Tag Archives: emotions

The Chaise Lounge War: STRESS in PARADISE, Episode Two

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The Chaise Lounge War: Stress in Paradise. Episode Two

Dateline: The Giggling Marlin. Cabo San Lucas International Branch Bar. I don’t think the people in here are normal. I also think if they realize I’m listening to their conversations for national publication, things could get dangerous.

In order to appreciate the dangerous waters stirred up by the Chaise Lounge War, you must have joined up earlier with Stress in Paradise. Episode One: Revolution on the Beach.

Revolution is part of the vocabulary of Mexico. There are almost daily public demonstrations in Mexico City demanding better pay for agricultural and services workers. And here in Cabo San Lucas, another desperate cause has driven the oppressed to rise up. The Ultimate Supreme Superlative Fabulous Luxury (see previous confession) Hilton Resort where we’re staying simply does not have enough ultimate supreme chaise lounges in superlative fabulous locations. And the non-natives are restless.

Strictly speaking there are enough chairs so that every guest has a place to plant his or her soon-to-blistered body in the sun. There are loads of chaises—around the pools, on the overlooks, on the sand next to the water, everywhere–and the helpful guys in white will gladly adjust an umbrella to suit your needs. Each chaise is a little piece of heaven…you’d think. But here’s the rub. Some chaises are preferable over others. The ones on the overlook nearest the pounding surf are favored, unless you have children and are thus forced to set up camp nearer the many pools. Also, there are a dozen or so king size chaises, those are big ticket. The most precious are the ‘private’ king chaises with stacks of fresh pillows and surrounded by white muslin drapes. You know the kind, you’ve seen them—billowing white cotton, blue sky, turquoise water in the background–in those travel magazines hawking resorts intended for Wall Street superstars and their trophy wives. 

A day spent hanging out in a super chaise lounge suite is a day of luxury for the regular guest and a day of fantasy for a Hilton Points casher like me.

And there are not enough of these super lounges, not enough chairs on the big ticket overlook for every guest who thinks he or she should be able to dictate their life experiences. And, just as the Potato Famine of 1845 in Ireland resulted in a million immigrants and maybe the rise of unions in Chicago, the lack of premo chaise lounges has resulted in increasingly disturbed behavior.

The first acts of the revolution were harmless enough, unless you were picky about the speed with which you were served breakfast at the restaurant over-looking the waves and the jewel chaise lounges. The initial response for resort pros had been to get up early, finish breakfast first, and take chase lounge possession before those with more ordinary habits made it to the battlefield. Unfortunately, this tactic was so popular alarms were being set earlier and earlier each day until the bars were losing night time money and slackers like me didn’t appreciate the pitter patter of anxious feet and guests hollering, “Run, baby, run! I saw a couple break from the elevator! Bring six magazines!”

There was an upper limit to early riser tactic.

 Resort life was about to get ugly.

Next: Resorters Gone Wild!

The Fourteen Dollar Martini Murder, Stress in Paradise

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The Fourteen Dollar Martini Murder, Stress in Paradise

Episode One: Revolution on the Beach

Dateline: Cabo San Lucas Hilton Resort International Branch Headquarters.
This place is what heaven would be like if you could get in using Hilton Points. There is one small problem in paradise, though. I didn’t think the issue would come to this, but these people are relentless and used to getting what they want.

Note: I am grateful not to be an only child, or the first child. When you grow up with siblings, you know you don’t get your way all the time. Just ask my little brother.

To kick off the New Year in proper psychologist fashion, I’d planned to write a series on the absolutelyhardest psychological problem for all us. Something lite on how to be a happy human in every way, all the time–just pay shipping and handling. But then,
everything went all to heck here at the resort. And, well, total happiness will
have to wait.

