Author: Dr. Flores Page 21 of 44

Not all that long ago, I was in the executive lounge of a hotel in Davao, Philippines. As I enjoyed the downtime around 7:30 p.m., having a glass of Pinot Grigio, I noticed a lively discussion a few tables over. However, I also had my MacBook Pro with me, and since I was alone, focused on reviewing the many emails that had accumulated in my Inbox.

The Situation

From what I can gather, there was an Australian man, probably in his late 50s, and a Filipino woman (in her 40s) with a young child having a conversation. A first glance, it appeared the couple was married. Another gentleman was present, and he appeared to be a lawyer of sort.

Everyone at the table was drinking an alcoholic drink of their choice. A short time later, a 20-something-year-old Filipino woman approached the table. She was dressed more as if she were going to a nightclub, and this led to a few heads turning. She made her way to the seasoned Australian man and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Chaos!

After the young woman sat down at the table and ordered her cocktail, all hell broke loose:

Older Woman: You stupid bi*#h! You stole my husband!

Young Woman: He didn’t want to be with you anymore!

Older Woman: We hired you to clean the house and take care of our child, not to sleep with my husband!

The older woman slapped the younger lady, and the sound reverberated in the lounge. There were two businessmen sitting nearby, and they made a beeline for the exit.

The argument gained momentum, and the women stood up and starting pulling each other’s hair. The Australian man and attorney-looking-guy sat comfortably in their chairs, as if they were placing a bet on the fight.

Interestingly, the hotel staff members in the lounge were shocked, and most of them were motionless. I think one of them decided to call the front desk to ask for assistance. You would think that hotel security or law enforcement might be the first call.

I Jumped In

I’m not sure what prompted me to jump in and try to break-up the “pulling hair” fight. Thinking back, it was probably a bad idea. There are far too many things that could go wrong. For example, a broken wine glass can cause damage in several ways. The Australian guy, who was about 100-pounds overweight, might pounce on me. There is no doubt that the risks outweighed the benefits. I should have followed the lead from the businessmen, and headed out the door.

I think that my college referee instincts kicked-in. It’s a natural reaction for me to try and break up a situation before it escalates. With officiating, however, I have more control, and security personnel are just a few feet away. Not here!

It took hotel security about 10 minutes to make their way to the lounge. When they arrived, I was in the middle of the two ladies, trying to separate them. I still remember trying to break the grip that the older woman had on the young lady’s hair. I couldn’t get my fingers in-between.

Once the situation was diffused, I was surprised to hear that the hotel staff offered the culprits an alcoholic drink.

This was a good sign that I needed to get back to my room.

During the lunch hour, I decided to grab a ready-made salad from H-E-B, the main supermarket here in San Antonio. While the parking lot was full of cars, I was able to get around the store quickly. I found the prepared chef salad near the Deli section, and soon was making my way to the express checkout lane.

The Checkout

There was only one person in front of me, which meant my wait would be minimal. The customer was an elderly lady, and she was pushing the fast lane limit. I calculated about 9 products in her small cart.

When she was done emptying the cart, I noticed that the Seasoned Jalapeno Dip was still in the small basket near the handle. The rest of the items were removed from the cart and promptly scanned by the talkative cashier.

I thought about mentioning to the lady that one item remained in the cart, but quickly changed my mind. Was it really my business if she forgot to pay for it, or if she was planning to pull a fast one on the cashier?

Here is what I thought about saying?

• “Ma’am. I think you forgot one item in the cart.”
• “Were you planning to buy the Seasoned Jalapeno Dip”?
• “Is that your dip, ma’am”?

As you can tell, any question I asked was going to sound silly. The other point is that I arrived to the queue after she had unloaded some of her groceries from the cart. The dip might have been scanned before I got there. There were too many possibilities for me to be nosey and wrong.

She’s Done!

The cashier and lady carried a short conversation about the changing weather, which made my wait a bit longer. I didn’t like it, but my mind was still racing about what to do regarding the Seasoned Jalapeno Dip.

She thanked the young man and prepared to make her away out of the grocery store. Before rolling her cart even a foot, she noticed that dip was still in the basket, and said: “Oh, my! I forgot to pay for this item! So sorry!” The cashier quickly scanned the item, and she paid $1.94 in cash. With all the items paid, she quickly departed the supermarket.

