... while I am still sitting here typing? I need to get to bed, in anticipation of my last day of doing the literacy tutoring program for four year olds. It actually goes on for another week, but luck of the draw: next Wednesday is Veteran's Day here in the U.S.A. We will put out the red/white/blue bunting, wave our flags and honor those who have served to defend our liberty. As well as give them a free pass at the Golden Corral buffet: all you can eat!
Just wondering who is up at this time of night reading the musings? Not likely anyone in the Eastern Standard Time zone, where it is dark by six o'clock, due to having fallen off Daylight Savings Time last weekend. Just wondering...???? And now it's 11:45. Why are you not in bed???
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
reallly a creeeepy idea...
..that is reality in call centers in foreign countries. The book I read recently by Paul Theroux, a collection of short stories (actually just three) about India. So realistic and such likely portrayals of true life, it is easy to believe these things could and really do happen. One of the stories will make the hair on your head stand on end. Involving a bad man that came to a bad end due to an uncontrollable elephant. No more details necessary.
The tale that lingers in my mind was about a young woman who sort of fell into a job working in a call center. She was from the US, had finished college and was taking a year off to travel, wander, enjoy experiencing the world. Her friend/traveling companion bailed, she found herself on her own, traveling as a white, female, relatively wealthy, smug, independent, single in India = a recipe for disaster. But fairly uneventful as she traveled to an ashram and settled into a life of peaceful serenity of the mundane daily tasks required for a resident in a reflective, meditative environment.
This girl, Alice, gets a job training native Indians in the syntax and colloquialisms of common American English - really a different language from the stilted, archaic classical Brit-speak English most natives learn in Indian schools. And really does her job so well, those call center workers can fool the people who are coming to them with their problems with technology. Whether the 'first world' people with their modern appliances are having problems with their washers and stoves or computers and smart phones, the workers at the call centers have the language as well as tech skills to have the callers believe they are right next door.
Which makes me always ask when I call those toll free 800 numbers: where the CSR person is actually located. And notice that they have gotten very Non-specific. They won't tell you where they are. They will say Texas, or central Mississippi, or the Asia, but not really tell you anything. And they are SO good at masking their accents, coming up with common names like Jen or Shane, they can make you think you are talking to your cousin or neighbor or someone you met at the Starbucks last week... Beware!
The tale that lingers in my mind was about a young woman who sort of fell into a job working in a call center. She was from the US, had finished college and was taking a year off to travel, wander, enjoy experiencing the world. Her friend/traveling companion bailed, she found herself on her own, traveling as a white, female, relatively wealthy, smug, independent, single in India = a recipe for disaster. But fairly uneventful as she traveled to an ashram and settled into a life of peaceful serenity of the mundane daily tasks required for a resident in a reflective, meditative environment.
This girl, Alice, gets a job training native Indians in the syntax and colloquialisms of common American English - really a different language from the stilted, archaic classical Brit-speak English most natives learn in Indian schools. And really does her job so well, those call center workers can fool the people who are coming to them with their problems with technology. Whether the 'first world' people with their modern appliances are having problems with their washers and stoves or computers and smart phones, the workers at the call centers have the language as well as tech skills to have the callers believe they are right next door.
Which makes me always ask when I call those toll free 800 numbers: where the CSR person is actually located. And notice that they have gotten very Non-specific. They won't tell you where they are. They will say Texas, or central Mississippi, or the Asia, but not really tell you anything. And they are SO good at masking their accents, coming up with common names like Jen or Shane, they can make you think you are talking to your cousin or neighbor or someone you met at the Starbucks last week... Beware!
perpetually optimistic...
... may not necessarily be a desirable character trait, but it seems to be better than walking around in a Doom and Gloom mode. Reminiscent of the little character in the Peanuts cartoons who always has a little rain cloud over his head. Constantly muttering to oneself various corollaries of Murphy's Law.
You might not be old enough to remember some television shows. Probably recall the thing that was the precursor to YouTube videos, which was that horribly cringe-worthy 'America's Funniest Home Videos' (that are rarely actually funny, more often humiliatingly painful) paid huge sums for home movies. Primarily consisting of mishaps caught on tape when friends and family would do profoundly stupid things or have frighteningly scary accidents. All witnessed and recorded for posterity and public viewing, keeping the participants in constant fear of their faux pas outliving their natural life spans. And now we have a multiplicity of electronic media with which to amuse ourselves, record our foolhardy friends, and poke fun at total strangers.
