When we put our eldest on our cell phone plan last summer, we extended our contract with T*Mobile another two years from that day. Then we discovered that we hate T*Mobile!
In Manhattan and Brooklyn, it really doesn't matter what carrier you use because they all have brilliant reception. My cell phone even works in the elevator of my mom's building. But around New Paltz, my wife and I noticed that our cell phones cut out in various spots. This is especially true in the outlying areas like Gardiner and Rosendale, where there aren't any local cell phone towers, but more annoying is that my phone loses contact when I'm driving to and from Manhattan on my way to The City. This is especially troublesome because I often lose contact with my students' parents I'm speaking with, so I tend to have difficulty conducting my work. When I took the bus to Manhattan, this issue wasn't quite as irksome because people aren't really allowed to use their cell phones en route. But lately I've been driving, and the problem has become much more apparent.
I wouldn't mind this so much if it weren't for the fact that many other major carriers have better coverage. When I was up in the relatively obscure north western part of the state where the fire academy is located, all of the other would-be fire fighters had fine reception, but I was totally blacked out. In fact, I couldn't use my cell phone until I was miles away from Montour Falls. And the same is true for the highways to NYC. T*Mobile works fine for most of Interstate 87 (not all of it, mind you), but it fares poorly when I break from 87 and take some of the other roads that speed up my trip.
Verizon doesn't have this problem, and one of my friends showed me his cool new Verizon phone. It does everything my Sidekick III does -- AND it works where my stupid phone doesn't.
I called T*Mobile to see if I could get out of my contract, but I don't think it's going to work because they insist that if you have good reception at work and at home (but not necessarily in between), then you're stuck with them. Time ticks (almost) inexorably towards two summers from now -- just 18 months to go....
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
Two-Hour Delays
When it snows during the night, we often get two-hour school delays the next morning. Normally these are a blessing, since everyone gets to sleep late, but today it was a curse for sure.
To begin with, I was looking forward to subbing for one of the teachers, but the delay caused a change in the schedule that precluded even a half-day of subbing. This wasn't a huge financial hit, but I really do like to sub, and I could have used the money. So it goes. I still had a full day of tutoring to look forward to; in fact, I was starting early on account of a make-up session, so I had to be in The City by 1:45, necessitating a New Paltz departure by 12 at the latest.
EARLY KNITTERS
The next snag was that Shirra's store has a special weekly gathering of Friday morning knitters; Shirra has to be at the store by 9:30. This meant that I had to take all three kids to their respective schools. The hours were rather horrendous: Fiona at 9:30, Maeve an hour later, and Emmett at 11! Then Fiona forgot her homework folder, and the next thing you know, I had to make an extra trip home to pick it up. I had to get something at the doctor's office before heading to Manhattan, too.
TWO DAYS in ONE
I often say that my life, split as it is between Paltz and York, makes it feel like I live two days every 24 hours. This was one such day. By 12, I had made these trips around New Paltz:
9:30 Middle School; also met with one of Fiona's teachers
10:00 Shirra's store; also The Bakery (for the paper)
10:30 Pre-School
11:00 Lenape
11:15 Middle School
11:30 Shirra's store
11:45 Doctor's office
All of this was followed by my 85-mile trips to and from Manhattan and my tutoring, which included 2 miles of unicycling. I didn't get back to New Paltz till 8, and then I had to spend the next half-hour shopping for some groceries.
I'm pooped.
To begin with, I was looking forward to subbing for one of the teachers, but the delay caused a change in the schedule that precluded even a half-day of subbing. This wasn't a huge financial hit, but I really do like to sub, and I could have used the money. So it goes. I still had a full day of tutoring to look forward to; in fact, I was starting early on account of a make-up session, so I had to be in The City by 1:45, necessitating a New Paltz departure by 12 at the latest.
EARLY KNITTERS
The next snag was that Shirra's store has a special weekly gathering of Friday morning knitters; Shirra has to be at the store by 9:30. This meant that I had to take all three kids to their respective schools. The hours were rather horrendous: Fiona at 9:30, Maeve an hour later, and Emmett at 11! Then Fiona forgot her homework folder, and the next thing you know, I had to make an extra trip home to pick it up. I had to get something at the doctor's office before heading to Manhattan, too.
TWO DAYS in ONE
I often say that my life, split as it is between Paltz and York, makes it feel like I live two days every 24 hours. This was one such day. By 12, I had made these trips around New Paltz:
9:30 Middle School; also met with one of Fiona's teachers
10:00 Shirra's store; also The Bakery (for the paper)
10:30 Pre-School
11:00 Lenape
11:15 Middle School
11:30 Shirra's store
11:45 Doctor's office
All of this was followed by my 85-mile trips to and from Manhattan and my tutoring, which included 2 miles of unicycling. I didn't get back to New Paltz till 8, and then I had to spend the next half-hour shopping for some groceries.
I'm pooped.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Powerless
Shirra and I awoke on Friday morning to the sound of our eldest walking into the bedroom. She was carrying a flashlight, and the house was eerily dark. Despite my stupor, I realized that we were experiencing a power outage due, no doubt, to downed power lines. I was not at all surprised that 3 seconds later, my fire pager went off. In fact, I was already getting out of bed and putting on my clothes, ready to drive to the scene.
It turned out that a power line had been severed near the Freihoffer's on N. Putt. By 7 am I was crawling back into bed for a few minutes of relaxation; I took Fiona to school a few minutes later and didn't get to take a nap until the other two kids were at school a few hours later. Power came on at 8.
It was strange driving around New Paltz during the power outage. There were whole areas that were blacked out, and then I'd pass a house that must have had a back-up generator because all of their Christmas lights were blazing away merrily. It was also weird trying to walk around my house when it was so dark. The only lights I could see were the tiny battery-operated blinkers of my cell phone and the smoke alarms.
