My name is Adam and I'm a Points-a-holic. Yeah, you heard me. I love earning points on any and all of my purchases. I think it all started with the original Discover Card. The more you charged, the more you received back in cash credits. Then I graduated to converting my charges into airline points that could be applied to domestic flights. When I finally worked my credit up to elite status, I moved into the in crowd with American Express.
And this was the best of all. I could convert points into gift cards or concert tickets. They even told me about ways to double my points. Seeing that my totals were actually getting me somewhere tangible, I now look for points anywhere I can find them.
This is what recently led me to signing up for a points program at Sephora. Well, maybe it wasn't all about the points. The cashier was cute, dressed in all black and very friendly. She also said that my purchases would accumulate with every purchase I made, and that I could eventually apply the to products in the store. I said, "why not?", and she asked for my email address to seal the deal.
And here's where a man's mind turns to silly putty when just the right female's asking for information. This mistake, which seemed so innocent at the time, has now made me a member of the Sephora Beauty Insider - an email newsletter for the latest product highlights at Sephora. In this era of Big Brother technology, I could only naturally assume that Sephora would have a historical track of my purchases, and send information on the different colognes I've purchased over the years.
Guess again. Thanks to the highly unsophisticated Sephora marketing team, I'm now getting the latest information on products I would use only for an enhancement to a Halloween costume. Thanks to Sephora, I'm now learning about exciting products like "face luminizer gel", "pore purifying strips", "glossy balm", and "self-tanning body mist." Nothing on cologne, or anything else that pertains to men. I would have even settled for insights into face and body wash. But no......I was stuck with face luminizer gel.
I should have really learned my lesson. All points programs are not created equal. Some are merely looking for your email address so they can blast you with email sensory overload. That's why you have to be selective. Signing up for Best Buy makes sense. Bath and Body Works? Not so much. The same rules apply for credit cards.
Go into any mall, and in any store, and if you agree to open a credit card with them, they extend a total discount of 10-15%. Before long, you realze that you're carrying around about 10 credit cards you don't need and you're suddenly on 10 new email lists that you'd like to delete before every opening them. One thing I know is that I'm not alone here.
Why do we all fall for these clearly obvious marketing tactics? Is it just to save money, or do we somehow boost our egos when either accumulate or apply points. It evokes a sense of arrogance. You become a Points Elitest or Points Snob. And you can't share these points and can only remain with you. So really, what's the point of all this?
It's something our Mothers all taught us a long, long time ago. Don't take candy from strangers.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Bring Your Father to Work Day
My kids rarely ask me what I do for a living, and it's probably a good thing. I'm not even sure I know myself anymore.
However, when my company mentioned that they would be participating in a national "Bring Your Child to Work Day" event, I jumped at the opportunity. This day would not be haphazardly strewn together either. There was an agenda, and a real educational purpose. The children were to be graced with an opening address by the President of our division; a privilege that most employees rarely see.
The children were asked to shadow their parents around the office, and even interview them in the process. They were then expected to report back to the hosts on their findings. They were to be shown a "sizzle reel" explaining the basic tenets of our organization, and the unique capabilities of our sales and technology departments. After lunch, the day would consist of writing ad copy and working on producing their own television commercials.
I decided to take my youngest daughter because my oldest had a scheduled field trip. She was genuinely excited until she saw the agenda. Write copy? Make a commercial? That seemed too complicated and several feet above a 7-year old's head. I explained that they wouldn't make the projects too difficult, but she had her trepidations. Even an innocuous word like "storyboard" freaked her out. I told her it was like writing a comic strip, but she said she couldn't draw. I simplified it and said you just put a few words below a few sketches, but this worked about as well as a small band aid on a bullet wound.
It took a few weeks of prodding, but I finally convinced her. And so, the little girl ventured out on her first day at work in the big city. She was nervous, and who could blame her? Strange environment, new kids. It got me thinking about that feeling we get when starting any new job. We feel like kids.
She arrived promptly and I introduced her to some of my co-workers. She was shy, unlike the way she is almost anywhere else. The agenda began with the ceremonial meet and greets.
They asked each child what they wanted to be when they grew up. Everyone picked their top choice. My daughter had 4: Doctor, Dancer, Singer and Teacher. Holy crap. I'd have to work until I'm 97 to pay off the educational expenses. Maybe she could save money and become a dancing doctor or a singing teacher.