Set-up:  Ultimate Supreme Superlative Fabulous Luxury…resort on the beach of the Sea of Cortez. (Yes, I’ve been watching Toddlers a.nd Tierras. It’s a call for help.)…Glorious Spanish style hotel, infinity pools, palm trees, white uniformed waiters and helpers to meet every need of guests stretched out on gel memory foam chaise lounges, each with several tan and white beach towels (warmed at night in December). There are swim up bars, spa stations, four restaurants, and even whales on the horizon.

Perfect, right? Well, maybe, until the humans who’d migrated from the north
noticed one teeny tiny flaw in the perfect hotel on the perfect beach. This wee
fact chaffs like hot sand too high up in the bathing suit.

To comprehend the seriousness of the Chaise Lounge War, we are talking combatants with unlimited funds. I am likely the only woman here who bought her bathing suit ‘cover-all’ (I thought the name‘cover all’ served my purpose perfectly.) at Walmart. The man one chaise over just told someone casually: “My son only wanted to go to SMU or Duke, so heonly applied to those two. He was accepted at both. SMU offered him a full four-year scholarship, but then after touring both campuses, he decided he liked the Duke camps a tiny bit better. So that’s where he went and it cost me $240,000.”

Yeah, I know. Martians, right? I expected him to say, “But then after touring both campuses, he told me he liked Duke a tiny bit better, and I asked him if he wanted to live.”

So, different folks. I don’t think Hilton points are the main currency here.

When we arrived before Christmas the hotel was not completely full and the chaise lounge issue was but a mere fleeting shadow over paradise. But as the week closed in on New Year’s, the chaise lounge dilemma rumbled and grew, sucking up more and more time and attention. And, yes, fear. Now the chaise lounge issue has careened completely off the page.

There’s talk of stun guns.

Next: Episode Two. The Wealthy Strike Back at Unfair Pool Regulations!

 

 

Stress Holiday Encore: Make Money Off Your Body Scans!

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ENCORE POST:

Dateline:  (Encore) Willie’s Place, Carl’s Corner, Texas. Whole bunch of people sang here.

Setup:  I’m in hiding.  Ever since I offered my Body Scan for public consumption…the reporters, the cameras…Geraldo…

Remember John Lennon’s line, “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans?”

What a chunk of truth.  There I was, in a pretty normal life, planning more normal life….when my world was turned upside down.  You guessed it.  My Body Scan distribution company …BS,Inc… has been successful beyond my wildest dreams.

Note: What do financial success and fame have to do with the goal of this program?  Which, in case you’ve forgotten, is for each of us professed emotional weenies…to muddle toward…just a wee bit toward…improved emotional functioning. Or, simply…to not have every second of every minute of every hour of every day….decided by our emotions.  To do more in our lives than run around wasting time, spending money, falling for fad diets, worrying what other people think…comparing ourselves, our kids, our house, our car, our education, our butt size, our creative talents….

Thus, the story of my Body Scan business (BS. Inc.), is but one example of the seduction of the Pseudo Self (see previous on doughnuts and doughnut holes), one more attempt to manage anxiety by propping up my image to the world.  If you’d rather go the consumer route, the commercials during one half hour (okay, an hour and a half) of Prison Wives last night, told me a Dodge Ram means I’m confident, staying at a Holiday Inn means I can “be myself”, buying your wife diamonds or an expensive car shows you really think she’s grand… (Using money from the family budget…but, hey, it’s the thought.  The thought in this case is, “See, I love you so much I didn’t consider your input when spending this huge amount of money…”)

One way to break the hold “image making” has on us is to laugh at ourselves.  Again, if you don’t believe you have any reason to laugh because you are completley emotinally put together….well, Dr. Laura can still be found on the radio.

Back to the real BS, Inc. and whining about the demands of success.  Those of you…wiser in the world than I…who lacks even one cell of entrepreneurial expertise…probably spotted my first error in announcing my Body Scan availability. Right. Christmas.  Biggest shopping season of the year.  How could I foretell the thousands rush orders?  So many years of training in human behavior.  And, yet I hadn’t predicted the clamor when people recognized my Body Scan products as the perfect present for relatives, officemates, and military serving overseas.

