Watch My Feet
I helped Sarah C. move in to her place in Porter Square this Sunday. While unloading her U-Haul, a young man with a drawstring satchel came up. “How you doing?” he asked. I immediately squared my shoulders, knowing he was trying to sell something. Sure enough, he was: RCN sent account executives to canvass the neighborhood, since September 1 is a huge moving day in college-heavy Cambridge, offering sign-up specials.
First: I wonder what this says of the economy. I suggest “immense desperation,” since RCN is almost certainly paying these guys on commission. The fight between RCN, Comcast and Verizon for the marginal consumer dollar has grown bloody. If newspaper inserts, mass mailings and TV commercials aren’t picking up new customers, why not throw bodies at the problem? And if someone’s close enough to starving to go door to door in a muggy Boston September, working on vig to pick up thankless outside consumer sales, how bad must the job market look?
Second: I’d been thinking a lot about human’s ability to perceive body language of late, and this sparked a new train of thought. If a stranger passes you on the street and says, “How you doing?”, most of us don’t instantly interpret it as a come-on. But when they plant their feet, lock their eyes on yours, and have their hands halfway out, you know it’s not a sincere greeting. You know it’s a lead-in to a sales pitch, whether to save the environment, sign a pro-life petition or try a new cable package.
Mix and Match
I bought some ingredients on Sunday to make my own trail mix. Have you heard of this stuff? “Trail mix”? It’s so tasty.
Professor Coldheart’s Kickass Trail Mix (First Draft)
1 part macadamia nuts
1 part cashews
1 part semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 part dried cranberries
I’m not entirely satisfied with the first draft. Macadamia nuts are perhaps the tastiest nut, thanks to their high fat content, but they’re significantly larger than any other ingredient in the mix. It makes for odd handfuls. I could dice them, but that’d be an awful lot of effort (unless someone buys me a Slap Chop).