JUST BE NICE, PEOPLE



Photo from another Jennifer with a blog post on being nice:

http://www.jenniferkonig.com/blog/2008/9/2/is-it-really-that-hard.html

“Kindness is more than deeds. It is an attitude, an expression, a look, a touch. It is anything that lifts another person.”

-          William Shakespeare

I’m a happy person in general; I wake up happy and chattering.  My husband, I’m sure, wishes I wasn’t so very happy so very early.  I think that a natural by-product of happiness is kindness which spreads more happiness and kindness in others.  As a happy person I’m constantly shocked at all the effort that the perpetually unhappy put into remaining in their state of unhappiness.  If I smile at you or wave hello, don’t you feel just plain silly staring at me or not waving back or acknowledging in some fashion that another of your species has just communicated with you?  As I move through life I take these moments of encountered grumpiness as a personal challenge.  A challenge to turn them around; I wear them down with kindness, jokes and sometimes pepper that with some hilarious (I think) sarcasm.

Customer service, for example:  Do you know what it is?  If you live in the District of Columbia chances are you don’t know what it is – it’s hard to find around here.  Countless times, at local grocery stores, pharmacies and fast food restaurants I have gone through an entire transaction without a single word being spoken or even eye contact being made.  I hate to call you out on it, but Rite Aid, you are consistently the worst offender of this form of…um…customer service.  This is why stores like, Harris Teeter in Adams Morgan – where every single check-out clerk seems genuinely happy and the Flying Fish Café on Mt. Pleasant Street where they always remember me and my routine order, continue to get my business – I strongly suspect this is the key to a successful business.  Perhaps Rite Aid feels they don’t need to waste time with smiles; perhaps they feel their customers have little choice but to shop with them – wrong, I go to the happy pharmacy people at Harris Teeter.  When I am trapped into frequenting an establishment with constantly grumpy people I kill ‘em with kindness.  I wear them down.  I tell myself, something has made them grumpy or sad, maybe things aren’t great for them right now, but maybe I can bring a smile to their faces… or…who knows, maybe the grumpy feel affronted by my cheerfulness and they will never change, but a huge part of me can’t believe that.  Every single time I come in and am affronted with their turned down faces and furled brows I smile bigger, I chat more, I say thank you a lot and you know what…after a while (some places longer than others) they come around.  They kind of turn one corner of their frown up, and they engage in chatter, and in rare instances I gain total victory by being greeted by a huge smile and a “how are you?!”.  SUCCESS!

Being kind can get you things too and I mean really, really good things.  One of my first jobs in DC was with a startup.  The nature of starts ups is everyonge pitches in.  For me, one year, that meant helping set up for a big conference in Atlanta when our company found itself without a marketing director.  I’d like to say it went smooth as silk thanks to my high intelligence and quick thinking but there were things I didn’t know – things that even someone as highly intelligent as me (that's some of that sarcasm right there) couldn't have known; only the experienced would have succeeded here.  In arranging to have our booth shipped to the conference I had no idea that we were required to use Union crews to off-load our truck.  So there I am, standing there the day our booth arrives in Atlanta for this giant conference and I have no way to get the booth off the truck and set up.  Do I scream at the guy who is standing there forebodingly, who is clearly quite angry with me; seemingly determined not to let things move forward?  It seemed hopeless, but, no, I don’t have it in me to bark at people.  I’m the type that works hard to avoid confrontation.  Instead I look him in the eyes and make the problem his problem as well as mine.  I invoke smiles, I give apologies, I’m honest and tell him I had no clue this was the process and confess that I’m out of my league, in over my head and was pinch hitting for the marketing person who was no longer with the company.  Then I said, “What do we do?”  WE.  What do WE do?   Meaning me and him.  During my chatter and jokes and smiles and admission of being at fault his crossed arms became uncrossed.  His jaw loosened and softened and by the time I was done and asking what we should do he was patting me on the back and assuring me he could work something out.  He did, too, and don’t think I wasn’t grateful either.  I showed my gratefulness with a big fruit basket that was initially intended to be set out in our booth conference room.  THAT’S how you get things by being nice; THAT’S how to be nice.  No attitudes of entitlement, no barking and demanding, just a pleasant tone asking for help. 

