me (pushing my cart, with my canvas shopping bags ready to be filled and my patchwork bohemian skirt on that I picked up on Telegraph Ave.; my hair in braided pigtails, strewn with small, white-petal flowers that I picked in the parking lot outside on my way in): [with a hippy/california drawl] "Ummm, like hiiiiiii. Do you know where I can find the Veggie & Flaxseed Tortilla chiiiiips?"

TJ guy: "Uh, yeah. They're two aisles over from the the eggplant hummus.  Second shelf on the right, sitting between the Inka Roasted Plantain Chips and the Reduced Carb Soy Flaxseed Tortilla Chips.  You know, above the Pirate's Booty?"

Me: "Oh yeah. I guess I must've missed that aisle when I was looking for the soybean butter.  And I also noticed that you guys are out of the Organic Brown Basmati Rice .  Do you think you might have some in the back?"

TJ guy: "Hmmm, let me check.  If we don't, you might want to try the medley.  It has a mix of California and Jasmine Brown rice grains.  Then again, there's always couscous."

Me (laughingly agreeing): "Oh yes. hahahaha Couscous! How could I forget? [tossing a pigtail to the side]. a-hahaha. Ok, thanks."

TJ guy: "No problem at all [with that always-friendly-and-ready-to-help Trader Joe's smile on his face.] Let me know if there's anything else I can help you with."

Me: "Will do.  Oh, and [holding fingers up like a V] Peeeacccee. [as I skip merrily off to pick up Matcha Green Tea muffin mix along the way while reminding myself to pick up some free-range eggs]"

...all of that without blinking an eye about how crazy that sounds.

Ok, so that's a completely exaggerated way of how I shop, but still--you *know* it happens.  Crazy Californians.... anyway, what was I saying? ah, yes...tortilla chips.

So, when you finally open the bag, you smell this wonderful scent of not-too-spicy-but-just-spicy-enough flavor of garlic that you immediately grab for one and boy, let me tell you--once you bite into one, it's over.  You can't stop!  The texture is perfectly firm that if you did want to dip it into something (which you wouldn't have to because the garlic-ness of it all is flavorfully satisfying), you could with confidence that it wouldn't break. Ok, I don't wanna pump up the tortilla goodness too much (too late), but check them out. They're surprisingly good....and they're on TJ's gluten-free food list. (whatever that means).  :-)