Shortly after, the kids were asked to interview their parents. And this is where the transformation began. If a salesperson entered my office when she was interviewing me, she tried to usher them out. She started forming allegiances with other people so she could get help escorting the more aggressive ones out. The kids were soon asked back into a conference room to share their findings and my daughter said brusquely, "you can leave now, Dad." First she removes colleagues, then she removes me.
After working on her commercial, she started using words like "green screen" and "tag line" like they had always been in her vernacular. One of the producers said that she has a knack for writing copy. People in human resources told me that they were impressed with her participation level. Several salespeople liked her assertiveness.
At the end of her work day, she noticed an employee pacing around his cube, wearing a baseball glove. He was tossing a softball in the air. My daughter's instinct told her to ask what he was doing. He said, "I'm bored." My daughter quickly replied, "shouldn't you be working?" There was deafening laughter in the office, as my daughter showed that she may be a natural born manager. I let her sit behind my desk and when a salesperson approached her for rates, she quoted them 40 percent higher than me.
During the last half hour, she was introduced to a barrage of people. This time she gave each one a firm handshake and even outstretched her hand first on a few occasions. People began asking her when she's coming back and a few joked about hiring her.
But the real joke was on me. Because I didn't take my daughter to work last week.
She took me.
However, when my company mentioned that they would be participating in a national "Bring Your Child to Work Day" event, I jumped at the opportunity. This day would not be haphazardly strewn together either. There was an agenda, and a real educational purpose. The children were to be graced with an opening address by the President of our division; a privilege that most employees rarely see.
The children were asked to shadow their parents around the office, and even interview them in the process. They were then expected to report back to the hosts on their findings. They were to be shown a "sizzle reel" explaining the basic tenets of our organization, and the unique capabilities of our sales and technology departments. After lunch, the day would consist of writing ad copy and working on producing their own television commercials.
I decided to take my youngest daughter because my oldest had a scheduled field trip. She was genuinely excited until she saw the agenda. Write copy? Make a commercial? That seemed too complicated and several feet above a 7-year old's head. I explained that they wouldn't make the projects too difficult, but she had her trepidations. Even an innocuous word like "storyboard" freaked her out. I told her it was like writing a comic strip, but she said she couldn't draw. I simplified it and said you just put a few words below a few sketches, but this worked about as well as a small band aid on a bullet wound.
It took a few weeks of prodding, but I finally convinced her. And so, the little girl ventured out on her first day at work in the big city. She was nervous, and who could blame her? Strange environment, new kids. It got me thinking about that feeling we get when starting any new job. We feel like kids.
She arrived promptly and I introduced her to some of my co-workers. She was shy, unlike the way she is almost anywhere else. The agenda began with the ceremonial meet and greets.
They asked each child what they wanted to be when they grew up. Everyone picked their top choice. My daughter had 4: Doctor, Dancer, Singer and Teacher. Holy crap. I'd have to work until I'm 97 to pay off the educational expenses. Maybe she could save money and become a dancing doctor or a singing teacher.
Shortly after, the kids were asked to interview their parents. And this is where the transformation began. If a salesperson entered my office when she was interviewing me, she tried to usher them out. She started forming allegiances with other people so she could get help escorting the more aggressive ones out. The kids were soon asked back into a conference room to share their findings and my daughter said brusquely, "you can leave now, Dad." First she removes colleagues, then she removes me.
After working on her commercial, she started using words like "green screen" and "tag line" like they had always been in her vernacular. One of the producers said that she has a knack for writing copy. People in human resources told me that they were impressed with her participation level. Several salespeople liked her assertiveness.
At the end of her work day, she noticed an employee pacing around his cube, wearing a baseball glove. He was tossing a softball in the air. My daughter's instinct told her to ask what he was doing. He said, "I'm bored." My daughter quickly replied, "shouldn't you be working?" There was deafening laughter in the office, as my daughter showed that she may be a natural born manager. I let her sit behind my desk and when a salesperson approached her for rates, she quoted them 40 percent higher than me.