And as is true with lottery winners, I found myself battling an onslaught of business opportunities.

First came the television cable channels in a bidding war for my reality show.  “Body Scans Around the World” which had great promise, but is now on hold due to artistic differences…The producer is insisting on a variety of what she calls “outfits” for the various airport venues…while I think to upgrade from black jeans and polo shirts would be a tragic error.

Next, of course, here came Hollywood.  Could I write a screenplay?  Who did I think should play me in the film?  Which ended up in another artistic dispute.  I know they think Julia Roberts is perfect, and, probably that’s true if you just go for face and body.  But, we’re talking scrutiny by Homeland Security and, right away, it’s going to be glaringly obvious that I am not as tall as Julia Roberts.  My suggestion was Heather Locklear.  The production will have to wait until some sort of Julia Roberts-Heather Locklear compromise actress can be found.

Where Hollywood goes, can Heff be far behind?  Yes, next came the plea for my Body Scan Playboy centerfold which is an obvious choice when you think about it. That offer is also on hold as I am gripped trying to decide if I can bear to have my family see my BS exposed.

To make some sense of my BS bonanza, I’ve decided the best way to go is through selling franchises.  I simply cannot keep up with the BS demand around the world on my own.  If you see the potential in your section of the world, send me your credit card number.  Franchise are, of course, FREE…just pay shipping and handling, and, if you call in the next 24 hours, you can try BS RISK FREE…all you have to do is check the box where you are a member of BS International and will have fifteen dollars deducted from your credit card account for as long as we both shall live. 

And, you know how they say…. “The sky’s the limit!”

Well, that’s not true for BS, Inc.  I’ve received a down payment and a pint of blood from a man in Quartzite, Arizona, who, thinking out of the box…well outside the trailer….He recognized my Body Scan as proof of alien inhabitation of Earth.  The silvery hue. Of course!  He wants my BS to make a personal appearance at his grand opening, but I’m afraid coverage in Quartzite will leave me over-exposed.

Stress, So You Think Crashing One Wedding Was Rude?

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Stress, Runaway Pooch Crashes Five Star Wedding !

Dateline: Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Although the Sea of Cortez bears his name, it was not Hernan Cortez, but his navigator, who is credited with discovering Cabo San Lucas in 1537. Cabo San Lucas and Cabo San Jose soon became a busy stopovers for pirates.

What’s the Difference Between…Breaking Out of “Group Think Stress” and Just Being Annoying?  The trick is considering other people without over-considering them. 

Is the guy who insists on mowing the lawn in his birthday suit a free thinker or an unpleasant surprise?  Is the guy who refuses to shut down his cell phone and therefore prevents the flight from taking off…merely side-stepping ‘group think’?

And that woman in the bathing suit and the towel on her head that crashed the black-tie wedding reception? 

Dateline:  Dallas, Texas. Lincoln Center Hilton.

Finishing a swim, I’d taken Shrinker, our ancient, crippled shih tzu down for a stumble in the grass around the big fancy pool at the big fancy hotel hoping for a productive result.  I didn’t need a leash as Shrinker was as slow as certain relatives are reaching for their wallets.  Since her stroke, she’ambled sort of sideways making about a yard a minute. The pool grass part hadn’t been totally successful, but as we had group dinner plans, I was in a bit of a rush to get dressed. I carried the old sweetie to the bank of elevators in the center of the lobby and set her down to punch the button.  The left side of the main hall opened into a ballroom from which orchestra music and wonderful food smells wafted. At the far side of the ballroom the bride and groom were behind a magnificent candle laden table making a toast.

Which is when it happened.  When the formerly snail-paced Shrinker Dog caught the smell of sizzling steak. She shot from my between my ankles and into the ballroom going all-out, knowing when I caught up with her, all hope of garnering steak was gone.