It turned out that a power line had been severed near the Freihoffer's on N. Putt. By 7 am I was crawling back into bed for a few minutes of relaxation; I took Fiona to school a few minutes later and didn't get to take a nap until the other two kids were at school a few hours later. Power came on at 8.
It was strange driving around New Paltz during the power outage. There were whole areas that were blacked out, and then I'd pass a house that must have had a back-up generator because all of their Christmas lights were blazing away merrily. It was also weird trying to walk around my house when it was so dark. The only lights I could see were the tiny battery-operated blinkers of my cell phone and the smoke alarms.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
NEWSFLASH: CON ARTIST
Just after reading that last post (below) to the wife, she reported that she'd been hustled by a man about a month ago during a snowstorm. He came by her store and told her a story about how his wife's car had broken down and that she was somehow stranded on the highway. He showed his own car (his 8-year-old son in the back) and explained that he needed $10 for gas so that he could get to her, yadda yadda yadda. Shirra's NYC antennae were down, and she didn't immediately suspect that this was a con. She handed him the money, fully expecting to be repaid when a few days later when the man had a chance to send her a check. She's still waiting for that envelope.
Now, Shirra's no dope, and she never fell for stuff like this back in the Big City, so he must have been a pretty good con artist. Still, she felt ridiculous when she realized that she'd been had. Her only description of the miscreant is that he's an Aftrican-American man in his 40s.
I'm sorry to hear that anyone gets fooled like this anymore, especially my family, but it does help to restore my faith in inhumanity.
PS: My brother had the same con pulled on him (in Manhattan) over a decade ago. He fell for it, too. Then about 6 months later, the same man approached him (on the same street, no less). John heard the same story (about the man's wife being stranded in their car, yadda yadda yadda). My brother has a sneaky streak. He let the man tell the entire woeful tale and kept plugging away with questions and comments until he felt that he'd wasted a good portion of the man's time, at least 15 minutes. Finally, my brother said that he recognized the man (and the story) from before and that he'd be willing to part with another $5 if the man would simply admit that it was a con both times. Interestingly, this schnorrer had too much dignity to fess up to his lie and walked away from the money. There's a moral in there somewhere if you're willing to look for it closely.
Now, Shirra's no dope, and she never fell for stuff like this back in the Big City, so he must have been a pretty good con artist. Still, she felt ridiculous when she realized that she'd been had. Her only description of the miscreant is that he's an Aftrican-American man in his 40s.
I'm sorry to hear that anyone gets fooled like this anymore, especially my family, but it does help to restore my faith in inhumanity.
PS: My brother had the same con pulled on him (in Manhattan) over a decade ago. He fell for it, too. Then about 6 months later, the same man approached him (on the same street, no less). John heard the same story (about the man's wife being stranded in their car, yadda yadda yadda). My brother has a sneaky streak. He let the man tell the entire woeful tale and kept plugging away with questions and comments until he felt that he'd wasted a good portion of the man's time, at least 15 minutes. Finally, my brother said that he recognized the man (and the story) from before and that he'd be willing to part with another $5 if the man would simply admit that it was a con both times. Interestingly, this schnorrer had too much dignity to fess up to his lie and walked away from the money. There's a moral in there somewhere if you're willing to look for it closely.
I Saw a Man (Begging) about a Dog
For just the 2nd time since I've moved to New Paltz 16 months ago, I came across a person asking for a handout. Both times it happened in the New Paltz Plaza in the Stop and Shop parking lot. The man today was carrying a pooch in one hand and some trinkets in the other. He asked if I would buy a Tibetan keychain to help him feed his dog. A month ago, a young man asked for some money for food.
In NYC, I knew that the 'proper' way to handle such requests was to ignore them. It's a good bet that anyone asking for assistance is a con artist or a ne'er-do-well, and the prevailing wisdom is that everyone would be better served if citizens didn't help out but left the assisting to government agencies and charitable groups like churches, synagogs, and soup kitchens. In theory, this would eventually force the truly needy to seek out proper help rather than relying on the unreliable public. I never liked this 'proper' method. I've come to prefer the way my ancestors handled things in the shtetl.
Back in the days of peasant Jewry, beggars were called schnorrers (or shnorrers). They called upon townsfolk rich and not-so-rich for regular handouts, and the religion (and tradition) called for those better off to give schnorrers a meal and a bed for the night. I like this form of public assistance even more than handing someone a $5 bill and hoping that they have a warm place to sleep.
But I have a feeling that the modern shtetl of New Paltz has already figured out some methods to help those in need. And I'm pretty sure that they don't involve Tibetan keychains. I just wish I knew what they did involve.
In NYC, I knew that the 'proper' way to handle such requests was to ignore them. It's a good bet that anyone asking for assistance is a con artist or a ne'er-do-well, and the prevailing wisdom is that everyone would be better served if citizens didn't help out but left the assisting to government agencies and charitable groups like churches, synagogs, and soup kitchens. In theory, this would eventually force the truly needy to seek out proper help rather than relying on the unreliable public. I never liked this 'proper' method. I've come to prefer the way my ancestors handled things in the shtetl.
Back in the days of peasant Jewry, beggars were called schnorrers (or shnorrers). They called upon townsfolk rich and not-so-rich for regular handouts, and the religion (and tradition) called for those better off to give schnorrers a meal and a bed for the night. I like this form of public assistance even more than handing someone a $5 bill and hoping that they have a warm place to sleep.
But I have a feeling that the modern shtetl of New Paltz has already figured out some methods to help those in need. And I'm pretty sure that they don't involve Tibetan keychains. I just wish I knew what they did involve.
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