The Lesson

I learned an important lesson by observing this situation. First, it was not my business if the lady forgot to pay for the product. I was not hired by H-E-B to monitor whether customers walk out without paying. In this case, there were too many unknowns, meaning that I lacked enough information to make an accurate judgment.

The most important lesson, though, is noticing first-hand that the lady was ethical. Upon realizing that she failed to pay for the product, she brought it to the attention of the cashier. It would have been super-easy for her to keep rolling the cart out of the store.

I’m glad that I kept quiet and kept to my business. By doing so, this lady taught me a small lessonwith big implications.

I was recently on a five-hour flight from Honolulu to Los Angeles. As it turns out, this United Airlines flight was nearly filled to capacity. A pre-boarding announcement was made for passengers to consider checking in their carry-on luggage. I needed my bags because I was hoping to shower at the United Club at LAX given that this was a red-eye flight.

The Boarding Process

Once the announcement was made to board the aircraft, I was fortunate to be in Group 1, which meant that I was going to be one of the first to board. A month or so before the flight, I visited the United website and selected the most ideal seat. For me, this means either bulkhead or emergency row aisle. Because bulkhead is closer to the front of the aircraft, I picked 7C. The only downside to this location is that I was near the lavatories. However, this was an overnight flight, so I anticipated light bathroom traffic.

The boarding process moved relatively quickly because many passengers heeded the advice of checking in carry-on bags. Interestingly, seats 7A and 7B were unoccupied. I thought perhaps the folks who were scheduled to sit here were awarded First Class upgrades, which left the seats open. However, these are prime seats on a long journey, and I was sure someone would jump in them soon.

The Eater … and Talker!

Sure enough … a few minutes before the flight attendants made the final preparations for the flight, a lady jumped in seat 7B, which was right next to me. Her hands were full, and she was using her right shoulder to hold the mobile phone to her ear. It’s remarkable how she was able to contort herself in that way.

The doors were closed, and the flight to LAX was cleared. As we began the push-back from the terminal, I noticed an interesting smell, one that comes from Chinese restaurants. Sure enough! The talking lady purchased a to-go Chinese meal, and she was about to eat it on the aircraft, while seated right next to me.

No Way!

I think there should be a rule regarding what you can eat on the airplane, and what is not allowed. Sandwiches from Subway are permitted. Well, perhaps the meatball type should not be allowed. The point here is that Chinese food is definitely a banned item.

The woman disobeyed the flight attendant’s instructions to turn off her phone, and continued to talk for several minutes after the directive. She was giving a friend dating advice. “It’s better to play hard to get,” she exclaimed!

The Flight

She ate about half the food, closed the tray, and placed it in the plastic bag. Despite these efforts to conceal the food, I could still smell the Mongolian Beef. Luckily, seat 7A was open, and she moved to it. However, since 7B was now open, she put the food in that seat. When she fell asleep a few minutes into the flight, I found a couple of blankets and covered the food. Surprisingly, it controlled the smell!

I’m sure many of you have similar stories to share, such as the guy who had too much to drink on a flight, or the person who laughed way too loud while watching an in-flight movie. For me, the lady eating the Chinese food takes the cake. How annoying!

I have yet another steam room story. It seems like this is where I hear some interesting stuff. The fitness facility that I frequent has separate steam rooms for men and women. When men are shooting the bull, they tend to open up a bit about what is going on in their lives.

On this particular day, I was the only person in the steam room. It was nice and quiet … but this tranquility did not last. Within a few minutes, a couple men arrived and settled in for a relaxing time.

Here comes the talker! Jack, a 60-something guy loves to talk loud, and laugh even louder. He is the Ed McMahon in the room. You can expect him to laugh even when you’re stuff is not funny.

The issue here is that the steam and sauna rooms are meant for relaxation. When Jack arrives, it is far too noisy for anyone to be tranquil. He carries a conversation with anyone who is willing to share a thought.

Here’s the latest story I heard between Jack and another gym-goer who he recently befriended:

Jack: Hello, Don!

Don: Hi, Jack! Good to see you.

