This Is Why I'm Like This: Lyft

  I have concluded that Lyft causes me too much anxiety.
  This is not shocking to anyone who knows me.
   All you have to know is that it's completely online. On your phone. Technology. 100%.
   The Gargoyle.
   No humans.
   The only human interaction...wait, I'm getting ahead.
   Last summer I thought I'd look into Lyft and Uber. I heard it was easy money, your own hours, All Of The Things. But I couldn't manage the application, and when the photo of my registration would not upload to my email from my phone so that I could download it onto my laptop and upload it to the open application on my laptop, I stopped. That was enough. I had already battled the gargoyle to wrestle my teaching certification renewal the previous summer, and I was still exhausted. I had to get someone at the CDE on the phone and yell at them, only to have them tell me I had to do it online. They would not allow any snail mail, faxes or, God Forbid, humans occupying their lobby. Which was not a veiled threat. Some poor government employee had to sit on the phone with me and Gerber baby walk me through the entire thing. We all needed a summer vacation after that summer vacation. Lyft was intended for extra money and not worth another episode of Kryssi Vs. The Gargoyle. Besides, there are no humans to call at Lyft, and I was stymied. It's entirely run by robots.
   On Saturday, after much self wrestling over technology and how I am not anybody's bitch, I sat in my chair by the window, laptop open, application open, all of my documents photographed and ready to go. Then my registration would not upload to my email and I started talking to myself. After a few minutes, Harper, who was in the other chair and who is usually both immune to and annoyed by my continuous technological travesties, walked over to me and just took my phone. Usually she ignores me and spits "Why don't you just ask me to help?" Not this time, this time she said "You have to do it from the app," and proceeded to finish my application. Apparently she had reached her threshold as well. In seconds. This is where I remind you that, technically, it took me a year to finish the application. And, technically,I did not finish it, my daughter did.
  Now, don't get ahead and start wondering how OH HOW is kryssi, who cannot manage her voicemail, let alone an app, going to function on nothing but an app? With no humans. Hold on, I'll get there.
   Using google maps, which I have managed to figure out recently, I located the Lyft inspection location. Much to my chagrin, it shares a building with a pub. Now that's a terrible idea, isn't it? Drive for Lyft, stop by the pub. Had Jim come with me to the inspection, this would be a different story, ending with "So we have a new pub". When I entered the building, I was shocked that there were human beings. None of whom were over the age of 25. but human beings. I signed into the kiosk, even though I was the only one there and the humans could see me with their eyeballs, and waited for someone to say my name.  I was told to fill out the thing and go sit in my car with the hazards on. They could have told me that when I entered by looking at me, but no, I had to put my name in the kiosk so they could read it off of the screen.
   Really?
   So I go to my car.
   I have no idea where the hazards are.
   I text Jim and Harper asking about the location of my hazards. I get out the owner's manual. Harp sends me a pic of the hazards on her Subaru, as the button is in the same place. I turn on the hazards.     The sheet they gave me says "Turn on your lights."
   I have automatic lights, "daytime running lights", whatever. I can control them?
   Owner's manual.
   The 20 something "mechanic" comes out and asks me to flip  my lights. I tell him they are on. He asks me to flip the high beams.
   I turn on the windshield wipers.
  This is going well. I should not be trusted to shuffle people to and fro across town in my vehicle.
  He writes down my VIN number, because I was supposed to but I don't know where that is.Also when he asked me, I could neither hear him or read his lips over the windshield wipers. I push the brakes when asked--I know where they are---and he hands me the clipboard, telling me to fill in my license plate number. His look suggests that if I cannot locate my license plate to record the number, it'd be best if I just leave and go no further. Perhaps walk over to the pub and call it a day.
