What’s That Saying About Necessity?

Years ago, when I was heading one of the profession’s top B-to-B accounting publications I asked a veteran managing partner if he ever would allow any of his staff to work from home. This was back in the day when “remote worker” was a term about four area codes from the mainstream.

He looked at me in the manner of someone who was just asked for a loan by a deadbeat relative. “Oh sure, I’m sure they’ll be working diligently in between The Price is Right and The Young and the Restless.”

I gathered at the time he was not a fan of the concept.

For some reason I thought about that interaction last week when the folks at Verizon finally arrived to upgrade my Internet – an order I placed nearly three months ago. And no, that’s not a typo – three months.

The technician explained that the backlog of upgrade orders since COVID-19 was so overwhelming, that some subscribers would not be serviced until September. He revealed that the day before, he installed a new router and wiring in a house that had SIX family members working on a dining room table. I shuddered to think of what mealtimes looked like at that address.

Celebrating Lower Prices – Sort Of

                                        

If someone asked me to choose one item of clothing that I’d opt for over anything else, that would be a no-brainer – a polo shirt.

I’ve purchased and worn hundreds of styles and brands since college – Polo, Slazenger, El Tigre, Munsingwear/Penguin; Adidas; Puma – I could go on. For whatever reason they fit me better than anything else and even decidedly non-fashionistas like me realize they pretty much can be paired with any pants or shoes. When I received my first Lacoste polo for a long-distant birthday- gleaming white with the trademark alligator logo, it fit like it was custom made. I held on to it for years until I accidentally mixed it in with a new colored queen sheet and it came out of the wash a blotchy shade of red.

But as anyone knows, Lacoste has been and is, price prohibitive for those on a budget and who don’t summer in the Hamptons. In fact, pre-COVID-19, a standard alligator polo retailed for close to $90, which even as big a groupie as I am, refused to pay. But for whatever reason, I recently received an email from the company broadcasting up to 60 percent off some styles. Long story short when I get a chance to buy Lacoste for $40, I jumped and now the top drawer in my armoire is stocked with a half-dozen new occupants.

Cleaning House – Or At Least The Garage

I find it amazing that when your spouse, who, for over 30 years, worked within the confines of a traditional bricks and mortar office and is now forced to work remotely, can somehow find the time to point out all the domestic chores that absolutely, positively must be completed after living in the same location since the late 90's and remaining relatively silent.

Case in point, the primary to-do item on our COVID-19 quarantine was to “straighten” the garage. Now she and I have very different definitions of the verb “straighten.” Hers is more of an orderly assembly of shelves and floor space. Conversely, mine is a wholesale purge of items, some dating back to the Clinton Administration.

Case in point.

After wading through years of accumulated dust and debris I discovered in order: four cases of glass block (left over from when we redid a shower in 1998; two over-sized buckets of roof tar and five packs of shingles from 1997; a tool kit containing two colossal-sized plumbing wrenches capable of unsealing bolts on a water main; a box of six brass doorknobs (origin unknown); two cartons of electrical wire; a box of insulation; a wide roll of metal coil; a used doorbell and a small fish tank.

With Vim and “Vigor”

Yesterday, I took advantage of a 75-degree afternoon bathed in sunshine, to get in a brief run. With my health club shuttered since St. Patrick’s Day, I’m constrained primarily to performing body-weight exercises and running. Although at my advanced age, the description of what I do would more closely resemble a measured jog.

Since the club is closed, I use the now-deserted parking lot to work out – a panoramic 5-acre spread framed by rows of towering pines and maples.

As luck would have it, I ran into the head trainer at the facility, who was working with a client, hoisting kettle-bells roughly the size of beer kegs and walking with them from one point to another. So, I asked him if he had any insider information about when it would reopen.

He explained that health clubs along with numerous other businesses were in the fourth phase of reopening, which he said at the earliest would be July 1, with the possibility of extending it an additional two weeks until the 15^th. The thought of another month exercising on my own was bad enough, then he went on to explain that masks were required apart from “performing vigorous exercises.”

Not Exactly Open and Shut

As New York begins the glacially phased process of reopening amid waning COVID-19 figures, I spent the last weekend more confused than ever about the process.

Case in point, several weeks ago, I waited 30 minutes in line to purchase exactly three items at my local Home Depot, which I gather was classified as an “essential business.” True, the hours were modified and facial masks a requirement, but it was nevertheless open.

But fast forward to this past weekend.

Due to the pandemic, coupled with an unusually rainy and cold May, the bride and I were several weeks behind the annual planting of our vegetable garden and walkway. So, on a beautiful Saturday, tailor made for gardening, we took our SUV, lined the back with old bedsheets and trekked down to one of the county’s larger nurseries.

As expected, it was a standing room only crowd – literally – as green thumbers from all over were hauling wagons and carts full of flowers, herbs, potting soil, and plant species seen only in Gardner’s World magazine. I spoke briefly to one of the employees who told me this was only the third day they were open, and it’s been a madhouse ever since.

So, let me understand this, an enclosed structure like Home Depot was considered essential, but a 10-acre open land expanse selling many of the same items with plenty of social distancing was not?

Someone will have to explain that one to me.

On Sunday, a later than usual discharge of tree pollen turned my car into a motorized lemon – color wise if not mechanically, (let alone what it did to my sinuses), so a thorough wash was in order. So, I drove to the local car wash, aptly named “Splash,” and waited for the attendant to come out and ask why type of service I wanted. No one came. The business was open, but it looked more like a haunted house in terms of people. Finally, someone came on the speaker system and told me I could only get an exterior wash. Apparently, no one under the reopening law could vacuum or polish the interior.

Okay, better than nothing. But on the drive home I passed a competitor car wash and simonizing venue, which had employees furiously cleaning the interiors of a snaking auto line.

Again, confusion reigned.

I can hardly wait to see what June brings.

Maybe by then, I’ll have figured things out. But at least our garden will be in full bloom.