Recharging my batteries

I received an email from my brother early yesterday morning asking if I would collect his daughter from the bus terminal at about 5:30pm and take her to cello practice, then collect her from cello practice and take her to her mom who is taking a class in Warwick.

I quickly look at my schedule, it is eminently doable so I respond in the affirmative but urge him to remind me later in the day, lest I forget.

My day goes on and all is well. No stress, all my meetings are running like a well oiled machine. I arrange to meet my husband at the car so we can go home together. I get another email from my brother indicating that both nieces will be traveling into town with a friend of his and they will call me to arrange a rendezvous point.

I get the call - let's meet outside of the adult library. I arrive, the children and cello are transfered to my car and we are off.

Hello, girls. Great to see you.

Hello Auntie, we are hungry.

Let's go to the Marketplace and see if they still have the food out. I say, thinking quickly.

Girls, make sure you have more vegetables than anything else in your dish.

That plea seemed to fall on deaf ears.

We get home and eat and then jump in the car to take the oldest to cello lessons.

Return home with the younger niece, finish eating and putter around for half an hour.

Time to go and collect niece from cello.

Jump in the car and off we go.

Get to the cello drop off point, turn off the car and chat with younger niece while we wait.

Older niece arrives, puts cello back into car, jumps into the back seat with her sister and off we go. Off we go. Off we go.

Actually, this is where we don't go. I turn the key. Nothing. What? That can't be right. Turn the key again, this time less than nothing. How can this be? I just drove the stupid car here.

Auntie, what's wrong?

Nothing, sweetie, we just have to give the car a few minutes to um ... rest before we ... um ... start.

Turn the key again. Nothing. There is no doubt the battery is dead. As I contemplate screaming, crying and gnashing my teeth, I hear a plaintive voice from the back of the car.

Auntie, we're stuck aren't we?

My nieces, ever perceptive, have figured out that disaster is looming and we won't make it back to the house any time soon.

Yes, sweetie. The car won't start. I think it is the battery.

I reach for my phone and I hear one saying to the other.

We are stranded, let's call Daddy. Auntie, we should call Daddy.

I'll call him in a minute.

Mark, we are stranded, I'm not sure what to do. I think its the battery.

Walk to the gas station and see if they have jumper cables.

Okay. Great idea.

I didn't have the heart to tell him it is cold and dark and I really don't feel like walking.

The nieces are in the back now talking about distress signals.

Auntie this is a disaster. Where are the flares?

What flares, sweetie?

The flares you are supposed to have when you get into distress.

I think that is for when you are on a boat and I don't have any flares. We need jumper cables which I don't have either.

Daddy would have had flares.

I look at their faces. They are busily breathing on the window writing SOS in the building condensation in the hope that some passing car will see their distress signal and come to our assistance. No such luck.

By this time I was calling everyone in my immediate family in the hope that someone would be in our vicinity and come to our rescue. To no avail.

Auntie, this is a disaster.

No, sweetie, this is an adventure. We are having a wonderful adventure together.

As I glance in the rare view mirror I see them exchange skeptical looks and go back to whispering and plotting how to get the phone from me so they can call for reinforcements.

Mark calls back with the numbers of every shop in the immediate area saying, call and see if they have jumper cables. I called. No one sells jumper cables these days.

After about an hour of phone calls and discussions with my nieces about why we can't call 911, I decided to take our fate into my own hands and headed out to look for help.

Since we were on the Serpentine Road side of BHS we headed towards the sound of civilization. BAA. Before then, I spot a taxi and beckon the reluctant cabbie over and ask him if he has jumper cables.

You can't jump these cars so I don't carry them with me.

I don't even know what that means - but I say thank you and move on.

We get into the BAA gym and the first people I approach I share my plight with them and the lady says, "Oh, I have jumper cables." I look at her dumb struck. Our luck has changed. She agrees to drive us to my car and give us a boost. She is accompanied by a friend who will provide assistance. Yippee!

