Cashing Out

Many mornings when I'm at work, I'll go to a nearby coffee establishment with one of my bosses. We each get a coffee. Once in a while, one of us will get either banana bread (me) or a blueberry muffin (her). Well, recently, this girl has been working there who is an absolute Cash Register Reject. I don't mean this to be condescending, but if you can't handle taking an order, punching some buttons, reading a screen, and handing back change, then the cashier position is not for you. For the life of me, I never understand how places can have people with subpar skills taking care of the register in any quality establishment. It seems to me that this is a key part of the business transaction, one which all customers must go through, at some point in their visit.

This girl at the coffee place just is out of her league. First of all, working at a coffee place is hard enough. I think anyone applying to work in a coffee establishment should have to have some experience working with soda or water or other basic drink orders. It's become like being a bartender, only worse. Every person makes their own caffeine creation and, because it's usually serving a purpose, they need it, like, stat. And, pre-coffee coffee drinkers usually aren't very nice people to deal with. So, you basically have to have your five-star employee working the front lines.

This girl is, like, half a star. Two thumbs down. I've ordered a small iced coffee for the past three mornings from her, and every single morning, she asks, "Iced?" Yeah. I even put my own milk in, so there's no additional information given... besides "small" "iced" and "coffee." Every day, I nod, and say "Iced." And then, when my boss orders the exact same drink and size by saying, "I will have the exact same thing. Same size. Small," she asks, "Small?" And every day, my boss nods and says, "Small." Then I'll hand over my card, and she'll take the card and swipe it and then I'll get two steps away, and like clockwork, she'll go, "Wait, a small iced coffee." That exact phrase. I can't even tell if it's a question or not, so I'll stand there and play a twisted version of "chicken" as I think both of us dare each other to make the next step in this game of stupidity. I always win, by the way, because after a few seconds of silence slash me looking around and making it look like she's being a total freak, she'll just wave me away and say nevermind.

All of this was more like some weird comic routine, with a mild annoyance that every single day, we had to repeat our orders. But really, it wasn't THAT bad.

Well, today, my boss complicated matters by asking for a blueberry muffin. There happened to be two blueberry muffin sizes - small and large - and she asked for a small muffin. So, of course, the girl gives her the large muffin. No big deal, understandable. So my boss hands the bag back to her and points into the tray and asks for the small muffin. The girl takes the bag back, puts back the muffin, makes a gesture towards the correct plate, and then chooses the exact same muffin she had put down and gives the bag back to my boss.

Come on now. It took two more tries to get my boss the correct muffin. This isn't rocket science. This isn't even science!

The thing is, I've run into some inept cash register operators and some master operators. There are some simple differences:

First, good cashiers keep the people moving by having a system in place for asking for orders, yelling out the orders to their workers, and getting and giving cash back. Bad cashiers are all over the place. It's like dictation, when you think about it. If someone's dictating something, do you wait until they're finished to start typing? No. As soon as I start talking, start punching. That's the rule of thumb, I think.

Also, what's with cashiers thinking about the correct change? There's a little screen that flashes it for everyone to see. Why do they have to stand there like they're solving a huge math equation, only to look down and see the total? I never get this. I'm not going to think more of anybody because they figure out the change I need by taking five minutes to do the quadratic equation.

And, in an unfortunate situation, it's bad to see cashiers struggle with how to give the correct change. I mean, if someone's owed 38 cents, let's say, it shouldn't be that difficult to dole out a quarter, dime, and three pennies. Still, I can understand that people might draw a blank or, they might just not be up on the whole currency math thing. This is where Qdoba wins my vote for best place, possibly ever. I had never been to this fast-foodish Mexican restaurant until we had a meeting there Wednesday night. Let me tell you, the place is amazing, if only because of how they give change to customers. I was waiting for my 75 cents back, when the woman pointed to this little container in front of me and told me the change was there. They have an actual chute that dispenses the correct change. She handed back the bills, and the coins were waiting for me in this little bowl. Totally amazing. Every business owner should invest in this.

