concerns about coins

last Monday, I bought myself a new purse. I’d been thinking that the one I’d had for 9 years could last a little longer, even though I couldn’t close it anymore, which meant that my credit cards often managed to escape and enjoy a life of freedom swanning around in my bag. however, after I tried to pay at officeworks with my medicare card instead of my (albeit similarly-coloured) american express, I decided a new purse was definitely required. my cards' halcyon days were over.

my excellent new purse is great with lots of places for my wayward cards and a see-through bit where you can put a photo of your loved one. naturally my sushi train loyalty card occupies that position.

however, one difficulty has presented itself: my new purse has not one but two zip-up sections for coins. I knew before buying that this would cause some consternation as decision-making would be required, but decided to challenge myself.

after purchasing, I took my new purse home and began to transfer the items from my old purse. I went along merrily, hoping that if I just ignored the zip pocket issue it might go away.

but of course it did not. and after all the other items were safely in their new home, I finally had to face the problem head on:

where would I put the coins?

I worried about it for quite a long time. it seemed there were pros and cons whichever way I turned.

if I put the coins on the inside, where they would be next to their friends the notes, the purse might not close easily when the pocket was full.

but coins in the outside section could create an awkward bulge, thereby ruining the pleasing asthetics. however, it would allow the coins a bit of privacy and time to themselves without having to make polite chit-chat with the slightly boorish visa card all day.

just when I was beginning to think that no decision was going to be made and I would therefore have to carry my coins around in my hand every time I went out, it hit me: I could try one pocket out for a while and see if it worked. and if it didn’t, I could make a change.

and that’s exactly what I did!

I placed the coins in one zip-up section, did some trial shopping, and when it proved a bit awkward, I MOVED THEM TO THE OTHER SECTION. there were no sirens or flashing lights to alert others to my initial error, and the purse shop people didn’t come and say 'excuse me you’ll need to give that purse back now if you can't make correct decisions about zip-up sections immediately'.

in fact, I would be so bold as to say that this 'trial and error' approach could perhaps be applied to other situations as well.

lessons learned:
1. change will not kill me (pun most definitely intended)
2. officeworks does not accept medicare.

nice once a week

in an effort to combat own selfishness and try to be more good, I have decided to try and be Nice Once A Week. the idea is that it has to be more than just opening the door for someone or saying "your hair looks very shiny today" to a co-worker. although if I am feeling particularly grumpy one week, this may have to do.

a couple of weeks ago, I decided to start with something easy so I bought some flowers to take to the family who live downstairs. we always smile and say hello to each other in passing but I had never introduced myself or spoken to them more than that, apart from asking if I could borrow an onion one time. they had been so helpful and given me three onions. to repay them, I felt I had to take onions to the next level and had returned the following day with a whole bag of onions, but they wouldn’t accept them. so the next day I took them to work and gave onions to all my colleagues.

on the day of giving flowers, I went downstairs and rang the doorbell. the mother came to the door with a little girl hiding behind her skirt. I gave her the flowers and she invited me in so I took off my shoes and went inside.

I had thought they were Indian or Pakistani but it turns out they are from Bangladesh. it seemed that she wasn’t very confident with English, and as I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, I didn’t stay too long. but before I left I did let her know that I love the aroma of her cooking as it wafts upstairs every day. I get so hungry smelling her curries every evening, and feel just a little bit sad as I sit down to my usual meal of toast (sometimes with cheese, if I've been extra inspired in the kitchen).

I asked her if she could teach me how to make her curries one day. I wasn't sure if she understood and then when she said “I give you curry?” and I said “oh that would be great!”, I worried that she thought I had only given her the flowers so I could get my hands on some of her food.

her little boy, who must be around 8 or 9, regarded me with suspicion. he seemed concerned about the amount of food intended for him that might soon be ending up on my table.

but her little girl, who I saw later on again in the garden, was very friendly. we had a lovely conversation about a tree and its leaves and what a pretty colour they were. at least I assume that’s what we were talking about. as we weren’t speaking the same language, it’s difficult to know for sure.

post script: the mother rang my doorbell a few nights ago and delivered some curry to me. I was simultaneously touched by this gesture and worried that she felt I had expected it. not too worried to eat it though (and it was even better than I had expected). big ups for Niceness so far.

accent angst

last week, one of my friends came back to Adelaide after visiting his family in Venezuela for 2 months.

I was so excited to see him again because he makes me laugh A LOT. mostly intentionally, but sometimes unintentionally when he makes funny mistakes with his English. I don’t laugh at him because he makes mistakes, but because my mind will see the funny pictures his mistakes create, like “tonight I will sleep into the sofa”. I imagine him slowly dissolving into the cushions during the night, leaving behind half a sock that didn’t manage to fully integrate with the couch.

(my favourite English mistake of all time comes from a middle-aged Japanese lady I was teaching English to who said “I always ride my husband every day”. we finally worked out she was talking about giving him a lift to work every morning.)

because of his English and his accent, my friend has had some difficulties being understood in Australia, and a few people have unfortunately been quite rude to him. this has led us to develop the Wristband Accent-Tolerance Classification System.

under the System, everyone in the country must wear a wristband at all times, the colour of which indicates their level of willingness to engage in conversation with People of Non-Australian Accent:

• red: “keep away – I am only interested in hearing the Australian accent” (this may be further defined by State, as in those who only wish to listen to the Queensland or South Australian accent, for especially bigoted discerning folk)
• blue: “I will put up with the Canadian, American and British accents, but that’s about it. maybe New Zealand at a pinch. definitely not South African.”
• green: “I am willing to try to accommodate all, but may sometimes get irritable and speak extra loudly out of embarrassment that I am not understanding.”
• multi-colour: “all are welcome! should you have a lisp, stutter, and extremely heavy Russian accent, please come and chat!”

we shall be proposing this to parliament at some point in the near future.

my small (but significant) contribution to a better world

one of the annoying things about being an adult is that you’re supposed to know stuff, but nobody ever teaches it to you.

 

last sunday, someone crashed into the back of my car. no big deal – no-one hurt and these things can happen to anyone. the problem is now having to try and deal with it.

 

I rang the insurance company and asked them what to do now. they said a whole bunch of insurance-sounding words like “claim” and “excess” and “premium”, when I really just wanted them to say "your car will be fixed and it won't cost you anything and no-one will think badly of you for having an accident".

I asked them if I would have to pay more on my policy in the future because of the crash. they said that was up to the insurers. I said I thought they were the insurers. it turned out they were another company where you make the claim. I said I thought the insurers were the company where you made the claim. they said, no, that was the underwriters. I said I didn't need to know all this and could they stop saying difficult words and just tell me what to do.

 

they gave me a car repair shop to call. I called the repair man and said could I please have my car fixed. but he said words like “quote” and “assess”. it turns out the car has to go for 3 visits before it can be repaired.

 

it seems to me like almost every adult knows how to do all these things but a tiny few, like me, and allie brosh at hyperboleandahalf, struggle. the following proposal would fix this once and for all.

 

I think there should be a subject at school called “how the world works” and they should teach you things like how to pump up your car tires to the right pumpiness by reading that little dial thingy. and how to put in petrol without it squirting out all over your leg. and a basic summary of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. 

then you could be a proper adult with confidence. instead of always pretending to be one and just waiting for someone to catch you out.