   I return inside to the weird people who don't look at other people with the clipboard and am sent to the "classroom" to see the nurse practitioner. I question her authenticity as her stethoscope looks like one the girls had when they were little, and this tiny woman is maybe 13 years old. Seriously. She's a sprite. Adorable, but not an adult human and not a nurse. She asks me questions I could clearly lie about, takes my blood pressure and marks me as healthy enough to shuffle people to and fro across town in my vehicle.
   My final stop is a young man who makes sure I've taken photos of my health paper and inspection and loaded them into the app. When I struggle because my buttons don't all work, or I can't work them, he helps me and then sits me in front of a ten minute video intended to train and prepare me to shuffle people to and fro across town in my vehicle.
   I watch a video of two millennials gushing at the virtues of Lyft and "demonstrating" the use of the app. Which means they assume you know what they are talking about and they just pose around the pictures. I do not know what they are talking about, and am more vexed than I was before I started.  Steering wheel? How do I know if there is a ride? How do I accept it? What if I don't want to?
   I am dismissed by the young man after being handed two pink "LYFT" stickers and told where to place them on my car, which he does with more care than any other instruction I have been given. I guess people who can manage apps don't comprehend "Put the sticker in the lower right-the passenger side-corner of your windshield. It's the law," he demonstrates on a diagram."Good luck," he says before turning to his colleague to continue their conversation about what happened Somewhere Trendy last night.
   I get home, actually feeling accomplished. I did it, I did a thing. I tap on the app.
   It tells me my inspection did not go through. It is expired.
   Confused, I send the photo again. How is it expired? I just did it twenty minutes ago and the guy uploaded it for me, there is no room for kryssi error here. Two hours later, when it still isn't approved, I go and retrieve the paper from my glove box.
   The judgey young man who silently mocked my inability to know how to turn on my own car lights, the Lyft inspection "mechanic", wrote down my inspection date as 7-14-9.
   I LAUGHED SO HARD I PEED.
   Finally, the next morning my inspection was "approved". The robots decided that he clearly meant "19" instead of "9" and allowed my application to be approved.
   All that I have to do now is plunk in my checking account information so they can pay me. I am paid from space, or the cloud, or eharmony or wherever. Now...which number is the routing number...
   And thus, by and by, All The Things are loaded and checked off and YOU ARE NOW READY TO DRIVE.
  Great. How do I do that?
  Harper had to walk me through a tutorial, as you click on the app, and then the wheel, and then things start to ding. What if I don't want to give them a ride? What if I don't know where they are? What if I don't know where they're going? Harper is more patient than I have ever known her to be. She is now more experienced than I, as she's been driving a few days.
   Well,  the things is you don't know where they're going, only where there are. I need so much information to function. I need to know where I'm picking you up and where I'm taking you before I even accept the ride, but that's not a thing.This information caused me to lose a night's sleep. What? What if I don't want to go to the airport today? I hate Aurora, I'm not going to Aurora. What...Harper patiently repeats herself: "You just follow the directions to them, and then to where they are going with no idea of where they are going until you are on your way there." No sleep that night worrying about this lack of information. How do people function like this?
    I make a choice this morning at 7 am. Am I going to be Lyft's bitch? No, I am not. I will do this, even if I have a panic attack and die and kill everyone in the process.
    I get up and open the app, and tap the steering wheel. Someone named "Allison's" face fills the screen with SHARED RIDE in pink and a blue line running under the post. I have no idea what's going on. When the blue line finishes, I'm told  by text I had 90 seconds to accept the ride, and if I don't want to I should tap the "X". I don't recall seeing an "X", so I panic and turn off my phone and go back to sleep.
   But wait, if I tapped the wheel I'm still on even if I turned off my phone, right?
   Right.
   Back on. Click off wheel. Breathe.
   Ok, so don't click it until you're in the car. Got it.