During the last half hour, she was introduced to a barrage of people. This time she gave each one a firm handshake and even outstretched her hand first on a few occasions. People began asking her when she's coming back and a few joked about hiring her.
But the real joke was on me. Because I didn't take my daughter to work last week.
She took me.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Field of Screams
I started playing baseball when I was 8 years old.
I'm not sure what originally attracted me to it, but I was certain it was something I couldn't live without. There was something beautiful and inexplicable about the sound that those old wood bats made when connecting perfectly with the ball. And better yet, how cool it was to slide into second just ahead of the throw when stretching a single into a double. And what kid could ever forget that feeling of being on the mound and striking out an opposing player on three consecutive pitches?(Don't worry, it didn't happen often).
But as good as all the memories were, there was still one that I wish I hadn't taken with me.
I'm not talking about the obvious like a season ending injury, an awful coach, or popping up with two outs and the bases loaded. This one trumped them all - -
Overzealous Parents.
They were always well represented on both sides, and they made sure their voices could be heard. Everyone was fair game. They yelled at the umpires, their Coach, the opposing Coach, and most importantly....their own children.
It was specifically their vicarious natures which forced them into a hypercritical mode. You just wanted to say, "Hey look, pal. You played baseball a long time, but those days are over. Now the next generation is picking up the mantle. So just sit back and keep your trap closed." Of course, the less than politically correct dialogue that actually swam through my head was much shorter and closer to "shut the F up."
So now that I have a daughter playing competitive softball, I'm prepared to keep my opinions to myself, especially when on the field. There's just one problem.
I can't.
Something just comes over me as soon as the ball is put into play. I yell where to throw the ball, or where a player should stand on the field. I scream about hitting the cut-off man (or woman), or holding onto the ball. And I'm not even the coach.
Have I now fallen into the same trap as the hoards of parents before me?
You're damn right. But it's not for the reasons you may think. I don't yearn to play girls softball, and I recognize that at 10 years old, this isn't exactly Triple-A ball. You see, the true essence of the problem is baseball itself.
Baseball plays more games than any other professional sport. It's the equaivalent of an NBA and an NHL season combined. So there's never been a shortage of exposure to the game. Also, between Little League and softball, I've been in hundreds of games myself over the course of a lifetime. After awhile, you've just seen everything. You've seen so much that you have insight into something before it even happens. And with that kind of knowledge, how could I keep it to myself? I'm compelled to share with the group.
My daughter doesn't want to hear it. Neither does her coach. So why do I continue to rant?
It's simple. I was an athlete. And athletes are born to compete. If you show up on a field, a rink, a court, or whatever, you're there for a single purpose. To win. It's in my DNA; programmed like a character in the Manchurian Candidate. There's the sound of bat hitting the ball, and my mouth just opens by itself.
You're here to win. If not, why would you play?
My daugther has found several other reasons. She has hot chocolate on the bench during the cold Saturdays of April. She gets to show off her new glove and cleats every season, and giggles with the other girls about who knows what as they stand around in the outfield.
She'd like to win. But if she doesn't, it's not an issue. There's always a playdate later that afternoon. She's just enjoying an afternoon in the sun with her friends. The game is secondary.
I wish it was for me. However, there is something positive to look forward to. My grandchildren won't be constantly critiqued by their Mother when they grow up.
I just can't say the same about their grandfather.
I'm not sure what originally attracted me to it, but I was certain it was something I couldn't live without. There was something beautiful and inexplicable about the sound that those old wood bats made when connecting perfectly with the ball. And better yet, how cool it was to slide into second just ahead of the throw when stretching a single into a double. And what kid could ever forget that feeling of being on the mound and striking out an opposing player on three consecutive pitches?(Don't worry, it didn't happen often).
But as good as all the memories were, there was still one that I wish I hadn't taken with me.
I'm not talking about the obvious like a season ending injury, an awful coach, or popping up with two outs and the bases loaded. This one trumped them all - -
Overzealous Parents.
They were always well represented on both sides, and they made sure their voices could be heard. Everyone was fair game. They yelled at the umpires, their Coach, the opposing Coach, and most importantly....their own children.
It was specifically their vicarious natures which forced them into a hypercritical mode. You just wanted to say, "Hey look, pal. You played baseball a long time, but those days are over. Now the next generation is picking up the mantle. So just sit back and keep your trap closed." Of course, the less than politically correct dialogue that actually swam through my head was much shorter and closer to "shut the F up."
