The Wannabe

Jaxon had a very existential experience today.  He and I own a tokay gecko, and for those who don’t know, tokay’s are known as the pit-bulls of geckos. Vicious pit-bull stereotypes aside, this gecko, named Axas, is really quite mean. He’s kept in a glass terrarium that locks at the top and has two small lidded openings that can be unlocked and removed for easy feeding without the risk of escape. His enclosure is cleaned out roughly once a month using a pair of tongs and heavy-duty gardening gloves that he can’t bite through should he get the chance. Why would I keep such a pet, you might ask? Because he’s pretty to look at. He’s about a foot long from head to tail with a body about the diameter of a silver dollar. His head is crowned with spike-like bumps and he has vivid red and blue spots all over his body, which he can change from white to black.

Like many reptiles, Axas eats crickets. Once per week, fifteen live crickets are dropped through one of the small openings in the top of his enclosure and the lid is quickly locked back in place, lest he try to make a break for it. If you’ve never seen a gecko eat a cricket, it’s really a very primitive, predator/prey sort of experience, as Axas slowly maneuvers himself into position and patiently waits for a cricket to pass by his motionless face. Then, when the time is right, he strikes! Pouncing swiftly and deftly, he engulfs his pray which disappears into his gapping mouth. Then he slowly and carefully repositions himself for another attack. The whole thing is quite primal.

A few months ago, Jaxon was with me on my cricket run and I discovered that he loved everything about it. He enjoyed the pet store and the friendly employees there. He liked watching the crickets jump around in their large tub while they’re wrangled up and dumped into a bag, which is then filled with air like a balloon and handed to him to carry. They bounce around in the bag and he laughed and smiled as he watched them. He enjoyed it so much that I decided to make it a regular part of our Wednesday night routine. He’s really good at it now and the pet store employees all know him. He says, “rickets peace” which the clerks know means “crickets please.” And after they hand him the bag he says, “tank-oo” meaning “thank you.” The first few times he shook the bag but now he carries them very carefully with two hands, right in front of his face so he can see them. I hand him two dollars which he then hands to the check-out clerk. We get thirty-five cents in change, and some of the clerks even try to count it out for him. Then he walks away beaming with the “rickets” clutched carefully to his chest. I think he likes the responsibility.

When we get home with them, he likes to stand on his stool and stare into the terrarium while I dump the crickets in. Whenever he’s at my house he always takes a few moments to look in at the “echo” and watch the crickets. He laughs as they jump around, but quickly loses interest before Axas starts eating. This week was different, however. Usually Axas is at the back of the enclosure but tonight he was towards the front where Jaxon watches from. As I released the crickets to their final home, one happened to jump quickly right in front of the hungry gecko’s mouth. With food literally falling right in front of him, Axas went for it. However, in his haste to capitalize on the opportunity, he didn’t bother to set himself properly for the attack. He was slow and his pounce was clumsy. The cricket saw him coming and tried to jump away, but even a slow gecko is fast, and his jaws clamped down on his dinner. Barely. He only caught the back third of the cricket, enough to ensnare it in his jaws, but not enough to kill it outright.

And there was Jaxon, inches away, watching in horror as the cricket hung out of the gecko’s mouth, writhing in pain. Another quick lunge and a snap of his jaws and Axas had completely consumed it. Jaxon screamed. Then he started to cry and bang on the glass, repeating “RICKET! RICKET!” over and over again. Then came the long wails of “RIIIIIICKEEEEEET!” as I swooped him up, patted his back, and removed him from the scene of miniature carnage. He cried for five full minutes and no amount of comforting seemed to stop the tears from streaming down his face. He was obviously devastated that one had been eaten. Perhaps he thought of them as pets, since I let him have so much responsibility over them, and he had formed some sort of emotional attachment to them. Did he think that we simply purchased the same fifteen crickets every week? I often wish I could see his thoughts. Of course, maybe he didn’t care about the crickets at all. Maybe the simple fact that he had just watched one living thing get eaten by another was traumatic for him. Either way, he wasn’t happy about it.

