Another Life or American Crime Scene

A week or two ago I was eating salmon and orzo salad on a porch strung with those Pinterest lights and someone told a story about how Selma Blair's sister was their summer camp counsellor in the late 80s.
Another girl (who is now a woman) from their cabin bumped into Selma Blair in LA went up to her and said:
Are you Selma Blair Beitner?
And Selma was like (ugh)  (autograph request) (ok fine) Yeah, that's me.
And the girl said Your sister was my camp counsellor in the late 80s.
They had a good laugh, reminisced about the olden days and I assume although it was not part of the story took a coupla selfies.

Next day I am at the library interviewing an older gentleman about his genealogy database in conjunction with a project we are working on together when he cracks a joke about his wife.
Oh, Stanley. I say. I know you love your wife. I can see the way you talk about her.
Stanley says. I do love my wife but I gotta tell you what happened last week.
When I was in Harvard Business School I went out with a girl (who is now a woman) named Mollie. Penn Fruits. Don't know if the name means anything to you but her parents were in the fruit business. Went belly up. Used to drive my 56 Chevy from Boston to Philly just to see her on the weekends. Friend of mine called me last week and said. What ever happened to Mollie. So I said. I'm a researcher, I'm going to look her up.
Smart girl. Became a lawyer, maybe a judge, didn't surprise me. Married a guy Beitner. Divorced him. Four daughters. Each one more beautiful than the next. One became a movie star.

Selma Blair Beitner? I ask.

That's the one. Stanley says. You know her?

Lessons Learned:
1. Six degrees of separation are way too many. You can probably get by with one or two
2. Genealogy research started because people were trying to find out what happened to their old girlfriends before Facebook was invented
3. People actually buy those Pinterest lights and string them up on their porches
4. In the right context, orzo can count as salad

Sometimes You Have to Cut Your Losses feat. My Sister

My sister normally doesn’t like to appear in social media but gave me special permission today because she got what she wanted out of her complaint.

She has a new car and it’s time for her winter tires to be changed. Because we live in Canada and it just stopped snowing last week. Just kidding. Yesterday. No, really, kidding. (Story might be a bit stale.)

New Dealership reassures her that they will have rental courtesy car waiting when she gets there.

She gets there.

They do not have a courtesy car waiting.

In fact, many other people are also there, looking for their rental courtesy cars.

She waits a few minutes while Dealership calls rental courtesy company.

Cannot help but overhear rental courtesy company panicking about the number of cars needed to satisfy all the demands coming in today.

Oh. This is not looking good.

She cannot help but overhear dapper gentleman arguing because he has been waiting 90 minutes for his courtesy car. She cannot help but notice there are 11 people in line behind him with equally compelling stories.

This will not do.

She does not want to wait and take a chance that there will not be a car available and she needs a car for her work. My sister zigzags over the city so much that I have joked about putting a Fitbit on her car. Of course we all have one, it’s called an odometer. (This does not make my joke less funny.)

She tells Dealership she has to cut her losses and leave with her seasonally incorrect tires and book another appointment at a later date. She is not impressed.

Next day phone rings it’s the Dealership.

Hello, Ma’am. We will comp the storage for your tires. Also, we will send a valet to your house to pick up your car and bring it in for service.

(They did not mention if valet will be driving a courtesy rental car.)

My sister got her fries because she remained calm, yet she told the Dealership she was not happy. She also told them she could not wait for the rental courtesy car that did not show up as promised. She stuck to her guns and left. The Dealership listened to her situation, acknowledged they were wrong, and mitigated the damage.

Satisfaction all around. 

Please pass the ketchup.