Because here's the other thing that this little gizmo takes care of: the annoying cashier who gives back a handful of coins and bills and receipts all in one big handful, plus the bag/food, and then yells, "NEXT!" in your face. I really hate this. Sometimes, if it's not too big a line, I'll stand there for just an extra second getting myself all set before moving on, just because I think it's pretty rude to yell in a customer's face. Call me crazy, but I don't like it. So anyway, I really have found that I appreciate when a person gives me my dollar bills, waits half a second, then gives me the change, then the receipt. The world would be a happier place if everyone understood this.

Which brings me back my original point, that only the best and brightest and most socially capable should be handling the cash registers. Sometimes, I'll get a cashier who looks so sour on life that I consider whether I really want to make my purchase after all. And, sometimes, cashiers spend like ten minutes talking to each customer like they're new best friends for life. There's also the cashiers who give too much information. Like last weekend, I was at Target with my friend Johanna. As we were checking out, the cashier had to squeeze into her little booth while a customer pushed a huge cart past her. She made this huuuuge sigh, and then she said, "You know, last week, a woman with a big high cart bumped right into me, like pow. And even though she had hit something, she just kept going, over and over again, pushing the cart into me. Finally, I just - boom! - shoved the cart right back at her. What does she think, I'm a tree? I couldn't believe it. I stared her down. Nobody messes with me." Needless to say, when she gave me my crumpled up receipt, change, bills, and bags in one hand and screamed "NEXT!" in my face, I moved along.

Another thing I think cashiers have to be good about is customer fairness. If you have someone who cuts in line, it's good to have a cashier be like, "The line starts way back there, jackass," rather than just take the customer and shrug at all the losers in line behind the guy. I'll tell you, I almost feel like tipping cashiers who do that. (And what's with this trend, by the way? Since when do we have to tip on every single transaction that we're a part of? I'm going to put a tip jar on my desk at work, and every time someone comes up and asks a question, I'll assume that I should be tipped in return for my answer. Can you see how well that would go over? And yet, because someone punches in the price of my bagel, I'm supposed to put a dollar in the jar. This is atrocious. I only tip when I have a big order or a special order that takes special attention. Otherwise, I'm sorry, I'm only tipping if you're bringing me my food and taking my plate. And you know, I don't think I'm bad for this. I almost went nuts when I saw a tip jar at this place nearby, where you order, get your food, silverware, drinks, and - this is the absolute worst and everyone knows I hate this - you have to not only clear your own dish, but when you get to the clearing station, you (again) not only have to separate your silverware from your plasticware, but you have to scrape off all the food into the trashcan and only then put the plate on the dish cart. You know what? I'm not giving anybody an extra CENT for taking my order. And as I write this, I'm getting pretty steamed about the whole idea of this clearing tray/still have a tip jar place. I'm not going back.)

Oh, and one more point about all this cashier thing. Why, oh why, is it that in a huge store, like Best Buy (well, in my town, Ames was famous for this) or Stop n Shop, while they have about eighteen checkout lanes, only three - at MOST - are staffed? Can somebody please explain this to me? Who thinks this is a good business strategy?

You know, I didn't set out to write anything about cashiers, but really, it's a problem. I'll be blasted if I write that these people are morons, so I've settled on Register Rejects. I'm sure that these people can hold a job that requires some skill, but clearly, cash registers are not for them. That's all I'm saying.

And finally, here's the story I had been meaning to tell but never had the time or opportunity. And it fits in. Not only is it a display of sheer idiocy, but it shows the peril of having an unqualified and overwhelmed employee at a key station at a workplace. It's a disaster. Here's what happened to me recently:

I was recently at a store where all these overzealous staffers kept telling me that if I purchased $40 worth of products, I would get a $10 coupon. So I had about $30 worth, and the guy was like, "Here, get this, it's $9.99, and you'll get your $10." Because the extra $9.99 item was something I already wanted, I went with it. So the cashier rings up the purchases, and it comes to $39.99. At first, she denies me the $10 coupon, saying I didn't reach $40.00. So I said to her, "Look, can I give you a penny, to make it to the $40 mark, and that way, you can give me the coupon?"

"No."

"Why not?" (Seriously, doesn't my idea make sense? Of course it does. To normal, logical people.)

