Flashback Friday - Loudness

From the archives, December 9, 2004

I like people to give me details when telling a story. I like to give details when telling a story. I feel that details are important, and I want to tell and hear a story from beginning to end in order. Sometimes when I'm telling a story I speak like the person I am talking about. I'm not very good with voices, especially dialects, but I always do this to add to the story so that people can get a picture in their head.

Last night while telling my husband about my visit with his sister in the hospital, I was using the voice I used while talking to Julie. My husband pointed out that I was talking in a louder voice than normal.

Tom: "She isn't deaf."

I had to think about this for a minute. Was I talking louder when talking to her, or had I added that while telling the story to differentiate between the story and my regular talking? I mean, I've always talked loudly. We all did this in my family because most everyone in my family WAS deaf. My father was hard of hearing, as were his father and his brother. My aunt Lorene is hard of hearing. My aunt Helen, on my mother's side, was losing her hearing. Family gatherings were always a loud affair. I grew up talking loudly, mainly due to my father being in the same house. Friends would have to tell me to tone it down when I was just with them.

Talking loudly made me fabulous, however in many things. I could project well during speech class or acting on stage. No one ever asked me what I was saying after I blew my whistle and corrected incorrect behavior while lifeguarding. My children always hear me no matter how far out of range they may be.

Today, I observed myself while sitting with her, and realized that I did talk louder and had been since she ended up in the hospital. It was as if I thought her ears were damaged instead of her brain. I can remember in the beginning when we weren't getting response from Julie where I talked louder thinking that would help. I have never toned down the volume now that she is communicating. Then I discovered that I wasn't the only one.

Today, her brother, the big medical doctor, did the same thing each time he addressed Julie. He would be talking to me in a normal tone, and then he would turn to Julie, and raise his voice when asking her a question. The nurses too would talk to us one way, and talk louder when talking to Julie.

It fascinated me. I've decided it is a medical thing after spending the morning observing everyone. And, obviously, I should have been in the medical field. Someone get me some scrubs!

2017 Update: Wow! I wanted scrubs back then! Obviously, fate. We no longer talk loudly to Julie who had one more brain surgery, and who recovered very well. 

Feeling the backside of a mule

I was recently asked to be on a panel to listen to companies bidding on a job. It was a two day, six hour total process, and I was happy to volunteer my time. The first day we listened to the presentations from the four different companies, and the second day we opened the sealed bids, created and filled out a rubric, made our decisions, and then reported it to the top dog.

Yikes. While the experience during and after the presentations were interesting and very educational, the experience in reporting was eye opening. Two administrators, and one who had been part of our group, all men, strode into the room as if they were coming in to make the decision whether or not to open the suitcase and push the big, red button.

One of the men from our group explained our rubic and went over much of the details of which each company was offering. He explained our thought process, our vote, our decision, and the information we had garnered from the references. Through the entire presentation, the top dog, seethed. Apparently, he preferred the current company, and the fact that we had not chosen this company did not sit well with him.

I don't work for the top dog, but the rest of the members do. They were nervous about having him come in, and they were nervous explaining our reasoning and answering questions. I piped in with my thoughts, as I'm known to do, and I didn't hold back. We all felt that the current company representative was not only too high, but he made several mistakes that, for me, threw him out of the running. Later, I learned that he has not only had the contract for the last twenty-six years, but he has also left the business with a debt and didn't get the product out in a timely manner. Also, in calling references for another company, we were given a reference for this company and it was not a good one. All of the things we had discussed about the rep were all of the things the reference mentioned too. Didn't matter. Top Dog wanted him.

While he didn't throw a fit, he was not professional. He made faces. He spoke in a manner that was not only demeaning, but held an angry current that frankly, seemed threatening. He questioned us as if we didn't know what we were doing. He rolled his eyes and shook his head in that how-did-I-get-stuck-with-these-idiots type of head shake. He didn't like that we hadn't called people he considered better references. While he left it, that of course, he would go with what the committee decided, he then stood up, called to the other two administrators, and went to "call his own references". What the hell?

