Author Archives: Claire Murray

What’s a Penny Worth?

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I buy most of my hair products at Ulta3. I find the people who work there helpful in suggesting the right product for what I need. I also like their sales. My favorite is the one where, if you buy two of something, the third one is free.

Last November I needed some hairspray. I went to Ulta3 and talked with one of the saleswomen. “What hairspray would work best on fine hair that has a mind of its own? I want something to hold it in place. But I don’t want to look like I have a steel helmet on.”

The salesgirl suggested one of the Paul Mitchell products.

I wasn’t sure. “What if it doesn’t work for me? Or, what if I don’t like the way I look?” I asked.

She told me, “Don’t worry”. It’s a Buy 2, Get 1 Free sale. If you’re unhappy, you can bring the unused product back with the receipt and exchange it for something you like.”

That sounded fine. I bought three cans.

When I got home, I put the cans in the bathroom closet because I hadn’t yet finished with the old hairspray I was using.

A few weeks ago, I finally finished the old hairspray and started using one of the new ones. At first it was o.k. But, after a few days, I wasn’t happy with how my hair looked or felt: It felt hard, not fresh and silky, and looked dried out, just like I had a steel helmet on my head. I decided to give it a few more days but nothing improved.

I searched for my receipt, put it and the other two cans in the Ulta3 bag and went back to the store. Once there, I walked to where the Paul Mitchell products are kept and located the hairspray that I was bringing back. I looked around on the shelf to see if they had something else that would look and feel softer on my hair. I read the descriptions on the back of the cans. Finally I found one that sounded good.

I stopped the saleswomen I saw walking by. I told her my problem and asked, “Will this other hairspray work for me?”

“Well,” she said, “The new spray won’t hold your hair as well but it will feel soft and natural.”

I walked to the front of the store to make the exchange. I explained what I wanted to do and the cashier said with a smile, “No problem.” To me, that’s the universal sign that very soon something’s going to go wrong.

The saleswoman entered the product information into the cash register and called for her manager to put in her code to complete the exchange.

The manager came up front. “You know,” she said. “It’s too hard to do it this way. I know an easier way.”

“Fine.” I said. I just wanted to complete the sale and get going. I hadn’t planned on spending this much time at the store.

The manager started ringing up the hairspray. First she swiped the bar codes on the cans I was returning. Then she punched a number of keys. After that she stopped and gazed at the cash register. Lastly, she cancelled everything out and started over.

I watched her do this three times while trying to discreetly peek at my watch to see what time it was now. This was taking much longer than I’d expected.

After the third attempt, something must have gone right, because she asked me to hand her the two new cans of hairspray that I wanted to purchase. She swiped them.

I looked at her expectantly. It looked like everything would be o.k. after all. But then she undid everything and started over again.

At that point I couldn’t help myself. I very obviously looked at my watch. I’d been in the store for almost half an hour.

I looked at the manager again. She was still swiping and pushing buttons on the cash register. I asked her, “What seems to be the problem?”

“The cash register keeps saying you owe a penny in tax, but you don’t.”

“That’s fine. Don’t worry. I’ll pay it.”

“No. You don’t owe it,” she said.

“I don’t care. I’m happy to help fund the government. I’ll pay it.” I put a penny on the counter.

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.” I picked up my bag with the new hairspray and walked out the door. I felt I had escaped.

 

 

Chinese Voices

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I just finished reading Unbound Voices by Judy Yung. The book tells the stories of first and second-generation Chinese women living in San Francisco’s Chinatown between 1850 and 1945. What makes this book so riveting is: Each woman tells her story in her own words. I was very moved by how each one expressed herself.

If the woman speaks in English, Judy transcribes exactly what she says and the way she says it. She doesn’t correct for language, sentence structure or word choice. If a woman spoke in Chinese, Judy translated her words the same way.