"Because the offer says you have to purchase $40 worth of goods." (Okay, clue #1 that this is not a normal, logical person.)

"Right, but I purchased $39.99 worth of goods, a single cent away from your mark. Plus, I was told by this guy (and I point to him, so it's not like some random dude in the store) told me that if I bought these items, I'd be all set."

"Well, he was wrong."

"Well, I'd like the coupon."

"No." (Notice, by the way, the lack of customer service. How about an "I'm sorry, I'm not authorized to do that"? I'd appreciate one of those next time. Clue #2 that this is not a normal, logical, customer-service-trained employee.)

"Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

"I didn't give it. I don't give my name to customers." (Clue #4,5,6, n that this person is a customer service trainwreck.)

"Well, anyway, here's the logic: if I pay you $40 in cash, the register will read that I gave you $40.00, and you can keep the extra cent. Then, you can give me the coupon, and I will have paid for $40 in goods, and you will have made good on your promise to give me the coupon."

"So I give you the coupon and you give me $40?"

"Right."

"But the purchase is for $39.99."

"That's correct. But I'd rather have the company keep my change - my one cent - and then I make the technical $40 purchase, and I receive the coupon."

"So you give me $40 and I give you the coupon?" (You want to do this again?)

"Correct."

"You'd be overpaying by a cent, you know that."

"Yes, I know that." (Apparently, the cut off is at Grade 3 for mandatory educational background for this particular position.)

"Okay, if that's what you want to do. I don't understand people paying more than they have to for things, but you're the customer."

"Well, I appreciate your flexibility then [you reject]."

So I hand her the $40. I give her two $20 bills. You know what she does?

She puts the bills in her register and gives me a penny back.

Kills me. Absolutely kills me. It took me another three minutes to get her to take the penny back, and then she said that it would look bad on her register to give me the coupon. So she wanted to re-do the transaction, but she couldn't just hand me back $40 that I would then re-hand her. No, I had to return my purchases. (And yes, she actually asked me, "Do you have the receipt?" This was the funniest moment, but shockingly, when I laughed, she did not. In fact, me laughing almost messed up this entire transaction. Ha, almost. This thing had FUBAR written all over it already!) After that megilah, I had to re-buy them. I swear, if she had done this wrong, I was going to write to Congress about passing a law over who could be a cashier after all.

And you know what the end result is? If I ever go into that store again and see her as the cashier, I'm walking right out. I'm not going to buy a thing, no matter how badly I need or want it.

So I prove my point. Never underestimate the power of a good (or bad) cashier. I'm going to try to find out if they teach this concept in business school. I'll report back.

Facts I Have Recently Learned About Humanity

1. Apparently, people are allergic to holding doors. Sure, you can hold the door for these people (it's all but expected) but they can't hold the door for the person behind them (or for you, next time you're in their path). Further, as a 1A to this fact, I recently learned that squeezing through a doorway - without any part of a person touching the door (and therefore, leading to the allergic situation of "holding the door") - has become a competition, if not been elevated to an art form.

2. Rain is no longer transparent. Yup, it's true. When rain starts coming down, suddenly, nobody can see where he or she is going.

3. As a follow up, I've learned that when someone is in my direct path and approaching in an opposite direction, it is only right that I stop walking, bow down, and wait for the approaching dignitary to pass. I should not expect to be thanked, spoken to, or have my existence acknowledged.

4. If there are two doors, only one can be used at a time - especially if there's a line backing up. Then, under absolutely no circumstances, should the second door be utilized.

5. Waitresses hold second jobs as zoologists, and may make reference to this alternate profession when telling a patron, "Wow, you must be a camel," as they refill a Diet Coke. Fact 5A: Waitresses can also hold second jobs as mathematics tutors, and may offer on-the-go tutoring for their patrons, in addition to displaying their zoology background. Adding "You know, if you drink, like, twelve Diet Cokes, that defeats the purpose" instantly transforms any meal into a true learning experience and demonstrates their multiple talents. (Sadly for these waitresses, Fact 5B: Demonstrating these multitalents reduces their tip exponentially.)

6. When calling for information, it is silly to have a pen handy. It's also silly to have any concept of what you're calling for. Conversely, it is absolutely logical to call one university and request the telephone directory for another one, and it's most certainly understandable to become agitated when this information cannot be found - or looked up - for you.

