I'm beginning to settle in for the Winter. I can't think of a better place than Tucson. Now that I've been here for a couple of weeks, it's starting to feel like home. Unless something changes, I'll be here until Spring.
I've taken a job at another UPS store. I applied at seven different stores before one hired me on the spot. Most of the stores have managers who are taking a lot of applications, wanting to take a week or two before hiring someone. The store that eventually hired me has a manager who acts quickly, decisively, and doesn't look back.
"Hi. I'm Mitch. I worked at a UPS store in Albuquerque and was wondering if you needed some help," I said.
"So you've worked at a UPS store?" she asked. "When can you start?" She glanced at the application for maybe five seconds before offering me a job. The whole meeting took less than ten minutes. At the end of our brief conversation I said, "Well, I'm glad to finally find a manager at a UPS store that can make a quick decision."
What's the difference between this manager and the other six? Business sense and a willingness to frame a decision by the circumstances. I can't think of one legitimate reason that it should take the manager of a retail store to take two weeks to make a decision on hiring someone. After all, they aren't hiring brain surgeons. Managing a retail store isn't that complicated, unless you make it that way.
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I've been playing cards at the Casino del Sol, run by the Pascua Yaqui Indians. Their reservation is located southwest of downtown Tucson. One night I went to the other card room in town at the Desert Diamond Casino, but was turned off by the lack of adequate parking and the construction taking place. The Desert Diamond is building a hotel next to the casino, and until it's finished, it's just not worth the trouble to go there.
I was leaving the Casino del Sol one day last week and saw this beautiful moon rising above the horizon. I tried to quickly take a photo. Of course, this photo doesn't do any justice to the view I had.
The last time I was at the card room the "Bad Beat" jackpot was over $52,000. At that amount, the jackpot will be shared by all the players in the room at the time it hits. The split is 50/30/20, meaning the winner of the jackpot gets 50% of the prize money, 30% is shared by the other players at the winning table, and the remaining 20% is shared by all the other players in the room. My poker blog is at http://www.7seat.com/.
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I met an interesting guy today at work. He was returning a box of CD's to Canada, so I asked him if he was a musician. "Well, I'm actually what you might call a performing artist."
It turns out his name is Vincent Redhouse, and he's a grammy nominated Navajo recording artist who plays a flute. Check his out his web site. A very cool guy. He told me he played at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. last week. According to his web site, he was there to perform in the "Native Classics Recital on Traditional Native flute with Classical guitarist Gabriel Ayala."
Personal Observations and Commentary on Art, Life, Culture from Mitchell Ray Aiken
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Monday, November 26, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Isleta Casino and The Patio
I visited the Iselta Casino last night. It's located about 10 miles south of Albuquerque on Exit 215 from Interstate 25. I didn't see the casino from the I-25, but once I took the exit and rounded a curve to the southeast the casino appeared in the distance. Alone in the desert, the Isleta Tribal Council has created this place and I'm not sure I'll ever be back.
One afternoon, this consultant finished couseling a man who was obviously in anguish over his situation. I could tell by observation that this particular client was in emotional trouble and the consultant did his best to keep him focused on his future. It was evidently a rough meeting.
For one thing, there's nothing else to do within miles of the place. They are building a huge resort motel next to the current facilities, but I could see no other development of any kind in the area: no homes, no shopping malls, nothing. I admit I didn't look around much, but from the looks of things this casino is like the Route 66 Casino west of town: all alone on the reservation and miles from the nearest grocery store. Albuquerque is not far, maybe ten minutes north on I-25, however.
The second reason I was not impressed by the Isleta Casino is the poker room. Since poker is about all that I play at a casino, a poker room must be a good one. Unfortunately the poker room at the Isleta is very small. I counted eight tables packed inside a space the size of double-car garage. I visited the place on a Saturday night and there were only two tables active with players. At the Sandia Resort, as a comparison, on a Saturday night there are maybe 18-20 tables full of players with a waiting list.
After leaving the Isleta I drove back to the Sandia and spent the evening watching high-stakes blackjack players. I awaited the eight 0'clock drawing for the Fall Cash Giveaway, but alas was not selected to take home the $7,000 pot.
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She cuts my hair, so I have to mention her. I write of her because she represents the many kind people I have met while on the road. She works hard, has a funny disposition, and obviously loves people. I first noticed her at Starbucks, on The Patio. I was a new arrival in town and was sitting on The Patio and noticed she came there for breaks from work. Her hair salon is located next door. Every day for a week I saw her. I finally met her and had her give me a haircut. Often here family will drop by and visit with her. They are typical of the working class of Albuquerque, living from payday to payday, lucky to get a day off and maybe a break during the work day.
This composite picture of life at the Starbucks patio also contains images of weathly retired people who frequent the place to talk shop and read their newspaper. They've made money in real estate, the hi-tech industry that flourishes here, or any number of the federally-related scientific and military businesses for which Albuquerque is known. Along with the lady who cuts my hair, I've met movie producers, real estate developers, consultants, stock brokers, scientists, artists and authors on The Patio.
They all ask me, of course, what I do for living. I tell them, "I'm doing it. I sit at Starbucks all day and visit with people."
