Michael Estrin's Blog, page 25
August 14, 2015
Random acts of pancakes
The old man at the next table shakes his head in disbelief.
“Oh my goodness,” he says. “You’re kidding, right?”
The waiter smiles and explains that he is not kidding, that another patron, an LAPD officer who had been there earlier, paid the old man’s bill.
“Well, that’s one for my memoirs,” the old man says. “How about that? Free pancakes.”
The old man leaves. A little later, I ask if I heard that right.
“Yeah,” the waiter says. “The cop said the old man reminded him of his dad and I guess he missed his dad, so…”
“Well, that doesn’t happen every morning.”
“No, there aren’t enough random acts of kindness,” the waiter says. “But when you see one, it makes your day.”
August 13, 2015
Calling about services
The phone rings. The woman on the line wants to speak to Mr. Estrin or Mrs. Estrin.
I consider explaining that my wife decided to keep her name, but it doesn’t matter; the telemarketer continues.
“Mr. Estrin,” she says. “I’m just calling to see if we can offer you any services, any services at all.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Sorry, I mean contracting services.”
“Contracting?”
“Yes, like home contractors, you know what I mean?”
“Not really. I don’t even know who you are.”
“Oh. I forgot to say, I’m calling from Home Depot.”
“I’ve heard of Home Depot!”
“That’s great!”
“But I don’t need a contractor.”
“But we have a lot of services to offer.”
“Ok, but I’m the do-not-call list, so I don’t really care.”
“Oh… I guess I better go.”
August 10, 2015
High Life, Low Prices
The cashier says a case of Miller High Life will set you back ten dollars and change.
Her customer says there’s a sign advertising a case for eight dollars and change.
A lackluster debate ensues. She has her story, he has his.
We need a price check, but nobody responds to her page. She leaves the register to go check.
The man turns around and tells me, “She’s wrong, you’ll see.”
I shrug, not wanting to take sides.
She returns and says her original price was right. He makes a big speech about how he buys a case of Miller High Life every other day, how it’s always eight dollars and change, and how there’s a sign up advertising that price.
She folds her arms.
“But I’ll take your word for it,” he says. “I don’t want to be a dick and keep the guy behind me waiting.”
“Thanks,” I say.
He fires off a salute in my direction. Then he opens his wallet, which is when we encounter problem number two: he only has hundreds, and she can’t break anything larger than a twenty.
Clearly, I am not shopping at the champagne of convenience stores.
August 8, 2015
Taste
“No offense, but your generation has lousy taste.”
I’m not offended. But I am curious, so I ask the older woman what my generation likes.
“You guys want everything new,” she says.
“You’re right,” I tell her. “New has never been done before.”
August 7, 2015
Stupid grows up
Two teenage boys talking about the weekend.
The younger boy is “probably” going to a party where he’s “definitely going to fight some fools.”
The older boy says he sounds like the fool. “You’re going to get your ass kicked.”
“No I won’t,” the younger boy says. “I’m bringing a taser.”
“That’s really stupid. If something happens, your dumb butt will go to jail.”
The younger boy insists that he doesn’t want any trouble, but that some of his friends “scrap.”
“I know your friends,” the older boy says. “They’re in ninth grade and they’re all stupid because all ninth graders are stupid.”
“But what do I do about that party?”
“Just don’t go.”
The younger boy thinks about this for a while. Then he asks if one day he’ll be as smart as the older boy?
“Probably,” the older boy says. “I used to be way dumber than you, but I’m going to be a senior next year. You just get smarter as you grow up.”
August 2, 2015
Breakups and bananas
The cashier smiles as she scans my coffee.
“You’re doing it right,” she says. “This is the best stuff we carry.”
“You only live once, so you might as well make it count.”
“That’s going to be my new philosophy,” she says. “I just got out of a relationship with a real Neanderthal.”
As she rings up the rest of my groceries, she explains how she wasted “too much” time on the Neanderthal, how he cheated on her, and how he still refuses to return the car her dad lent him.
“He sounds like a piece of work,” I say.
“Yeah, total Neanderthal. I don’t even know what I saw in him.”
“Move on,” I say. “Find someone better, someone who treats you with respect.”
“Yes! That’s what I’m going to do.”
Then she notices that the bananas I’ve selected look a little “worked over.”
I run to get some new ones. These bananas cost a little more than the ones she already scanned, but she tells me not to worry about it.
“You listened to my crap,” she says. “That’s got to be worth a few bananas.”
July 30, 2015
Everyone in LA is making a movie. EVERYONE
A woman stops me on the street and asks if I can help her and her friend make a video.
“Um… I don’t really want to be in a video.”
“We need you to shoot the video. It’ll just take a minute.”
She hands me her phone and proceeds to explain the scene. Her friend, a scruffy dude in a leather jacket, will play a “homeless guy.” She will dance “for a minute.”
“A whole minute?”
“Yes!”
That seems like a lot of screen time without much action, but who am I to question the director?
We’re about to roll, when her costar expresses a problem with casting.
“I think I should be a musician, not a homeless guy.”
They debate homeless guy or musician for a while. She says we should vote. I cast the deciding vote. Musician it is.
Action!
We open on a musician. He leans against a vacant storefront. Lots of attitude.
A woman enters the frame.
Woman: Are you homeless?
Musician: No! I am a musician.
Woman: I want to dance!
He takes out a harmonica, plays an upbeat tune.
She dances with the enthusiasm of a postal worker at the end of a long shift.
After 23 seconds, she yells cut.
“We’ve got to rethink the dancing,” she says. “I don’t have enough moves for a whole minute.”
They need a creative meeting. This could take a while and I have to go. But this is LA, so it’s a safe bet that another camera operator will walk by soon.
July 29, 2015
Barista dreams
I hand my punch card to the barista. One more purchase and I get a free drink.
“Are you excited?” she asks.
“Yes, it’s always been a dream of mine.”
But she does not take her humor dry, and her smile disappears for a moment.
“You have to dream bigger,” she advises. “Dreams are like fuel for your life.”
July 24, 2015
Cutie patootie
Walking the dog when a woman in a passing car stops and rolls down her window.
“Oh my god, you’re a cutie patootie!”
“Thanks.”
“I meant the dog,” she says. “Obviously.”
” Obviously. I was just thanking you on his behalf.”
She rolls up her window and drives away.
July 23, 2015
Famous people of the future are nobody today
The woman in the booth next to me says she’s going to be on the cover of Vanity Fair soon.
Her friend seems supportive, but a tad leery. She’s not concerned.
“I”m hiring a publicist and figuring out my brand.”
She uses air quotes whenever she mentions her “brand,” and although she’s not sure what her “brand” is, she knows it’s cool, hip, and classic. But her “brand is also very “now,” which is tough, because “these days it’s all about the future, and nobody knows the future.”
I don’t catch her name, but I’m not concerned. I read Vanity Fair, so I know I’ll see her and her “brand” again someday soon.
