Shopping in Under 30 Minutes

I am not a shopper. There are few things in life I enjoy less than trudging into a store dressing room with an armload of clothes, never sure what goes with what, how long the pants are supposed to be, or if the salesgirl  assisting me is lying when she assures me I look "really cute" in everything. I always suspect she is actually laughing behind my back with the other staff members once I head to the check-out counter. ("Can you believe she bought that skirt?? I could barely keep a straight face when I told her it was the new style and everyone would be wearing it!")

But I have a family wedding to attend this weekend in Ohio and the sad fact was that I had nothing to wear. Not nothing as in, "I'm so sick of wearing this same outfit everywhere" but nothing as in "I've worked at home for three years and I don't think my dress-up sweat pants will pass muster at this event."

But I have been slammed this month with work. I've never really caught up with my week away at Wildacres and a huge magazine project went horrible awry and I was to the point where I thought, "Well, our flight gets in at 9 AM and the wedding is at 6. I 'll just have to shop when I get to Columbus." 

But I found--literally-- one hour on Sunday where I could slip into a store between commitments. Blair was with me. I walked into Anne Taylor, explained my dilemma and time limitation and by the end of 30 minutes had 3 sales associates throwing blouses, skirts, and necklaces at me and on me. (If I ever get truly rich, the first thing I'll do is hire a personal shopper.  Then I'll never have to set foot in a mall again).  They had me outfitted and out of the store in record time. We raced into Macy's and bought a pair of black heels and now I am ready to go.  Bring on the wedding cake and Chicken Dance --I now have proper attire for both.

I just hope I'll look good. But I think I will. The sales associate at Anne Taylor assured me the skirt I was buying was the newest style and everyone would soon be wearing it.

People With Passion Radio Show

Whew! I have my first radio show under my belt. I blogged some time ago that I was going to start hosting the Community Accents program on the 4th Tuesday of each month for 1490 WLOE/1420 WMYN.  Community Accents brings different people in to host segments--the county Sheriff, Town managers, the President of Rockingham Community College and there are fun segments like a cooking show, etc.

I was given free reign to talk about what I want and I decided I would spend my 30 minutes each month interviewing people who had a passion for life. Maybe it's their work, their art, a cause they're fighting for... just something that ignites a spark in them and gets them excited.

I had a spectacular guest today - Flavel Collins who is the Community Relations Coordinator for the Hospice in our county. She's leading a multi-million dollar drive to raise money for a Hospice Home (right now our Hospice just offers in-home care).  Flavel is passionate about her work, the new home, and everything Hospice stands for. She had a family member that required the services of Hospice, which is how she became involved.  

I'm not quite brave enough to go back and listen to the tape just yet.  I'll just trust my instinct that it went well. But I'm looking forward to ferreting out people with unusual interests and hobbies and passions and having them on the air.

This is Dena Harris, on-air talent, signing off...   =) 

Trust Your Gut, Part II

Oh, the temptation to make you all wait...ah ha ha!!! (Note: This is why I must never be given power. I totally abuse it).

Okay, when last we left our lovely heroine, Dena was sitting on a broken-down coach next to a woman who refused to meet her eyes while the woman's husband ranted and raved and stomped about the room cursing.  And now...

Once I realized the woman knew exactly what she was getting me into, I knew she would be no help.  I desperately wanted to get out of there, but the man was still walking around and whenever he came to a standstill, he stopped right in front of the door.  I took a breath and tried to reason with him, telling him my offer was just that, an offer, and why didn't he explain his perspective to me and we'd go from there.

Forget it. I don't know if the man took something before we met or if perhaps he took it while he was getting the paperwork, but he was on something. His eyes were glazed and crazy all at the same time. He started yelling at me that he "owned every GD-ho (whore) in the county." I have no idea what relevance this had to our conversation but it scared the hell out of me that he brought it up, nonetheless.

Trying not to show how scared I was, I said, "Tell me how much money you're looking for." He named some astronomical figure. I don't remember the details, but say if the case was worth $2,000, he named $50,000 as his figure.  Still, I acted like I was considering it.

"Okay," I said. "The problem is, that's beyond my check-writing authority level. If I write you a check for that, they won't cash it." The man stopped pacing and listened to me.

"What I need to do," I said, trying to act like I was considering options, "is to take this to my supervisor and get his signature. He'll have to authorize it."

"And he'll do that?" asked the man.

I was afraid to outright lie, so I shrugged. "I don't know," I said. "But I can tell him the points you've made to me today and why you don't think my offer is fair--"

"GD right your offer isn't fair," the man interrupted, getting worked up again.

"Well, that's my point," I said. "My offer is just an offer and you certainly don't have to take it. But I'll explain everything to my supervisor about what you're looking for and I'll call you."

My eyes flicked to the woman who was finally looking up, glancing from me to her husband. I got the feeling she knew exactly what I was doing but I also had the feeling she wanted to help. She said nothing.

"Well... I guess that might be alright," said the man.

I stood and picked up my briefcase. "Okay then, " I said. "I'll be in touch soon."

The man reluctantly moved and let me pass, but he followed me out the front porch and halfway down the steps.