We are on our way ... the batteries are connected and my car starts instantaneously. What a beautiful sound. As I wipe away the tears of joy from my eyes, I listen to my nieces cheering and all is suddenly brighter in my world.

We thank these strangers profusely and pile into the car. I start making phone calls letting my immediate family know that we have been saved and they can now call off the search and rescue party.

I turn to my nieces and we discuss the lessons learned from our adventure.

Their take aways are:

Keep a flash light nearby.

Have your own cell phone.

Always carry extra flares in the car.

My take aways are:

Buy jumper cables and keep them within arm's reach.

Make sure all batteries are fully charged.

Always have a 10 and 12 year old with you to help change your perception of a situation.

What a wonderful world

I think I am always on a journey of self discovery. Sometimes the journeys are planned and clearly mapped out. Other times I am traveling along and make an unexpected discovery.

I think the journey I embarked on recently was a bit of both. I had to clear my calendar months in advance because I knew the workshop/retreat I was attending couldn't be interrupted to attend client meetings, surreptitiously send emails or covertly check voice mail. I knew this retreat was going to be different and I had to be 'in the room' at all times and not thinking about my life outside of the space we were in at the time.

I have struggled, since leaving the workshop, with how I would describe what we did, what I learned and how it has impacted my life.

Words still fail me, the experience defies description, I almost want to say you had to be there. If you had been there your experience would have been vastly different from mine and we would have left with different take aways. At least you too would have been equally grappling with finding just the right words to capture everything that took place.

The workshop was about appreciation. The ability to identify, honor and celebrate my successes and the successes of others. It is a truly powerful concept one that I had not fully appreciated until I locked myself away in a room with 14 strangers who became friends. I say 14 and include myself in that number because I found a new friend in 13 other people and made a new friend within myself.

I know this sounds like - what?! Has she lost her mind, again? No, I have found it and am loving the space I am in right now. I have an obligation and commitment to myself to see what is possible and then strive to attain it for myself, my family and my community.

If you are interested in reading more about this ground-breaking work ask me about the book "What Kind of World Do You Want?" by Jim Lord and Pam McAllister. I will get a copy to you ...  

Happy New Year ...

My last blog was about how much I had done since November. It detailed my trip to Omaha and our return to Bermuda. Looked at the activities we engaged in over Christmas and was going to review our failed attempt to stay awake on New Year's Eve.

However with one misplaced push of a button the entire blog entry was killed. Not sure where it went because there is no record of it. Of course I didn't save it because I didn't expect it to go anywhere. So lesson learned, I just saved.

Why am I having problems with my blog when no problems existed previously? I bought a new laptop, except it isn't called a laptop, it is called a MacBook and it is a machine created by Apple. Since I purchased this new creature I have been on a tortuous and torturous journey. There are many things to love about my new toy:

• The screen is like something out of the fantasy. It is clear, bright and beautiful - you can see for miles and miles on it - figuratively, of course.
  
• The key board is lit - for when I do those secret, undercover stories in the dark, I will know where the letters are, so I can report accurately.
  
• It is very slim (not the one that fits into the interoffice envelope) but a lot smaller than my current laptop, which is usually on whenever I am operating my MB just in case I need a familiar back up immediately. (I just saved again). This is essential when it comes to doing time sensitive client work.
  
• I can turn off the MB just by closing the lid - the other machine would have a fit if I did that.

I still have a lot to learn and the first couple of weeks have been a little painful. However I have been doing more and more with this and loving the new sensations. I look forward to the day when I can do everything on my new mac. Hopefully that day is in the near future because it gets complicated carrying two computers around with me especially when they are supposed to make my life easier and less complicated. Then I have to check to see what information is on which computer - you understand my situation.

I guess you won't get a synopsis of my last few months because that was killed by the mac so I will look forward to the rest of the new year with eager anticipation and with the promise of more timely entries.

So, what did you see?

