Last time I was complaining that sometimes the post office is closed unexpectedly because of some federal holiday or other that Mrs Walles and I do not mark (not that we wouldn't be keen to mark said holidays, of course, its just that not everyone gets them off).
Now I'm going to balance things out by extolling the virtues of something that all Americans take for granted, but that to me is like magic. In America if you put outgoing mail in your mailbox, the mail man will take it away for you, with no fuss. You can have all your gilt bathrooms and antique ivory back scratchers: as far as I'm concerned this is the epitome of luxury.
I was vaguely aware of this before I came here. Movies had taught me that in the US mailboxes had a little red flag on the side that had something to do with sending mail. As a child I was deprived in the mailbox department because we had a post office box instead. But things have changed. Now I have one of those fancy American mail boxes (approved by the Postmaster General himself, no less!) complete with the little red flag. Mrs Walles and I spruced ours up last year with a fresh coat of paint. I was going to put up a photo but when I found this almost identical one on Wikipedia I decided I could save myself the trouble.
Ironically the red flag isn't necessary. You just put the mail you want to send inside in the morning and later that day you find it gone, typically replaced with screeds of glossy catalogues and fliers and the occasional bill. Every time I do it I'm tempted to put the little flag up, just to get into the spirit of the thing, but then I think twice and realise that the flag would be a signal not just to the mail man but also to any nefarious characters who wonder if any of our correspondence is worth pilfering.
At least it's still there, though, the cherry little flag, just like in the movies. Even if its duties are only ceremonial, it is nice reminder of where I am (well, that and the enormous flag the neighbours have over their door). And flag or no flag I can still send mail without setting foot off the property. Can you?
Showing posts with label the little things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the little things. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Presidents Day
Yesterday was Presidents Day in the United States, a federal holiday intended to celebrate all the presidents of this proud republic - or so I thought until I went away to check where the apostrophe goes in "Presidents Day" and discovered that not only is there no agreement on the inclusion or placement of the apostrophe, but that it isn't even the official name of the holiday. According to the relevant federal law the holiday celebrates the birthday of George Washington, and although a number of states have it on their books as Presidents Day (with varying punctuation and ambiguous meaning) it is only convention that establishes the name nationwide.
This is just one of the perplexing things about American holidays. In New Zealand the the public holidays are, if not exactly mandatory, then delivered with a strong hint from the labour laws that everyone gets the day off. Here there are a number of federal holidays - but those are technically only holidays for federal government workers. The individual states declare their own state holidays, many of which coincide with the federal ones, but again these only technically apply to state government workers. By convention at least some of those holidays are also taken by workers in the private sector, though your mileage may vary. Mrs Walles, for one, did not get the day off yesterday.
There are a few holidays, like Independence Day and Thanksgiving that seem sacrosanct, but the rest often fall by the wayside. There's little motivation to mark a holiday which isn't really a holiday, so you forget and treat it like just another day. Which is all well and good until you go down to the post office with that urgent parcel...
This is just one of the perplexing things about American holidays. In New Zealand the the public holidays are, if not exactly mandatory, then delivered with a strong hint from the labour laws that everyone gets the day off. Here there are a number of federal holidays - but those are technically only holidays for federal government workers. The individual states declare their own state holidays, many of which coincide with the federal ones, but again these only technically apply to state government workers. By convention at least some of those holidays are also taken by workers in the private sector, though your mileage may vary. Mrs Walles, for one, did not get the day off yesterday.
There are a few holidays, like Independence Day and Thanksgiving that seem sacrosanct, but the rest often fall by the wayside. There's little motivation to mark a holiday which isn't really a holiday, so you forget and treat it like just another day. Which is all well and good until you go down to the post office with that urgent parcel...
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Here's a tip
Last night I was discussing the blog with an acquaintance and I said one of the things I was trying to get across was all the unexpected little differences between New Zealand and the US. Since we were in a restaurant I gave the example of having to hold on to your cutlery between courses (not that I said cutlery, since that only means knives here - yet another little difference).
I almost brought up tipping as an example, too, but then realised it wasn't a very good example because I knew about tipping before I came here. What I didn't know, however, was the details and mechanics of it all. It's been an adjustment, but it's just something you have to get used to. Initially I was reserved about handing over tips because in New Zealand I think that many people are embarrassed to take a tip. But here they want your money, and many don't mind fawning over you to get it.
If you go into a restaurant and order some food eventually the bill will arrive. The first thing you have to do is take the total and add on 15-20% (and in your head, no less...I mean c'mon!). As a New Zealander, with a mild repugnance towards the idea of tipping, it took me quite a while to get used to adding on so much for service, even when the service is quite bad. There are people who say that you don't have to tip at all if the service is bad enough, but I've yet to see anyone walk the walk on that one. But it's just a part of life here, and it's how the waiting staff make their money, so even though everyone bemoans tipping they all go along with it.
