After a walk-a-thon on Sunday to the shopping the nearest shop, my shoulders are still a little tender. It turns out I can carry a whole shopping trolley worth of groceries without needing a car… granted the loaf of bread now looks like a pitter bread, but hey, you can still eat it!
So today is the day I went to sort out setting up communications in the apartment. We need phone, ADSL and a sky+ equivalent & now! I can’t stand much more of the commercials on the TV. Luckily I work just across the road from a big shopping center (mall) in the middle in Indianapolis. There are quite a few different shops there but the one I am interested in is AT&T. This is like the equivalent to Virgin Media, but loads of people have it. They talked me through load of plans you can sign up to. This is a little confusing because the call the mobile phone service “Wireless” and what we know as wireless “WiFi”. There is one deal that sounds good that gives me $300 cash back. The monthly bills are a little more money than the next cable company but it seems like a good deal. I’ll run it past my darling wife and see if she agrees if it is the best bet.
After lunch I wanted to take a photo of the exterior of the office that I work in, for an update to the company website. Surly the best bet is to take it from the building across the street. Maybe a slightly brave move? I walked to the lobby and there is nobody on the security desk. May be I should just wander up to the top floor as see how far I got? Ah, busted! A lady wearing a security uniform had just seen me. I thought I’d better fess up. “No.. Sir… we-he..can’t… l-et… vis-i-tors… ju-st… wa-lk.. in.. a-and ta-ke ph-o-t-o graphs” she said. I don’t know why she was speaking to me like this, but it was hypnotic and quite annoying at the same time! She went on to say that she could call for the building manager who may be able to help. As we waited we had a very in-depth conversation about my accent.
“You know, I recognize you kind of speak different to a lot of the folks around here” she says
“yes I’m from England… straight off the boat!” says I
“well you know, I really do like accents… I like French, Asian, African and I like the Spanish the Jamaican and the Australian” she explains putting the emphasis on every single syllable.
“really!” I say desperately trying to sound interested
“ you know here in the USA, there are quite a few different accents as you travel around. There is the New York accent, the southern accent, the Boston accent….” Oh god, stop this woman talking “Now, the Texas accent is especially interesting because…” you can get the electric chair there… I’d rather have that than listen anymore of you “… and of course we all know about Kentucky accent…” ok, your lips are moving and you are fading out now. You sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher.
DING! – The elevator doors open and there is standing the building manager. I could tell this from the jungle of keys from his belt, and we all know this is the international signal of “I am important… I am after all the master of keys. I have the authority to open any door I like and even use the photocopier if I want”… now that’s power! Regardless of all the jingling I gave the man a big hug just to get me away from the most annoying woman in the world. In fairness she wasn’t that bad. I am just bitter that she caught me. The building manager was good enough to let me on top of the roof and take some photos of the offices. They came out quite well, especially considering that the lens had my darling daughters fingerprint on it (I later found out).
At lunchtime I got a call from the car guy “Dave” to see if I was interested in looking at any other cars. “yeah, OK” I say, desperate not to be without a car for much longer. “I’ll pick you up at 7:30”… result! Now, it takes me about an hour to get home and I have arranged with Dan (my co-worker) to see if we can swing past Marsh grocery store to pick up the bit I couldn’t carry yesterday. We decide to divide and conquer. Dan takes half the shopping list and I take the other. OK, so by my reckoning we can cover the store in 7 minutes per person to get back in time to get picked up by Dave. Ready… steady… GO! This plan was going well, until I realized that Dan had the half of the list that said “Chips” and “Crisps”. Now Crisps here are called Chips and Chips are called “oven steak French fries”. He did well and understood what I was banging on about. I, on the other hand, was struggling with my side of the list. There was whole section just about flour. Whole meal, organic, white, plain, Self-raising, bread, you name it they had it. I am sure this is not an American thing but rather a Ben thing. I just don’t know what does what. I did however find one that was “All Purpose Flour”. This stuff is great! All purpose does what it says in the tin, as it were… I have started using it a talcum powder. We got back to the check out and Dan saved me yet again when I realized that I had left my wallet in his car. Yet again he has bailed me out of a potentially embarrassing situation. Before you say anything, I paid him back straight away! It wasn’t a ploy just to get him to pay!
We made it back to the apartment with just enough time to kiss my darling wife and kids and eat a few slices of pizza.
BEEP BEEP! Dave was here and this time he was in a huge SUV. We drove for about 45 minutes in the pitch black talking about American Football (or football as they call it) to a used car lot in the middle of nowhere.