   I am going to do this. I get in the car, fill the gas tank, take a breath, open the app and tap the wheel.
   Nothing happens.
   Nobody needs a ride. I guess. Am I supposed to shop somehow? I'll just drive around I guess and see if it dings....DING!
    Chris' face comes up two blocks away. I tap "accept" and my radio turns off. I have plugged my phone into my car charger and the directions are now the boss of my car stereo. I follow the verbal directions---I've been practicing with google maps!---to his house. He emerges, gets in the back and I click "picked up Chris". The map to where were are going comes up, but my phone is in my lap so I can't look down to see where we're headed. So I follow the voice from Alameda to C470 to I 70. Now, I was just going to drive a bit before going to my 9am King Soopers training. It's 7.30 am, and the only reason you would go from Lakewood to I 70 is to go to the airport. This is where my brain goes, forgetting that I get on I 70 to go to work at the warehouse, but that's by the airport. This is who I have become, I live in a west suburb and work in a south suburb and I don't leave my bubble to get on I 25 unless it's to go downtown, and I 70 only goes west so I can leave town. There is no valid reason anyone would travel from a west suburb on I 70 east unless they are going to the airport.
    I stop breathing.
    It's fine, if he's going to the airport I'll just miss King Soopers training, maybe I don't want to work there, anyway.
   I try to glimpse my phone---there is a reason drivers have those dash clasps for their phones--and I see "13 miles". OK, not going to the airport. Cool
   Chris asks me to lower the back window a bit, even with the A/C on full the morning sun is a lot on his face.
    I take him to his exit, Pecos, and then the woman voicing my directions suddenly decides to stop speaking. Do I turn right or left? She won't tell me, and my phone is in my lap, I can't look. I say "She's not going to tell me, I guess, do I go right or left?"
 "Right."
  We drive two blocks, then Chris says "Actually, can you drop me off right here, at the coffee shop?"
  I pull over abruptly, as he's told me to stop as we are passing the coffee shop...clearly I've failed already, he can't get out soon enough, he doesn't even want me to take him all the way to work. It's because there was no music, I don't know how to play the radio with the directions going. I have already failed on my first ride.
   I look at the cute coffee shop, very trendy with a mural painted on the outside.There's a whole neighborhood back here, and apparently Chris' job is here as well. How is there anything of value between west and the airport? Who the hell am I? I used to know all the neighborhoods, worked all the funky theatres---in Houston I lived in an artist's warehouse, for God's sake.  Who Am I??!!! In the midst of my historical inventory and impending mental break, my phone dings again as he gets out and I tell him to have a good day. I pull around the corner to see that "Another ride has been added to your queue."
  What? Huh? I did not say yes, or swipe, or push a blue button, or submit to eharmony, what do you mean it's been added?
  I have 45 minutes to get back to Lakewood for my other job, I can't possibly take another ride unless they are also going to the King Soopers training center. Which I would not know, because where they are going is not displayed.
   I panic and start poking at the screen. Somehow I get to an "X" that says "Decline" and I do so.          Then it wants to know why. 
   None of the listed choices are "Because I have no idea what the hell I am doing and I need to get to my other job."
    I choose "It's too far." I think ahead enough to swipe my steering wheel icon OFF before turning off my phone, turning on my radio and heading back to Lakewood. First I have to navigate the Pecos/I 25 roundabout, why do we have these in Colorado, we are not Paris! When I get to the KS parking lot, I click on my Lyft dashboard to see my 35 minute adventure netted me $16.80. No tip.
   But OK, that's OK, because I DID IT. I did not sleep last night because of this bullshit, and I did it. I won. I worked with a robot. I did not cry. I did not wreck my car, and more importantly, I did not pull over and call a hard to find Lyft phone number and demand to speak to a human being.
   I may even do it again.
   First lesson: clear a few hours. Thinking you're going to just take people before you go to work is incorrect. They can make you keep driving by adding to your que without your permission.
   Scene.
 