By being nice you make it easy for them to help you.  That same guy not only helped me out of that pit but warned me of other pitfalls and basically held my hand through the whole conference right up until I was packed up and shipping the booth off to storage.  He was the person I called when we had a problem with the electrical wiring in our booth and who I called when I had other random problems.  He also got many more thank you gifts from me each time he helped.  He liked helping me and wanted to help.  Can you imagine that having been the case if I had gotten into a shouting match?  I might have gotten the trucks unloaded after a long argument, but I certainly wouldn’t have gotten all that other assistance!

That same trip, after it was all over and we’ve all headed to the airport to fly home we find the airport covered over in people.  People jammed into the hallways, sitting on the floors, standing in line at the ticketing agents’ kiosks.  It turns out the entire north east was being hit by a massive thunderstorm and a kazillion flights had been delayed or cancelled.  I get in line with the rest of the crowd to see what’s happening with my flight.  I’m next in line and I watch and listen while an extremely well dressed man berates the ticketing agent.  He’s screaming at her, red faced, spittle flying out of his mouth while he screams and bangs his fists.  The agent, who clearly has seen this type of behavior before, continues to tell him over and over “Sir I’m sorry, take a look around you, all the flights are sold out.”  Then, my favorite thing ever to hear big-ego-types say, the man actually said: “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!”  To which she coolly replied sir, I do, but it does not change the fact that the flights are sold out; can you move on so I can help some of these other people in line?  He’s mad, but he’s finished.  He moves on and up I come.  I look at her and I say “did you help him figure out who he was?”  She laughed, and so did the agent next to her.  I then handed over my boarding pass and said, “It looks like my flight has been cancelled and I gather from that last conversation that everything is full.  I’m happy to fly into any of the three airports in DC but if they’re all full I’ll just take whatever is the next available.”  She looks at me, looks at the agent next to her, leans in and says “Honey, I think we have a flight we can get you on today. “  She does her thing, prints out a new boarding pass and as she hands it to me says, “thank you for being patient and kind.”  I smile back and say “I do hope the rest of the day goes better.  Thank you very much.”  I walk away and look at my pass for my gate number and I realize she had moved me from my coach seat to First Class – WOW!  I ran back and said with a huge smile – “OH MY GOD –thank you!”  She whispers, “it was the last seat.”  Meaning, the man barking at her could have gotten that seat had he been nicer; instead all he did was make it available for me.  Thank you angry guy!

Just be nice people…you will go miles and you’ll do it in first class too!

As a Woman... I Really Do Suck!

I’m so un-girly that it’s really quite pathetic when I do make girly attempts.  These comments come as I’m looking at a photo that was recently taken at work.  I have ended my stay-at-home mom gig to go back to my chosen profession of Executive Assistant.  I am currently working as the Executive Assistant to the CEO and President of PBS. 

I’ve just finished my first week of work at PBS and sadly (tongue-in-cheek I say) all I can focus on is the photo that was taken and subsequently distributed to every single employee at PBS via the company emailed newsletter.  I have rarely worn make-up in life…I rarely go through the pampering rituals that I perceive most women undertake… and so when it was time to take an official photo to go along with my (first ever) published bio I got nervous and decided I needed to pay attention to my make-up that day and put on lipstick and well…brushed my hair - that was the extent of my girl-y photo-op make over.  The end result (posted above)… is classic Jennifer.  I remembered to put on a fresh application of lipstick before the photo was taken but did I think about the glasses I had shoved up to the top of my head (there-by making that stupid piece of hair stick out on the side and pretty much ruin the do)?   No.  I did not.  I was so engrossed in my work that when the Outlook meeting reminder popped up to remind me this dude was coming ‘round to take my photo all I had time to do was slap on some lipstick that at the time I was mighty proud to have remembered to bring lipstick to work.  I have girlfriends that would gasp at the fact that I don’t keep a second bag of full-on make-up at work for just such a thing.. but alas, I do not.. and there you have it.. .my very pitiful, very super-white-faced photo that went out to every employee in the company.

Perhaps I flatter myself to think that anyone is paying any attention at all to the bio and photo that was distributed on this past Friday’s newsletter and indeed I comforted myself by thinking most employees automatically delete the company newsletter without looking at it.  BUT!  NO!  I work at a different place than ever I’ve worked before… PBS is truly, in every since of the word, a family company… and people really do read these newsletters and within 30 mins of the thing being sent out I had an email from one of my CEO’s top executives stating he enjoyed reading my bio and pointed out a recent paths-crossed scenario where he too had worked at Discovery and interacted with John Hendricks (the founder).