Jack: How many more houses have you bought recently?

Don: Well, I haven’t bought any in the last few weeks. I’m actually trying to unload one of them.

Jack: Do you mean the one on the north side of town?

Don: Nope! It’s the one near downtown. I spent so much time renovating it, and now it’s so customized. I will need a very specific buyer for it.

Jack: I’m sure that you will find one soon.

Don: I did sell my house in Venice, though.

Jack: I didn’t know you had a house in Italy.

Don: Not Venice, Italy. I mean Venice, California. I inherited the house from my grandma, who recently passed away. I put it on the market for $899,000. The bidding was intense, and it finally sold for $1.2M. I guess being right near the beach made a difference. The buyers don’t really want the old house. They are more interested in the land.

Jack: Good for you!

Don: Thanks, Jack!

I wonder if this is the right discussion for two people to have in a steam room where we are all basically strangers. I suppose Don was happy about the sale, and he wanted to share the story with people he doesn’t know. I wonder if the story is even true. Would Don still share this story if he has lost money on the sale? I’m not sure, and I don’t think it even matters.

I usually go to the fitness club in the mid-afternoon. This is a time when retirees like Jack frequent the gym. While Don is not retired, he usually comes during this time as well. Therefore, I can deduce from this small sample size that both retirees and people who sell million dollar homes use the steam room between 1 and 4 p.m.

This begs the question: What am I doing at the gym during this time when I am neither a retiree nor a person who sold an inherited home for $1.2M?

Perhaps I need to change my workout schedule. The problem is me! Yikes!

By reading this book, you notice that a lot of interesting stuff happens to me. I suppose these kinds of things are just part of life, but I’m surprised when others make it a top priority to intervene in the lives of others.

Dry Cleaning

At least once per week, I take my clothes to the dry cleaners. Is that too often? One might argue that I need to buy more clothes, and perhaps they are right.

The $2.25 per item dry cleaners that I use is just a few miles from my home. The ideal situation is for me to take the clothes on Saturday morning because traffic is light, and the store is not too busy. However, I’m not a very good planner, which means that I show up at the dry cleaners when the need arises. For example, a day or two before a business trip, I drop off the clothes needed while I’m traveling.

The Story

On this particular Thursday, I arrived at the dry cleaners at 7:15 a.m., a quarter hour after they opened for business. Not too surprisingly, there were a few people in front of me. Most people take advantage of the same day service by dropping off their clothes before 9 a.m. Of course, this only applies to dry cleaning, and not laundry.

I was lucky that I found a parking spot directly in front of the store. I decided to leave my car on while I went to drop off the clothes. I could see my car, and felt comfortable that all was okay.

As I waited my turn, and older, and perhaps retired, lady walked in and initiated this conversation:

Lady: Who left their car on outside?

[It took a few seconds to register. I could see the car, and didn’t think that I caused anyone any trouble. This is my car. Don’t have I have the right to leave it on? I was the one taking the chance that someone could possibly run off with it, right?]

Me: Ma’am, are you talking about that SUV [pointing to my car]?

Lady: Yes! That’s the one. You know that you shouldn’t leave it on. It’s easy for someone to steal it.

[The rest of the customers were hoping this would be a short conversation, but it continued.]

Me: Ma’am, I guess you’re right. I was in a hurry, and failed to turn the car off. It’s not the brightest thing I’ve done.

Lady: If that car is stolen, you can be cited for contributory negligence. I read about that in the San Antonio Express News.

[Who cares what you read in the San Antonio Express News! That’s what I wanted to say, but I controlled myself.]

Me: I certainly don’t want to go to jail or even pay a fine for this mess-up. I’ll make sure to heed your advice.

Lady: I hope you do. I’m sure you don’t want to get in trouble with the law.

Me: You’re right. I’m sure that going to jail is low on my priority list. Have a good day.

The conversation wasn’t too bad because I didn’t take it seriously. I suppose this older woman felt important by making a big deal of the situation. She did have a point, but most people prefer not to learn the lesson in a public setting.

From time time-to-time I do leave my car on when going to the cleaners. I’m actually more concerned about the old lady catching me violating an obscure law than having the car stolen.