What did I do?  What could I do?  I centered my flip-flops, re-wrapped the too-large towel around my dripping head, and flung my bathing-suited self into the party. Stroke or no stroke, sweet babe was all woman when it came to food. She rocketed in her side-ways gait across the dance floor scattering guests. Then she dove under the covered white table leaving me stupidity flopping around trying to find her. Sophisticated people glared, candles were grabbed, I heard lenses come off video cameras.  I pretended I was having an instant onset of a serious mental disorder characterized by babbling.  I kept my head down as I flushed out the Shrinker dog who bounded away and tacked her way back across the dance floor…leaving little presents, quickly picked up by men in tuxedos. Thus, a couple of good things came out of the event.  My trip down to the grass was successful after all and, having kept my head down, I’d managed to stay anonymous.

Waiting for the elevator when we returned with friends around midnight, a well-dressed man and woman sidled up. At first the man looked confused.  Then not so much.  “I know you!” he said, pointing a knowing and sophisticated finger.  “You’re the woman with the dog!”

The trick is considering other people without over-considering them.  The husband alerting his new bride not to use her fingers on her cake…could have been concerned about bothering the other guests could possibly, maybe, sort of been showing a bit of over-concern for the guests. Of course, marriage means “I love-you-your-perfect-except-for-these-few-hundred-little-things-you-must-change-if-I-am-to-be-kept-comfortable.”  And, I must not be uncomfortable, ever. That’s the deal.

Say, what? What goes both ways?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stress. The Frog Who Flung Himself Off the Mountain

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Dateline: Lost in phone tree hell. Everyone’s been here. I see your tracks, the bloody scratches on the walls made when you tried to escape to the world of real people.

The Goal: The less you take personally in your life, the better life you will have. Thus, our goal on this site is to learn ways to live more easily and joyfully in this world. One more segment in the true life experience of a psychologist taking Dell Corporation personally.

There’s a highland jungle frog about the size of a nickel. His only means of protection is to hop, which often is not sufficient to escape his enemies. His nature is to fight and hop with everything he has, then, if these efforts fail, he clinches his little legs to his sides and throws himself off the mountain.

I now understand the wisdom of the highland jungle frog.

Set-up. To endure the following conclusion to a sad tale of society insanity, you will need to catch up reading part one and part two.

As we return to the Day of Dell, I have just been bumped out of regular Customer Service into the realm of the Executive Resolution Specialist. Executive Resolution Specialist Guy thanks me for choosing Dell and asks me to give him my name, date of birth, and the odds on Texas winning the National Football Championship. He apologizes for the day I have wasted on the phone and assures me he will solve the problem. Sigh of relief. Executive Resolution Specialist Guy puts me on hold.

He returns to the call, has the correct order, and asks for my credit card number, the only number Dell has been receptive to all day. The Executive Resolution Specialist pauses. It is that this juncture that I lose it at a psycho level.

In my family psycho enters the picture when money or getting the best deal comes into the discussion. The family crest is an emblem with the words: WE PAY OUR BILLS. In other families children grow up with warm stories of family holidays and traditions passed down from one happy generation to the next. In my family the stories are about how my predecessors made it through the depression by growing their own food in the backyard and going without shoes.

Thus–when the beast bearing the name Executive Resolution Specialist said the kryptonite words: “Ma’am your credit card has been declined,”…well, given the previous seven hours on the phone…I earthquake level lost it. I regret being in one of my favorite restaurants at that point because I would have liked to return.

We grew up in a cash up front atmosphere where paying interest or a late fee would be equal to armed robbery. Okay maybe equal to burning down a shed. Or amputating one of your own toes.

Remember the ole Pseudo Self? That part of who you are that’s negotiable depending on what other people think of you? My Pseudo Self is constructed such that when these words are said, “Your credit card has been declined” what I hear is, “Contrary to the image you give to the rest of the world…you are a DEADBEAT. You WILL go to prison!”