After about half an hour I was finally able to convince him to go back into the room and look into the terrarium. I didn’t want him to suddenly be afraid to go anywhere near it. Axas had eaten his fill for the day and was resting comfortably behind his little pond. Jaxon looked in, smacked the glass, and in a very stern voice said, “echo!” Then a cricket hopped in front of the glass where he was looking in and he smiled and looked at me. Did he think it was the same cricket that had been eaten? I’m not sure, but he was suddenly ok. He watched for several minutes, longer than I have ever seen him stare in, and then walked away to play with one of his toys, clearly satisfied that the gecko would not be eating any more crickets tonight.

He’s asleep now, and I’m wondering what, if anything, I should do with this situation. If he was five and his goldfish had just died, I would probably sit down and talk to him about it. But he’s only two and with his limited vocabulary, it would be a very short discussion that he likely wouldn’t understand at all. He doesn’t seem to be afraid of Axas, since he went back into the room later that night on his own and looked in for a moment. I guess I’ll just assume that he’s ok and see what happens next week. I don’t plan on letting him watch when I dump the crickets in though.

While working at the credit union a few years ago, I stumbled upon an article about a person who made his living by owning an ATM and leasing space from a convenience store.  Yes, a single ATM.  One of those little gray things that sit harmlessly in the corner, waiting for an unsuspecting teenager or a person in dire need of cash at 2:00 AM and are willing to pay a $3.00 fee to get it.  While stories abound of people getting scammed by ATM retailers, in some cases it truly does pay off.  Can you get rich on the profits?  No, you can’t.  But can you make a little extra money for doing almost no work?  Absolutely.

This is the story I think of when I read articles like this, along with the accompanying comments.  In my opinion, the comments are more entertaining than the article itself.  They’re filled with techies ranting and raving as profoundly as they can about why the article is wrong or why it’s right or why the person three comments up is an idiot.  Every once in a while someone will claim to have some secret understanding that everyone else has missed, and you’ve even got one or two that make very valid and logical points that are promptly ignored by everyone around them, as if the truth of the matter isn’t what’s really important.  Of course it’s not important.  The whole thing is akin to furniture salesmen arguing about the latest advances in desk drawers.  Does the average consumer really care?

However, since this blog is now my outlet for the rants that fill my head on a daily basis, I’m going to give my reasons for why I think this article, and nearly everyone who commented on it, is wrong.  There was one person who got it right.  About three-quarters of the way down, gmat says:

I always have a hard time understanding anyone who looks at every product as a “one size fits all”

This is the sentiment I’ve been preaching for years.  Computers don’t have to be an either or, and new products are perfectly capable of standing on their own without needing to be compared to other products in the same category.  Why is the Apple vs Microsoft fallacy so important to some people?  Why do we, as the followers of tech news, have to immediately judge every new product that comes out as either a gift from the gods or completely unfit to even be spoken of?  Why can’t I love my Apple iMac for the media powerhouse that it is, while at the same time enjoy the wonders of hard-core gaming on my Windows machine?  Why are we forced to pick sides?!

Well I, for one, refuse to do so.  I have yet to see a bit of mainstream technology, released by a reputable company, that didn’t have at least some practical use, and Google Chrome OS is no exception.  When reading through the comments, I especially disliked those who insisted that it will be a failure simply because it caters to a niche market.  I can easily see a Chrome-powered netbook sitting on my kitchen counter and functioning as a super-charged recipe book; one that allows me to easily share new recipes with friends, sync grocery lists with my phone, and display not only pictures of what the finished dish should look like, but also video of how to create it.  That’s something that the giant 24 inch screen of my iMac couldn’t easily accomplish, and a niche that my Windows computer has far too many wires and components to adequately fill. And who says that Google’s goal isn’t to fill a niche?  Who said that this OS is Google’s attempt to compete with Apple and Microsoft?  In my limited observation, I’m of the opinion that Google doesn’t even want to be the next Apple or Microsoft.