Amanda and I have known each other for more than ten years now; we met while I was still at Cable and Wireless. We reconnected when she returned to Bermuda earlier this year. Although our lives are completely different during, the many hours we have spent talking, catching up and reminiscing we realise that we have far more in common than you would ever suspect. We are about the same age and have reached points in our lives where we can absolutely appreciate, laugh and cry at the mistakes and great decisions we've made in our lives.

One day recently we were at dinner and talked about how we each viewed the world and how our perspectives are completely different despite our commonalities. She is white, English, educated, has lived in Bermuda for a significant portion of her life and is well traveled. I am black, Bermudian, educated, have lived in England for a significant portion of my life and I am well traveled.

So we set out to conduct an experiment. We agreed that we would go out together and write about the experience, what we saw, what we did, how we felt. Here are our stories:

My view
As soon as we agreed to conduct the experiment I decided I needed to brush up on my observation skills so I would be equal to the task. I mean suppose Amanda saw something that would be the complete focus of her piece and I didn't even know the incident took place. So I started preparing for our task by looking at what was going on around me and trying to make mental notes. I would like to think my preparations stood me in good stead but I think I failed completely because I can't believe any of the little observations I made a mental note of could have been of any great significance.

Here are some of the things I saw:
An old guy with a red walking stick - I didn't even know they came in different colors;
One woman with way too much make up on - I didn't even know you could get that many different colors on your face at one time;
Then there was the guy with the loud shirt - again, many colors.

After the whole color thing I felt I had to pay more attention to the atmosphere what was happening around me.

A lady I know who is returning home, due to work permit issues invited me to her leaving party. I dragged Amanda along. We sat at the bar chatting and all I could get from the atmosphere was "someone in here is smoking, is that even legal in this day and age?"

Since I couldn't get past the whole smoking thing I decided to concentrate on our conversation - what deep and meaningful nuggets of conversation would Amanda and I participate in that would be the focus of my piece. Would I impart a delicious morsel that she would spend her 1,000 words talking about or would she dazzle my mind and give me something that I would noodle around in my brain and have to write about.

I think that moment approached as she and I walked from my car to the restaurant we had decided to eat at. We strolled along Front Street chatting happily and I was totally aware of my surroundings, alert to any possible issue that I had to observe and I listened intently to Amanda waiting for her to wax poetic when I suddenly I veered left and was blind and deaf to everything around me I pressed my nose figuratively again the window of the store that sells Prada.

A black bag with brass hardware, two strap lengths and a catch that was totally unexpected caught my eye. I frowned as I leaned closer to the window trying to see if I could spot the price tag. My eyes glazed over as I imagined the smell of the leather and the feel of it beneath my expert, self trained hands. I imagined how it would look first on my shoulder and then in my closet with my other captives, um, I mean precious bags ... my precious!

I heard a voice in the distance trying to bring me back to earth -- OMG, I had completely forgotten about Amanda and I think she may have asked me a question, what? How many bags do I own? What kind of question is that? How many stars are there in the sky, how many grains of sand are there in the desert? I don't know and that isn't important right now. The important question is do you think we can find someone to open the store for us so I can look at this totally uncharacteristic Fendi masterpiece?

After standing around ostensibly looking at the other designer offerings in the window I realised that I wasn't going to be able to get my hands on the bag and so after another side long glance I shuffled along to the meal that awaited our undivided attention.

Once we had eaten I thought we would call it a night but before we headed off in opposite directions we decided to try one more time to find my brother and bust in on him and his friends on their 'boys night out'. We decided to look in his favorite haunt to see if he was there. As luck would have it we found him, despite the fact that I think he tried to avoid us.

Without invitation we joined him and some of his friends and started making small talk with two gentlemen, one I knew only slightly and the other I was meeting for the first time. As we exchanged pleasantries, my brother's child hood friend squeezed himself between me and Amanda and started monopologising the conversation.

I am sorry to say this is where the evening fell apart for me. I was trying to maintain an eye on what was happening in the place, stay abreast of who was where and how everyone was interacting. My brother's friend put paid to that when he decided to engage in a totally embarrassing and humiliatingly funny expose on our 'relationship'. He made up the wildest accusations and charges against me that he could think of - stalking him, court decisions on our (retarded) child, flagrant sexual acts. While these charges were flying back and forward all I could do was laugh my stupid head off. I couldn't even mount a convincing attack, especially for the two men he insisted on regaling these flights of fantasy to.

