X-New York Gal

posted by Evi on Feb 20

Somewhere along the line during my New York City days, I got a job working for an insurance agent who had his office within W____& W______, the parent insurance agency. What was good about the job was that I worked on my own without a supervisor whereas all the other girls in the office were under the jurisdiction of the office manager, M., who was the typical (at that time) old maid. She had to have been in her 40’s and ruled with an iron fist. I don’t think I ever saw that woman smile.

One of the things I hated about that agency was the formality. The gals were all expected to address the men agents as Mr. So and So while we were called by our first names. This did not sit too well with me, so I was on a first name basis with most of the guys including my married male boss who was forever making passes at me. (Nowadays I could have slapped him with a sexual harassment suit.)

When I had previously worked for the GAB, a fun office, we were all on a first name basis. I was one of the few employees who called the manager Mr. H. because I used to baby sit for him and his wife and in that day and age it was customary to refer to your parents’ friends as Mr. and Mrs. So and So. (Not like today, where no respect is shown for one‘s elders.)

Anyway, my bosses’ agency floundered and he and I ended up working for W____& W______ which, much to my horror, made M. my boss. She was forever taking me aside and chastening me when I slipped up and called one of the guys by his first name. Of course I didn’t let this stop me; I’m stubborn that way and the guys certainly didn‘t mind..

One day M. called me over to her desk and informed me that I would have a supervisor. That, too, didn’t sit too well with me. My supervisor, D., was a new employee, a very attractive dark-haired woman who was probably in her early 30’s. We got along very well and I looked up to her. I must say one of the things I learned from her and remember to this day is that before you ask questions, read the information first to see if you can find the answer. If not, then ask. I guess she got tired of my asking her questions every five minutes. I admit I was too lazy to read through the insurance policies and such. But D. was right; I usually found my answers by reading.

She left the agency before I did to go into business with a friend and one day I drove to Jersey to visit her and to see her new business. We later went back to her apartment where I met her daughters and we had dinner. Afterwards she led me back to the highway and we stopped at a restaurant near there for a goodbye drink. And that was the last time I’d seen her until that day in Fort Myers more than 30 years later.

posted by Evi on Feb 15

About a year and a half or two years ago I was looking for a job to supplement my two day a week job so I submitted applications all over the internet especially to the hospitals and school districts. I figured there had to be some sort of office work out there. (Turned out I was wrong.) I finally got contacted by the hospital system and was informed I had to take typing and Microsoft Excel tests.

Okay, with the typing I can more or less hold my own – about 55 to 60 wpm. But Excel is another story. I know enough to work with spread sheets and I’ve taken classes but since I hadn’t worked with it in a long time I managed to forget most of what I had learned. (Which, needless to say, came out loud and clear on my test results.)

So anyway, I showed up at the place where I had to take the test and walked over to the counter to sign in. A woman asked if she could help me and I told her I was here for the typing test. As I looked at her face I thought she looked familiar. I was trying to figure out where I had seen her before, then noticed her name tag. No way, it couldn’t be. But then again, maybe. The last name was different – not that I remembered her last name – and she could have gotten married since I had last seen her.

She took me to the computer and gave me the instructions for the test. Meanwhile I was thinking I’ve got to find out if she’s who I think she is. I mean I’m talking about someone I worked with in New York City more than 35 years ago. She would have been in her early 30’s and I in my – oh never mind how old I was at the time. She was about to leave me to my typing when I finally summoned up every last shred of courage and asked her where she was from.

“New Jersey.” She answered.

“Did you ever work in New York City?” Me.

“Yes.” She.

“Was it an insurance agency?” Me.

“Yes, W____ &W______.” She.

It was she! I then told her we used to work together and spouted out whatever I could remember about her at the time. We chatted for a while, then I had to take my test and when I left we hugged goodbye.

I got into my car with the weirdest feeling having run into someone from my NYC past. I remembered her as she looked 35+ years ago when she and I were much younger and how much the two of us had changed since then and I was overwhelmed with an indescribable nostalgia. All the way home I ached for my lost NYC days and the way things were. I missed my old friends, the commuting, the subway and, yes, even my jobs – not to mention my lost youth.

posted by Evi on Feb 8

One thing I like about this time of year in Florida is the proliferation of yard sales and rummage sales. You can find quite a few around the area on a Friday and Saturday. This weekend I hit several; Friday with my Mom and Saturday with Bill. Some of these sales were held at mobile home parks, including the one Bill works at. My Mom and I also hit a church sale.

