Here She Is...Miss America!

In the past two days, two people accidentally addressed me as Palin. One of them a fellow progressive and the other, our “maintenance director” or simply the guy who fixes stuff around the office and can get me a fancy notebook if I am extra nice. Our names certainly have a few letters in common, but I believe that’s where our similarities end. For starters, I don’t look like a mischievous librarian in my Tina Fey glasses; instead, I resemble an elementary school teacher, who is in the habit of sending notes home and giving Fs for behavior. I am also, amazingly enough, more educated and received my degree from a more reputable institution (see Back to School issue below). Additionally, though I am not lucky enough to have lived the quintessential American story of eating moose burgers and shooting rifles in Alaska (I am a naturalized American citizen), I have had an American passport for five years longer than Palin. I’ll spare you the list of our differences, but as you may guess, it’s rather extensive.


So what is it, that je ne sais quoi, driving my colleagues to confusion? I hope it’s the one similarity we do have – neither will be the vice president.

How We Met

Every little and not so little girl dreams of a knight on a white horse who’ll come to sweep her away, put his jacket over a puddle so she doesn’t get her precious feet wet, tell her how unbelievably beautiful and wonderful she is. For some, the modified version actually comes true, and in fact, it’s better that way… taking care of a horse is time consuming and expensive (plus, I hear that they are as dumb as they are beautiful). If you ever browse the New York Times online edition, skip the intellectually-stimulating editorials, gloss over the news worthy articles, and head straight for the Weddings/Celebration section (http://www.nytimes.com/pages/fashion/weddings/index.html), you will be led to believe that the knights on white horses are all around you and lovely maidens, well, they are beautiful, charming, and fresh, even if they are, ever so slightly, past their prime.

The featured “human interest” stories usually showcase a lame romance between John and Jill (who, being that we are in New York, often end up being Rachel and Jonathan). Amy Dickinson’s and Bruno Schickel’s story particularly touched my heart. Looks like high school sweethearts reunited a few decades and marriages later. I could not be more thrilled for them! Their completely unstaged photo permeates my screen with total bliss. However touching the stories in the Vows section are, they cannot compete with the pearls of cinematography in the “How We Met” section. The section editorial staff asks the lucky couples to submit home videos: “We ask that these videos focus on the story of how the couples met and ultimately decided to make the relationship permanent.” If your video is selected, you may have the good fortune of having a loser like me make fun of its every aspect while on the clock. Thus far, my favorite video is about some “marketing executive” (whatever that means) and her circus clown husband. Terrific.

I must say that I am most interested in “How We Met” – 5 years later section. I’d love to hear about how those couples fared. If I appear judgmental and critical, it’s because I am. :) But don’t worry, I expect a surprise “How We Met” video for when we renew our vows.

The Back to School Issue

Have you heard? I am back in school! Again. I wish I could demonstrate my enthusiasm and trepidation by wearing a starched white collar (not a cheap store-bought one, but a nice mother-made lace collar) and bringing a bouquet of flowers for my teacher, but alas, the tradition lives on in my motherland only. I am giving grad school another lame shot by going back to Baruch, my beloved alma mater, and getting a bang for my buck in the form of two extra letters after my name upon completing the humble curriculum. My consistent attitude about school is accurately captured by the photo, taken September 1, 1988. Cynicism aside, it feels comforting to be back in that enormous building, knowing which bathroom is likely to be clean and which elevator comes fastest, among other trivial things. I will even admit that hearing my Russian-Brooklynese compatriots butcher both languages as they boldly replace “t”s and “d”s with “ts”s and “ds”s (Dsidsn’t you tsake that professah? I tsawled you he’s a dsick) as they light up their cigarettes outside sounded reassuring. The world, or at least Baruch, it seems, hadn’t changed all that much.



While riding the escalator, I overheard a discussion between two ambitious undergraduates. “You know,” said one, “I just changed my major. I decided I wasn’t going to do Finance, it’s not for me in the long run. I will major in International Marketing. I think that will help my career more.” “Oh yeah?” responded her friend, “That’s great. My sister majored in International Business. How is International Marketing different?” “Well, it’s pretty much the same… but different.” Chances are, the girl will never do marketing; an accounts payable position in a medical office has her name written all over it; but this, this was marketing at work! Like me, it seems, the student was sold on the name alone - the major was going to be exciting, applicable, and require only basic quantitative skills. Ahhh, the sea of suckers. It’s good to be back.

P.S. In Statistics, I learned that the upside of using the mode as a way of describing the center of a population is being able to apply it to categorical data. I can apply what I learned immediately to describing Baruch’s student body. The range is from clinical cretin to highly intelligent and the mode is a moron. Despite what my test scores may suggest, I pretend to be an outlier… just not sure which side I lie on.