This is from an interview Judy had with her mother in the 1980s. It was conducted in Chinese: “When I became pregnant with your third sister, I said no matter what, I was not going to have the baby in Menlo Park. It was a matter of life and death. I told your father, even if you don’t want to go to San Francisco, I am leaving. There were two Chinese women obstetricians in the city and I was determined to have my next child in a hospital.”

Judy is second generation Chinese. She grew up in San Francisco’s Chinatown in the 1950s and went to an American public school each day and afterwards to the Chinese school. In Chinese school she learned the Chinese language and history and read Chinese classics. This was very helpful to her when she interviewed the women for this book. She was quickly able to establish rapport and trust because she spoke the language and knew the culture. The women trusted her to tell their stories.

The book begins, around 1850, with women telling how they came to Gold Mountain (the Chinese name for America). Some came with their husbands, others followed them later and some were left to live their lives out in China while their husbands remained in America and remarried. The latter were called Gold Mountain Widows.

This is from an interview Judy conducted in China with Kwong King You, a retired doctor, age 75, in 1982. She was a “sau saang gwa” (Gold Mountain widow). She hadn’t seen Ah Fook, her husband and the father of her children, in 40 years. She’d heard that he’d remarried in America and wanted to see him one last time.

“When he first left, I was very upset and wanted revenge, at least until I reached the age of forty-five. My colleagues kept telling me not to be stupid. If he remarried, I should remarry. I used to cry tears from my eyes down to my toes. It’s been such a hard life…There’s always hope that he might change his mind and come home…My hope is that he will someday return. I will always welcome him back. My mind would be put to rest if I could just see him one more time.”

Judy’s interviews cover the period from 1850 to 1945. I was intrigued by the way she conducted them. For the most part, she went to the women’s homes or the homes of one of their descendants, chatted, asked them all the same questions from a list and let them talk. It was only after the interview was finished that she asked them to sign a consent form. This was so they would have enough time to get to know her and decide if they were willing to let her tell their story.

At whatever time the women came to the Gold Mountain, it was very difficult. Congress had passed a number of laws, especially the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, to keep them out. Once their ship docked in San Francisco harbor, they were taken to Angel Island and interrogated for a few days, weeks or more. Their answers had to match exactly the answers their husbands gave when they were interviewed. Otherwise the women would be sent back to China on the next ship.

To make sure their answers did match (i.e. the number of houses in the village or where the room they slept in after they were first married was located in the house, etc.), each husband prepared a coaching book for his wife. She was supposed to study it on the voyage over and then destroy it.

In the second half of the nineteenth century, many of the women were tricked. Instead of being married when they arrived in San Francisco, they were sold into prostitution. A number died, some were able to buy their freedom and Methodist and Presbyterian women rescued others.

The Methodists established the Methodist Mission Home in 1871 and the Presbyterians established the Presbyterian Mission Home in 1874. Both places gave the women a place to stay, taught them English and helped them find a Christian husband or job, other than prostitution, to support themselves.

More and more women arrived in Chinatown. They made homes for their families, worked and participated in community life. Because of them, life was better for their daughters. The daughters went to American public schools. Some even went to college. Because of this they were able to get good jobs outside of Chinatown that paid more. The terrible discrimination of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries gave way to the tolerance and friendships you see today.

No longer are the Chinese forced to live in Chinatown. They can and do live all over San Francisco, in every neighborhood: Downtown, in the Marina, Pacific Heights, out by the ocean and in many other neighborhoods.

My mother, who is not Chinese, was able to stay in her house, out by the ocean, for many years longer than she ordinarily would have, because her good friend, Virginia, a Chinese American, lived across the street. Virginia is about ten years younger than Mom and at that time was still able to drive. Virginia and Mom used to do their grocery shopping together every Thursday morning and then go out to lunch. Where? Why to a neighborhood Chinese restaurant of course.

Swimming

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I love to swim. It lifts my mood and relaxes me like nothing else. I feel good all over. Nothing hurts. It’s the best form of exercise!

The best time for me to swim is when it’s cold outside, the colder the better. I throw on some clothes over my swimsuit, put on my parka and sandals and drive to the health club down the street. Eight minutes door to door, if I get all green lights. If not, then it’s ten.