So now that I have a daughter playing competitive softball, I'm prepared to keep my opinions to myself, especially when on the field. There's just one problem.
I can't.
Something just comes over me as soon as the ball is put into play. I yell where to throw the ball, or where a player should stand on the field. I scream about hitting the cut-off man (or woman), or holding onto the ball. And I'm not even the coach.
Have I now fallen into the same trap as the hoards of parents before me?
You're damn right. But it's not for the reasons you may think. I don't yearn to play girls softball, and I recognize that at 10 years old, this isn't exactly Triple-A ball. You see, the true essence of the problem is baseball itself.
Baseball plays more games than any other professional sport. It's the equaivalent of an NBA and an NHL season combined. So there's never been a shortage of exposure to the game. Also, between Little League and softball, I've been in hundreds of games myself over the course of a lifetime. After awhile, you've just seen everything. You've seen so much that you have insight into something before it even happens. And with that kind of knowledge, how could I keep it to myself? I'm compelled to share with the group.
My daughter doesn't want to hear it. Neither does her coach. So why do I continue to rant?
It's simple. I was an athlete. And athletes are born to compete. If you show up on a field, a rink, a court, or whatever, you're there for a single purpose. To win. It's in my DNA; programmed like a character in the Manchurian Candidate. There's the sound of bat hitting the ball, and my mouth just opens by itself.
You're here to win. If not, why would you play?
My daugther has found several other reasons. She has hot chocolate on the bench during the cold Saturdays of April. She gets to show off her new glove and cleats every season, and giggles with the other girls about who knows what as they stand around in the outfield.
She'd like to win. But if she doesn't, it's not an issue. There's always a playdate later that afternoon. She's just enjoying an afternoon in the sun with her friends. The game is secondary.
I wish it was for me. However, there is something positive to look forward to. My grandchildren won't be constantly critiqued by their Mother when they grow up.
I just can't say the same about their grandfather.
Happy 50th Anniversary To Me
It took over one full year, but I've finally written my 50th blog. Please hold your applause. For most professional bloggers, this is far from an impressive feat. Most can crank out 2 per day and hit their 50th in any given month. But that's not my style. I'm more of a quality over quantity kind of guy. And depending on who you talk to you, that quality is still in question.
Needless to say, I'll be celebrating my anniversary all week. I'm not sure how I should be rejoicing. Maybe I'll buy myself a new keyboard or upgrade my IPad, where I wirelessly write many of these pieces. Then again, this blog isn't exactly profitable, and I'm on a tight budget.
Thankfully, Blogger is free, and so is their proprietarty data. In turn, (50) blogs have revealed a few interesting statistics. For one, I'm now up to 1100 page views! Look out Google, here I come. With these numbers, I anticipate going public in the next 6-8 months, with a stock valuation somewhere between Facebook and Twitter. I've also been read in a grand total of (10) different countries, making this blog an international sensation. This kind of global reach will undoubtedly help with the pricing of my IPO.
I'm also proud to report that there are (2) followers of my blog. It's not exactly a record, but they are both female which does wonders for my ego.
I don't have specific demographics. Hopefully that won't affect my chances of selling banner ads to advertisers. I've also had about (5) people comment on specific blogs, making me a force in social media. A majority of my page views emanate from Facebook, so I can thank Marc Zuckerberg for creating a site to rate the attractiveness of Harvard students and inadvertently creating a great feeder website to my blog.
I really am a self made man. My family rarely reads my blogs at all. This should help to shorten the number of people I have to thank during the acceptance speech I'll have to give once Time Magazine announces me as the 2011 Man of The Year.
You know, this anniversary thing could really get to a guy's head.
Maybe it would be best to get back to some semblance of reality, and begin working on the next blog. However, first I must begin preparing for what I'll say after being awarded a Pulitzer.
Needless to say, I'll be celebrating my anniversary all week. I'm not sure how I should be rejoicing. Maybe I'll buy myself a new keyboard or upgrade my IPad, where I wirelessly write many of these pieces. Then again, this blog isn't exactly profitable, and I'm on a tight budget.