*sigh*

I really suck as a woman.  Sorry my fellow women… I doubt I’ll ever change… at age 40…some things are just entrenched.

If it’s worth anything at all I have a very healthy (or unhealthy, as the case maybe) addiction to shoes!  THAT should balance out all my other non-girly attributes!

Moments

Peaceful photo I took
at Colonial Williamsburg in 2008

Moments.

We all have them.  The moment you *know* you’re in love.  The moment you look into your new-born’s eyes and feel that bond.  Life-changing and all –emotional moments when you discover something riveting about yourself or someone else.

Moments.

I had a wholly unexpected “moment” this past Friday; at work no less!  I just started a new job.  I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for some time now.  It was always the plan that when the youngest turned two I would return to work; which I’ve done.  I’ve returned to my chosen career as an Executive Assistant.  I work at PBS as the Executive Assistant to the President and CEO.  I had a good feeling about the woman I work for from the moment I interviewed with her.  There was absolutely no hint of ego or arrogance in the woman.  Indeed, to the point that I thought there was no way she could be a successful executive without it!  But, to be sure, she is successful and low-and-behold… a genuinely good person!  How do I know this with only a week of work under the belt?  Well, against my better judgment – I’ll tell you. 

Why is this against my better judgment?  The answer to that is two fold.  First, I’m betraying a self-imposed betrayal of trust to my executive as well as sharing something deeply personal.  You see, I’ve found a lump in my breast; something that causes every woman’s heart to sink and a painful pit to form in their stomach.   My doc has scheduled a visit to the radiologist on Monday (two days from now).  This past Friday, when I had a moment with my new boss, I had to tell her I would not be in the office (at my brand new, 1 week old job) so I could go get this mammogram done. 

I was honest.  I told her everything – that I had found a lump.  It was the first time I had spoken the words out loud (I had cowardly told my husband via email and refused to speak of it in person [and still do]).  But, in this case, I was forced to speak of it face-to-face and in person.  In fact, I’m positive that my mother, father, sister and in-laws are reading this post and probably offended that I have not personally told them about this quiet anguish I am experiencing.

[To you all, my family, please don’t be offended…First and foremost I didn’t want to make a big deal of something that may turn out to be nothing and second, I didn’t want the emotional upheaval of having to “officially” tell you.]

Back to my awesome boss…upon hearing this news her immediate and honest reaction was to get up from her chair and come around her desk to hug me.  I was so taken aback that I started cry.  (damn-it!  I tried to suck it up …but I couldn’t)… then as if it weren’t enough that she was a good enough person to get up and hug me… she told me that if on Monday I needed to call someone or just to talk to please feel free to call her!  Holy crap!   I have to tell you… there is zero ego/arrogance in this woman… she will forever have my deepest respect – no matter the outcome of Monday’s exam!

Anyway… no clue why I needed to post this tonight… perhaps it’s simply that the whole matter is weighing on my mind …perhaps, in this world of selfishness, I’m astounded to find an honest selfless act…whatever it is…I’m now sharing my anguish of possible breast cancer with the world and my absolute delight in having an honest-to-God good-hearted boss with the world.

I’m sharing ….  “A Moment”.

Would you Like a Free Handmade Journal?

My fellow blogger and personal friend is hosting a giveaway on her blog, A Lil' Welsh Rarebit.

The booty?  A handmade journal and you get to pick which one you want.


I've entered to win and the chose the blue journal in the ones pictured above.

Click Here to go to the giveaway.

Good Luck!

Who Needs Yoga - I've Got Boys!

My two devil-spawn; don't let the sweet faces fool you!  ;)

This post is shared in particular with that small group of sympathetic and understanding sets of ears out there who either have children or sympathize with my plight.  I say plight tonight because it became apparent to my husband and I today we have two spawns of the devil living with us.  I say this because it is true – if you know a good exorcist please give him/her our number we need them stat!

