A while ago I got this crazy notion to stop by an Asian market out of sheer morbid curiosity. I have been in similar ones, especially in the neighborhood where I live. There's a large population of Asian people here, and there's an Asian something-or-other kind of shop on every other corner.
Upon entering this particular store, that familiar smell hits my nostrils, and suddenly I am transported to the memories of other Asian markets. This is a pretty large store, with narrow aisles, over-stocked to the ceiling. As I wander through, it occurs to me that it's an oriental version of Wal-Mart. It's got everything from food to cookware, to small household odds and ends. But it's mostly food products.
I am particularly struck by a glass tank full of murky brown water. There's no air or water pump, that I could tell. In the bottom of the tank were a number of what looked like snails, neatly arranged in a rectangle in the middle of the tank. In a front corner sat a crab. It did not look alive. Other things I saw in what I presumed to be the seafood section was a cardboard box lined with a plastic bag, filled with ice and whole catfish. Interesting presentation.
I moved on to browse the many jars and cans and packages of food, noting that some had both oriental and English writing. A good many only had the language of the country the product came from. Because I am versed in the European languages, this form of writing is a total mystery to me. The pictures of what some of the food products look like when prepared did little to help me identify what it is supposed to be. I will spare you any visual details.
I walked by piles of produce, packages of what looked like squid and dried fish, and wandered past the frozen food section. Some of the packages had been opened, and I could not resist looking inside to see what kinds of delightful foodstuff they contained. One contained whole, raw shrimp, and they were huge. But their little eyes looked back at me with a sad look as if saying, "Why??"
I finally made my way to the last aisle, and it was stocked with what I have come to know Asian food as being. Ramen noodles! And rice wafers, dried pastas, rice, and other staple ingredients. Now this stuff I can handle eating.
Honestly, I am not trying to ridicule what other countries consider to be food. I understand that we all have different tastes and different food preparation methods. But being raised in the USA, I have grown quite accustomed to the way of shopping and eating here. It was an interesting visit to say the least. Though I left this little Asian market empty-handed, it was an eye-opening culinary adventure.
Ironically, I got "Chinese" carry-out for lunch shortly afterward. Oh, the powers of persuasion!
**Post script
I re-visited this particular Asian market with a friend not long ago. We came across another cardboard box filled with what appeared to be dead crabs. Just as we got up close to get a better look, one of them MOVED. I swear, it must be what it felt like to be on the movie set of ALIENS for the first time. Aside from nearly soiling ourselves from shock, we made a quick exit. We haven't been back to that shop since.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Observations
My job as a cable guy fascinates me. I don't look forward to getting up every morning to go install cable. But Lincoln has so much social diversity for being a town of under 300,000 people. In the course of any given day I can go from being in the wealthiest part of town to the poorest. I have met almost every personality type, from neat freaks to slobs, gregarious to reclusive, stingy to generous.
And, it's not just customers that catch my eye. Downtown, an old man with a long scraggled beard hobbled his way through an alley. In his hands were clutched two worn plastic bags full of aluminum cans he had been collecting. He limped along, a prosthetic leg slowing him, and he had to rely on a cane to make what seemed like a slow, painful shuffle. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I gathered the equipment for my next install. He had to pause and lean on a dumpster for a few minutes; he looked exhausted. Perhaps it was the cans he was carrying, and the money he would make from them that drove him forward on his painful walk. Inwardly, I wished him luck in wherever he was headed.
I went into the apartment adjacent to the alley where the customer waited to have their cable installed. We had a great conversation as I worked. They were a wonderful couple, so happy to have cable again after having gone without for a few years. In fact, they were so grateful that they offered to tip me, and they asked if they could contact my supervisor to compliment me for the kind of job I did. To me, it was just another day at the office, but to these people it was the highlight of their day.
Immigrants are indeed a unique group of people. I've met people from so many different cultures. Some speak severely limited English, while others are amazingly fluent despite that they had just moved here recently. Sometimes I feel bad when the language barrier makes it difficult for them to understand what I'm trying to say. What if I was in their shoes, trusting a total stranger who has come into their house and not being able to fully communicate?
Some people live in palaces, while other homes should be condemned. I've walked in homes with marble floors and grand staircases, the house overflowing with luxury. Other homes are dark, with stains in the carpet, the air reeking of cigarette smoke and battered furniture peeks out of the clutter. Some houses are a dream to work on while others are a nightmare. I worked in one house that took me six hours to complete the job. Not a fun day.