We all have different names that we don’t like others to call us. For some reason, they don’t sound right, or they make us feel uncomfortable. I guess it’s similar to calling someone by his middle name, even though he’s made it clear that he doesn’t  like it. We do it just to make life harder on him.

I would like to mention that I have officiated men’s college basketball for many years, which means that I’ve been called many things that are far from nice. However, that is a different setting. These hecklers don’t know me, and I don’t know them. In other words, they don’t care about me, and I could care less about them.

I’m writing here about names I’m called in a “friendly” setting, such as when I’m attending a meeting, buying groceries at the supermarket, or attending a WNBA game.

Here are the 3 names that I’d rather not be called:

Buddy

I actually don’t like “buddy” used in any way when trying to get my attention, such as …

• “Hey, Buddy!”
• “How can I help you, buddy?”
• “Are you doing ok, buddy?”
• “What’s on your mind, buddy?”

For some reason, I despise “buddy.” I would rather the person not speak to me. I guess it seems like the person is trying to get into my personal space too quickly. If the person knows me, I prefer they call me by my name, and not by a made-up name that refers to just anyone.

Boss

In some cases, people who don’t know me call me “boss.” How can I be their boss when I never hired them? How do they know I have the qualifications to be a real boss?

Since I’m a business owner, I know that the title of “boss” shouldn’t be used lightly. Why … we have so many responsibilities, including making tough decisions, and ensuring payroll is done timely. Does the person referring to me as “boss” expect me to pay him every two weeks, too?

Guy

Guy is an interesting name to be called. Does one have to be man to be called “guy”? If I were a woman, would the person call me “gal”? Regardless, I know that the name “guy” turns me off, and I cringe when someone tries to gain my attention in this way.

• “Hi, Guy!”
• “Let me tell you, guy, this is a good car for you.”
• “Guy, can you get the door for me”?
• “Ok, guy. Just know that I’m here to help you.”

“Guy” has little meaning to me. I guess “buddy” would be better, but I don’t like either one.

I suppose some of you are wondering what my point is with this discussion. In truth, I’m not sure. Actually, I do have a point to make … it’s far better to call someone by their preferred name, and not by a weak name that has little meaning. If we don’t know their given name, we can refer to them as “Mr.” or “Miss.” It’s better to keep it professional.

I’m unsure how I would react if I had this dialogue with someone:

Other Person: “How are you doing, buddy?”

 Me: “I’m doing fine. Thank you.”

Other Person: “C’mon, Guy! I’m sure you are doing far better than just fine!”

Me: “I guess you are right. The day is going super!”

Other Person: “Right on, Boss!”

No way!

While attending a meeting in downtown San Antonio, I had an interesting discussion with a lady in her mid-20s (Christy). I’m unsure why she was assigned as a participant to this meeting because she was too engaged with Facebook on her Dell laptop. Nonetheless, as soon as the break was called, she and I had the following conversation:

CHRISTY: It’s nice that we are on break now. I can’t believe they ran out of pastries. I’m so hungry!

ME: I noticed the food went pretty quick. I think they still have coffee and some juices.

CHRISTY: I’m not much of a coffee drinker, but I do like to eat. Ever since I graduated high school, I’ve been gaining weight. I think it’s probably more because of the travel that I do around the world.

ME: I guess we don’t eat that well when we’re on the run.

CHRISTY: I know I don’t! I travel to Hawaii nearly every couple of weeks. If not in Hawaii, I’m in Europe just touring. That’s not all … I just returned from Central America.

ME: Where did you go in Central America?

CHRISTY: We spent a few days in Argentina, and then went to Brazil.

[I’m unsure when Argentina and Brazil became part of Central America, but she was adamant about her knowledge of geography.]

ME: It’s great that you have the opportunity to travel to many fun destinations. Finding the time can be difficult for me.

CHRISTY: It’s not too difficult for me. My husband … well, my new one … makes $158,000 per year, so we have the money to spend.

ME: That’s pretty good. What kind of work does he do?

CHRISTY: He is some kind of engineer. I’m not exactly sure, though. I just know how much he makes.

ME: We have about five minutes left on the break, so let me grab some coffee.

