Tag Archives: self esteem

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.

Reduce Stress Instantly, The Flying Lawn Chair Incident

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Stress. The Flying Lawn Chair Incident. How to Save Time Instantly.

Dateline: DFW Airport International Branch Headquarters, chair in the corner, face to the wall.

First, I’d like to apologize to those unfortunate passengers on flights with me this weekend. If you are thinking, “Maybe I was on a plane with her and I didn’t know it,” you were not. If you recall a short blond woman, her agonized face mashed into the window, who seemed determined to cough up her lungs, or heard one side of the 737 you were in crackle and thunder, just maybe you were. I’m very, very sorry.

Want to save yourself a lot of stress and lower your personal “annoying-to-others” score? It’s really not that tough. Technically. Technically, like jumping rope for five minutes a day can change your life—technically.

To save time and stress, all you have to do is pass out a little permission and decide:

Other people get to do what they do. They do not require my agreement. My opinion is not important, nor does it make any sense for me to insist on telling people what I think of what other people do. To comment takes time and it’s annoying, except to those very few godlike beings who agree with everything I think about people who aren’t like us. Okay, enough with the sermon.

The following account is true. A retired weatherman had an idea how he could make use of several weather balloons cluttering up his garage and change the face of aviation as we know it. First he tied four balloons to an aluminum and plastic weave lawn chair. Next he strapped himself in. Then he popped the launch cords on the balloons. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . LIFT OFF!

Yeah, baby. We are flying now. Mostly we are tumbling end-over-end through the first ten thousand feet. “Oh, what a beautiful blue sky–whoa, there’s my house! Oh, what a beautiful blue sky–whoa, there’s Chicago!” The view went from spectacular to, well, nauseating. But the Man Who Launched His Lawn Chair (MWLLC) was having a ball. Airport radars spotted an unidentified blip on their radar screens. News syndicates were alerted. Planes were diverted. Non-believers were converted. (Sorry, like the MWLLC, I couldn’t stop myself.)

The MWLLC’s wife wrung her hands, though when reporters asked her if she was surprised at her husband’s antics, she admitted such projects on slow summer afternoons were nothing new for her husband. She also admitted the MWLLC had stopped telling her his plans since she’d taken to calling the police and asking the procedures for getting a spouse committed.

What’s the point of this tale? As you read, did any part of you think…What kind of crazy person does something like that?

To instantly reduce stress, let go and let other people have fun. Enjoy their enjoying. You’d think we’d all be savvy on this strategy, but such is not the case. At least not for me and, unless you are Dr. L from the radio who makes no wrong moves, like me, you fall into the boring trap of questioning why other people enjoy activities and possessions you do not. And, if you are like me, when you ask this question, your tone informs listeners that, unlike myself, people are crazy and not as wise as I am if they:

Get up at 2 a.m. on Black Friday. Deep fry their turkey. Don’t deep fry their turkey. Salt their food before tasting it. Buy expensive cars. Spank their kids. Don’t spank their kids. Put up an artificial tree. Spend a day finding a real tree. Watch that stupid television show. Enjoy mincemeat pie. Watch NASCAR, golf, basketball, baseball, fake-real television families, or prison shows. Try to buy love by giving expensive Christmas presents. Are too cheap to give expensive Christmas presents. Are foolish enough to take out a second mortgage to send their child to private college. Are selfish enough to refuse to take out a second mortgage to send their child to private college.

You’ve got the picture. I know. Ouch. Ouch. Guilty. Guilty. One of the elements of psychology that continuously amazes me is how hard and complicated something as simple as enjoying the moment really is.

About the promised Triple Stuffed Turkey Recipe? Next year when I can breathe like a normal person again. Coming: Unique Gifts Only You Can Give.

Those Stress Relief Advice Givers are Just Making Stuff Up

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Stress. Some of These Advice Givers are Just Making Stuff Up

Dateline: Gold’s Gym International Branch Office.  A couple of Texas basketball players train here in the summer. Makes the treadmill more fun.

Stress Relief Advice for the Holiday Season

How to steam a turkey in a mop bucket, how to make a wreath out of old toothbrushes, how to bake cookies shaped like antlers using sun power, how to spice up your cocoa with plants from your backyard…and on and on.  

Are you ready for the feature writers to pull out those well-worn ‘seasonal’ features?  How many times do we all have to stand around in the kitchen on Thanksgiving Day and wring our hands trading salmonella rumors?