But, it all comes down to the people I interact with. It really doesn't matter to me whether or not they can pay their bill once I leave their home. What matters is that they're happy with whatever kind of cable service they got. Installers are essentially the only "face" representing the company, and if we get it wrong, the whole company could look bad. I just want them to feel I did my personal best for them, that the "cable guy" actually cared. It's easy to tell when customers are genuinely grateful for getting cable by how much attention is given to their needs. I guess it's because I simply care.
Maybe being a cable guy isn't so bad after all.
And, it's not just customers that catch my eye. Downtown, an old man with a long scraggled beard hobbled his way through an alley. In his hands were clutched two worn plastic bags full of aluminum cans he had been collecting. He limped along, a prosthetic leg slowing him, and he had to rely on a cane to make what seemed like a slow, painful shuffle. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I gathered the equipment for my next install. He had to pause and lean on a dumpster for a few minutes; he looked exhausted. Perhaps it was the cans he was carrying, and the money he would make from them that drove him forward on his painful walk. Inwardly, I wished him luck in wherever he was headed.
I went into the apartment adjacent to the alley where the customer waited to have their cable installed. We had a great conversation as I worked. They were a wonderful couple, so happy to have cable again after having gone without for a few years. In fact, they were so grateful that they offered to tip me, and they asked if they could contact my supervisor to compliment me for the kind of job I did. To me, it was just another day at the office, but to these people it was the highlight of their day.
Immigrants are indeed a unique group of people. I've met people from so many different cultures. Some speak severely limited English, while others are amazingly fluent despite that they had just moved here recently. Sometimes I feel bad when the language barrier makes it difficult for them to understand what I'm trying to say. What if I was in their shoes, trusting a total stranger who has come into their house and not being able to fully communicate?
Some people live in palaces, while other homes should be condemned. I've walked in homes with marble floors and grand staircases, the house overflowing with luxury. Other homes are dark, with stains in the carpet, the air reeking of cigarette smoke and battered furniture peeks out of the clutter. Some houses are a dream to work on while others are a nightmare. I worked in one house that took me six hours to complete the job. Not a fun day.
But, it all comes down to the people I interact with. It really doesn't matter to me whether or not they can pay their bill once I leave their home. What matters is that they're happy with whatever kind of cable service they got. Installers are essentially the only "face" representing the company, and if we get it wrong, the whole company could look bad. I just want them to feel I did my personal best for them, that the "cable guy" actually cared. It's easy to tell when customers are genuinely grateful for getting cable by how much attention is given to their needs. I guess it's because I simply care.
Maybe being a cable guy isn't so bad after all.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Simplicity
We live in a world that bombards our senses. Television advertising is a cornucopia of colors and sounds. I find marketing aimed at child audiences to be especially overwhelming, the blast of colors and fast-paced sounds come at you at a dizzying rate. Even more annoying are the little animated banner ads at the bottom of the TV screen DURING a broadcast, to remind us not to miss a program while we're already trying to watch the current one.
Some people call it sensory overload. But at what point is too much? In a world that recognizes Attention Deficit Disorder, isn't it ironic that our technological advances more or less feed and perpetuate it?
When our televisions aren't turning our brains into mush, our cell phones can easily pick up the slack. Text messages, emails, and application notifications have all but replaced traditional phone calls. From what I can recall, people once used claustrophobic glass boxes known as phone booths. And that's only because we were away from our homes where the land line was.
Computers have become smaller and more mobile. What once took up an entire room to do simple arithmetic calculations now has the capability of displaying full web pages and can fit in the palm of our hand, with touch screens.
It's amazing how the methods of exchanging information have evolved. We've gone from stone carvings, to ink and papyrus, to glossy pages of magazines, to animated billboards.
When I was a kid, I remember seeing my dad drinking a beer. The label on the can simply said, "BEER". It was a white can, with one word in bold black lettering describing what was in the can. I'm quite sure the product was probably as cheap in quality as the label, but it was plainly clear what the product was. In modern standards, this kind of label would be ridiculed. If it's not flashy and colorful, then it must be low quality.
Whatever happened to sealing a deal with a handshake? Now there's the long contract agreements in legalese and fine print that even the Department of the Treasury would be envious of. It seems like every product we use has a legal disclaimer attached to it, either releasing the manufacturer of any liability or warning us of licensing rights.
Food has become complex. We used to have to labor for it, either harvesting or hunting it. Now we just go to the store and pick it up off the shelf. It's no wonder that mom's home cooked meals taste so good. Dinner used to be made from fresh ingredients. Have you ever looked at the label on a can of soup lately? It looks like the periodic table of elements, and some of the ingredients by themselves don't look very appetizing. Pass the monosodium glutamate, please!