Thankfully, Blogger is free, and so is their proprietarty data. In turn, (50) blogs have revealed a few interesting statistics. For one, I'm now up to 1100 page views! Look out Google, here I come. With these numbers, I anticipate going public in the next 6-8 months, with a stock valuation somewhere between Facebook and Twitter. I've also been read in a grand total of (10) different countries, making this blog an international sensation. This kind of global reach will undoubtedly help with the pricing of my IPO.
I'm also proud to report that there are (2) followers of my blog. It's not exactly a record, but they are both female which does wonders for my ego.
I don't have specific demographics. Hopefully that won't affect my chances of selling banner ads to advertisers. I've also had about (5) people comment on specific blogs, making me a force in social media. A majority of my page views emanate from Facebook, so I can thank Marc Zuckerberg for creating a site to rate the attractiveness of Harvard students and inadvertently creating a great feeder website to my blog.
I really am a self made man. My family rarely reads my blogs at all. This should help to shorten the number of people I have to thank during the acceptance speech I'll have to give once Time Magazine announces me as the 2011 Man of The Year.
You know, this anniversary thing could really get to a guy's head.
Maybe it would be best to get back to some semblance of reality, and begin working on the next blog. However, first I must begin preparing for what I'll say after being awarded a Pulitzer.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Advertising vs. Advertising
Has the world gone mad? AMC just announced that for the first time since 2007, "Mad Men" will not make its season debut in July. In fact, the world will not see the future exploits of Don Draper until March of 2012! For those as devoted to the show as I am, this delay is the pinnacle of a television buzz kill.
I was in denial. Surely, there must be some explanation for this. My gut told me that it must be a contract dispute with the entire cast. We've all seen this before. A show becomes an unexpected hit, wins a few Emmys, and then the cast bands together in solidarity in an "all for one-and one for all" battle with their producers. We saw this with "Friends" and later with "The Sopranos." In the end, everyone got their money.
But this layoff wasn't about actor compensation. This ensemble was fair about their collective worth and negotiated accordingly. I guessed again. Maybe the dispute was over producing credits. Everyone likes the word "producer" on their business card, so the disagreement must be about some of the actors or writers demanding credit for production. I looked around, but saw no signs of Hollywood narcissism. I was starting to run out of logical explanations. So I started on the illogical.
Maybe AMC didn't like the competing voiceovers between Jon Hamm and John Slattery for Mercedes and Lincoln, respectively. Or possibly, they decided that January Jones was just too pretty to be this mean and they had to revamp her character. Wait a minute, I've got it. Showrunner,Matthew , was leaving the show to return to "The Sopranos." Alright, I give up. What's the real reason?
Drum roll, please.
Mad Men, the show about the old world of advertising was in conflict with AMC's new world of advertising. We've all been privy to the show's penchant for product placement and interstitial trivia questions about upcoming spot advertisers. But now they wanted even more time to sell a few more :30 spots in each show. Matt Weiner initially refused, citing fear about the integrity of the program. And talk about a man of principle. He made this claim, even after they signed him to a highly lucrative contract extension.
So the battle for advertising on the show about advertising raged on until a compromise was reached. The network could take back two minutes from the Mad Men's content, so they would have four more commercials to sell each week. This would apply to each episode with the exception of the season premiere and the season finale. There's nothing greater than a story with a happy ending.
This tussle reminded me of that season on "Seinfeld" where Jerry and George had to pitch NBC on "a show about nothing" while Jerry Seinfeld and Jason Alexander were starring in a show about nothing. The whole concept of a show within a show carried Seinfeld for an entire season. So it would be great if "Mad Men" could return the favor and dedicate one episode next season to an ad agency in the 1960's that wants to place an advertiser's commercial on a hit show, but has to wait several months due to a network contract dispute.
Sometimes fiction is stranger than real life.
I was in denial. Surely, there must be some explanation for this. My gut told me that it must be a contract dispute with the entire cast. We've all seen this before. A show becomes an unexpected hit, wins a few Emmys, and then the cast bands together in solidarity in an "all for one-and one for all" battle with their producers. We saw this with "Friends" and later with "The Sopranos." In the end, everyone got their money.