I swipe my card, put my clothes in a locker, grab a towel and head to the pool. Well, not any pool, but the warm water pool. I can’t believe how good it feels when it’s 32 or 22 or maybe only 2 degrees outside and I walk down the stairs into the warm water pool. It’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven! Not that I’m ready to die yet, but I like the metaphor.

There are two lap lanes in the warm water pool. They’re on the far side by the windows. While the warm water makes the pool so wonderful, it’s the windows that make the experience. They’re floor to ceiling, at least 20 feet high and go across the length of the room. They let in so much light, I can’t help feeling like I’m outdoors in the summer sun even though I’m really indoors protected from the winter freeze.

When it’s really cold like this, the sun always shines, bright and sparkly and sometimes even feels warm when it comes through the glass. If it’s only 35 or 40 degrees outside, the sky is overcast, foggy or just plain yucky. But when the world is frigid outside, the sun ensures that it’s bright and cheerful inside.

Once I get to the lap lanes, I start swimming: up and down, up and down, on my back for forty minutes. I keep looking out the windows. I can’t help smiling.

 

I am so lucky! Lucky to be here swimming laps in this warm bath tub at the exact time I used to be pulling into the garage at work, parking my car and getting ready for my first conference of the day. I am lucky to have a health club that’s so close and convenient and has such an uplifting setting. This whole experience makes me feel grateful for all that I have: family, friends and good times!

Everything is good. Life can’t be better than this!

Costco’s Looking Out For You

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I was so pleased with myself. I felt I had really gotten through. I’d spent a long time writing my letter explaining things. I thought the phone call went well too. But, it was his last remark that stayed with me. Now I wonder…

I live in Ann Arbor. A little over a year ago, Costco built a new store on the southwest side of town. My husband, Michael, and I decided to join. We like Costco because of their products, prices and friendly service.

Once a week, we stop for gas and then go into the store to do some shopping. We have their Gold Star or basic card. One Saturday, near our renewal date, we stopped by the front desk to see if we’d save more money by upgrading to their Executive Membership. The manager in charge was very helpful. He asked us a few questions: How many people in your household? Did you mostly buy gas or food?

Since we are only two people, and considering that gasoline makes up a great percentage of our purchases, we wouldn’t save more money if we upgraded. The regular card was our best bet. We appreciated his helpfulness and honesty.

The following week, when we were checking out, the cashier asked me if we’d like to upgrade our membership. I told her, “Thank you. No.”

She told me we were missing out. With the money we were spending at Costco, we’d get money back at the end of the year if we upgraded. She was “only looking out for our best interest”.

I repeated, “Thank you. No.”

She started in a third time. I thought a little explanation might help. I said we’d already consulted with the person in charge of the membership desk and, in our case, we wouldn’t be getting money back. (At Costco you don’t get money back based on what you pay for gas.)

Michael and I discussed this interchange as we were leaving. Neither of us liked the way she continued to push after I’d told her “no” the first time, let alone having to repeat no three times. We especially noted her remark that she, who didn’t know us, needed to be looking out for our best interests. It seemed a little arrogant.

The following week, after getting gas, we were back in the store shopping. This time a different cashier started in. The only difference from last week was: She was louder, more aggressive if possible, it was crowded, and people on both sides of us as well as behind were listening.  I must have said, “No, thank you” at least six times.

She persisted:

“You really should upgrade your membership. I’m only trying to help you.”

“You don’t understand. I’m looking out for your best interest. Believe me.”

“If you don’t want to upgrade with me, you need to do it at the membership desk. You’ll save lots of money. I know. I can tell by looking at your account here on the screen.”

I swiped our card, got our receipt and we walked toward the exit. She was still talking.

What, we asked each other, did she read on that screen that she felt entitled her to continue harassing us after we’d said “no”?  What did she know about our best interests? She was a stranger.