I was furious. Listen, I'm a woman, and no matter how many changes happen in this country, we will never be equal in my lifetime. I'm hopeful for the future, for my girls, but I've resigned myself that it won't happen for me. That doesn't mean, however, that I have to put up with that abuse, especially in a volunteer situation where I'm giving of my time. I didn't come into this situation with an egg in the basket at all. I didn't give a shit which company this group chose AT ALL. But I was there to help make an informed decision for the business, and I did not take that situation lightly. We spent many hours talking through everything, and we didn't always agree. It reminded me of being part of a jury, going through evidence, and voting. All of us, took the job seriously, and to be dismissed that way was just plain rude.

I grew up with a father who spent his life as a salesman. He taught my brother and me how to be good salespeople. We know sales. Trust me, this guy, this representative who has had this contract for the last twenty-six years didn't give a damn whether we took him or not. Maybe he thought he already had it in the bag, but he did not sell us on his product, his proposal, his bid, or himself. Period. End of discussion.

Before the top dog strode out of the room telling us he was going to "call his own reference", he shook his head at our stupidity and said, "I know you probably think I'm acting like a jackass, and I am one, but that's how I got where I am." I leaned over, picked up my note, and said, "Let me write that down for future reference." And I did.

Jackass.

Cousin Cindy

I got the dreaded call last night--the one from a family member whose job is to deliver the death announcement. It was so unexpected in my world that it didn't hit me until midnight, and so this morning, I'm grieving. My emotions are all over the place, and there is so much regret due to typical circumstances.

My cousin was young, (right side of pic) I don't mean age, at 63 she had experienced life, but she was like a sprout popping from the earth, leaning its head back to feel the warmth of the sun, tongue open to catch the rain, ready to see what the world had to offer. She was a sunbeam who hugged you to her light and left you feeling happy and content. She was special.

• During my awkward teen years, my first memory of her when relatives would comment on seeing me, "You're going to be tall just like Cindy and Sheila." I thought those sisters were the most beautiful, worldly gals and secretly hoped I would be just as beautiful.
• I was the second generation of cousins, and she was the first, so she grew up with my sisters, but after I reached the echelon of "adulthood," we started a relationship that included being a part of the group of reunion attendees who lingered in a circle telling stories and laughing, laughing, laughing.

• She was, without a doubt, the happiest and most contented person I knew.
• She was non-judgmental.
• She made cinnamon rolls (and everything else) from scratch. When she brought them to our reunions, they never made it from her car to the table because we intercepted her.
• She thought my mom was the greatest, and she always brought out the great in my mom.
• She was so very talented. She once had a business making buttons and jewelry. The buttons would go on hand-sewn dresses. She sent one to Madison when she turned one. Both of my daughters wore the dress in their one year picture. It is in my treasure box of keepsakes.
• I also still have the note she sent me after Madison's birth.
• She was married to her husband for over forty years. I always thought we should all have their marriage.
• She raised her own daughter with laughter and gave her the chance to run wild and free, spreading her wings to fly. I always hoped I would do that with my own. 
• I loved how she said my name, sort of a drawing out of each syllable like she was thinking of how to tell me what was next in her head.
• Once she showed me her Lego collection that she had for her grandson. She had spent countless hours scouring yard sales and second-hand shops everywhere she traveled to find these Legos for him. They were in bins in every room of her house.
• She was the kind of mother and grandmother who got down on the floor to play with the kids.
• She never locked her door, and everyone that knew her knew it was because we were always welcome. Even when she wasn't home.
• She didn't do social media. She told me she would rather I visit her and tell her face to face my blog stories.
• She had a great laugh.
• She checked up on me often after my mother died, calling me to see how I was. She also offered to fly here to clean out The Condo, telling me she was efficient and organized.
• She grew her food. She made her food. She was the first of the bunch to cleanse her body of additives and preservatives, and she did that until she died.
• She always had a Mason jar of iced tea with her.
• When her hair started turning gray, she just let it.
• She generally wanted to hear about your life and not just a generic answer, but the details.
• She was very talented. I don't think there wasn't anything she could do. If she didn't know how to do something, she would look it up and figure it out.
• A few years ago, she drove from an Orlando vacation to visit me for a short hour or so. It wasn't long enough. 
• She gave great hugs. Strong. Tight. Loving.
• She reached out to my SIL after her diagnosis, and they spoke several times a week. She then would call me to see how I was handling it, and she would offer her help. She sent my SIL so many wonderful motivators and items that she cherishes. More so now.
• She recently sent me some cool stuff that once belonged to her father and mine.
• She gave great advice, and if you didn't think it was good advice, she wanted to hear why. She always listened to an alternative suggestion, and then if you swayed her, she made sure to let you know that.
• She once took Madison to the movies and brought homemade popcorn in bags for everyone. Madison still has that memory.
• She was cool. Everyone thought so. 
• She started texting and texted me often before the holidays to keep me updated on her grandkids, sending me pictures. She told me she loved me often. Four days ago, I realized I hadn't heard from her in a while. I immediately thought I should text. I didn't do it.
• The night she died, I was making plans to go to Indiana for a visit. On my list of things to do was text her and see if she was up to housing the kids and me.