7. Having to walk up or down two flights of stairs to use the ladies room when there is one right on the first floor is a fair solution when you have a preschool in the college building. After all, walking past the classroom may disrupt the class and permanently corrupt the children's learning process. However, it is completely appropriate to have song-and-dance story time in the middle of the office lobby, because adults don't get disturbed.

8. The movies only offer a discount to students Monday through Thursday. This policy makes sense, because students only go to movies during the week. No students go to movies on the weekend.

9. The workstudy student who works at the local coffee shop is the determiner of time. Not the Eastern Standard Time operators, not the phone operator, not God. If the workstudy student says it is 5:00, it is 5:00.

10. If your cell phone, still under warranty, is dying and the tech support people cannot fix it but you are not eligible for a new phone until June, you're stuck with the dying phone until then as well. Only the manager can help you, and if the manager isn't going to be in today (or tomorrow, the next day, or day after that) your best bet is to "hope that it doesn't zzzzzzap off before then." If you come back in a week, they might be able to fix it. But they also might charge you fifty dollars.

11. Verizon Wireless is a customer service bastion.

12. There's no need to determine what you want to order from a restaurant/coffee shop/sandwich line before the server gets to you. In fact, there is a direct positive correlation between the wait of the line and the time it takes to decide on what you want. (For the non-stats people, the English: the longer you wait, the longer you take to order.)

13. Leaning one's entire back against a pole on a crowded T is a perfectly acceptable social behavior. Feel absolutely free to relax while the people around you stumble around, trying to balance themselves so that they do not fall into each other. Disregard the fact that five people could be holding on to the pole that your back is resting upon; you are better than these people and you have earned your spot.

14. Apparently, either the Milwaukee Brewers don't own a DVD or VCR, or Wendell Kim was already hired somewhere else. In a related fact 14A, a starting pitcher requires less off-season rest for his arm than Dale Sveum.

15. No matter how you spin it, admitting to people that you once played "poor people" as a kid never goes over well.

16. When at a brunch for a law professor, asking a guest from Vermont whether he's a big UVM fan doesn't really stimulate much interest, conversation, or respect. This fact becomes exponentially more apparent when the guest is one of the Supreme Court justices for the Vermont Supreme Court.

17. A surprising fact for some students: contrary to what they think they have been taught, the phrase "I was like, oh my god," is not a simile, and no, you are not in fact being compared to God.

18. It's rude to ask the mailroom staff to stop reading your magazine so that you can take it. After all, it's one of those "understood social rules" that mailroom workers are allowed to read the magazines that come in. It's like, one of those silently understood THINGS.

19. Taking the best parts of the newspaper (the puzzles and sports section) and putting the remainder back so neatly that the paper still looks new and pristine is, somewhat suprisingly, not a punishable offense under the law. I am determined, however, that this act will come back to karmically haunt these offenders for life.

20. Every once in a while, it feels really, really, really good to call a moron when you see a moron. Yelling, "EXCUSE ME!" or "Don't worry, I'll watch where you're going," can be especially pleasing when the circumstances present themselves.

(Not that I would know.)

Well, It's Ova

The 2005 Red Sox season ended last night. I liked Bob Ryan's column today, because the end really summed it up for me: "If you're a Red Sox fan and are even remotely disappointed in this outcome, you haven't been paying attention. Last year was last year. This team was never good enough."

That's true, and even though I was pretty much into a deep denial, last night during the eighth and ninth innings, I felt like it was done. I really didn't feel like there was any comeback left. This morning, I read all the same columns, about the lack of pitching, the lack of clutch hitting aside from Manny and Ortiz, and the sad notion that a lot of the team won't be back next year.