Given that they didn't know me and may or may not have known my brother's friend to them these things about me could well have been true which added to my total inability to respond due to the now near hysterical and uncontrollable raucous laughter escaping my person. Nothing I did would stop him and in fact when I tried to interject with my own accusations of his cross dressing things seemed to get worse.

In the end I gave up and went to say hello to someone who was standing at the bar. When I look back at that incident I have to shake my head because if I could have kept my wits about me I may be been able to dissect it and write about it objectively. However since I was desperately trying to defend myself I have nothing deep and meaningful to impart other than I have a long memory and my plan is to exact revenge on my brother's friend some day, somehow, some way.

We finally decided to call it a night. I drove Amanda to the taxi stand. I did consider taking her home but she was staying in the depths of Southampton and I didn't have the energy, strength or focus to make the drive there and back.

What did I learn from this experiment - I need to be more observant, obsess less about bags and perhaps not hang out with my brother and his friends, lest embarrassing things happen.

(PS - this essay is supposed to be 1,000 words. Who knew I could write so much - it is in fact 1,369, I'm sorry Amanda.)

Here is Amanda's entry ...

Night out

7am. Friday morning. I'm in bed. Asleep. Aderonke texts to ask if I am up for drinks tonight. What is she like? The day has barely begun and she is thinking of alcohol? Its a little early for me to consider such matters and I just cant think about it right now....

At work - several hours later - I text back to say yes.

She picks me up from work at 6 and takes me to someone she used to work with's leaving do at the theatre bar.

I fret about my situation over a vodka cranberry. Should I stay or should I go.

'Stay - enjoy yourself'.' she says over her G & T.

That sorted we head for our next venue. After a fruitless call to her elusive brother we make our way to LVs. A quick scout around the bar tells us our group isn't there...

'Are you hungry? '

'Yes. You?'

To the Pickled Onion we go.

A glass of champagne and a trip down memory lane - we discuss the great loves of our life over dinner. A heart to heart over broken hearts.

'So what are you doing to meet guys these days,' she asks?

'Well, Ummm - this is kind of it.'

'Well lets go to the bar and talk to some....' '

I don't know how. I dont do this sort of thing. Its not my style' - I protest weakly.

But she's in there. 'I'll ask him the time' she says 'its a start.'

To my surprise - she does.

To my surprise - it works.

I don't feel what follows is worthy of recording aside to say that I foolishly give out my number and instantly regret it.

Time to go home. We're in Aderoke's car about to drive off when she decides at the last moment to revist LVs to check if her brother and pals are there. Result!

We are suddenly surrounded by people. I am introduced to one smartly dressed man after another - ever increasingly levels of smartness - the final one perfectly dressed and immaculate in every way. When my attention returns to my immediate surroundings I see Aderonke at the centre of it all - involved in a raucous exchange with her brother's best friend Will. (This seems to be the case whenever these two get together.) I only catch fragments of their exchange above the din of the bar and the great gales of laughter coming from the amused on-lookers, but whips and high heeled boots are definitly mentioned between the screams of laughter as is money and Obama.

A little later - when its all died down, I am cornered by Will who comfortably lounges back beside me and insists that I work at weekends in order to hide or run away from something in my personal life. I don't have any good enough excuses to disuade him from this line of questioning or get him to believe otherwise. He continues 'How long since the break up? Three months? Six months? A year?' If only it were that simple. I can't even begin to explain.

Aderonke returns from the bar with a huge glass of wine in her hand. The crowd has moved on and she decides we ought to call it a night as we both have to work in the morning. More importantly - has she just bumped in to someone at the bar that she will be dealing with tomorrow - so doesn't want to give the wrong impression. Back in her jeep she offers too drive me to Southampton. I refuse her offer - Its a long way to Barnes corner. 'That's Somerset Southampton - not even Warwick Southampton...' she says horrified at the very thought. She drops me next to a taxi on Front Street. I say goodbye and she says she can't wait to read about our night out. She has been planning for her article for weeks. I have no idea what she has up her sleeve and know I will not be able to compete.