This Is Why I'm Like This: King Soopers

  10 July 2019

  At this point, I've lost all understanding and, likely, control of what is happening.
  I went in today to sign new hire paperwork at King Soopers as a Customer Service employee. Aggressively part time, but still.
  I'll give you a second.
  I have been hired to work a desk entirely dedicated to customer service.
  I suppose I am hopeful I can tell people they are stupid without fear of admonishment from administration or parents.
  Or maybe I just want to solve, solvable problems. What a concept.
  You need your propane refilled? Done.
   Lottery Ticket? Done.
   Pay your Excel bill? Done.
   Buy Ren Fair tickets?My pleasure.
   Maybe I've just been so abused and devalued that I just crave being able to provide a tangible, objective service to people.
   Too much?
   OK, so maybe I'm just not smart enough to teach or be in theatre any more. Is that better?
   After  a month of assembly line work, standing in one place, building and packing one thing, I have a new perspective.
   Unfortunately, I am still unsure what that perspective means, but I feel better so I know I have one.
   The cost of living in Colorado has increased 3.1% this year. My raise as a teacher is .2%.
  A general manager at King Soopers makes a comparable salary to mine, and they also participate in profit sharing and tax bonus'.
   A store manager of a Barnes and Noble will make the same salary as I do.
   There is no judgement here, just facts.
   OOOH, Project Manager, I can do that. Same salary.
   Never mind, I'm going to apply for that. Talk to you later.

   Twenty minutes later I'm back.
   What the actual hell is going on out there? Glassdoor? LinkedIn? If you don't fill out each box according to the pre prescribed description it won't let you move on. Nothing I have done, ever, has fit a pre prescribed description box guys, and I promise I'm the most innovative job candidate you could get today but...oh well.
   Also, just so you know I am not down with taking the music out of Mulan. I'm not spending my money to see that shit.

    UGH

 
 