Take the ATM story for example.  Does the owner of a single ATM want to be the next Wells Fargo?  Of course not.  And just because they’re in the ATM market doesn’t mean that they’re trying to compete with a national bank.  The fact that both own and operate something called an ATM doesn’t automatically create a direct link between the two.  They each exist in the ATM world to cater to entirely different consumers.  That’s exactly how I view Chrome OS.  Just because it’s called an operating system, doesn’t mean that it’s designed to compete with Windows or OS X.  Google has never been the type of company to look up at a giant like Microsoft and say, “What can we do to compete with them?”  If that was the case then they’d be charging for their services and running commercials featuring celebrities spewing dialog like, “Hi, I’m a Mac, and I’m a PC, and I’m a Chrome OS netbook.”  Instead, they look out at the world and say, “What can we do to make people’s lives simpler?”  They’re not designing an operating system to replace the other operating systems in our homes.  They’re designing it to compliment them.  They’re saying, “This is what people already do with their computers, so let’s give them a computer that will help them do it better.”  And that, to me, is why Chrome OS will be successful.

Why is it that some things are so easy to buy and some things are so difficult?  Earlier this week I walked into a Target to buy a blender.  I browsed the aisle for a minute or two, selected the blender I wanted, checked the price tag, paid for it, and I was done.  That was it.  Easy.  Compare that experience to my attempt to order pizza last week.

I was having a quiet evening in with just myself and decided that I was too lazy to cook.  I had heard something about Domino’s having a new pizza recipe so I decided to give it a try.  I called them up and a gentlemen answered the phone and asked what he could get for me.  I didn’t need much, so I asked for the price of a medium two-topping pizza.  $12.99, I was told.  Having ordered many a pizza in the past, that seemed a little high.  I can recall times when I’ve purchased as many as three pizzas for less than $15.

I should take a moment to explain that I’m not a pizza connoisseur.  I have never in my life tasted a pizza, that I’ve purchased from a reputable pizza establishment, that I didn’t like.  Certainly there’s some pizza that’s better - much better - than others, but I tend to think of the taste scale for pizza as starting with good and moving up.  Bad pizza just isn’t something I’ve ever experienced.

So not wanting to spend that much, I asked a question that I’ve always assumed was a standard question when ordering pizza.  ”Do you have any specials right now?”  I was a little taken aback when the answer I received was, “Well what are you looking for?”  Was this person just lazy and didn’t want to read off the specials, or were there just so many specials that he couldn’t possibly read them all off in a timely manner?  Either option seemed unacceptable to me.  Regardless, was it not obvious what I was looking for?  I had just asked for the price of a medium two-topping pizza, and was clearly unsatisfied with the answer or I wouldn’t have asked for the specials.  I wasn’t in his shoes, but I’d like to think that if I was, I could conclude that my customer was looking for the best price he could get on something resembling a medium two-topping pizza.

Clearly, this person did not make that connection, so I answered his question with, “I’m looking for the best price I can get on a medium two-topping pizza.”  He answered that they didn’t have any specials on medium two-topping pizzas, and then instead of volunteering what specials they did have that might get me close to what I wanted, he paused and waited for my response.

I was getting frustrated, and it was only made worse by the fact that I could tell he was getting frustrated as well.  This was his job.  With no menu in front of me, this person was my only link to the products that his establishment was selling.  Did he really expect every customer who called in to automatically know what they wanted?

I made things more clear for him.  ”Can you please tell me all of the specials you have for one pizza?”  He replied, “We’ve got one large two-topping and an order of wings for $15.99.”  And then he paused again.  Seriously?  There was one special right now involving one pizza?  At least I had my answer to whether or not he was lazy.  I was angry now.  I thought my use of the phrase, “best price” implied that I was looking to spend less than 12.99.

My approach wasn’t working, so I tried something new.  ”Ok, what’s the most pizza I can get for less than $12.99?”  ”Well, we’ve got a special for two medium two-topping pizzas for $11.99.”  GAH!  It took every ounce of will-power I had in my body not to yell at him.  My very first question was for the price of a medium two-topping pizza and the price I was quoted was $12.99.  And yet for some reason I was forced to jump through hoops to find out that I could get two medium two-topping pizzas for $1 less than the price of one?!  I’m sorry, but that’s intentionally deceptive.  If the special price for two pizzas is less than the regular price of a single pizza, don’t offer the single pizza as an option to your customers!  If someone inquires about a single pizza, let them know about the special.  And if some customer happens to call in and say that they don’t want the second pizza, charge them the price of the special and just give them one!

