A is for Alcatraz
Today is the first day of the rest of my life.
Actually, today is another day of my temporary life in the San Francisco Bay area. No, I haven’t quit my day job and started a full-time effort of panhandling (tempting) but rather I’m working at my company’s Global eCommerce office in Brisbane until early April.
On my way out, flights got squirrely because of bad weather in Chicago – I’ve learned so many lessons in Chicago you’d think I know better than to have a connection at O’Hare. But when you’re flying out of BFE (a.k.a., northwest Arkansas) you take what you can get, even if it means flying to Atlanta, then on to Memphis so you can eventually find yourself in San Francisco.
It’s taken some effort but I’m now squared away in a small apartment in Burlingame. My new digs are simply furnished but with big-city gems like a dishwasher, designated (covered) parking, weekly maid service and an in-apartment washer and dryer. Here are a few highlights of the week:
- The office has windows. After the airless, dungeon-like blue/gray void that is the corporate office, this is like comparing central AC to a box fan. I had a headache my first day in the office. I’m pretty sure it was a sensitivity reaction to the natural light.
- Thirty cent sodas. While everything else is (as expected) pricier here than in the Midwest the office vending machines are loaded with cheap soda – and a great selection of diet. Diet Sierra Mist for all my friends!
- Traffic. The drivers here appear to have more sanity than most I see on I-540. And while I’m certain there is some gridlock, it doesn’t take me 20 minutes to get through three stoplights on my commute.
Lest you think it’s all Rice-A-Roni and Ghirardelli chocolates, let me assure you it’s not.
The message that I would be here until April was misunderstood as I would not arrive until April. Therefore, when I arrived, there was no room at the inn – nor was there any connectivity. After an extended scuttlebutt that nearly had me sitting in the medical emergency cube using a wheelchair (literally) as my desk chair, I was given a space in a semi-deserted part of the office. It’s quiet. So quiet that I occasionally have to get up and walk around to keep the lights from going off since they are motion sensitive.
Despite the fact that I’m spitting distance from Silicon Valley no one seems capable of programming my badge for this campus. After submitting five requests, I’ve given up. Now I just stand outside the door like a stray cat until someone lets me in.
Also, my rental car had a flat tire this weekend. Fortunately, I noticed it in time to limp back home where I did what any, independent, self-respecting woman would do. I picked up the phone and called roadside assistance.
Yes, laugh, scoff, snicker if you will but I wouldn’t change a tire in my own driveway (unless I could get my husband to do it for me) so why would I try to be a hero while I’m somewhere else? No sense in being an over-achiever.
The kicker was Avis acted like I’d wrecked the thing when I went to switch out for a new car. They should have been glad I was so nice about the fact that their tire was a piece of s*$%, their computers were down and the person waiting on me didn’t know how to process paperwork for a swap. On the flip side, the Versa they gave me is smaller than the boat tank Taurus I had.
Small cars in San Francisco = good. I wish I could drive my Mini here.
San Francisco - the city where space is at a premium