Have you ever seen the movie Poltergeist, where at the every end when the family is escaping, the Dad tries to fit the car key into the door but can't because his hands are shaking so bad? I always thought that was a movie thing but it really does happen. My hands were shaking so badly it took 4 tries to get my key in the door and as I stood there I just knew this loon of a guy was going to come sweeping off the porch and across the yard to stop me.

But he didn't. He stayed on the steps and glared at me as I pulled away.

My heart was racing. I called Blair on my cell but got his voicemail. I was so upset I had to talk to someone so I called my supervisor, Mike. "Are you okay?" he asked almost as soon as he heard my voice.

"Yes. No. I don't know," I said, my voice shaking. "I was at this guy's house and..." The emotions came and I started crying a little. "I was at his house and..." Then I hit a bare patch (this was the EARLY days of cell phones) and the line went dead.

I later found out that Mike--the nicest guy in the world, btw--was standing in his cubicle yelling, "Dena? Dena?" into the line, totally panicked that something awful had happened to me.  He's flinging files around the office, trying to find my schedule and figure out where my appointments were that day. I called back 10 minutes later when the phone came back in range and by that time, a small crowd had gathered around Mike. I think they were ready to send out a search possee which is funny, embarrassing, and touching all at the same time.

And that's the end of the story. This woman eventually settled for my initial offer because her claim was never worth more and I never spoke to or saw her husband again.

But going back to my original point with all this, I NEVER should have gone with them in the first place and my body/spirit/mind/gut/whatever tried to warn me.  There were times when that man was pacing and cursing that I really thought he might haul off and hit me or worse.  I count myself very lucky to have gotten out of there unscathed. And so now, even though I don't listen to my gut all the time, whenever I get that prickly "be careful" feeling, you can bet I pay attention to it.

(See Mom, I lived...)

Do You Trust Your Gut?

Do you have a strong gut instinct and--more important--do you listen to it?

I have a split answer for this question. I have a horrible gut instinct where people are concerned.  I met one girl in college who I couldn't stand after our first meeting and I hoped never to run into again. She ended up as one of my bridesmaids (Hi, Nicole!).

But for situations, my gut is pretty strong. My problem is I don't always listen to it. Dale Carnegie, for example. My gut was telling me at the beginning to hold off on entering the training but I talked myself out of it with the "logic" that there would never actually be a "good" time to take a 10-week course, I'd already told people I'd be there and didn't want to disappoint, yada yada yada. 

That's a minor instance and no real harm done. But it got me to thinking about one time when I didn't listen to my instincts and put myself in real danger.

I was 25 and working as a claims adjuster for an insurance company.  I dealt with bodily injury claims and negotiated settlements.  Once we reached agreement, a claimant had to sign a release document before I could issue a check. I was an outside adjuster which meant I went to people's homes or met them out and about. One woman who had given me huge grief over a minor injury in a minor accident finally agreed to settle. She had a few final bills to give me and we agreed to meet at a McDonald's parking lot and she'd give me the papers and I'd have her sign the release and issue her a check.

We meet at the agreed locale but she's not alone. Her husband and 3 young children are in the car with her. With lowered eyes and whispered voice, she tells me she forgot the paperwork she needed to give me but it's at her house just 6 miles away, and why don't I just follow her there and we'll finish up?

Every fiber in my body screamed "DON'T GO." I will never forget standing in that parking lot because I actually paused, the reaction was so instant and powerful. But I talked myself away from my gut instinct. I met people at their homes all the time--why should this be any different?  The husband looked shady but she had her kids with her--I'm sure it would be fine.  And it was my job to settle these claims and get this paperwork. So I smiled and said, "Sure, I'll get in my car and follow you."

We went to their house which was only 6 miles away--all good there. It was out in the country and pretty run-down with peeling paint, slanted and splintered front steps, and a general feeling of neglect. But I'd been in similar homes and everyone runs into hard times so no big deal.

We went inside and the woman immediately went and sat in a corner of the couch, holding the youngest child on her lap and trying to make herself very small.  I sat down on the other end of the couch and the husband sat in a green Laz-E-Boy across from us. "Now, let's talk about this money," he said.

This wasn't uncommon. Everyone tries to renegotiate at the last minute.  I ran through the facts of the accident, his wife's injuries, and how I came up with my settlement amount.  He nodded throughout and the smile never left his face. The kids were racing around playing, being kids.  At one point the man left to get the paperwork I'd come for and I tried to make general conversation with the wife who--for someone who had been quite vocal over the phone--was now very silent.

The man came back and dropped the bills in my lap. He didn't return to his seat, but remained standing. He was a tall, thin man and I remember my thought as he paced the room. "He's blocking the door."

His attitude had completely changed. He proceeded to tell me that he didn't know who I was used to dealing with, but he wasn't no GD-fool and this s--- I was trying to pull wasn't going to go down. As he paced and cursed, he worked himself into a lather and it was then that I noticed something else. The kids had disappeared. Like animals burrowing before a storm, they had vanished into the back of the house and there was not a peep from one of them, even though they were probably 3, 5, and 7 in ages.

The man was still cursing and pacing. I looked at the woman who was staring intently at her hands clasped in her lap, refusing to look at me.   

"She knew this would happen," I thought. "She set me up." I started to feel scared.

(To Be Continued...)