We concluded, the screen must have said something like this:

“Look at this couple. They’re over 65. Therefore they’re stupid. Everyone knows, as you get older you get stupider and stupider. They don’t know what’s best for them. It’s your duty to save them from themselves. You know what’s best for them. Even though you’ve never met them before or checked out their financial situation, you know how they should spend their money. You can recognize a good deal when you see it. If they resist upgrading, that’s proof of how really stupid they are. It’s your duty to look out for them. Obviously they can’t look out for themselves. You’re only doing this for their own good. You have their best interests at heart.”

We were horrified to think that we’d have to go through this experience every time we checked out. We decided, maybe a letter to the manager of the Ann Arbor Costco store might help.

I sat down to write the letter as soon as we got home. I began by relating several positive customer service experiences we’d had at Costco. I included the anecdote about the front desk manager helping us decide that the Executive Membership wasn’t for us.

I then related the stories about the two cashiers. I wrote what we thought the screen might have said that caused them to act like that.

I asked that whatever the screen actually did say that caused the cashiers to act this way be deleted. The next time we came to Costco, we wanted to have a pleasant experience.

I gave my identifying information and asked the manager to phone.

Two mornings later one of the Costco managers called. We chatted for about five minutes about the letter. He apologized and said he was sorry for our experience. He would talk with the cashiers. He didn’t know what caused them to act that way but he would look into it. He wanted to keep us as Costco customers and to have a good experience when we came to the store.

I thought, “Wow! This is really going well. He’s listening. He’s going to do something. Our next experience should be fine. I must have explained things really clearly.”

Then the manager concluded by saying something along the lines of, “I want you to know that at Costco we’re always looking out for our customers’ best interests.”

Now, I wonder, did I really make my point? Or, maybe not…

A Glass of Water

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Finding something to write about is never easy for me. I get one idea and then another. But, when I actually sit down to write, the ideas no longer seem terribly interesting. So I was pleasantly surprised a few weeks ago when I saw Fareed Zakaria on CNN. The program was interesting and when I sat down to write I had lots of ideas.

Fareed’s program is called the Global Public Square. It comes on every Sunday morning and repeats in the afternoon. I like it because Fareed doesn’t invite on his show the usual talking heads who don’t seem very knowledgeable about what they are discussing. Instead, he invites people who are considered experts in their fields or are high up in government or the head of the country under discussion.

On September 7, this year, he had a very interesting program, part of which was about the brain and water. His guest was Dr. Sanjay Gupta, CNN Chief Medical Correspondent.

Sanjay was saying how, when he first got up in the morning, and while he was dressing, he drank eight to sixteen ounces of water. He does this every day and has been doing it for awhile. He is very pleased with the result: He’s fully awake, energized and focused by the time he leaves for work.

Our brains are 75% water. We sleep all night, hopefully for six, seven or eight hours. During that time we don’t have anything to drink. When we wake up in the morning, we need to hydrate our brain as soon as possible. If we don’t give it water first thing in the morning, it’s impossible to catch up during the day.

I’ve read a number of articles that essentially say: What you don’t use, you lose and that’s certainly true of your brain.

Everyone I know wants to keep their brain as sharp as possible. They don’t want to slow down and lose their “edge”.

Drinking a glass or two of water first thing in the morning sounded to me like an easy thing to do and it certainly was safe. So I decided to experiment. Starting on September 8th, that Monday, I began drinking a glass or more of water each morning while I was getting dressed. And I’m still doing it.

I’ve found that by the time I come into breakfast, I’m more awake, alert, and focused. I don’t have that sleepy “trying to wake up” feeling I used to have. I feel energized. I can’t wait to get started with my day. Best of all, with this water start, I keep my energy longer and seem to have more throughout the day.

So, if you’re looking to give yourself an extra boost in the morning, drink a glass or two of water first thing. You’ll thank yourself all day!

 

If you’d like to see Gupta’s interview in its entirety and the portion that inspired me to write this blog, follow this link: http://globalpublicsquare.blogs.cnn.com/2014/09/10/why-sugar-is-worse-than-fat/