In the cab on the way home my phone bleeps. Its a text from my work mate to say - Her boyfriend's Mum has a cousin called Pork and Beans. She knows these things amuse me. I burst out laughing. Its been a good night. Just what the doctor ordered. I'm thinking of getting a nice cup of tea and heading to bed. As I settle down at home I wonder if Aderonke is busy thinking of her next night out and will be texting another unsuspecting friend at daybreak tomorrow to see if they are up for a drink...

Do I have a job for you ... but first you have to fill in the application form.

Last year I wrote an article about dating and listed some possible questions you can ask a potential mate. I read the article below about the application form anyone seeking a job in the Obama administration must complete. My questions pale in comparison to this questionnaire. Here is the article. I have started filling in my form, it may take a while to complete it to the best of my ability and I have to keep in the back of my mind that after I submit it I still have to go for an interview ...

White House job application leaves no stone unturned

By Jim Kavanagh
CNN

The Obama transition team is sending a seven-page, 63-item questionnaire to every candidate for Cabinet and other high-ranking positions in the incoming administration.

The questions cover everything from information on family members, Facebook pages, blogs and hired help to links to Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, American International Group and troubled banks as well as lawsuits, gifts, resumes, loans and more.

The transition team has about 7,000 positions to fill, according to the U.S. Government Printing Office's Plum Book, the quadrennial list of positions subject to presidential appointment.

Included are 15 Cabinet positions and nearly 200 ambassadorships as well as agency heads and their immediate subordinates, policy executives and advisers, and top aides to those officials.

The largest part of the questionnaire asks prospective White House appointees and their spouses to list real estate and other business transactions, affiliations and relationships as well as personal financial and tax information.

It also asks about writings, speeches, testimony, online communications and even personal diaries.

An entire section requests details on any criminal or civil legal action in which the applicant may have been involved. The last question in that 11-item section asks for details on any child support or alimony orders.

In an apparent effort to avoid the problems faced by several nominees in the last two administrations, a block of four questions is devoted to ferreting out details -- including the immigration status -- of any domestic help the applicant may have hired.

Question 61 seems to have been prompted by the controversy over former 1960s radical William Ayres in Obama's campaign: "Have you had any association with any person, group or business venture that could be used -- even unfairly -- to impugn or attack your character or qualifications for government service?"

Under the final, "Miscellaneous" category, the questionnaire asks for the names and phone numbers of past live-in lovers; whether anyone in the applicant's family owns a gun; the state of the applicant's health; and whether he or she has any enemies.

What President Elect, Barack Obama's victory means to me

I can't let another day go by without acknowledging on this medium the time in history we are living through. On Tuesday November 4, 2008 the electorate of the United States of America voted for hope, for change, for Barack Obama.

What does this historic election mean to me, a black woman, a Bermudian and a citizen of the world?

I had a conversation yesterday with an elder of our community and I didn't have to ask her what she thought of the US Presidential elections. It was a topic we shifted into effortlessly as soon as the initial salutations were over. We each shared our view and she expressed the emotions bubbling inside, the hope she has carried around in her life, the pride she has always expressed through her writing and story telling and the strength she instilled in her children.

I remember when Oprah Winfrey endorsed Obama many months ago. She took a lot of heat from Hillary Clinton supporters for not endorsing a woman. Shortly after her endorsement my husband and I had a discussion about the gender, race issue. I walked away from that conversation understanding my husband's position which also happened to be mine, we identify ourselves through our race first and gender second. It is something that has been instilled in us since, well, since forever.