She didn't want anyone to know she was sick. She didn't want a funeral. While her death is such a shock, I understand that this was Cindy. I find it interesting that I made the resolution to stay in touch with family this year. Her death will certainly push me to make that resolution a success. I only wish I had done it with her. When I'm ready, I'm going to do something fun to honor her instead. She would appreciate that.

Here and Now

My children's early education was a Montessori one, and from the time they were three years old they were taught to speak in front of an audience. They are very good speakers. They project. They look at their audience. They don't fidget.

Yesterday was the day for our once a year Sunday Service led by our youth group. They take our monthly theme and chose the music, write the service, and run the entire thing. Last year, was Darcy's first time in participating, and not knowing how things worked she stayed in the background, offering to speak when no one else wanted the part. This year she shared the portion of the main message. It was enough that it even got my husband to attend.

She was awesome. They all were awesome. They played instruments. They sang. They spoke from their hearts. They picked out their readings. They wrote their own scripts. They delivered, and then they stood in the receiving line afterwards and spoke to the congregation, shaking hands and accepting accolades. That portion almost took as long as the service.

My husband and I received accolades on our daughter. We took them, but truly, it was all Darcy and the kids. She has worked hard to get to where she is now. While Tom and I have set the foundation, and have been there for her along the way, she has forged her path and pushed forward to be here. She is strong, knows her mind, and is willing to do what needs to be done. She has had tons of people that have helped form the adult she is fast becoming, starting with those teachers in her Montessori school who put her in front of a group of parents to speak.

We are darn proud of her. We are proud of all of these kids, and watching them yesterday it made me hopeful for the future. Go Beacon Youth!

Weeding out the bad ones

One of my jobs as a SAHM is to meet with all repair personnel and company employees who arrive to give us estimates regarding repair and/or new products. It is a job I don't like because it usually means a lot of technical jargon that makes my eyes roll back into my head and hurts my brain. (The terminology, not that my eyes actually touch my brain). But, being in charge, I have to weed the bad ones from the good ones, and I do this with a little humor that amuses me. If they can handle me and my smart mouth, I figure they can handle the job.

A few weeks ago, during a routine cleaning of the eaves, my husband discovered that the area over our bedroom needed some work--the same place we lost a shingle during the hurricane I recently blogged about from my archives. (Whoa. I don't even let myself think about what kind of power I obviously have in seeing the future)

Immediately, because it is one of those items on his lists to replace, he figured it was time for a new roof. The man has worried about the roof, along with our air conditioner, for the last few years because "it is time." For a man who doesn't believe in expiration dates on food items, he is certainly obsessed with it in regards to other products.

He lined up roofing companies to give an estimate for a repair job on the shingle issue and an estimate for a new roof. He gave me a heads up with the first company and told me he was planning on being home to meet with them, but just in case... 