But this layoff wasn't about actor compensation. This ensemble was fair about their collective worth and negotiated accordingly. I guessed again. Maybe the dispute was over producing credits. Everyone likes the word "producer" on their business card, so the disagreement must be about some of the actors or writers demanding credit for production. I looked around, but saw no signs of Hollywood narcissism. I was starting to run out of logical explanations. So I started on the illogical.
Maybe AMC didn't like the competing voiceovers between Jon Hamm and John Slattery for Mercedes and Lincoln, respectively. Or possibly, they decided that January Jones was just too pretty to be this mean and they had to revamp her character. Wait a minute, I've got it. Showrunner,Matthew , was leaving the show to return to "The Sopranos." Alright, I give up. What's the real reason?
Drum roll, please.
Mad Men, the show about the old world of advertising was in conflict with AMC's new world of advertising. We've all been privy to the show's penchant for product placement and interstitial trivia questions about upcoming spot advertisers. But now they wanted even more time to sell a few more :30 spots in each show. Matt Weiner initially refused, citing fear about the integrity of the program. And talk about a man of principle. He made this claim, even after they signed him to a highly lucrative contract extension.
So the battle for advertising on the show about advertising raged on until a compromise was reached. The network could take back two minutes from the Mad Men's content, so they would have four more commercials to sell each week. This would apply to each episode with the exception of the season premiere and the season finale. There's nothing greater than a story with a happy ending.
This tussle reminded me of that season on "Seinfeld" where Jerry and George had to pitch NBC on "a show about nothing" while Jerry Seinfeld and Jason Alexander were starring in a show about nothing. The whole concept of a show within a show carried Seinfeld for an entire season. So it would be great if "Mad Men" could return the favor and dedicate one episode next season to an ad agency in the 1960's that wants to place an advertiser's commercial on a hit show, but has to wait several months due to a network contract dispute.
Sometimes fiction is stranger than real life.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Groupon Shmoupon
Some people are professionals when it comes to saving money. My Mother is one of the best, and a bit of a traditionalist in this area. She has a scissor with her at all times, and typically goes through the Sunday paper and all its circulars like a farmer cutting her way through overgrown corn stalks with a machete.
Yesterday, she told me about one of her greatest all time triumphs. This win came at the expense of Minute Maid Orange Juice. I came over for a visit on Saturday and craved a little OJ. She asked me to guess how much she paid. I saw that she had 4 cartons in the refrigerator, so it must have been pretty impressive. Before I could even take a stab at it, she offered the answer.
"First, it was on sale at 50% off, then I had a coupon, and Shop Rite was offering triple coupons, so in the end, it cost me 19 cents."
Holy crap. 19 cents?!! Did that include tax? Did she also get an employee discount? Is she a closet shoplifter?
I looked around the room to see if anything had changed. After all, at that price, I could have been transported back to 1951. (I saw "Hot Tub Time Machine", so anything is possible.) I did a quick search, but everything seemed to be in order. Obama was still President and the Mets still sucked.
After hearing this, I wanted to tell my Mother all about Groupon, but it was fruitless. First of all, "Groupon", sounds like something that could be found during your colonoscopy. Secondly, what fun would my Mom have with downloadable coupons? "You go to the computer and you don't cut anything out? You have to use a printer? I'd rather pay full price."
Groupon really takes the fun out of the hunt, doesn't it? All the coupons are in one place. Groupon would singlehandedly remove the need for her regular scavenger mission of searching through a series of local newspapers, circulars, Valpaks, and more to find incredible savings at prices we haven't seen since the Korean War.
A few hours later, while watching television, I saw a commercial for Apple where they were touting all that can be done with iPhone apps. One of the highlights was scanning a bar code at check out with your iPhone to receive a discount. I had to tread lighlty here. This could bring my Mother into the future much too quickly and run the risk of injury.
But I knew better. She wasn't going to change her strategy now. Not after all these years of success. The most amazing part of her coupon finding accumen was not finding the discounts. It's actually making the time to drive to each store for the savings. She has to map out her route in advance. 50% off milk...one mile away(take the backroads) Buy one, get one free toothpaste...two miles (make the first U-turn). Triple coupons...3 miles.(take the highway) All this work, and without a Garmin. This represented real skill. One woman against the elements all in the name of saving cash.
But I couldn't help but think. With the current price of gas, could all this driving reallybe worth it?