I look at Mr. Obama as I do the men in my family; my husband, fathers, brothers and uncles are responsible black men who take care of their families, who love their wives and respect their mother, sisters and daughters. This is what I see in the next President of the United States. I do recognize that this is not the case for many families, black and white, in the US, Bermuda and indeed around the world. Mr. Obama has become the new role model that doesn't involve sports, singing, rapping or acting. He got to where he is through hard work, ambition and determination.

As a Bermudian, I am hoping his leadership style will rub off on the leaders in my island nation. I would like for them to learn from him how to lead with humility, strength and with the best intention for the populous.

As a citizen of the world, I have read many articles about how there is a tide of hope rippling through the world. People in far flung nations attended election parties, stayed up into the night and early morning to learn of the election results first hand.

There is vibration that is in the air and a feeling of change. We can not go back to the dark days of segregation, we can no longer stand by silently while horrors are being perpetrated against groups of people, we can no longer turn a blind eye to injustice. I think history will show that the people of the world at this time, took on the issues that are plaguing mankind, killing our planet and separating human beings.

I would like to think we took this opportunity to make a world of difference.

After the initial tears, shock and awe (the good kind) began to ebb away in the hours after the election decision was announced, I asked myself if I can remember any other time in my adult life that I felt hopeful and excited and speechless. The only thing that came to mind was when Nelson Mandela was released from prison. I was a young broadcast journalist (my first job after college) and the only reporter on duty that day. I grabbed the mike, turned on the tv and reported what I saw to anyone who happened to be listening to the radio.

I remember feeling excitement, and joy and anticipation of what would happen next. Mr. Mandela had the ability to start to bring about change in the country of his birth. He was able to see in his lifetime the regime that imprisoned him become dismantled and his country was given the opportunity to rebuild.

I think we are at another point in history where an opportunity exists for us to stand up and say in one voice; we are ready to embrace change and become a better role model, a better citizen, a better human being.

I stand ready ...

Two for the price of one? (I mean really, what other title could I have given?)

Far be it for me to comment on another culture but really two husbands, at the same time? This article begs for so many responses but I am not going to influence you, let me know your thoughts.

HIMACHAL PRADESH, India (CNN) -- Amar and Kundan Singh Pundir are brothers. Younger brother Amar breaks rocks in a mine for a living. Kundan farms their small piece of inherited land. They live in a beautiful but remote hillside village in the clouds of Himachal Pradesh, India.
Both in their 40's, the two brothers have lived together nearly their whole lives. They are poor and share just about everything: Their home, their work and a wife.

"See we have a tradition from the beginning to have a family of five to 10 people. Two brothers and one wife." Kundan says.

They practice what is known as fraternal polyandry -- where the brothers of one family marry the same woman. Why? Tradition and economics.

Life is hard here. The village is precariously perched on the side of a very steep hill about 6,000ft up. Most of the villagers survive off tiny plots of cropland.

In this difficult terrain there isn't enough land to go around. So, instead of finding separate wives and splitting up their inherited property, the brothers marry the same woman and keep their land together.

Wife Indira Devi says life with two husbands isn't easy.

"We fight a lot."

But like any married couple they fight mostly over mundane stuff, except there are three spouses instead of two.

"Usually it's about chores, why didn't you do this? Why didn't you do that?" she says.

One thing they agreed on was the need to have children; They have three. So how does a married trio deal with sex?

"We make shifts, change shifts and sleep on alternate days. We have to make shifts otherwise it won't work," Kundan says.

"To run our families we have to do this, overcome the hurdles as well and then we have to control our hearts from feeling too much," Amar adds.

To outsiders their arrangement may seem odd, but in the village of about 200 it is the norm.
Typically the marriages are arranged and women have two husbands. But some wives have three or four depending on how many brothers there are in a family.

Polyandry is illegal in India but socially acceptable here. No one from the government seems to bother the villagers about the law.

"It's been going on for ages. My sister in law has two husbands, my mother in law also has two husbands," Indira says.

And as to the question of which husband is the biological father of the children -- the Pundir's don't know and don't care.

"For me everyone is the same, my mother and my fathers are the same. My mother and my fathers are like God to me," 17-year old daughter Sunita Singh Pundir says.