Knowing my husband well, I made sure to be at home when the two guys showed up early. One guy looked about twenty. The other guy looked like a homeless man who'd been sitting all day on a street corner, complete with missing teeth and a scruffy beard. They were polar opposites, and the ragged man let the clean-cut college-aged kid do the talking.

Kid: "Hi, Mrs. B***?"

People never get my name right. I don't blame them. It is spelled like one word but is pronounced like another, so I'm used to it. That doesn't mean that it doesn't annoy me, and I count this as one of my tests.  

Me: "Who?"

Kid: "Oh, wait. I thought this was the B*** residence. Let me check my paperwork."

Me: "No, I'm just kidding you. But has that ever happened to you? You know, where you put a roof on the wrong house? That happened once to someone I knew. She came home to find people on her house, tearing off her shingles. Turned out they were on the wrong street. They were supposed to be on Michigan Rd. and instead were on Michigan Blvd. She had a hell of a time getting that fixed."

Kid: "Uh, so, you are, or aren't, Mrs. B***?"

Me: "Who?"

The scruffy guy, currently petting my dog who was sniffing the hell out of his pant legs, burst out laughing.

Kid: "Wait. I'm confused."

Him: "She's messing with you."

Me: "Sorry about that. I thought I'd kill some time while we wait for my husband to get home."

Kid: "Oh, well, I've never put a roof on the wrong house."

Me: "Have you ever fallen off a roof?"

Kid: "I fell off one last week."

Me: "Seriously? How did that happen? You weren't watching where you were going?"

Kid: "Nah. We were throwing roofing materials into the dumpster, and I had one end of this big sheet and forgot to let go as we tossed it. It wasn't a high roof. I landed on my feet."

Me: "You're not very bright, are you, holding on when tossing things into a dumpster?"

His companion burst out laughing again, and I apologized to the kid and told him I was joking. By then, my husband had pulled up, and he took over. I reminded them all not to fall off the roof and left things to the hubby. The two men agreed our roof looked good for "another two or three years" and gave an estimate for fixing the area above our bedroom instead.

Roofing company #2 showed up when I was gone but left tons of brochures, samples of tiles, and an estimate inside my front door. My husband was confused because apparently he'd had a conversation with the guy earlier that day and was told the company wouldn't be in the area today. I nodded, acted interested, and chalked it up to my husband's confusion. While at work, he has a hard time focusing on personal matters via telephone.

The next day, what I thought was roofing company #3, showed up. It was late in the day, and the gentleman, dressed in a company shirt and long pants, looked like a clean-cut, all-American white male. 

Man: "Good morning, Mrs. B***?"

Me: "Morning? It's five o'clock. You should be having a cocktail, not climbing around on roofs."

Man: "Sorry about that. Are you Mrs. B***?"

Me: "Who?"

Man: "B***? This is the B*** residence, isn't it? I have (gives address)."

Me: "Yep. I was just kidding around. It's pronounced B***."

Man: "Sorry about that. Tom said you wanted an estimate on a new roof?"

Me: "Tom Who?"

Man: "What?"

Me: "Never mind. Just kidding again. Sure, go ahead. Give me an estimate. Don't fall off the roof, though."

Man: "I won't, but just so you know, we are a fully insured company. Insured and bonded."

He disappeared upstairs and returned about ten minutes later.

Man: "Yeah. Um. I think I've been here before."

Me: "Oh, yeah? We didn't have an affair, did we?" (Okay, maybe I didn't say that, but I sure as heck thought it).

Me: "Okay."

Man: "Was I here? Does Tom want an estimate?"

Me: "I've given up long ago wondering what Tom wants, but if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say yes, if the man called you to come out to look at our roof, he wanted an estimate."

Man: "Well, you definitely need a new roof. This one is shot. And that area over there is bad. Do you know what kind of tile you want? Because I can give you some samples. Do you want blah, blah..." He began spouting out tile sample names that I didn't retain.

Me: "I think you already did that."

Man: "I did?"

Me: "When you were here yesterday? Someone left tons of samples and brochures inside my front door. I'm not sure of the company, but you just said you've been here before."