To say we’ve had a trying day is an understatement and I just don’t even have a clue where to begin.   Even as I type this I am listening to things crash down on the hard wood floors as the kids excitedly throw said things over the railing from upstairs… I hear my husband calling out from the bathroom, where he’s running the bath water, for the kids to “get your naked bodies back in here!”  I laugh out loud at the vision in my head of the two of them butt-naked at the top of the stairs hoisting over the objects that are still crashing down loudly…I’m not getting up because this is my “free time”.  I would call it my quiet time but clearly that wouldn’t be accurate.  Back to the recap of our trying day…

My day started when I woke up this morning in a good enough mood but I awoke in my oldest son’s bed (yet again) due to a evening of night-terrors (not nightmares, there’s a difference – Goolge it) that have been happening ever since his four shots he received at his four year old check up earlier this week.  He screams in fits in his sleep saying over and over NO!  NO!  Please No!   My heart hurts for him!  But we were peacefully sleeping since roughly 3am and when I woke at 7:00am (that’s sleeping in around here, folks!) I was in a good mood… my good mood lasted all of 3 seconds as I felt Peter’s feet dig into my back while he tried to burry them deep into me to warm those two ice bricks he had for feet!  He hit my kidney or some other tender spot down there and I jumped up with a scream and woke him up with a start which made him cry … and so the day began.

Mark meanwhile, was ensconced in our bedroom with our youngest, Paul, in our bed with him I can only presume because of some other night-time issues that occurred sometime after I left our bed around 1:00a.m.; I still don’t know what the issue was because the day has been so taxing that we’ve barely spoken to one other, not out of anger but out of constantly dealing with the devil-spawns. 

I had the bright idea to go to a book store today (15 degree temps and vicious winds voided any attempt at out-door play, by the way – I take back ever saying I wanted to live in Boston…this Southern gal can’t -CAN NOT- move any further North than this!).  I was thinking I’d find a bookstore with a story hour for the kids… Peter doesn’t like them so much but Paul gets a big kick out of them…I couldn’t find any so we decided to head to the bookstore anyway and buy some new books.

Paul spent the entire time there screeching very loudly with joy as he swiped his hand across shelves of books that to his surprise he could easily clear in one big, loud crashing swoop.  Once this maneuver was discovered there was no stopping him!  The routine went ….as I am picking up books from his last demolition he’s off to the next counter swiping off the next round of books…Mark, meanwhile, is chasing down Peter who thinks it’s perfectly OK to open all the puzzle boxes and put them together.  So I’m picking Paul up like a sack of potatoes and hoisting him under my arm; too afraid to put him back down or the scenario of swipe-off-books-while-mommy-cleans-up-the-last-mess would never end. Paul is parallel to the floor under my arm with his head sticking out front and his feet kicking wildly in back while I squat holding this 23lb wiggly weight and delicately balance my back pack and all the boys coats under my free arm so I can free up my hand to pick up the books and place them back on the shelves.  I did do this successfully without falling over!  Pht!  Who needs yoga, I’ve got boys!

We finally manage to pick out a few books for the boys and couple for ourselves and head to the check out counter, me with sweat on my brow from my workout in the heated store while wearing my winter coat and Mark with a pursed lip and I’m going to kill someone look on his red face.  The tally comes to something like $85 and Mark says some cute comment along the lines of having to pay for the torture of the experience…wish I could remember exactly what he said because it really cracked me up…the cashier had no clue what he meant and must’ve thought we were true ass-hole parents because I was still standing there conducting the business of checking out with Paul hoisted under my arm (he was giggling though by this time because I had made a game of it by saying hut-hut! And running through the store with him like he was a football…so…I guess the cashier’s looks had more to do with the fact that Mom was nuts…whatever).

Then the production of getting the boys back in their coats began.  I had put all their hats, gloves and scarves in my backpack so we wouldn’t lose them…while digging them out I made the mistake of putting Paul down who immediately ran to the magazines while saying “uh-oh” before he even got to them.  When he got to the magazines he’s saying “uh-oh” louder and pulling them all off the shelf to the floor one by one.  A very stylish gay man and his partner glared at us for ruining their morning, I smiled at them and said “I’ll sell him for cheap!”  -  they laughed but moved away just the same.  I hoist Paul under my arm again as I put all the magazines back.  I look up to see Mark and Peter exiting the store and leaving my backpack on the floor with Paul’s coat… Mark had had enough!  Paul sees them leave too and begins screaming and crying DAAAADDDY!!!!   PETER!!!!!  Very dramatically with his arm reaching out as if he’d really been sold off.  He continues chanting Daddy!!  Peter!!!  over and over even after I get his coat on and his hood up and as I’m going down the street after Mark and Peter.  People are passing me on the street and looking at me as I’ve just kidnapped the kid.