The first table I rush to at a sale is the one with the books. I love books and will knock anybody out of my way to get at them. First I search for cookbooks, not that I really cook or anything. Bill does more of the cooking than I do. (Although, I did make an attempt at a chicken pot pie recipe I found in the newspaper the other day which didn‘t turn out too badly.) I add these books to the collection of hundreds of cookbooks I’ve accumulated since I was a little girl. I started this collection because I liked looking at pictures of food when I was hungry. I guess I liked to hear my stomach growl. It’s probably time to start putting some of them on E-Bay.

After checking out the cookbooks, I look for novels – preferably paperbacks because they’re easier to read in bed. Many a time I’ve bought a novel only to realize halfway through the book that I’d already read it years ago. That’s what happens when you’re an avid reader. But I’m not going to cry over a spent quarter.

Maybe in my travels I’ll find a cute cat figure to add to my rapidly multiplying collection or some kind of kitchen doodad which will be relegated to a drawer never to be found again. I also have a thing about tote bags, so if I see a good one I’ll add that to my plastic container full of bags. Okay, okay, so maybe I’m a bit of a pack rat but I’m not the only one. Bill has such an overwhelming collection of ceramic teapots that he even brought some to Goodwill (where he probably got them from in the first place.)

It’s not like we need any more junk around the house. We just like to accumulate things, then try to figure out how to get rid of them at a later date. Don’t ask me why; it‘s a sickness.

When Bill and I lived on Long Island, we used to schedule our Saturdays around yard sales. I would circle all the sales in the newspaper and Pennysaver and plan out the route to hit each and every one within a 30 mile radius. First we’d stop at the deli and pick up breakfast sandwiches and coffee to go, then head out for our first stop. Finally by late afternoon we’d reach our last stop and head home. I couldn’t wait for the following Saturday to do it all over again.

I said to my husband this morning we ought to get that crew from the TV show “Clean House” to help us muck out some of this crap. But they’d have to remove me from the premises because I’d be fighting them tooth and nail to keep all my “stuff”, not to mention all the wailing and gnashing of teeth. This could prove to be embarrassing on national TV. (For the record, my house really isn’t that bad.)

My Mom and I are anxiously awaiting the rummage sale at the church down the road. That one’s always good for more additions to my collections. In the meantime, I’ve already signed up for an E-Bay account. Nothing like being prepared.

posted by Evi on Feb 2

I just love rainy days. As I write this I’m sitting in my car eating lunch and enjoying the rain. This is the kind of day where I’d rather be home sitting in my lanai with a juicy novel, listening to the rain on the roof and the wind breezing through the pine trees. Unfortunately it’s Monday and one of the days I work.

Down here in Florida we never get enough rainy days to suit me. I guess that’s why it’s called the Sunshine State. Oh sure, we have a rainy season which lasts about six months. We get lightning so bad that I sometimes feel like joining the cat under the bed; a lot of crashing noise and torrential downpours. But 15 or 20 minutes later it’s all over and the sun is back hotter than ever.

(My husband took the above photo at Vero Beach.)

And don’t even ask me about the mosquitoes that suddenly appear in whiny clouds. I don’t know what’s so special about my blood but they seem to target only me. I mean they home right in on me. My Mom claims she never gets bitten, my husband thinks I’m crazy. He’s convinced that there are no mosquitoes out there. But I know better and have the welts and scabs to prove it. So that’s one of the downsides of rain.

Otherwise, I miss the days up North when it would actually rain an entire day or even several days in a row. It was such a cozy feeling sitting inside watching the raining pelt the windows. I remember one summer where the week days were sunny and gorgeous and it rained every weekend. Okay, so that did get tired after awhile.

But now we’re in fire season. (Yes, Florida is a state of seasons – fire season, rainy season, hurricane season.) So a little rain always helps. There’s nothing more frightening than seeing the smoke of a nearby fire and hoping it doesn’t head your way. This happened a few years ago when we were managers of a manufactured home community down the road from where we live now. The fire started from a lightning strike way back in the woods on the other side of Tamiami Trail and eventually worked its way right across the road from our park. Things really got exciting when it jumped the highway and started working its way into our park. Bill was out there with the firemen while I, brave soul that I am, grabbed the cat and my mother and drove around the park ready to take flight. Thanks to the fire department the fire was contained and we all still had our homes.

So where am I going with all of this? Nowhere really. It’s just that I love rainy days.