CHRISTY: That sounds good. I know it’s only 10:45 in the morning, but I am already tired of this meeting. I have lunch plans with friends who are super rich, so I’m going to take off early. These are “friends” that I cannot stand up. They make a lot of money like we do, so I need to be there. That’s just the way it goes.

ME: Yeah? Where are you going for lunch?

CHRISTY: Don’t know yet, but I’m sure they will call me when I’m in my Mercedes and tell me where to meet them.

After Christy left the meeting, I had a quick discussion with one of her colleagues who heard part of the conversation. I learned that Christy made it a habit of embellishing her social status. In most cases, she completely made up the story, such as the Central America trip.

Over the years, I have met people who seek attention by telling us something they are not. However, Christy does take the cake. I have another meeting soon where she will be in attendance, and I’m excited to hear what is “new” in her life.

I belong to a group that decided to have a potluck dinner at the next event, and everyone agreed to bring something to eat or drink. I’m generally not too good at figuring out what to bring, so I asked around, and a friend recommended a cheese-and-cracker tray. I figured this was a safe bet because wine was going to be offered.

The Meeting

The meeting was scheduled for 6 p.m., and I arrived right on time. The food smelled great. One person made his favorite beef fajita recipe, and it was off the charts! A lady brought a terrific spicy salsa that complimented the fajitas perfectly. She made it a point to tell us that she used vegetables from her own garden for the salsa. My cheese-and-cracker option was just okay, but at least I did not walk in empty-handed.

Shortly after I arrived, someone said, “Well, let’s eat! I’m hungry.” As soon as these words were uttered, a group of people made their way to the food table. One guy made a beeline to the wine bottles. Before long, he had uncorked several of them. Even thought it was billed as a meeting, the feeling was festive and party-like.

The Non-Participants

There were three people who sat in their chairs, deciding not to join us for the food and drinks. I quickly assumed that they were embarrassed to participate because they didn’t bring anything to share.

They used the common excuses:

• “I already ate, so I’m not hungry!”
• “I had a huge lunch!”
• “I’m not feeling too well. I’m going to pass tonight.”

However, we all knew they felt uncomfortable because they failed to participate. I suppose they forgot about the potluck dinner. After a little bit of encouragement, two of them agreed to “try” the excellent food and have a glass of Chardonnay.

End of Meeting

As is normal with most potluck meals, there is far too much food. For example, someone decided to bring an entire bucket of KFC chicken. Given the health-conscious nature of people, most of the chicken was still in the bucket at the end of the night. However, the wine was going fast. It’s funny how even when the wine is not the best, it still seems to go first. Weird!

When the meeting ended, Marty, who failed to bring anything to the dinner, was hanging around making small conversation with those who remained. Most everyone took home any extra food that was left. The fajitas were gone, and so was most of the salsa, but the KFC chicken and desserts were still on the table.

Marty asked, “Is anyone going to take this home? If not, I’m sure my kids will eat it.” He was not bashful. Within short order, he found a couple of bags to help carry as many of the items to his car. Fortunately, I was able to get the cheese-and-cracker tray before he could grab it.

I might be overreacting, but it does look a bit unusual for someone to show up without any food to a potluck dinner, and yet walk away with a bag full of goodies. I guess it’s best to take a generous perspective here. When Marty walks into the house with the yummy cheesecake, his wife and kids are going to be happy.

However, I’m unsure how they will feel about the plastic silverware that he threw in the bag.

Oh, well!

I decided to have a Subway sandwich for lunch last week, and I observed that a 40+ man was far too friendly with the employees. He and his teenage son were ahead of me, and his abundance of feel-good comments made my wait even longer.

Being nice and professional is fine, but it appeared to me that some of his comments were borderline weird. That is my opinion, and others might think they were normal, and possibly conclude that I’m the weird one.

To paint the picture, let me provide some examples of the comments I remember:

• “You’re working far too hard back there. It’s time for a break!”
• “Wow! The bread smells terrific in that baking thing [known as the oven]. You are good at what you do!”
• “I know it’s hard to take orders when working the drive-thru, especially a Subway sandwich. There are too many combinations. You’re pretty good at listening with that ear device [called a headset]. I’m sure it takes a lot of practice.”
• “Cleaning that stuff from the floor [known as dirt] sure takes some patience. I can tell your manager is happy with your work. I’m sure not many people are willing to take on that job.”