Even as modern society arrives in this ancient village through satellite dishes and mobile phones, the Pundirs say they want their age-old tradition to continue with their children.

"Absolutely," eldest son Sohna says.

He and his younger brother have already discussed it and will marry the same woman.

Daughter Sunita isn't so sure.

"I would like one husband," she says.

But when asked if she will marry for love or tradition, Sunita's answer makes it clear the tradition of marrying more than one man will continue with the next generation.

"I will never leave our tradition even if I have to forgo love. I will never spoil my parents' reputation and my brothers.'"

Under pressure

You would think that with the current credit crunch, an impending historic election in the United States just days away and what impact the global financial retraction would have on Bermuda I would write about these important and timely topics.

No. I want to talk about the pressure I am feeling from ladies’ bag designers. Let me say from the outset I love bags. They are one of my passions. I take bags seriously as I believe they say a lot about the person carrying them.

I have travel handbags which must have certain features that make carrying them handy and non-cumbersome when elbowing 6’5” guys out of the way as my suitcase is carried away at warp speed by the luggage conveyor belts in the arrivals hall. The bag I travel with has to be big enough to carry my day to day items – 32 lipsticks, three nail files, a myriad of mints (you never know when you may have to offer one politely to the person next to you on a plane whose definition of oral hygiene may not be approved by the American or any other Dental Association), a wallet and various other items a girl can’t live without. Conversely the bag has to be small enough to look cute if you are going out to dinner with friends and family members whom you haven’t seen for months, years or indeed ever.

So I have this cute black bag I took to Omaha with me. I tend to use it exclusively for travel. However this time around for some reason upon my return I didn’t switch back to my day to day bag. The bag is great; It is divided into five discrete areas if you include the little flap at the back and the two pocket areas in the front.

It also has various tailor made pockets for a cell phone, lotion, iPod, credit cards and another cell phone (some people carry two – as I did for two years). These pockets have caused me to become a little anxious in that there are so many I am feeling pressured to not only use them all but to use them correctly.

Two things are driving me nuts – am I using the pockets for the right items and what do I do with the pockets that I don’t have anything to put in. I have figured out where my cell phone and other crucial items should reside and I didn’t realize how anal I have been about these compartments until I was in a meeting recently and reached for a pen (which has its own little slot). As I took it out and saw in my haste to leave the house I had put a few items in the wrong areas. I could hear the person leading the meeting still talking so I quickly started taking pieces out of my bag and discretely placing them on the table in front of me so I could return the items to their logical space.

I was doing okay until I realized that there hadn’t been a sound in the room for about 45 seconds. I glanced up as I reached for the remote control to the radio in my office (there is a long story about why I was carrying it around with me) and realized that everyone was looking at me expectantly. I must have had a blank look on my face because the person next to me whispered that it was now my turn to talk. With half a dozen items still in front of me I had to quickly think of a graceful way to get out of what could have been a potentially embarrassing situation.

Anyway, to get back to my purse. During that meeting I realized that I was feeling pressured (and perhaps a little intimidated) by bag designers to get it right. I don’t like that feeling but I like being organized. I have to find a mental and emotional space where I can let my natural inclination to have an orderly purse, which leads to an orderly life, which leads to an orderly world overcome the self-imposed need towards being a semi-perfectionist and accept that there are no right or wrongs when it comes to purse order and organization. Although if the pockets were labeled …

How to Complain at a Hotel

I promise you, I didn't go looking for this article - it popped up. Given my latest travel escapade and subsequent response from the hotel I thought I would conclude the series of entries with this well timed article. So if you run into problems with roaches, Elder bugs or any other insects you know what to do, and equally important, how to complain.

Get satisfaction when things go wrong during your hotel stay
By Charlyn Keating Chisholm, About.com

Even in the best hotels, things go wrong occasionally. Patience, persistence, and smile go a long way toward getting results when you have a valid complaint at a hotel.
Identify the ProblemMake sure you can explain the problem clearly and concisely. Don't exaggerate; be honest and tell it like it is. Get evidence if you can. A photo snapped with your cell phone can be a powerful image.