Man: "I did? Was that this house?"

Me: "You've fallen off a roof recently, haven't you? Like the last guy?"

Man: "Oh, no, ma'am, but if I did, you wouldn't have to worry about that because we are completely insured."

My husband was not amused when I told him that story. He ranted and raved about the guy being an idiot while I nodded and mentioned that I wasn't too keen on the guy myself, although he was fully insured, or so he said. I figured that still needed to be investigated. 

Roofing company #3 finally showed up the following evening after five--one guy, who looked about fifteen years old, but he was GOOD LOOKING. I cut him some slack because of that. Maybe too much. I mean, what's good for the goose...

Cutie: "Hi there. Is this the B*** residence? You wanted an estimate on a new roof?"

Me: "It's pronounced B***, and yes, we do."

Cutie: "My bad. Sorry about that. I'll remember that from now on."

Me: "I'm going to hold you to that." Inside my head: "Or, hold you tight." (Hey, stop judging me. I am writing a romance novel. It's hard to turn that crap off).

Cutie: "I'm just going to go up on the roof and do some measuring, and then I'll write up the estimate if that's alright."

Me: "It's alright with me. I'm curious to hear your opinion. We've had some companies tell us the roof is good for another five years."

Cutie: "Well, I'll take a look and let you know."

He disappeared and clomped around on our roof. He had a giant step for a tiny guy as he tromped from one end of my house to the other leaving my dog barking like crazy. He finally rang my bell (no pun intended but it does fit here, huh?) after about fifteen minutes of my dog chasing him through the house from below.

Cutie: "Well, I don't know what those other roofing guys saw, but you need a new roof."

Me: "Really? Damn."

Cutie: "I mean, I would put a new roof on. It's probably what, fifteen or sixteen years old? It's up to you, of course. You could just try to get away with one or two more years, but you put money into repairs too, you know. Is it leaking?"

Me: "No."

Cutie: "Well, again, it's up to you. You could spend a few years putting money into it or bite the bullet and put on a new roof. I'm not sure what you want to do. I just give the estimates. It's up to you either way."

Me: "I hope I can afford you. I mean, it."

Cutie: "Yeah, I knew what you meant. No worries. I get it. Your roof has a few areas that need repair, so if I were you, I'd just think about investing in a new one."

Me: "I'll pass that information on to the big guy."

Cutie: "Yeah, and just so you know, we are a Christian company--been in the area for over twenty years. A good Christian company. My dad owns it."

Me: "I meant my husband when I was referring to the big guy."

Cutie: "Yeah, I know. Oh, you're kidding."

Me: "Wait, did someone already warn you about me?"

Cutie: "What? No, no, no one warned me. You're cool. I like that. I get it. I just bought a house myself. It's a lot of work--a lot of repairs."

Me: "I'm curious, have you ever fallen off of a roof?"

Cutie: "No, I haven't, but one of the guys working for me did. He was an older guy, and it was a windy day, and I told him to secure the ladder. He told me he'd been working on roofs before I was born, and he didn't secure it. He was coming down the ladder, the wind blew it sideways, and he tried to jump. He landed on his feet but shattered his ankle. It was annoying. I told him to secure it. Now he's off of work for six months, and I missed a whole day taking him and hanging with him at the hospital."

Me: "That was nice of you."

Cutie: "It was, but it's my dad's company. It's my job. I'd love to put a new roof on you."

Me: "It."

Cutie: "That's what I meant. We're a good Christian company."

I wasn't sure he'd ever leave, but I give him props for knowing how to work a middle-aged, frumpy housewife. No wonder his dad sent him out to do the estimates. 

His estimate was the highest of the three.

Roofing company #4, and I didn't even know there was another one, showed up Friday after ten in the morning. I had just gotten up because I had gone back to bed due to my late morning NCAA basketball binge-watching. (One of the perks of a SAHM with children in school) I wasn't dressed, and I was annoyed my husband hadn't warned me. Hell, I thought we were done with roofers. 