But before any of this happened: There was "Candid Camera". Probably on television back in the sixties or early 70's. Three or four different scenarios, always beginning with a 'set up' when we/the viewer would get the goods on what was going to happen when the unsuspecting innocent was filmed in a hokey, unlikely, often embarrassing situation. With the ultimate goal of the set up being revealed, and every one enjoying a good laugh. At the expense of the one who had the wool surreptitiously pulled over his gullible eyes.
This is how I feel when bad things happen in my life: I keep thinking it's going to be a big joke. And the hidden camera will be revealed, and we will all get a big laugh, stand around with a cold beer and rehash the events as they are retold and the tape replayed over and over. I keep thinking:"'Ok, I'm ready - where's the camera? It's not funny any more, can we get this over with?"
You might not be old enough to remember some television shows. Probably recall the thing that was the precursor to YouTube videos, which was that horribly cringe-worthy 'America's Funniest Home Videos' (that are rarely actually funny, more often humiliatingly painful) paid huge sums for home movies. Primarily consisting of mishaps caught on tape when friends and family would do profoundly stupid things or have frighteningly scary accidents. All witnessed and recorded for posterity and public viewing, keeping the participants in constant fear of their faux pas outliving their natural life spans. And now we have a multiplicity of electronic media with which to amuse ourselves, record our foolhardy friends, and poke fun at total strangers.
But before any of this happened: There was "Candid Camera". Probably on television back in the sixties or early 70's. Three or four different scenarios, always beginning with a 'set up' when we/the viewer would get the goods on what was going to happen when the unsuspecting innocent was filmed in a hokey, unlikely, often embarrassing situation. With the ultimate goal of the set up being revealed, and every one enjoying a good laugh. At the expense of the one who had the wool surreptitiously pulled over his gullible eyes.
This is how I feel when bad things happen in my life: I keep thinking it's going to be a big joke. And the hidden camera will be revealed, and we will all get a big laugh, stand around with a cold beer and rehash the events as they are retold and the tape replayed over and over. I keep thinking:"'Ok, I'm ready - where's the camera? It's not funny any more, can we get this over with?"
about a poorly functioning body part...
... that has been plaguing me since the end of last year. As could be expected, the knee has not gotten any better as of been largely ignored. Other than taking pain meds on a constant basis, which cannot be beneficial to one's health. There is always a handful of generic Tylenol in my pocket, that I periodically consume throughout the day, take when I think about popping more drugs.
I am still in a quandary about the Velcro brace with metal stays for support. Knowing it does help but also limits flexibility even more, and using it surely causes reduced strength in muscles. This probably qualifies as a 'catch 22' situation... but so does walking out the door and crossing the street.
I have an appt. with a chiro. man today. My boss at work saw me hobbling along last week and asked if I had tried that route. I said I went to one a customer recommended, but after a month did not feel it was helpful and quit writing a check for thirty dollars each visit. The boss assured me I have not been to the 'right' one yet, and gave me the number of the guy he sees. If you know me, you will also know I am generally reluctant to go to a male physician, and would much prefer to do business with a female: but I'm willing to give it a try. Stay tuned...
I am still in a quandary about the Velcro brace with metal stays for support. Knowing it does help but also limits flexibility even more, and using it surely causes reduced strength in muscles. This probably qualifies as a 'catch 22' situation... but so does walking out the door and crossing the street.
I have an appt. with a chiro. man today. My boss at work saw me hobbling along last week and asked if I had tried that route. I said I went to one a customer recommended, but after a month did not feel it was helpful and quit writing a check for thirty dollars each visit. The boss assured me I have not been to the 'right' one yet, and gave me the number of the guy he sees. If you know me, you will also know I am generally reluctant to go to a male physician, and would much prefer to do business with a female: but I'm willing to give it a try. Stay tuned...
suprise, surprise, suprise...