This place was quite impressive. It was a three story custom built house with a workshop at the bottom, a living area on the next floor and bedrooms at the top. It kind of reminded me of one of those log cabin/lodges you associate with skiing in the Alps. Tim, the car dealer invited me in. His office was not your everyday mechanics office, but rather a shrine to cars and all things manly. On the right was a pristine couch made from the back of a classic American car, with the rear lights that lit up. On the wall behind that was a hand painted picture of a group of classic cars huddled together. Now I’m no expert but I recognized a Hudson Hornet in there. That’s Doc from the Pixar film “Cars” if that helps. On the left were polished number plates and pictures of sporting legends, along with more framed pictures of retro cars. Right at the back of the office there was a polished petrol pump from the 1950’s lit by the glow of neon signs saying Bar and Beer. This wasn’t just an office, it was a man cave! The testosterone was so strong I found myself grunting and wanting to crush a beer can on my forehead. Apparently that doesn’t make for polite conversation in America… moving on. We sat down and had a chat about the kind of thing I was looking for. “Well my friend, you have one big problem when looking for a car in your price range” he said as he flicked the ash from his cigarette into an ashtray, formally a hub cap, on a table formally a fire hydrant. “People are buying the kind of car you want so they can swap it out on one of those cash for clunkers deals”. Basically this is like the salvage thing like they have in the UK where you can trade in your old car for a better newer one and get $4000 off the price of a new car. He seemed quite an honest guy… (first mistake right?) He basically went on the tell me that he has no interest in selling me a heap of old crap and that it isn’t in his interest to get an unhappy customer, especially as he lives right above his garage (man-cave). We went around the forecourt with him pointing out each car at a time. “That’s too much for you… that one is a heap of junk… that one plays up… that one is a heap of junk… that one is good, but I guess you are looking for something not made in the 1980’s… that one is a heap of junk… I don’t even know what is wrong with that one yet… which leave with these two”.
The first one is a Kia Mini-Van. Electric everything, cruise control, automatic, bit of rust at the back, leather seats that are heated. The second one was another Ford Taurus. This was like the one I drove on Saturday, but not a saloon (station-wagon). I quite liked the Kia. We drove back and talked numbers in his office.
Now this sounds like quite a straight forward conversation, right? The thing is, where there is a man cave, there is needs to be American football on the big screen TV in the background. We would talk and he would get distracted mid-sentence.
“the seats at the back do lock to the floor of the minivan and whoa they can’t have just been gained another 10yards on a ball like that” er, oh I see you changed the subject mid-sentence. “so yeah, the mileage is pretty good especially when you take into account that NO NO NO” what, what, what? Oh I have lost you again “so we could take you to an auction if you would like to bid on a car yourself, but the problem then is you get exactly what you pay for. You might get a real bargain or a real dud that could TAKE HIM OUT!” ok that time you made me crap my pants…
Regardless of the distraction he seemed a nice guy and I will let him know tomorrow what the deal is.
I got back at 10:45. Long day!
So today is the day I went to sort out setting up communications in the apartment. We need phone, ADSL and a sky+ equivalent & now! I can’t stand much more of the commercials on the TV. Luckily I work just across the road from a big shopping center (mall) in the middle in Indianapolis. There are quite a few different shops there but the one I am interested in is AT&T. This is like the equivalent to Virgin Media, but loads of people have it. They talked me through load of plans you can sign up to. This is a little confusing because the call the mobile phone service “Wireless” and what we know as wireless “WiFi”. There is one deal that sounds good that gives me $300 cash back. The monthly bills are a little more money than the next cable company but it seems like a good deal. I’ll run it past my darling wife and see if she agrees if it is the best bet.
After lunch I wanted to take a photo of the exterior of the office that I work in, for an update to the company website. Surly the best bet is to take it from the building across the street. Maybe a slightly brave move? I walked to the lobby and there is nobody on the security desk. May be I should just wander up to the top floor as see how far I got? Ah, busted! A lady wearing a security uniform had just seen me. I thought I’d better fess up. “No.. Sir… we-he..can’t… l-et… vis-i-tors… ju-st… wa-lk.. in.. a-and ta-ke ph-o-t-o graphs” she said. I don’t know why she was speaking to me like this, but it was hypnotic and quite annoying at the same time! She went on to say that she could call for the building manager who may be able to help. As we waited we had a very in-depth conversation about my accent.
“You know, I recognize you kind of speak different to a lot of the folks around here” she says
“yes I’m from England… straight off the boat!” says I
“well you know, I really do like accents… I like French, Asian, African and I like the Spanish the Jamaican and the Australian” she explains putting the emphasis on every single syllable.
“really!” I say desperately trying to sound interested
“ you know here in the USA, there are quite a few different accents as you travel around. There is the New York accent, the southern accent, the Boston accent….” Oh god, stop this woman talking “Now, the Texas accent is especially interesting because…” you can get the electric chair there… I’d rather have that than listen anymore of you “… and of course we all know about Kentucky accent…” ok, your lips are moving and you are fading out now. You sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher.
