Lanes

 My last year of grad school the campus became smoke-free. It was culture shock when I first arrived, on the heels of my little straightedge midwestern cloister, to see so many students casually walking around with cigarettes hanging from their mouths. Lowsta would zip up to sketch rehearsal on a skateboard, a Marlboro falling from his lips.

Once the signs went up, I didn't think about it again. Occasionally I'd see someone, extremely stressed, power-walking to the parking lot to cram in a light between classes. Once it shifted I couldn't believe my professor and classmates used to stand in the garden puffing away.

A few months into the change I was biking down the street and had to maneuver around some construction. I had to pop onto the sidewalk for a moment to avoid a pothole and cautiously watched a girl in pajama pants walking nearby. I didn't want to knick her with my handlebar. As I passed she started screaming at me, "YEAH I SMOKE. GET OVER IT. IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS." I was so beyond flustered I simply pedaled faster. I heard her screeching as I zoomed away, "THIS ISN'T TECHNICALLY CAMPUS. I'M ALLOWED TO SMOKE."

I was probably halfway home, whiffing that pizza place, before I fully grasped what had happened. I was staring at her, in an attempt to not hurt her, and she decided to digest it as judgement for her habit. I hadn't even noticed she was smoking, and I certainly didn't care. If anything I was feeling self-conscious for biking out of my lane.

Negotiating

Ordered cute copper mugs from Bed, Bath, & Beyond. The movie I wrote on was coming out. I said, to heck with it and paid the extra 9.99 for same day delivery. I ordered them at 6 AM with a guaranteed arrival by 9. It's gotta be sooner than though. I listened for hall scuffling all day, checked the mail three times. Finally it was 9:15 and I had to accept, the mugs weren't coming. The customer service line was closed. I made a quick plate of wheat crackers and swiss cheese, pulled my hood up, and watched. In the future, things always promise to be more glamorous than they are.

The next day, bright and early, I cancelled the mug order only to have them arrive in the afternoon. I got back on with customer service, who told me I needed to drive them to a store half an hour away. I said no. They haggled me--did I want the mugs for a ten dollar discount? I agreed, with shipping also knocked off. All in all $7.50 for cute cups. A very good deal. But as soon as I got off the phone I felt bad. Concerned. Should I have paid anything at all? Would they have just cancelled the order and let it be? They're a huge corporation, what's my $7 to them? I'd already spent an hour with customer service, and I still gave them money? How is that fair? My time is too valuable for these thoughts, but they have to pass through.

I've negotiated for pay so rarely. Sometimes it was moot. Teaching and comedy jobs, mostly. Other times I thought it was moot. Like, I don't know, should I have been trying to get a raise at summer camp? When the line producer for my first TV show called me the pay was a little under what I expected it would be, but what was I gonna do, not say yes? A week into work I asked my officemates if they had negotiated. They had, and the shame followed me like a raincloud for months. It turned into a success story when I did eventually fight for a title bump and raise, but I'd already lost out on hundreds of dollars at a time when it would have been very helpful to have hundreds of dollars.

This summer came up with a good number for one day of work, hesitantly I then asked for double, ready to meet in the middle. When the producer quickly accepted the offer, despite getting more than expected, I didn't feel good. I felt like a dolt who can't tell her own worth. I do not want to negotiate please. I would like life to be a menu with reasonable prices.