It is when you can buy orange juice for 19 cents. Long live the traditional coupon and those who collect them like stamps and baseball cards.
Yesterday, she told me about one of her greatest all time triumphs. This win came at the expense of Minute Maid Orange Juice. I came over for a visit on Saturday and craved a little OJ. She asked me to guess how much she paid. I saw that she had 4 cartons in the refrigerator, so it must have been pretty impressive. Before I could even take a stab at it, she offered the answer.
"First, it was on sale at 50% off, then I had a coupon, and Shop Rite was offering triple coupons, so in the end, it cost me 19 cents."
Holy crap. 19 cents?!! Did that include tax? Did she also get an employee discount? Is she a closet shoplifter?
I looked around the room to see if anything had changed. After all, at that price, I could have been transported back to 1951. (I saw "Hot Tub Time Machine", so anything is possible.) I did a quick search, but everything seemed to be in order. Obama was still President and the Mets still sucked.
After hearing this, I wanted to tell my Mother all about Groupon, but it was fruitless. First of all, "Groupon", sounds like something that could be found during your colonoscopy. Secondly, what fun would my Mom have with downloadable coupons? "You go to the computer and you don't cut anything out? You have to use a printer? I'd rather pay full price."
Groupon really takes the fun out of the hunt, doesn't it? All the coupons are in one place. Groupon would singlehandedly remove the need for her regular scavenger mission of searching through a series of local newspapers, circulars, Valpaks, and more to find incredible savings at prices we haven't seen since the Korean War.
A few hours later, while watching television, I saw a commercial for Apple where they were touting all that can be done with iPhone apps. One of the highlights was scanning a bar code at check out with your iPhone to receive a discount. I had to tread lighlty here. This could bring my Mother into the future much too quickly and run the risk of injury.
But I knew better. She wasn't going to change her strategy now. Not after all these years of success. The most amazing part of her coupon finding accumen was not finding the discounts. It's actually making the time to drive to each store for the savings. She has to map out her route in advance. 50% off milk...one mile away(take the backroads) Buy one, get one free toothpaste...two miles (make the first U-turn). Triple coupons...3 miles.(take the highway) All this work, and without a Garmin. This represented real skill. One woman against the elements all in the name of saving cash.
But I couldn't help but think. With the current price of gas, could all this driving reallybe worth it?
It is when you can buy orange juice for 19 cents. Long live the traditional coupon and those who collect them like stamps and baseball cards.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Quiet Please
I am a commuter. But not just any commuter. I'm a New Jersey Transit commuter, which places me in a very unique category. I ride the train to and from work each day, and both trips are relatively short. At least on paper, anyway. The schedule calls for 42 minutes, but you can always tack on an additional 5-10 for a variety of different reasons:
Rain, snow, fallen trees, Amtrak delays, electrical outages, police actions, and of course, the occasional suicide on the tracks.
If this isn't reason enough to make you decide to walk to work, they periodically sting you with multi-year fare hikes. This usually affects riders like a case of bronchitis, particularly when they come to the realization that they'e now paying more money for less than adequate service. Needless to say, the average rider has ample reason to be disgruntled. I even have one friend that forms a personal protest when trains are running behind schedule. When the conductor walks by to check tickets, he removes his monthly pass from his wallet in Super Slo-Mo, giving the delayed train a taste of its own medicine.
So recognizing that they needed a leadership change, NJ Transit lept into action and hired the former President of Amtrak, another dying railroad. In fact, Amtrak hasn't been profitable for years, if ever, and has been fully subsidized by the Federal Government just to merely stay in business. Wow. It sounds like a quality hire to me. I'd like to meet the headhunter.
Nonetheless, I was optimistic. I thought that if we brought in an Amtrak guy, maybe NJ Transit would adopt some of their practices. Like a food car. Or something exciting like a car with blackjack tables, roulette wheels, and poker tables. (A man can dream, can't he?) The new NJ Transit President didn't sit still. He mandated an order for double-decker trains to alleviate some of the crowding, but then built a multi-million dollar transfer station in Secaucus where residents of Bergen County and Central New Jersey can jump on. Now the bi-level train is just as crowded as when it was a single level. One step forward, two steps back.