One particular man I see almost every day, I have not met. He's a consultant for people looking for professional jobs. He meets his clients on The Patio. They discuss resumes, job interviews, and all kinds of issues related to job-seeking. He's written a book that he provides them, has regular meetings with them individually and in groups, and has periodic conferences related to helping others find high-paying professional work.
How do I know all of this? By listening closely. I sit near by and listen in. I've learned a great deal from him and he has no idea I'm one of his "clients." He's a busy man. I've seen him meet as many as four days in a row with four different clients. Most of his clients are middle to late aged, and are concerned about competing in the professional job market against younger men and women. He often tells them, "looking for a good job is a full-time job in itself." A person must put in the time and effort to find the job they desire. I can feel the empathy he has for them, and I can understand their frustration. Many of his clients have been forced out of their high-paying careers for numerous reasons, and now find they have to hit the job-seeking market.
One afternoon, this consultant finished couseling a man who was obviously in anguish over his situation. I could tell by observation that this particular client was in emotional trouble and the consultant did his best to keep him focused on his future. It was evidently a rough meeting.
After his client left, the consultant looked tired, took a sip of his coffee, then received a phone call:
"Yes, dear. I'm coming home. Do you need anything?"
"Some soup? Do you like that chicken noodle?"
"Okay. I'll run by the store on the way home. I love you."
Sunday, September 9, 2007
I’ve spent the last few days getting used to a new part-time job and learning my way around town. I’ve been in ABQ since Thursday, August 16. This is my 24th day in this beautiful city and I’m wondering if I will ever leave. Of course, if I do decide to move on West I can always return.
My plan is to stay here through at least the month of October. I’ve taken a part-time job to earn a few bucks and I want to be here for the Balloon Fiesta. After the weather turns colder I may move on to a warmer climate.
I’m thinking on my journey Westward I want to visit Santa Fe, then head west to the Chaco Canyon area, and Gallup. Once I’m through traveling around western New Mexico I’ll head toward Flagstaff, Arizona and then Las Vegas. The timing of these events are undecided, which is the point of this entire trip. All along my goal has been to take my time, work when necessary, stay in places I like for extended periods of time, play cards and check out the Indian casinos along the way, and write about it.
So hang with me.
I left Texas on Monday, August 13. While it seems like ages ago, I’ve spent barely one month on the road. I’ve learned that traveling distorts your sense of time and space. A few days may seem like a month. When settled in one place you develop points of reference to keep you grounded. Routines, schedules, familiar sites and sounds of the place you call “home.” On the road, these points of reference are missing. Time and space become blurry, inconsequential. Each day I’ve been on the road has been different, unique, unplanned, and downright fun.
And the people I’ve met along the way. There is the Starbucks manager who is overworked and unorganized and needs a vacation; Ed, a character at the Sandia Resort who has become a “pal” of mine (more on him later); Keith, my new boss who owns a number of businesses and likes to laugh (I like him a lot, although I’ve only talked with him twice); Bull, a poker dealer the size of Wisconsin; the lady I see each morning working at the concierge desk at the Sandia Resort when I pick up my daily newspaper (and who helped me find a local dry cleaner); the one-armed truck driver I played poker with in Norman; and the knuckle-headed service man at the Carmax who refused to give me a ride because “we just don’t do that."
I owe all of these characters, and many more, a big “thanks” for making my trip an interesting one.
My plan is to stay here through at least the month of October. I’ve taken a part-time job to earn a few bucks and I want to be here for the Balloon Fiesta. After the weather turns colder I may move on to a warmer climate.
I’m thinking on my journey Westward I want to visit Santa Fe, then head west to the Chaco Canyon area, and Gallup. Once I’m through traveling around western New Mexico I’ll head toward Flagstaff, Arizona and then Las Vegas. The timing of these events are undecided, which is the point of this entire trip. All along my goal has been to take my time, work when necessary, stay in places I like for extended periods of time, play cards and check out the Indian casinos along the way, and write about it.
So hang with me.
I left Texas on Monday, August 13. While it seems like ages ago, I’ve spent barely one month on the road. I’ve learned that traveling distorts your sense of time and space. A few days may seem like a month. When settled in one place you develop points of reference to keep you grounded. Routines, schedules, familiar sites and sounds of the place you call “home.” On the road, these points of reference are missing. Time and space become blurry, inconsequential. Each day I’ve been on the road has been different, unique, unplanned, and downright fun.
And the people I’ve met along the way. There is the Starbucks manager who is overworked and unorganized and needs a vacation; Ed, a character at the Sandia Resort who has become a “pal” of mine (more on him later); Keith, my new boss who owns a number of businesses and likes to laugh (I like him a lot, although I’ve only talked with him twice); Bull, a poker dealer the size of Wisconsin; the lady I see each morning working at the concierge desk at the Sandia Resort when I pick up my daily newspaper (and who helped me find a local dry cleaner); the one-armed truck driver I played poker with in Norman; and the knuckle-headed service man at the Carmax who refused to give me a ride because “we just don’t do that."
I owe all of these characters, and many more, a big “thanks” for making my trip an interesting one.
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