This Is Why I'm Like This: Rob Lowe Won

  So as I returned to St. Elmo's Fire in a previous blog, I realized that  Rob Lowe won the Brat Pack Competition. I'm not sure he knew it was a competition, but he is the only member of that group who is still  functioning as a working actor. I am leaving Robert Downey, Jr. out of the "Brat Pack", as he was generationally there, yes, and in a John Hughes movie, sure. He was also in the quintessential movie version of one of my fave novels during that era, Less Than Zero, in which he pretty much played himself. Nevertheless, he had his own issues and was not really associated with the "Pack". Therefore, he cannot be considered a competitor. Also, if he was, then he would win. Clearly.
   I think of Molly Ringwald, Andrew McCarthy, Emilio Esteves, Rob Lowe, Demi Moore, Judd Nelson, Anthony Michael Hall and Ally Sheedy as the "Pack". I think that's pretty fair, as their films did cross one another and because it's my blog and I say so.
   Also, to be clear, I never fan girled Rob. Again, he was almost too pretty to look at directly and I found that upsetting. When I saw him at the DCPA I honestly can tell you more about his shoes than his face. I hear a line from Amadeus when these types are paraded in front of us. "Only talent interests a woman of taste." So I, honestly, dismissed Rob in favor of Val Kilmer, who frankly hits all the below listed markers as well as possessing major talent for the craft. Rob's talent has never knocked me out, but he has improved because he is tenacious. I will always applaud growth. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
   How did Rob win?
   As I have read both of his books and attended a live speaking engagement, I think I can say that, in my professional opinion, he's just a better actor. I know, hold on, hear me out. In film I separate "actors", "directors" , "writers"  and "celebrities" because to me, real craftsmen live in theatre. So they get to be  called "Theatre Kids", which is a high honor. The highest honor of "Master Craftsman" is reserved for those who cross into both: Gary Oldman, Helen Mirrien, Bryan Cranston. I don't have a matching category for film actors, so Rob has to live in his category of actor.To me a great actor---or a true "Theatre Kid" --is someone who is brave, willing to stretch themselves, in love with the craft, tenacious as fuck and has an understanding of who they are.
   Rob Lowe has taken serious roles as well as silly roles---I loved The Grinder and was truly disappointed when it was cancelled--with equal relish. He just wants to work. It's like he's not in it for celebrity or money, he just loves the work. Huh. What a concept? He's willing to be ugly as well as ridiculous---did you see the Liberace movie with Michael Douglas? Did you even know that was Rob Lowe playing the plastic surgeon? Brave. And willing to stretch himself, literally, look at those eyebrows. (Go ahead, look it up. I'll wait.)
    It helps his case that he played my all time favorite Stephen King character Nick Andros in The Stand. In his book Love Life he talks of seeking out an acting coach to help him with the role, and being open and allowing someone to push him in a direction that was completely foreign to him. All in the name of getting the character right. Brave and willing to stretch himself. Not many with an existing career and looks so stellar he blocks out the sun, would be so bold.
   In both of his books, he explores his upbringing and gives insight into how determined he was to be an actor. Not having anyone willing to give him rides, he had to bus it for hours to get to auditions. He is kind in his remembrances of roles lost (he blew his knee at Footloose auditions) and when he was treated poorly due to his "celebrity" status (The West Wing). He understands where others are coming from, and even when they are clearly just rotten ass gnomes, he keeps moving forward. These stories, as well as those about being on set and learning from other actors and the funnier/sad ones of parties and rehab, all tell the reader that this man knows who he is. It was a rough journey, but he has arrived and it's fine. When I saw him at the DCPA (shout out to Jim for buying us tickets, I know he did not really want to go), some idiot woman yelled out "You're pretty!" Without breaking stride he smiled and said "Yes. I know," and continued to tell his stories. Which is why I was there, to hear his stories. Unfortunately I think I was in the minority, I think many just wanted to look at the beautiful freak. His quick response shut down anyone else who thought they may need to yell at him, and the rest of the evening was a lovely journey. He began with an old 80's poster of himself, shirtless, on the screen and then asked "Where were my parents? Why was this allowed to happen?" There was a huge laugh and grateful guffaws from the patient husbands who were now going to listen to him.I love his stories and his voice, and had read one book before seeing him, and immediately purchased the second after seeing him. His voice is that great.
  He packed the theatre.
  Judd Nelson did not pack the theatre. Just sayin'.
  He still works, regularly. He even had his own show for a bit with his sons where they explored urban legends. The man allowed them to air footage of him hurling off the deck of a ship as his sons stood by and snickered. Brave, again.
  And on any given day, if you watch TV, you can see him pitching Atkins snack bars, letting us in on his dieting secret.
  He's still present. He's still working. He has a family that loves him. He writes. People buy the books he writes. He's managed to remain kind and centered and generous throughout and can still bitch slap anyone who is attending his one man storytelling evening just because he's pretty.
   He knows.

This Is Why I'm Like This: St. Elmo's Fire

  Many years ago, when I thought I could be a journalist, I wrote some movie reviews. Even in such reviews, I could not manage to stick with the facts. Reviews are about opinion, which is great. But I also struggle with staying on track.

St. Elmo's Fire 1985

  The first thing you have to get past is the fact that you've seen these guys before, playing versions of these characters in other films, sometimes with one another. They're impossibly attractive and seem to have the money, after college, for fabulous apartments and trendy clothes.

  The second thing you have to get past is the casting choice of Rob Lowe as the "bad boy", and Judd Nelson as the young republican. Is he republican? He's a politician. And he is not any less of a bad boy than Rob, he's just dressed better. He's actually more of a jerk than anything.

  The third thing, of course, is that Rob Lowe is too attractive. He's hard to look at, it's like looking at the sun. It's almost embarrassing. I think he needs to work on that.

  Now that we have that out of the way, let's talk about the movie itself.