In response to being humiliated (strictly the realm of the pseudo self since you can only humiliate yourself) I launched a roaring rebuttal insisting that the Dell Executive Level Problem Resolver was WRONG WRONG WRONG. I went on to relate my life history as a faithful bill payer and threw around all sorts of high-sounding numbers regarding spending limits to make an impression and clarify my status in the world. I’m not saying I was upset, but one of the waiters came over and slipped a napkin into my view. A napkin that read, “Don’t worry about your check. You don’t owe us anything.”  I assume he meant the free meal as a parting gift.

The corker?  Still in a self-righteous melt-down, I called American Express where I was informed that Dell Executive Level Problem Resolver was RIGHT, RIGHT, RIGHT. Someone had called into American Express automated services and reported my card number as lost or stolen.  Yep. Screwed again in phone tree hell. And, now I sorta needed to call Dell back. I’m thinking put a towel over the phone and fake symptoms of a recent stroke.

 

 

 

 

 

Swinging on the Limbs of Phone Trees. Stress, Part 3

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Dateline:  Left hand on one phone tree limb…Right hand gripping another tree limb…oops.

PART THREE.  Hour Three. You will not be able to properly feel my pain or find some shred of forgiveness for my behavior unless you have read Parts One and Two of my torture history.

Hour Three in Phone Tree Stress

Now I’m bumped up to Level Three Customer Service since my request is
apparently too complicated for the first two levels. Level Three Customer
Service Guy thanks me for choosing Dell and asks me to give him all my
information again.  He assures me he will solve the problem. I let out a sigh of relief.

Level Three Customer Service Guy comes back on the call where I wait with gratitude and anticipatory excitement. LTCSG says, “I see the problem.  Your computer only fits with a six cell battery and what they sent you was a nine cell battery.”

I struggle to breathe. Okay. Just because common sense made no sense to Levels One and Two, maybe it will work with Level Three Guy. I begin, “Sir, I’m afraid you are mistaken. Yo see, the computer in front of me came with a nine cell battery and I have purchased several replacement nine cell batteries from Dell.”

Didn’t even make a dent. He continues, “Ma’am. No. Please listen. You have
the right battery for your computer. We just need to send you six cell batteries of the same type and you will be ready to go.”

“But–”

“Trust me. Your computer can only use a six cell battery edition of the same kind of battery you were sent. I will order two of these for you.”

At this point, I suspect I’m going insane. I give up. “Fine. Here’s my credit card number…though you are sending me an incompatible battery and wasting another week.”

To check out the insanity possibility I now drive to Best Buy to get checked out with a Geek Squad Guy. I run my story, show him my computer and ask if I’m losing it. Geek Squad Guy says: “No ma’am. That is a nine cell battery and your computer uses a nine cell battery.”

Trembling and nauseous. I know what hell lies ahead. I call Dell back. I trudge through levels one, two, and three spouting my name, address, and shoe size over and over.

Level Four Supervisor Guy apologizes profusely and says he’ll fix the problem. Could he please have my name, address, last four digits of my Social Security Number, and place of birth.

Hour Four

Fifty-six games of solitaire and four dropped calls (each requiring that I give them my birth certificate again), Level Four Supervisor Guy is back on the phone. I tell him my sad story. He looks up the order for the two batteries Level Three Guy ordered for me. He agrees that those batteries are not the correct batteries. He tells me not to worry, when I receive the batteries, my money will be refunded after I take the package to a UPS office, since I have nothing to do with my life except to do research and run errands for Dell.

Level Four Supervisor Guy has a special goodie for me since I’ve had so much trouble.  The goodie? “We are going to give you free shipping for these new batteries!” he says grandly.