... occurred when I looked in the mail box on Saturday afternoon. I have long learned that part of being an Adult is that most of the stuff you pull out of the mail box will somehow be related to "U-O-Me". In that there are rarely friendly greetings, and almost invariably some request for funds. Not necessarily my new-found-relatives in Nigeria, but some financial obligation that needs addressing.
I opened the box and pulled out an envelope from the dentist. Thinking they were billing me for more to cover the cost of replacing two teeth in recent months. The first one was not absolutely, positively necessary - but had such dire warnings I forced myself to keep an appointment I had cancelled twice. Literally 'forced' is the word best used when walking in the door of the dental practice, right? He'd been assuring me for a year that I was going to have a problem if I did not take steps to remedy the anticipated likelihood of a mouth disaster.
I am thankful for that little dental insurance policy I pay for every week as a pre-tax deduction on my pay check. Particularly after having called around and priced a replacement tooth a couple of years ago, and found most dentists charge about $1200 to help you out of a crisis. Partially so high when you are not a regular patient of the practice, and partly because they can. My guy has the latest in electronic gizmos, that models a tooth in the computer and sends the diagram/schematic to the machine that generates the little porcelain product. They then check for fit, adjust as necessary and stain/fire to match your tooth color. So customers are paying for Big Toys for Big Boys as well as service when you are in a bind.
Any way - the insurance claim paid more than any one expected, so I got a refund. Yay! Travel funds! Especially when you consider he could have kept it for himself and no one would have been the wiser. So - thanks, Ed.
I opened the box and pulled out an envelope from the dentist. Thinking they were billing me for more to cover the cost of replacing two teeth in recent months. The first one was not absolutely, positively necessary - but had such dire warnings I forced myself to keep an appointment I had cancelled twice. Literally 'forced' is the word best used when walking in the door of the dental practice, right? He'd been assuring me for a year that I was going to have a problem if I did not take steps to remedy the anticipated likelihood of a mouth disaster.
I am thankful for that little dental insurance policy I pay for every week as a pre-tax deduction on my pay check. Particularly after having called around and priced a replacement tooth a couple of years ago, and found most dentists charge about $1200 to help you out of a crisis. Partially so high when you are not a regular patient of the practice, and partly because they can. My guy has the latest in electronic gizmos, that models a tooth in the computer and sends the diagram/schematic to the machine that generates the little porcelain product. They then check for fit, adjust as necessary and stain/fire to match your tooth color. So customers are paying for Big Toys for Big Boys as well as service when you are in a bind.
Any way - the insurance claim paid more than any one expected, so I got a refund. Yay! Travel funds! Especially when you consider he could have kept it for himself and no one would have been the wiser. So - thanks, Ed.
the ASL sign for 'all done'...
... is one of the easy hand signs you can teach babies before they are verbal. They don't have the language skills to tell you they are finished with eating. But soon learn from repetition, observing mom. They learn from watching the parent/caregiver who waves hands in the air to indicate 'all done' when they are through. Along with other words like 'more', and 'water' and 'hot.
I'm all done with work for the week. Apparently I shot myself in the foot when I offered to be part of the Halloween scene last Saturday afternoon. I was on the schedule to work this morning, but recently found myself 'deleted'. Not so good for the ego - but lately I have practicing saying 'if you are not at work, you are on vacation'. Conditioning my brain to think: enjoy the free time more than the income. Factor in the awareness that I would already be at work instead of sitting here in my pajamas typing, with nothing pressing or necessary till noon, and it gets better all the time.
I'm all done with work for the week. Apparently I shot myself in the foot when I offered to be part of the Halloween scene last Saturday afternoon. I was on the schedule to work this morning, but recently found myself 'deleted'. Not so good for the ego - but lately I have practicing saying 'if you are not at work, you are on vacation'. Conditioning my brain to think: enjoy the free time more than the income. Factor in the awareness that I would already be at work instead of sitting here in my pajamas typing, with nothing pressing or necessary till noon, and it gets better all the time.
cookin at work...(pork with pasta)
...makin' this thing that starts with a pork loin, so when the passersby ask about the taste? I'm saying: "I don't know, since I don't eat pork." Think about it... chewing on a porker. It's kinda funny in an unfunny way (which is I assume the definition of Irony?) that I would like all the ingredients, except for the part that comes directly from the animal, and not be willing to give it a try. But really: if you know you like everything that is in the recipe, it's a pretty safe assumption you would like the end product, right?