  The title is taken from a nautical term, for an electrical discharge that appears briefly on a ship or airplane during a storm. I am sure this is meant to illustrate the storm of facing real life after college, but I am unsure what the electrical discharge is meant to be in the film . It seems more a definition of the careers these people are having, brief and high powered but not sustainable. The acting equivalent of a one hit wonder, a shooting star, whatever. I'm sure time will tell, but to me, the title references the actors, not the characters.  Their post college struggling in the real world seems to stem from their inability to appreciate that they have jobs immediately after college, great apartments and expensive trendy clothes. So instead they make up their own drama: Alec (Judd Nelson) seems to suddenly be a philandering jerk. I'm not sure if he was like this in college, but his girlfriend Leslie (Ally Sheedy) is an idiot if that is the case. Why did she stay with him if he's like this? Kevin ( Andrew McCarthy) has been carrying a torch for Leslie for years, as all struggling writers do so they have motivation to smoke a lot and write. He also looks like every writer stereotype, who also look like every film noir detective. What is that all about? At least his apartment seems realistic as a writer, it's messy and small. Kirby (Emilio Estevez) is cursed with being named after a vacuum, and in turn is obsessed with an intern he met for five seconds,Dale (Andie McDowell) who is not used to moving much on film since she's a model. He's a waiter who wants to go to law school and works at the central bar called...St. Elmo's Fire. Because the film title makes no sense, they named the bar the same to represent the gathering place of the friends who then outgrow it...sure, which still does not line up with the idea of an electrical discharge during a storm. Is the bar the electrical discharge, attracting only young college kids whose futures are bright?

  Jules ( Demi Moore) has a lot of hair and money, daddy issues and a serious problem managing said money. Which prompts the next "St. Elmo's Fire Moment", when Billy (Rob Lowe), has to break into her apartment when she breaks down and explains the meaning of the nautical term, whilst using hair spray and a lighter to demonstrate. I have no idea what his story and demonstration has to do with her dead "Step Monster" or inability to manage money, but OK. Nothing has been cleared up for me.

  Poor Mare Winningham (who plays Wendy) is not only not part of the "Brat Pack", but weirdly the only one of the group with a job that pays poorly in social work. She has a thing for Billy---you can't have this movie without everyone pining for someone--who has a baby with his ex girlfriend but can't seem to stop playing the saxophone long enough to hold a job. I'm  unsure what other issues he may have, as Rob Lowe is beautiful and hard to look at, making it difficult to follow his story line. I think he's a mechanic. The costume looks like the one he wore in The Outsiders.

  As I am approximately the age of these people, and have seen their other movies, I feel left out of some private joke. Other people are loving this movie, understanding the story and struggle in a way that escapes me. It looks a lot like an MTV video --especially the scene with Lowe and Moore, the curtains blowing through her empty apartment while Rob lights the hairspray on fire, I couldn't help but hear "Total Eclipse of the Heart" in my head---with all the flash and cinematography but the same amount of soul. I don't connect to any of the characters or stories, and the performances do nothing to enlighten the paper thin dialogue.

   Or, it is a brilliant representation of my generation: trendy clothes, great videos and no soul.

  Wow. Now I'm depressed.

  It's fine, I'll watch MTV and feel better in no time.


  So here I am, in 2019. I've read both of Rob Lowe's books and saw him speak at the DCPA, and just now he was doing an Atkins commercial. I have no idea what has happened to anyone else in that cast, to be honest. I found this in a satchel in the garage, I don't think it was ever printed, since it was just a typed page and I don't recall writing a movie review for the UCD Advocate. In fact, I suspect this was written for my Journalism class as a rough draft, as there are no grading marks. My voice hasn't changed much, and I cleaned up some of the wretched transitions, but the core is still there. That movie represents everything that was wrong with the 80's. Also, I didn't understand it because I was paying my own way through school, working full time at B. Dalton Bookseller and managing to pay rent on the condo I shared with Jim and another roommate. My experience did not match those who got to go to college and live on campus and emerge with a great career. Maybe that was it. I don't sound nearly as bitter as I know I was. Maybe that was my attempt at being a "journalist". I dunno man....I hope you enjoyed it.