We all get to the car, get the kids strapped in their car seats and Mark now seated in the driver’s seat turns to me and says with a very defeated sound to his voice…we still have to do the grocery run.

I can’t even type anymore… I think, dear reader, you get the idea of my day - just know this type stuff continued on into the evening to the point that our next door neighbor left his home around 5:30p.m. dramatically slamming his front door because of the noise emanating from our home (at least that was what I figured was happening).  So, if you’re one of my readers whose kids are no longer this age or you don’t have kids please…enjoy your “boring” mornings where you just don’t know what to do with yourself after sleeping in until 10am, have an extra cup of coffee for me and hey…watch a movie from beginning to end un-interrupted!  Do that for me will ya?  Savor and enjoy it!  

PS…just checked to see what the boys had thrown over the upstairs railing….the diaper pail that was full of dirty diapers….it busted open and there are little bundles of dirty diapers all the floor also several toy cars and railroad tracks.

Quite a Harried Morning!

We’ve had a hard time getting back into the swing of things after the holiday break; as a result Peter has been late to school the last two days.  Today I was determined to get Peter to school by 8:00 a.m. so he could enjoy the full half hour of free-play time before the learning begins.  In hindsight I think taking that dose of Nyquil to help me get my Z’s last night was probably not a great idea.  Never the less we all woke up late and the rush began. 

The morning was hectic with me constantly coaxing the kids to eat-chew-swallow, brush your teeth, stop  doing that, put that toy down, come here…come here…come here…stop taking your shoes off, no Paul you can’t have tape, let’s go go go!   And we were out the door…

[Side note: The request for tape from Paul is not new, it started when I was wrapping gifts for Christmas and I’d give him a piece to play with so he would leave me alone for a bit.  The true love for tape began, though, when I was taping up boxes to ship out…he loved the big packaging tape!]  Back to the story:

With the hurried rush out the door I completely forgot to make my (fully potty trained, mind you) toddler go to the bathroom.  So half way to the bus stop he tells me he has to pee with a very urgent look on his face.  I mutter “sh*t”; which the 1 ½ year old immediately repeats and has been repeating all day today, thank you very much.  (the day was mingled with urgent requests from 1 year old for tape and the word shit….just beautiful.) 

I cross the street to the laundry mat…restroom out of service. 

Walk up about 3 doors to the breakfast-serving hole-in-the-wall restaurant “no public bathrooms”….

I’m frantically dragging the ever-urgent Peter up the street with the very loud tape-requesting 1 year old clutched in my arms looking for a bathroom….I’m considering letting him go in the alley when I remember the7-11 a block up… we make a dash for it.  The cashier must have noticed the I’m-not-having-a-great-morning look on my face because he didn’t say a word when asked where the restrooms were and just pointed to a door around the corner from the rolling hotdogs.  I run back through the door with Peter who’s getting quite vocal about the urgency of the situation and I grab the handle and pull … it’s locked.  I look up to see a sign that says out of order.  Ya think the cashier coulda said something right?  I turn to leave and notice the custodian floor drain with the mop in the corner….I yank down Peter’s pants and tell him to go.  OH, yes I did!  I wave to the cashier and say “thanks” with a sweet smile as we leave and could only think of Adam Sandler in “Big Daddy” when the restaurant owner wouldn't let his 'son' use the bathroom.

We hop on the city bus that seemed to be waiting just for us right outside the 7-11 and jet down to the next bus stop and hop off; we cross the street to Peter’s school and we made it just in time.  Whew.   Evidence of my hurried morning must have been apparent to the teachers there too because I could see some sympathetic looks coming off their faces as I had a good 15 minute chat with them about Paul starting school there next month.  That whole conversation by the way was littered with interruptions from Paul with the words “tape” and “shit”.   

Paul and I hop the bus again to go to the park.  We hang there a bit, hit the Starbucks and hop the bus home.  The entire bus ride home Paul is obsessed with tape... I can’t get him stop asking and he in turn is getting irritated with me and is getting a bit pushy about it.  We finally get home.