It took me even longer to get used to how the tip is paid. The exact approach depends on whether you are paying by cash or card and whether you have exact change or not. Many places you pay at the table, others you pay at the counter. There are apparently subtle clues to tell you which is which, though I haven't become attuned to all of these yet. Tips are only for service, so in places where you aren't served at your table you don't have to tip...except that there are some slightly ambiguous places like the barbecue joint we frequent where you order and pay as you enter but someone brings out your food. That mystery was solved when we found that they had a tip jar near the door.
Restaurants aren't the only things that demand tips, though. When you arrive at any reasonably big hotel you practically have to fight off the small army of bell boys trying to snatch your bags so that they can get a tip from you. If the doorman of the hotel gets you a cab you have to slip them a couple of bucks. And the cab driver needs a tip - notionally in the same 15-20% range but generally whatever makes the fare up to a good round number which is often much more than that. Airport shuttle drivers get a tip if they lift your bags. Hairdressers expect a tip.
If you're living in a small town like we are then tipping isn't a day to day thing. But in a big city like New York the money flows very freely - has to flow freely or the service dries up. On the other hand if you tip well, and they remember you, you will often get the royal treatment. So it can be hard for the tipping-averse to get accustomed to, but in the end it is worth it. That's my tip to you.
I almost brought up tipping as an example, too, but then realised it wasn't a very good example because I knew about tipping before I came here. What I didn't know, however, was the details and mechanics of it all. It's been an adjustment, but it's just something you have to get used to. Initially I was reserved about handing over tips because in New Zealand I think that many people are embarrassed to take a tip. But here they want your money, and many don't mind fawning over you to get it.
If you go into a restaurant and order some food eventually the bill will arrive. The first thing you have to do is take the total and add on 15-20% (and in your head, no less...I mean c'mon!). As a New Zealander, with a mild repugnance towards the idea of tipping, it took me quite a while to get used to adding on so much for service, even when the service is quite bad. There are people who say that you don't have to tip at all if the service is bad enough, but I've yet to see anyone walk the walk on that one. But it's just a part of life here, and it's how the waiting staff make their money, so even though everyone bemoans tipping they all go along with it.
It took me even longer to get used to how the tip is paid. The exact approach depends on whether you are paying by cash or card and whether you have exact change or not. Many places you pay at the table, others you pay at the counter. There are apparently subtle clues to tell you which is which, though I haven't become attuned to all of these yet. Tips are only for service, so in places where you aren't served at your table you don't have to tip...except that there are some slightly ambiguous places like the barbecue joint we frequent where you order and pay as you enter but someone brings out your food. That mystery was solved when we found that they had a tip jar near the door.
Restaurants aren't the only things that demand tips, though. When you arrive at any reasonably big hotel you practically have to fight off the small army of bell boys trying to snatch your bags so that they can get a tip from you. If the doorman of the hotel gets you a cab you have to slip them a couple of bucks. And the cab driver needs a tip - notionally in the same 15-20% range but generally whatever makes the fare up to a good round number which is often much more than that. Airport shuttle drivers get a tip if they lift your bags. Hairdressers expect a tip.
If you're living in a small town like we are then tipping isn't a day to day thing. But in a big city like New York the money flows very freely - has to flow freely or the service dries up. On the other hand if you tip well, and they remember you, you will often get the royal treatment. So it can be hard for the tipping-averse to get accustomed to, but in the end it is worth it. That's my tip to you.
Friday, July 29, 2011
On the road
Mrs Walles and I did go to Long Island last weekend but we never made into New York City because of the intense heat wave that was plaguing most of the country. Long Island is the bit that sticks out to the right of Manhattan, which makes it a good base for visiting the city, but even though it was only a few minutes away, it didn't seem worth it just to melt in the city, when we could melt perfectly well where we were. So we left the Big Baked Apple for later in the year.
On the trip I decided to start keeping note of which state number plates I'd seen. I'm always on the lookout for unusual ones, but I was at the point where I'd see one and couldn't be sure if I'd seen it before. It's a good travel game racking up the states and also seeing what each one looks like. I'm particularly fond of the New Hampshire ones with the aggressive state motto "live free or die" (numbers blurred to protect the innocent).
It's an old revolutionary slogan, I believe, but it always makes me think of the citizens of New Hampshire as a testy bunch, always ready to open a can o' whip ass whenever things aren't going their way.
Anyway, just on the trip to New York and back I counted plates from Texas, New York, New Jersey, Florida, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, Michigan, Georgia, Virginia, Maryland, Massachusetts, Ohio, Rhode Island, South Carolina, North Carolina, Washington D.C., Tennessee, Maine, Quebec, Delaware, Missouri, New Hampshire, Nevada, California, Wisconsin, Ontario, Illinois, Colorado and Indiana. That's 26 states, just over half, plus Washington and two Canadian provinces. If you needed proof of the centrality and importance of New York (not that you really did) there you have it.
On the trip I decided to start keeping note of which state number plates I'd seen. I'm always on the lookout for unusual ones, but I was at the point where I'd see one and couldn't be sure if I'd seen it before. It's a good travel game racking up the states and also seeing what each one looks like. I'm particularly fond of the New Hampshire ones with the aggressive state motto "live free or die" (numbers blurred to protect the innocent).