But if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. The latest "innovation" is the creation of "The Quiet Car." Just what is the Quiet Car? Well, some genius decided that if they can't reduce fares, get the trains to Penn Station on time, or reduce crowding, the least they could do was provide 2 cars with complete silence. (the first and the last) To make this even easier for commuters with mapping issues, they converted the first and last cars on the train to Quiet Cars.
Is this supposed to make up for everything? Is this the NJ Transit version of a dozen roses after you screwed up? They claimed that people asked for this. What people? Perhaps it was the people from NJ Transit. They sat in a meeting and brainstormed a way to reduce the number of customer complaints. Create cars where no one can talk. Brilliant! The conductors love going into these cars, especially on a delayed rush hour train.
What makes this even more shortsighted is that a majority of the entire train has now been relegated to complete silence. This is thanks to the many Blackberrys, Android phones, iPhones, iPads, Kindles, and Nooks that have suddenly appeared. Who has time to talk to anyone, when you could check your Facebook account, text your kids, read a book or play Angry Birds?
What they should do is put all the talkers in one or two cars. Coversationalists are the new minority, so NJ Transit shoud give them a place to vent. It would be pretty noisy, but a great party atmosphere.
NJ Transit has always been in the wrong business. Commuter transportation is not their area of expertise. Maybe one day, the Amtrak President will figure it out, and the trains will only operate as party rentals.
And the noisier, the better.
Rain, snow, fallen trees, Amtrak delays, electrical outages, police actions, and of course, the occasional suicide on the tracks.
If this isn't reason enough to make you decide to walk to work, they periodically sting you with multi-year fare hikes. This usually affects riders like a case of bronchitis, particularly when they come to the realization that they'e now paying more money for less than adequate service. Needless to say, the average rider has ample reason to be disgruntled. I even have one friend that forms a personal protest when trains are running behind schedule. When the conductor walks by to check tickets, he removes his monthly pass from his wallet in Super Slo-Mo, giving the delayed train a taste of its own medicine.
So recognizing that they needed a leadership change, NJ Transit lept into action and hired the former President of Amtrak, another dying railroad. In fact, Amtrak hasn't been profitable for years, if ever, and has been fully subsidized by the Federal Government just to merely stay in business. Wow. It sounds like a quality hire to me. I'd like to meet the headhunter.
Nonetheless, I was optimistic. I thought that if we brought in an Amtrak guy, maybe NJ Transit would adopt some of their practices. Like a food car. Or something exciting like a car with blackjack tables, roulette wheels, and poker tables. (A man can dream, can't he?) The new NJ Transit President didn't sit still. He mandated an order for double-decker trains to alleviate some of the crowding, but then built a multi-million dollar transfer station in Secaucus where residents of Bergen County and Central New Jersey can jump on. Now the bi-level train is just as crowded as when it was a single level. One step forward, two steps back.
But if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. The latest "innovation" is the creation of "The Quiet Car." Just what is the Quiet Car? Well, some genius decided that if they can't reduce fares, get the trains to Penn Station on time, or reduce crowding, the least they could do was provide 2 cars with complete silence. (the first and the last) To make this even easier for commuters with mapping issues, they converted the first and last cars on the train to Quiet Cars.
Is this supposed to make up for everything? Is this the NJ Transit version of a dozen roses after you screwed up? They claimed that people asked for this. What people? Perhaps it was the people from NJ Transit. They sat in a meeting and brainstormed a way to reduce the number of customer complaints. Create cars where no one can talk. Brilliant! The conductors love going into these cars, especially on a delayed rush hour train.
What makes this even more shortsighted is that a majority of the entire train has now been relegated to complete silence. This is thanks to the many Blackberrys, Android phones, iPhones, iPads, Kindles, and Nooks that have suddenly appeared. Who has time to talk to anyone, when you could check your Facebook account, text your kids, read a book or play Angry Birds?
What they should do is put all the talkers in one or two cars. Coversationalists are the new minority, so NJ Transit shoud give them a place to vent. It would be pretty noisy, but a great party atmosphere.
NJ Transit has always been in the wrong business. Commuter transportation is not their area of expertise. Maybe one day, the Amtrak President will figure it out, and the trains will only operate as party rentals.
And the noisier, the better.
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