In the effort to be completely transparent, I will go ahead and say I did not put the pork loin in my mount. But I did eat some of the pasta dish, which is nearly as bad, with bacon bits. As well as oh-my-goodness sun dried tomatoes. And oh-yuck wilted spinach. It was pretty good, though a bit spicier than something I would normally choose to consume.
So here's the recipe, like it is printed in the newspaper ad. and on the laminated cards.
Chipolte-mango pork with pasta
1/2 cups water
1/2 cup reduced-fat milk
2 Tbs. canola oil, divided (which I mostly left out of the pasta)
1 pouch chipotle pasta side dish mix (we were using Knorr, 4.3 oz.)
1 pork tenderloin (about one pound)
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 cup fresh mango peach salsa, well drained
2 Tbs. fresh cilantro finely chopped
1/2 cup light mayonnaise (olive oil)
2 tsp. chipotle pepper sauce (Tabasco makes this)
2 cups, lightly packed fresh baby spinach leaves
1/2 cup cooked bacon pieces/bits
1/4 cup julienne cut, sun dried tomatoes, drained
Start pasta according to package directions.
Preheat large skillet, add 1 Tbs. oil. Pork should be cut into four fairly equal long slices, by cutting lengthwise, then cut in half. Season with salt. Cook about 6-8 min, till lightly browned, turning as needed. Stir together drained salsa, chopped cilantro, mayonnaise, pepper sauce. Reduce heat in skillet, stir in sauce, cook about 3 min. more, check with probe for safety: 145 temp.
Stir bacon, tomato, spinach in pasta.
Advice and alterations: I used 1 tsp. of hot sauce, and would just leave it out entirely if I was to make it at home. And would likely not use the chipotle flavored pasta mix. Just too much 'bite' for my mouth. I sliced up the pork while the sauce was simmering on low, stirring in a bit of water if it gets too dry, and kept the pork slices warm during the 30 min. of serving time. I suspect that, like lots of things that improve with time, the flavor is really good if you have leftovers of the pork loin, sitting in the sauce to reheat the following day.
In the effort to be completely transparent, I will go ahead and say I did not put the pork loin in my mount. But I did eat some of the pasta dish, which is nearly as bad, with bacon bits. As well as oh-my-goodness sun dried tomatoes. And oh-yuck wilted spinach. It was pretty good, though a bit spicier than something I would normally choose to consume.
So here's the recipe, like it is printed in the newspaper ad. and on the laminated cards.
Chipolte-mango pork with pasta
1/2 cups water
1/2 cup reduced-fat milk
2 Tbs. canola oil, divided (which I mostly left out of the pasta)
1 pouch chipotle pasta side dish mix (we were using Knorr, 4.3 oz.)
1 pork tenderloin (about one pound)
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 cup fresh mango peach salsa, well drained
2 Tbs. fresh cilantro finely chopped
1/2 cup light mayonnaise (olive oil)
2 tsp. chipotle pepper sauce (Tabasco makes this)
2 cups, lightly packed fresh baby spinach leaves
1/2 cup cooked bacon pieces/bits
1/4 cup julienne cut, sun dried tomatoes, drained
Start pasta according to package directions.
Preheat large skillet, add 1 Tbs. oil. Pork should be cut into four fairly equal long slices, by cutting lengthwise, then cut in half. Season with salt. Cook about 6-8 min, till lightly browned, turning as needed. Stir together drained salsa, chopped cilantro, mayonnaise, pepper sauce. Reduce heat in skillet, stir in sauce, cook about 3 min. more, check with probe for safety: 145 temp.
Stir bacon, tomato, spinach in pasta.
Advice and alterations: I used 1 tsp. of hot sauce, and would just leave it out entirely if I was to make it at home. And would likely not use the chipotle flavored pasta mix. Just too much 'bite' for my mouth. I sliced up the pork while the sauce was simmering on low, stirring in a bit of water if it gets too dry, and kept the pork slices warm during the 30 min. of serving time. I suspect that, like lots of things that improve with time, the flavor is really good if you have leftovers of the pork loin, sitting in the sauce to reheat the following day.
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