To honor the relentless nonsensical suggestions we endure this time of year, I’m sharing two bits of bizarre advice to represent the group.

 Stress and Fat Free Turkey

Want to enjoy turkey on Thanksgiving, but you are afraid of the fat? (Okay, let’s be honest here. If you are tackling some weight issue or just living your life beating yourself up…if your first concern is the fat in turkey??…Just saying.) This tip is courtesy of one of the doctor shows. The recommendation: “If you want to enjoy turkey on the Big Day but don’t want the fat, substitute that tasty turkey breast and gravy, that delicious turkey leg… with a fat free (read: so dry you could use it as a sponge) ground turkey CUPCAKE. The delusional doctor actually added, “Not only is a turkey cupcake low in fat, it’s fun to eat!”

Doggie Stress at the Turkey Table 

We don’t want to leave out the pet on this family holiday. This chunk of news is taken from some guy on the Animal Channel. “Is your pet a problem at the dinner table? Does your dog beg for a taste of that lucious turkey dinner the people are enjoying?”

Now, right away, the fact this guy can ask such questions should warn you to plug your ears with hot tar. Lucky for us dog owners, he answers his own questions.  He says, (You should probably sit down for this one.) “While it may seem like what your dog wants is a bit of food, all he really wants is your attention.” (I know. I almost choked I was laughing so hard.)

The dog man continues: “When your dog begs at Thanksgiving Dinner, just slip your hand under the table and give him a pat on the head.”

Right. And bring back a bloody stub. A guest tearing out of the house for the emergency room during Thanksgiving Dinner is such a downer. It’s a downer for the foolishly injured person, too, because the wait will be long at the hospital. Lots of people ‘full of in a holiday spirit’ who forgot to use a potholder taking the turkey out of the oven. Those folks often sport broken toes and charred shins. Then there are the domestic violence cases. Men with turkey legs wedged sideways in their mouths and women who lost the sweet potates and marshmellows food fight.On Thanksgiving day you have to wait forever to see a doctor….I mean, that’s what I’ve heard.

Coming:  Recipe Exclusive!  Famous Triple Stuffed Turkey

 

 

 

 

Stress, Addiction, Humility, and the “Stolen Identity Incident”

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Stress, Addiction, and the “Stolen Identity Incident”

Dateline: San Antonio River Walk International Branch Office. One block over, on March 6, 1836, all the well-armed and well-dressed Mexicans in the world, stormed the Alamo killing everyone inside.  Newspapers in the weeks following ran stories encouraging settlers to “Come on down!” As one of those news articles in the Texas State Library says, “Texas is still a great opportunity for you and your family. The report claiming that the men in the Alamo were killed is a false rumor, propaganda sent out by politicians.”  Sigh. Things haven’t changed much.

In thinking about stress management and addiction, I realized it was time for the periodic pledge, the pledge that can eliminate loads of stress right off the top.

The pledge: I can be as big an idiot as anyone else. Even as big an idiot as the people I’m calling idiots. Whew. What a relief not to have to go through the world upset when people don’t do things the way I do, or more honestly, the way I think they should do them.

My special person and I were married in Mexico City and before you pull up lofty visions of the “destination” weddings where the couple or parents rent a hotel for a weekend and fly in two hundred of their closest friends to Paris or Tahiti, the event included the Registro Civil, the two of us, and the taxi driver as a witness.  He was a graduate student and I was a college junior though not the typical age of that group due to several spectacular detours.

In other words. We had no money. Before our big adventure,we embraced our American citizenship and took out a Mastercard. The trip was great, Acapulco, villages, historicalcities. A good time was had by all. The trouble started when we received our Mastercard bill which was a huge amount way beyond our own frugal spending.Clearly, the credit card number had been stolen and whoever took it charged everythingin sight knowing once they were caught the party was over.

Incensed, we marched down to the bank issuing the card and met with the head of the fraud department who was very sympathetic and assured us the bank would help find the culprit. All we had to do was sit down at the computer screen and review the charges marking the ones we did not make. Much relieved we set to work. Thirty minutes later we waited until the fraud director was away from her desk, then we ducked our heads and sneaked quietly to the elevator and out of there.

Repeat after me: “I can be as big an idiot…”

For those who honestly believe they are not subject to all the craziness of being human, there’s always Dr.Laura who knows all.

For me, it’s a comfort to recognize we’re all nuts.

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?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.