An hour later Paul and I are playing on the floor and he starts in again about tape.  I keep saying no and he keeps yanking my hair.  I figure he's doing this out of frustration from being told no but it hurts and I’m getting really mad!  I reach up to pull his hands down; his hands are clinched to a huge chunk of hair in the back of my head.  I finally pry his hands off to find a massive chunk of gray thick packing tape wadded up in my hair!  I yell “SH*T!” again (and so does he immediately after). It dawns on me that the tape, was a piece of big thick gray duct tape I had given Peter to play with at bedtime the night before and must have gotten stuck in my hair during the night when I went in to lay down with a nightmare-stricken Peter.

All morning long I tramped around the city with that damn piece of tape wadded up in my hair!  I guess all those people I encountered really DID know the crazy morning I had!  

New year’s resolution…if I do nothing else before leaving the house, at least brush my hair!

Why There's Always Just One Shoe on the Road

Mark is out of town right now, has been since last Wednesday and won't be back until this Wednesday.  You can imagine what it means being alone with two rambunctious boys; but we're fine over all.  The big luxury with Mark out of town is access to a car all day long.  Today I drove the boys out to a diner in Silver Spring, MD.  It's an old school diner that's small, dirty (clean dirt though - you understand) and just full of character. You could smell the grease when we walked in.

Peter, of course, wanted a Coke.  If you tell Peter we're going to a restaurant he immediately wants a Coke - the two things are 100% related in his mind.  As soon as we parked the car and before we got out he starts chanting "I want a Coke, I get a Coke.  Coke Coke Coke!"   So, when the waitress walks up to take our order Peter says, where's my Coke?!  He still doesn’t understand he has to ask for it first then it comes.

The meal was quite a circus act.  I asked for a booth so I didn't have to worry about chairs being knocked over and I feel I can pin them in if we're sitting in a booth.  The table top juke box provided some entertainment much more than the computer print out drawing of Sponge Bob Square pants and crayons provided.  The food came quickly and was nothing to write home about, but the kids were excited - Paul for the ketchup which is pretty much all he ate, and Peter for the Coke and pancakes (we were there for lunch but he wanted pancakes and...whatever...).   I ordered a sandwich because anything I have to cut to eat with these two kids is impossible.   Paul constantly jumped up and down in the bench while he ate, I think the guy behind me left with some ketchup on the back of shirt - totally unbeknown to him (I didn't see it until they were walking away).  Paul managed to get his little hands on the pepper shaker which was glass and was broken on the tile floor within seconds.  Peter, who is obsessed with street names right now, was chattering away about what route we are going to take home:

Peter:  Yes, that's it mom

ME: what?

Peter: Mom, we can take Colesville rd to Connecticut Rd and then turn on Tilden

ME: a bit impressed because it's almost right except that Colesville doesn't really run across Connecticut... that's good peter (I'm wrangling Paul off the back of the seat again and wishing I had asked for a high chair even though they now make Paul scream and cry)

Peter:  what street is this diner on?

ME: Cameron i think

Peter: oh yes, then we can take Cameron to Coleseville.... I stop listening to take a bite of cold steak sandwich

The adventure doesn't end with the diner though.  I'm happily driving us all home (down Georgia Avenue by the way, not Colesville Rd) with the windows open on this gorgeous day, answering Peter at every cross street with the street names and dreaming of nap time that's just 30 mins away when I hear all this honking behind me.  The guy behind me is frantically waving.  I roll my eyes - I've gotten in the habit of driving a bit slow and people around here just don't like it and i just don't care...I'm in the right hand lane.  He goes past screaming something out his window.  Now really, I'm not going that damn slow - I am 5 miles over the speed limit even.  The next light up, I hear more honking and look to see yet another person waiving their hands.  I'm totally baffled why these people are going so nuts!  The woman pulls up next to me and says your kids are throwing things out the windows! Oh Christ! I yell.  The woman and man in the car start laughing and I started laughing too as I rolled up the windows and said thank you.

We lost two rubber balls, a shoe, a sock (if you're ever wondering why there is always just one shoe on the road - now you know), a stick the kids had gotten from the playground this morning, some food that was in the console between the kids, and a sippy cup.  I'm sure we lost some other stuff that I'm not aware of and will go nuts looking for a week from now.