I go back to the insanity possibility.  Did he just say Dell was generously going to
pay for shipping back to Dell the batteries to replace the wrong batteries for which I had paid Express Shipping?  I couldn’t hold in my glee and laughed. He asked me if I’d be interested in opening a Dell credit card.  Now I am roaring with joy.
“Oh, yes, that’s just want I want to do. I want to arrange my life to deal further with
Dell customer service, that is exactly what I want to do.”

Then, Level Four Supervisor Guy asked if I would stay on the line for a survey to help them out.  What?  I’m working for Dell Human Resources now?

Maybe I would have answered a few questions, but I was thinking margarita and a Jorge’s enchilada platter for lunch.  Oh, but wait.  My other phone is ringing….which was handy since my call with Level Four Guy had dropped before the survey commenced and before he’d ordered the correct batteries for me.

I answer the cell. “First, let me thank you for choosing Dell. We show that earlier today you ordered two six-celled batteries. We’d like to follow up on your call to Customer Service. Would you punch in your name, phone number, and the Day Lincoln was shot…and then choose from the following options…”

Lunch turned out to be a fantasy. You’d think this situation couldn’t get worse, but it does. Going insane seems like a small price for how I spent the afternoon.

 

Stress. The Global Village Is Missing Its Idiot.

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Dateline: American Airlines xxx

The point of all this: ’Brain changes’ occur when we are anxious. We go blind, deaf, and confused.

We lose our ability to respond according to priorities.  Finishing a minor task, such as learning how to pick up email on a new device, takes precedence over getting a good night’s rest or having a pleasant evening instead of picking a fight with your special person who has the nerve to point out your bizarre behavior.

We lose our judgment. We say things to customer service people in foreign lands, bad things that are not in line with the good person we want to be in life.

We lose our openness to new ideas–such as reading the instructions.

We DO NOT SEE a way out of our dilemma even when the solution is right in front of our face.

Part Two of Advances in Technology Have Made the World a Village, and I am its Idiot. Without part one the following will make no sense. With part one, it has a shot.

As we return to last night’s battle, no war, with the Freaking Samsung Techno Devil FSTD. I poked around on obvious buttons until the sucker came on. Well, a sunburst welcome screen lit up.

A few seconds later, the puppy went black. I refered to the miniature instruction booklet and was impressed with all the apps and task tools availble on the minuscule replica of the Home Page. The booklet read, “From your home page…” One problem, I couldn’t get past the sunburst to the Homepage. I wildly tapped the screen all over during the brief time it was alive.

I repeat this bizarre tapping and cursing routine twelve times before I am convinced there is no secret tap which will land me on the Home Page. I pack up my pile of device and assorted attachments, climb into my car (which is still 116 degrees in the garage) and return to Best Buy for some help. The nice Geek Squad guy says, “Sure, no problem,” when I tell him about the powering off problem. He taps the welcome screen ever so slightly dragging it sideways. I study his moves like a double agent spy. I need to know how to get to the Home Page without admitting I didn’t know how to get past the welcome screen.

The problem, he said, was that the “sleep function” was set to react in a very short stretch of time. That matter settled I head home to set up the device. I’m feeling pretty spunky, given that sleep function business could have thrown anyone off. I clear a space on my bed and lean back on a stack of pillows to continue my triumph. I put the tip of my finger where the Geek guy’s had been and drug it across the screen. Nothing. I repeated the move four times. Then the screen went black. My spouse suggests there’s not much evening left to pack, eat, and deal with the dogs. I reassure him I will only be a few more minutes. I notice a touch of pique and that “we’re been here before” look.

I remembered something about using a stylus. I’d bought two. I retrieved the Jaws of Life and unpackaged a stylus one. I dragged the stylus corner to corner. The screen went black. Except for the blue X. Turned out, the stylus doubles as a ball point pen.

A call to Best Buy Geek Squad and I’ll all set on the Home Page. I heard giggling on the other end of my phone line, but I’m sure there was a clown making funny animals near phone at Best Buy.