Enough!

There’s more!

• “You’re fast with the vegetables. Your hearing is good because I’m actually speaking kind of low.”
• “It’s great that I came in today. This is probably the best Subway staff I’ve seen in years! You guys do good work.”

Mind you … I’m in line waiting for my turn. I almost hesitated to compliment the sandwich maker person. Even a “Please” or “Thank you” might lack the impact after Mr. Friendly maxed them out.

My turn finally came, and I ordered the 6-inch tuna on wheat, selected the vegetables, added a bit of olive oil as the dressing, and asked them to sprinkle some salt-and-pepper. After selecting the baked potato chips and a bottled Diet Coke, my order was complete.

Interestingly, Mr. Nice Guy’s comments were still in my mind, and it made me lose my concentration. In fact, as I approached the door to leave the sandwich shop, the employee called, “Sir, you forgot your sandwich!” Foolishly, I walked back and put it in the plastic bag, and blamed the temporary amnesia on a strong dose of Vitamin B, which come to think of it, was a silly comment.

Mr. Friendly’s son was not bothered with his father’s approach. In fact, I think he appreciated that his dad was complimentary of everything under the sun. I noticed they both were having a funny father-son discussion while they enjoyed their meatball sandwiches.

As I reflect on the situation, I think the problem is me. He was friendly, even if he went too far. He was doing his best to be complimentary, and perhaps that’s his nature. It sure seemed weird, but at least he was trying to be courteous. The opposite is a mean and bitter approach, and no one wants to see that.

You know … next time I’m at Subway I just might give that friendly approach a try.

On a Tuesday afternoon, I was making my way from one meeting to the next. The San Antonio weather was nice on this particular day, and the warm sunshine made it even better. The quickest way for my 2 p.m. meeting was taking Interstate-35, which runs North-and-South through the Alamo City.

A few miles from my destination, and trekking at about 65 mph, I noticed something unusual in the right lane of the freeway. A white SUV slowed down suddenly. In fact, it appeared the vehicle stalled. I took a close look and observed that fire was coming from under the car.

Stop!

I decided to do what any other concerned citizen might do in similar circumstances. That is, offer my assistance. Of course, I have next to nil experience as an EMT, and I don’t carry a fire extinguisher in my vehicle. The least I could do was make sure that anyone in the vehicle was evacuated safely.

I parked my car about 40 feet in front of the burning vehicle and rushed to see how I could help. To my surprise, a young lady was still sitting in the driver’s side, and she didn’t seem too nervous about the situation. I informed her that flames were coming from under her SUV, and she quickly unbuckled her seatbelt and ran from the car.

Immediately after my arrival, another gentleman stopped to render aid. He carried a fire extinguisher, and attempted to put out the fire. However, the intensity was too much, and his efforts were to no avail.

The Aftermath

By the time I called 911, several other folks had done the same. The San Antonio Fire Department (SAFD) was there within minutes, and they quickly extinguished the flames. However, the SUV appeared to be a total loss. At one time, it was completely engulfed in flames. I was startled when loud pop noises pierced through the air after the tires exploded.

With my iPhone in hand, I decided to take a few pictures, and even record a video of the situation. I informed the terrified woman that I could provide this information in case her insurance company asked for it. I also provided my business card so that she could reach me. The fire diffused, and the situation under the control of the SAFD, I decided to make my way to the meeting.

Rebecca Contacted Me

About a week later, Rebecca, the woman whose car caught fire, sent an email thanking me for helping her … see below …

Hello –

My name is Rebecca. I’m not sure if I even introduced myself to you. I was the lady you helped last week when my truck caught on fire.

I can’t thank you enough! You saved my life because I didn’t even know it was on fire. I thought it was just over heating so thank you again. You are an angel sent from above because you actually stopped to help out. Again, I appreciate everything you did to help me on that day.

Rebecca

I’m writing about this situation not to pat myself on the back. As I noted earlier, I did what most any of us would do when faced with this scenario. I know that I will be in a similar situation sometime in the future, and I hope someone takes the time to make sure I am fine.