Here’s how the conversation should have gone:

Him: Thank you for calling Domino’s, what can I get for you?
Me: How much is a medium two-topping pizza?
Him: Regularly it’s $12.99 but we have a special right now and you can get two for $11.99.
Me: Great, I’ll take it!

Was that so hard?

During World War II, it was often said of the Marine Corps that “uncommon valor was a common virtue.”  Naturally, the Marine Corps itself adapted the phrase to be a little more appropriate: “Common sense is an uncommon virtue.”  Sadly, this rings true both within the Marines and in normal life.

My mortgage lender is currently a shining example of a remarkable lack of common sense.  Here’s the situation.  I’m currently applying for a mortgage.  I also have student loans which are in deferment because I’m still attending school.  My lender is asking for two things:

1. That my student loans be in deferment for at least 12 months.
2. That my monthly payment after the deferment period be no more than $250 per month.

The first part is easy.  I have six months left of school and then the normal deferment period of six months will make a total of 12 months of deferment.  The second part is where I’m getting tripped up.  Naturally I intend to consolidate my loans and take a graduated repayment plan.  Based on calculators I’ve found on the internet, this will put my student loan payment at $221 per month.  However, I’ve called my student loan lenders and they’ve all said the same thing; until I actually do the consolidation, the only thing they can put in writing is what my monthly payment will be for each loan.  The minimum payment for each loan is $50 and I have 18 different student loans.  That means that on paper it’s going to look like I’ve got a $900 per month student loan bill!  Of course, doing the consolidation will automatically put me into repayment, thus losing the 12 months of deferment.

In other words, without the consolidation I have 12 months of deferment but not the monthly payment, yet with the consolidation I’ll have the monthly payment but not the 12 months of deferment.  This is insane!  I just keep thinking to myself, certainly a little common sense should apply here.  Under-writers aren’t robots, are they?  Shouldn’t they be able to see the dilemma?  Or is the mortgage world so shell-shocked that it’s taking the opposite approach that it took a few years ago and denying people who might be well-qualified?

I’m being told that it’ll work out and there’s nothing to worry about, but until I actually have the keys to the house in my hands, I’m not getting my hopes up.

Before today I never believed that one could make themselves literally sick with worry.  I always just assumed it was a figure of speech.  Yet with Jaxon’s first plane ride being Thursday morning, I found myself unable to sleep at all Wednesday night.  I even threw up several times while he slept soundly in his crib, blissfully unaware that he was going to be completely separated from me in only a few hours and on a plane to Arizona that could crash and burn before he’s even old enough to understand what was happening.  Where exactly did such thoughts even come from?  I love flying and have always scoffed at the thought of dying in a plane crash!  It’s one of those situations that I find myself in more often than I care to, where I’m fully aware that my fears are irrational yet somehow I’m still afraid.  Why does that happen?

Fortunately I have rational friends who are quite good at telling me when I’m being ridiculous.  As one friend put it, Shanan is a fantastic mother and Jaxon was in good hands.  After all, how many people do you know who put their child in a car seat on a plane?

So after falling asleep well after 4:00 AM and waking up less than three hours later, I was entirely unprepared to face the day.  I showed up for work, got sick to my stomach trying to remember if I told Jaxon I loved him, and promptly went home after several co-workers told me I didn’t look well.  I paced my apartment until I finally got a text message saying that they had landed successfully and that he had actually enjoyed the ride.  That’s when I breathed a big sigh of relief and passed out on the couch for several hours.  Now here it is, 1:00 AM, and I’m completely unable to sleep because I slept through the entire day.  At least I don’t feel sick to my stomach anymore, although knowing he’s so far away and that I couldn’t get to him if he needed me is driving me insane!  I need to calm down.  It’ll be the first Friday I’ve had free in over a year.  I should enjoy myself, right?  Maybe I’ll try to see a movie or something.