I took my time, and when I got to the door and stepped outside, the man had his ladder out and was putting it against the house. He was probably in his late fifties and wearing an FSU hat. 

Me: "Hi there. Sorry, I was indisposed."

Roofer: "Oh, sure, that's fine. The email from Tom said he wants an estimate for a roof?"

Me: "Who?"

Roofer: "Tom? I think that's what the email said. He wants an estimate for a new roof."

Me: "I'm just kidding. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night on account I watched basketball until one o'clock."

Roofer: "Ah. I'm a football guy myself."

Me: "Yep. I'm a football gal myself, but it's basketball season now. I'm from Indiana. We do basketball. You into college football?"

Roofer: (pointing to his hat) "Yes."

Me: "I'm into the NFL myself. I'm a Pittsburgh Steelers fan."

Roofer: "I noticed that driving in."

He told me he would check the roof, write up an estimate, and the whole thing would take about thirty minutes. He was knocking on my door in ten. 

Roofer: "So, the email said you wanted an estimate for an aluminum roof too? I gotta tell you, the flat roof back there is perplexing me. What did you want to do with that?"

Me: "Uh, yeah, I have no idea about that. Let me call the big guy because I'm not going to remember anything you're about to tell me due to my late night and fuzzy brain. This way, the big guy won't get mad at me for not remembering whatever you're going to say because you'll tell him directly."

I called my husband, who didn't know anything about another roofer. They conversed, and vaguely, Tom remembered emailing a company two weeks ago. 

Roofer: "Okay, then, so I'll show these pictures to my boss and see what he has to say, and I'll get you those estimates. I'm sorry about that. Okay. Sure. Thanks. I'm going to give your wife back the phone because this keeps buzzing, so I think she's getting a call."

Me: "It's probably my boyfriend. He'll call back."

Roofer: "Yep, you heard that huh? Okay, thanks." He hung up and gave me my phone. "Your husband laughed at the boyfriend joke."

Me: "It was my daughter. She's texting me scholarship information. She's about to graduate."

Roofer: "My son just graduated. He moved to California. Exciting for him but hard for us with him so far away. But he's got to live his life."

Me: "I've got one in NC at college and one in high school, leaving the nest in August. Two tuitions. I wasn't expecting a roof expense on top of that!"

Roofer: "You know you don't really need a new roof, don't you? That's a thirty-year-old roof you've got up there, and I bet it's about twenty years old. Sure, it's got some wear and tear, but that's normal for twenty years. I've got to tell you that roof looks good."

Me: "But we've had other roofers tell us it looked god awful."

Roofer: "Those are companies that want to sell you a new roof. I mean, if you're going to sell this house and they're insisting on a new roof, okay, but if not, well, you got another five years or more in that roof. It isn't leaking, is it?"

Me: "No. We have an area over the bedroom. That's how this all started."

He hadn't noticed that, and so, he went back up. He talked to my husband again on the phone. Came back down.

Roofer: "I missed that. Glad I didn't walk too close to that area when I measured."

Me: "Have you ever fallen off a roof?"

Roofer: "Nah. I stay pretty alert. Have to in this business. The heat gets to you most of the time. That's why we start early and cut out at two o'clock. People don't get that, but then again, they aren't up on a roof."

Me: "I know the feeling. I spent my career in aquatics in a lifeguard stand."

Roofer: "Did you ever fall off the lifeguard stand?"

Me: "I see what you did there. Nice one. No, I never fell off the stand although I did have to jump off of it a few times"

Roofer: "There you go--experts in our fields. I'll get this to my boss and get back to Tom with the estimate. Still want me to give an estimate on a new roof too?"

Me: "Might as well."

Roofer: "Okay, but you don't need it. I try to tell people that. I just came from a guy who we put a roof on in 1999. I told him he doesn't need a new roof. I'm telling you the same thing. Those other guys telling you differently? They just want to make money selling you a roof."

Me: "I appreciate it. Thanks a bunch. You're a good guy."

Roofer: "I try to be. Have a good day."

My vote for the work goes to roofer #4.