Anyway, just on the trip to New York and back I counted plates from Texas, New York, New Jersey, Florida, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, Michigan, Georgia, Virginia, Maryland, Massachusetts, Ohio, Rhode Island, South Carolina, North Carolina, Washington D.C., Tennessee, Maine, Quebec, Delaware, Missouri, New Hampshire, Nevada, California, Wisconsin, Ontario, Illinois, Colorado and Indiana. That's 26 states, just over half, plus Washington and two Canadian provinces. If you needed proof of the centrality and importance of New York (not that you really did) there you have it.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Socket to me
It's always the mundane things that get you. Or get me, anyway. And it doesn't get any more mundane than electrical sockets, or plugs, or outlets, or whatever they like to call them in the US. I think it's outlets, but it is one of those things I still get confused about, probably because it doesn't come up very often. I know where they all are in my own house, but if I'm in a strange place and I ask, cell phone charger in hand, if there's a plug handy I get a the a dumb stare in reply, or occasionally that look that suggests they think I need to be sectioned. As an added confusion I recently discovered that the electricity in the walls isn't called "the mains" here - and I imagine that if you go into a stranger's house and start babbling on about plugs and the mains they only let you use the plastic cutlery (which, incidentally, they don't call cutlery, either...sigh).
On top of the language confusion the sockets don't look the same. In New Zealand the plug on the end of a cord has two rectangular slanted pins on top and optionally a third vertical one below. In the US the top pins are vertical and the bottom pin is huge and rounded. Like this..
This system does have the advantage of looking like a little surprised face. If you look carefully at that picture you'll notice that the left hole is taller than the right one, this is because some (but not all) plugs come with one larger pin to make sure you plug it in the right way around. I didn't immediately realise that this was the case and spent many puzzled seconds wondering why I couldn't plug in the coffee machine. There's nothing like being stumped by something most American children have mastered.
You'll notice, too, that the sockets don't have switches attached (though sometimes they have switches some distance away, presumably to add an element of mystery to the thing). The juice is flowing all the time, which seems a trifle dangerous to me, but probably Thomas Edison wanted to save money and so convinced everyone that switches would make your hair fall out or something. Sounds like the kind of thing he'd do.
Light switches still give me trouble, though. Movies were kind enough to show me that they are reversed here: up is on and down is off. But to be forewarned is not always enough, because like all those other little reversals, like the way the date is written and the driving on the right, I just find myself horribly confused most of the time. I still have to consciously think about it each time I flick a switch, and then I still get it wrong sometimes. A lot of switches are helpfully labelled like this one, and still I muck it up.
Ah, well, it's early days yet. Perhaps like with the dates, in time I will see the light.
On top of the language confusion the sockets don't look the same. In New Zealand the plug on the end of a cord has two rectangular slanted pins on top and optionally a third vertical one below. In the US the top pins are vertical and the bottom pin is huge and rounded. Like this..
You'll notice, too, that the sockets don't have switches attached (though sometimes they have switches some distance away, presumably to add an element of mystery to the thing). The juice is flowing all the time, which seems a trifle dangerous to me, but probably Thomas Edison wanted to save money and so convinced everyone that switches would make your hair fall out or something. Sounds like the kind of thing he'd do.
Light switches still give me trouble, though. Movies were kind enough to show me that they are reversed here: up is on and down is off. But to be forewarned is not always enough, because like all those other little reversals, like the way the date is written and the driving on the right, I just find myself horribly confused most of the time. I still have to consciously think about it each time I flick a switch, and then I still get it wrong sometimes. A lot of switches are helpfully labelled like this one, and still I muck it up.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Out of order
One of the things I'm probably never going to get used to is the way Americans write dates. I'm fine if the month is spelled out in letters - it's hard to go wrong there - but the convention that the month comes first throws me off if all numbers are used. Today is the eleventh of May, which I would write as 11/5/11, but here it's 5/11/11.
I look at that last one and part of me thinks it's the fifth of November, and another part has to pull back on the reins and correct myself.
The really annoying thing is that in my everyday life I come across both - this is the fault of the internet, I guess, for making both kinds of dates available. The result is that whenever I come across a date written this way, either month-first or day-first, I have to stop and think to figure out which it is. It's even worse if I have to write the date, which I've been doing recently on various immigration forms, because the only thing to stop me tripping up is my own brain, which is confused about the whole matter anyway.
Maybe it will become easier with time.
I look at that last one and part of me thinks it's the fifth of November, and another part has to pull back on the reins and correct myself.
The really annoying thing is that in my everyday life I come across both - this is the fault of the internet, I guess, for making both kinds of dates available. The result is that whenever I come across a date written this way, either month-first or day-first, I have to stop and think to figure out which it is. It's even worse if I have to write the date, which I've been doing recently on various immigration forms, because the only thing to stop me tripping up is my own brain, which is confused about the whole matter anyway.
Maybe it will become easier with time.
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