We've become oblivious to time, with 24-hour, round the clock lifestyles. Stores used to close at the end of the day; now we can go to the pharmacy at 3 in the morning when our prescription for Ambien runs out. It used to be that when banks closed, you had to wait until business hours to withdraw money. Now when I'm at the casino and have gambled away my cash, I can go to a machine and get more money on demand, to squander.
Life has become incredibly complicated. We rely more and more on our technology to maintain our lifestyle. And with that come the effects it has on us as a society. Look at how we communicate, and how technology has shaped the method in which we interact with each other. What would happen if electricity suddenly stopped working? It's frightening to even begin to imagine the potential chaos. Our technology is backing us into a corner, putting a stranglehold on our wallets as well as our sanity.
Someone once asked me, if I could go back in time to live in any given era, what would it be? I'd opt for the cave man era. Life seems pretty simple then. You woke up, killed something and ate it, and went back to sleep. The sun more or less dictated when you were active. All you had to really worry about was becoming a victim of the food chain.
I have become consumed with the modern way of living. I'm not saying it's bad. There are certainly plenty of great products and technologies that could be improved. Existing, simpler things could be greatly appreciated more also.
Let's not forget to appreciate what it is like to say hello to someone in person, to eat an apple fresh from the tree, and to feel the warm sun as it provides us the light we need for the moment.
Some people call it sensory overload. But at what point is too much? In a world that recognizes Attention Deficit Disorder, isn't it ironic that our technological advances more or less feed and perpetuate it?
When our televisions aren't turning our brains into mush, our cell phones can easily pick up the slack. Text messages, emails, and application notifications have all but replaced traditional phone calls. From what I can recall, people once used claustrophobic glass boxes known as phone booths. And that's only because we were away from our homes where the land line was.
Computers have become smaller and more mobile. What once took up an entire room to do simple arithmetic calculations now has the capability of displaying full web pages and can fit in the palm of our hand, with touch screens.
It's amazing how the methods of exchanging information have evolved. We've gone from stone carvings, to ink and papyrus, to glossy pages of magazines, to animated billboards.
When I was a kid, I remember seeing my dad drinking a beer. The label on the can simply said, "BEER". It was a white can, with one word in bold black lettering describing what was in the can. I'm quite sure the product was probably as cheap in quality as the label, but it was plainly clear what the product was. In modern standards, this kind of label would be ridiculed. If it's not flashy and colorful, then it must be low quality.
Whatever happened to sealing a deal with a handshake? Now there's the long contract agreements in legalese and fine print that even the Department of the Treasury would be envious of. It seems like every product we use has a legal disclaimer attached to it, either releasing the manufacturer of any liability or warning us of licensing rights.
Food has become complex. We used to have to labor for it, either harvesting or hunting it. Now we just go to the store and pick it up off the shelf. It's no wonder that mom's home cooked meals taste so good. Dinner used to be made from fresh ingredients. Have you ever looked at the label on a can of soup lately? It looks like the periodic table of elements, and some of the ingredients by themselves don't look very appetizing. Pass the monosodium glutamate, please!
We've become oblivious to time, with 24-hour, round the clock lifestyles. Stores used to close at the end of the day; now we can go to the pharmacy at 3 in the morning when our prescription for Ambien runs out. It used to be that when banks closed, you had to wait until business hours to withdraw money. Now when I'm at the casino and have gambled away my cash, I can go to a machine and get more money on demand, to squander.
Life has become incredibly complicated. We rely more and more on our technology to maintain our lifestyle. And with that come the effects it has on us as a society. Look at how we communicate, and how technology has shaped the method in which we interact with each other. What would happen if electricity suddenly stopped working? It's frightening to even begin to imagine the potential chaos. Our technology is backing us into a corner, putting a stranglehold on our wallets as well as our sanity.
Someone once asked me, if I could go back in time to live in any given era, what would it be? I'd opt for the cave man era. Life seems pretty simple then. You woke up, killed something and ate it, and went back to sleep. The sun more or less dictated when you were active. All you had to really worry about was becoming a victim of the food chain.
I have become consumed with the modern way of living. I'm not saying it's bad. There are certainly plenty of great products and technologies that could be improved. Existing, simpler things could be greatly appreciated more also.
Let's not forget to appreciate what it is like to say hello to someone in person, to eat an apple fresh from the tree, and to feel the warm sun as it provides us the light we need for the moment.
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