If it's just a small annoyance, consider letting it slide. Life is short, and that goes double when you're on vacation. Save yourself some stress by picking your battles, keeping your sense of humor and being flexible when faced with a minor issue you can live with.

Identify the Solution
Before you complain, figure out what your expectations for solution are. Do you need something fixed in your room? Need a new room assigned? What's your timetable?

Be realistic about compensation for problems. You shouldn't pay for services you didn't receive. But you are unlikely to have your entire stay comped because because one thing was not working in your room.

One helpful approach is to tell the manager that you are not looking for compensation, you just wanted to let him/her know there is a problem so it can be addressed.

Time Your Complaint
Complain as soon as you know there is a problem. Don't wait until the next day or when you are checking out. Still, if there's a long line at the front desk and all the phones are ringing, you may want to delay until a quieter time so attention can be paid to your problem.

Complain in Person
Don't call the front desk with your problem. Go down in person and talk face to face. Explain the situation and let them know what your expectations are. Keep your story short and to the point.

Remain Calm
Be polite and calm. Even if you feel frustrated or angry, never raise your voice or lose your cool. A smile goes a long way toward helping people want to help you. Losing your temper will make the situation worse, and may even get you escorted out of the hotel. Tell your story once, without exaggeration or drama ("My whole trip is ruined!"), and what you'd like done about it, and wait for a response.

Find the Person With the Power
You should be able to determine fairly quickly if the person you are speaking to is willing and able to fix the problem. If not, ask for the manager on duty or GM (general manager). Calmly and candidly explain the situation to the manager and what you would like done. Let them know who else you've talked to and when.

Be Patient
In many cases, the situation can be resolved right away. Hotel staff are in the customer service business, and for the most part, they want you to be satisfied. Keep in mind that some problems are beyond their control, and some take time to fix. If you have a specific time frame (e.g., you have a dinner meeting and need to use that broken shower); ask them for a backup plan (use of a shower in another room or in the spa).

Be Persistent
If you are speaking to the right person (the one with the power to fix the problem), and they seem unwilling to do so, ask again, and then a third time. Remain polite and keep your cool, but be persistent in stating your need for a solution.

Be Flexible
If they can't offer the fix you requested, consider any alternate fixes they've offered with an open mind. Is it really going to ruin your entire vacation if you don't have a view of the pool as you imagined? Keep your sense of humor and focus on the positives.

Take It Home
It's best to resolve the problem when you are still at the hotel. If for some reason they can't fix the problem to your satisfaction while you are in the hotel, keep notes of what happened, who you talked to, when, and what was said. Once at home, you can dispute the charges with the credit card company (always pay with one) and write a letter to the General Manager of the hotel. You should expect a reply within a couple of weeks with an apology, a partial refund, or an invitation to return to the hotel at a reduced rate in the future. If the hotel is part of a chain, don't escalate your letter writing to the CEO unless you are unable to get a satisfactory response from the hotel staff.

Even if you have a complaint, remember: hotels (and the people who work in them) aren't perfect, and things go wrong more often than any of us would like. If you find a hotel that solves your problems efficiently, show them your appreciation by becoming a repeat customer.

Bugging out

After my traumatic ordeal at Four Points, I wrote to the hotel manager and expressed my concern about the bugs in his establishment. Here is his response:

Good Afternoon,

Thank you for contacting me regarding your recent visit to our property, I apologize for the condition in which you found you hotel rooms. I assure you that the insects you saw were not roaches. They are in fact, Box Elder bugs and are related to the Lady Bug. They are harmless, which does not excuse their presence, but unfortunately, they are a nuisance in our area each fall. We have had the interior and exterior of our buildings treated this past week in order to remedy the issue.

For the inconvenience, I have awarded 7000 points to your SPG account.

I am happy we were able to accommodate you at the Sheraton Suites and I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.

Regards,

Stephen Pugh
Director of Guest Services