DING! – The elevator doors open and there is standing the building manager. I could tell this from the jungle of keys from his belt, and we all know this is the international signal of “I am important… I am after all the master of keys. I have the authority to open any door I like and even use the photocopier if I want”… now that’s power! Regardless of all the jingling I gave the man a big hug just to get me away from the most annoying woman in the world. In fairness she wasn’t that bad. I am just bitter that she caught me. The building manager was good enough to let me on top of the roof and take some photos of the offices. They came out quite well, especially considering that the lens had my darling daughters fingerprint on it (I later found out).
At lunchtime I got a call from the car guy “Dave” to see if I was interested in looking at any other cars. “yeah, OK” I say, desperate not to be without a car for much longer. “I’ll pick you up at 7:30”… result! Now, it takes me about an hour to get home and I have arranged with Dan (my co-worker) to see if we can swing past Marsh grocery store to pick up the bit I couldn’t carry yesterday. We decide to divide and conquer. Dan takes half the shopping list and I take the other. OK, so by my reckoning we can cover the store in 7 minutes per person to get back in time to get picked up by Dave. Ready… steady… GO! This plan was going well, until I realized that Dan had the half of the list that said “Chips” and “Crisps”. Now Crisps here are called Chips and Chips are called “oven steak French fries”. He did well and understood what I was banging on about. I, on the other hand, was struggling with my side of the list. There was whole section just about flour. Whole meal, organic, white, plain, Self-raising, bread, you name it they had it. I am sure this is not an American thing but rather a Ben thing. I just don’t know what does what. I did however find one that was “All Purpose Flour”. This stuff is great! All purpose does what it says in the tin, as it were… I have started using it a talcum powder. We got back to the check out and Dan saved me yet again when I realized that I had left my wallet in his car. Yet again he has bailed me out of a potentially embarrassing situation. Before you say anything, I paid him back straight away! It wasn’t a ploy just to get him to pay!
We made it back to the apartment with just enough time to kiss my darling wife and kids and eat a few slices of pizza.
BEEP BEEP! Dave was here and this time he was in a huge SUV. We drove for about 45 minutes in the pitch black talking about American Football (or football as they call it) to a used car lot in the middle of nowhere.
This place was quite impressive. It was a three story custom built house with a workshop at the bottom, a living area on the next floor and bedrooms at the top. It kind of reminded me of one of those log cabin/lodges you associate with skiing in the Alps. Tim, the car dealer invited me in. His office was not your everyday mechanics office, but rather a shrine to cars and all things manly. On the right was a pristine couch made from the back of a classic American car, with the rear lights that lit up. On the wall behind that was a hand painted picture of a group of classic cars huddled together. Now I’m no expert but I recognized a Hudson Hornet in there. That’s Doc from the Pixar film “Cars” if that helps. On the left were polished number plates and pictures of sporting legends, along with more framed pictures of retro cars. Right at the back of the office there was a polished petrol pump from the 1950’s lit by the glow of neon signs saying Bar and Beer. This wasn’t just an office, it was a man cave! The testosterone was so strong I found myself grunting and wanting to crush a beer can on my forehead. Apparently that doesn’t make for polite conversation in America… moving on. We sat down and had a chat about the kind of thing I was looking for. “Well my friend, you have one big problem when looking for a car in your price range” he said as he flicked the ash from his cigarette into an ashtray, formally a hub cap, on a table formally a fire hydrant. “People are buying the kind of car you want so they can swap it out on one of those cash for clunkers deals”. Basically this is like the salvage thing like they have in the UK where you can trade in your old car for a better newer one and get $4000 off the price of a new car. He seemed quite an honest guy… (first mistake right?) He basically went on the tell me that he has no interest in selling me a heap of old crap and that it isn’t in his interest to get an unhappy customer, especially as he lives right above his garage (man-cave). We went around the forecourt with him pointing out each car at a time. “That’s too much for you… that one is a heap of junk… that one plays up… that one is a heap of junk… that one is good, but I guess you are looking for something not made in the 1980’s… that one is a heap of junk… I don’t even know what is wrong with that one yet… which leave with these two”.
The first one is a Kia Mini-Van. Electric everything, cruise control, automatic, bit of rust at the back, leather seats that are heated. The second one was another Ford Taurus. This was like the one I drove on Saturday, but not a saloon (station-wagon). I quite liked the Kia. We drove back and talked numbers in his office.
Now this sounds like quite a straight forward conversation, right? The thing is, where there is a man cave, there is needs to be American football on the big screen TV in the background. We would talk and he would get distracted mid-sentence.
“the seats at the back do lock to the floor of the minivan and whoa they can’t have just been gained another 10yards on a ball like that” er, oh I see you changed the subject mid-sentence. “so yeah, the mileage is pretty good especially when you take into account that NO NO NO” what, what, what? Oh I have lost you again “so we could take you to an auction if you would like to bid on a car yourself, but the problem then is you get exactly what you pay for. You might get a real bargain or a real dud that could TAKE HIM OUT!” ok that time you made me crap my pants…
Regardless of the distraction he seemed a nice guy and I will let him know tomorrow what the deal is.
I got back at 10:45. Long day!
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