If I'm honest, I wasn't surprised that the Red Sox didn't win the ALDS. I was afraid of Chicago, and I was surprised that everyone was treating the ALDS like an introduction to the main thing, another series against the Yankees. Chicago had it going all year, they were a tough team for the Sox during the regular season, and they wanted it. In the end, they outplayed the Red Sox. And, I think, they wanted it more.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine told me that he wasn't into the Red Sox this year. He just couldn't get into any of the games the way he had last year, and he couldn't think of many defining moments for this year's team. I tried to persuade him, and I talked about some obscure references to an early April comeback win, to a few Ortiz ninth-inning at-bats, to some Yankees wins, and even some good pitching performances. But honestly, I don't think I did a good job of convincing him at all. The closest the Red Sox came to having a real season-defining win was the win against Toronto the last week of the season, when they came from a 4-1 deficit in the ninth. Turns out, that wasn't season defining at all.

Everyone wondered what would happen after the Red Sox won the World Series. And we saw it. The Red Sox are just another good team now, and this year, they weren't good enough to win again. And for the first time in 87 years, that's okay.

That said, being at Fenway for the final game of the season was one of the weirdest experiences I've had. I've always said that Fenway Park is my favorite place to be - I've said that I would watch grass grow - being there for the past two seasons has been pretty much amazing. And the thing is, somewhere along the way, it became that I was excited not to go to the park, but to go to work (and trust me, there's a huge difference there). The people who work at Fenway are some of the nicest, funniest, weirdest, and best people I've known. There are some tough days at Fenway, even though nobody wants to believe it. The only place hotter than my room this summer was the park (which, trust me, is saying a lot. When it's about 100 degrees out, it's easily 110 plus 150% humidity inside Fenway). As with any job, there are just days when you don't really feel like you're at the top of your game. But, there really wasn't a single game that went by that I didn't have a good time. And you know, I couldn't tell you whether the good games were the ones that the Sox won or lost. What really defined the season for me was the people who worked there with me.

During the game last night, I realized that this could (and, as the game progressed, probably would) be the last game at Fenway this season. My friend Kelly and I made sure we watched the bottom of the eighth inning from behind the Red Sox dugout, so that we could also watch everyone sing "Sweet Caroline," which, as cheesy as it is, is a great moment in the park. As we watched the game, we were both really watching something bigger than just Orlando Hernandez (whose leg kick is astounding at age whatever he is) pitch. We were both trying to just take it all in, before everything shut down for winter.

And then pretty suddenly, it all stopped, and everything got quiet. Even with hundreds of people still in the park - half waiting to cheer for the White Sox, half just not wanting to admit the season was over - it was quiet. The stands were mostly empty, but the lights were still bright on the field; the sound system was playing the Boston theme songs, even though those are usually reserved for wins. Finally, after they had played all the Boston songs they could think of, they played "Chicago," and as they played it, I thought, this is a classy move.

And at that moment, I realized, it all felt okay. And maybe it's because I fit into the category that Bob Ryan was describing, about Sox fans who knew that this team wasn't last year's team and that this year's team didn't have what last year's did; maybe it's because the better team really did win, and it was nice to see a group of nice fans come through the ballpark and celebrate (and, as an important side note, after the game, Red Sox fans were constantly telling White Sox fans good luck and being happy for them, and this made me feel so good about Red Sox fans and people in general, I can't even describe it); maybe it's because we can't expect to win every year, and as my friend Kelly pointed out, we were pretty lucky to be in the position we were in last year; and lastly, maybe it's because the Red Sox, baseball season, and all good things, just can't last forever.

There are 131 days until pitcher and catchers report for the 2006 season.

Class Participation

I went to meet with my professor a few days ago. He teaches this class I'm taking about Faulkner, which is a good class and all. Anyway, we talked about a few things in our little meeting. The two main things we discussed were class participation and graduate studies. During the discussion of the former, he kept saying how I must understand the need for class participation as an education major, and we were talking about how awkward it is when nobody volunteers and silence ensues. And then, while talking about the difference in requirements for undergraduate and graduate students, he kept saying how I should really take this opportunity to delve into the issues that really interest me in Faulkner's works and to create a comprehensive work on some key issue. While the idea of this makes me want to barf/die, I obviously act like this is the greatest opportunity EVER and we talk about how I am really excited about reading and discovering and analyzing Faulkner. It's a complete shit show for about fifteen minutes, I'm sorry to say.

Anyhow, the next day, we're in class, and we're discussing this horrific novel of Faulkner's, called Sanctuary. The lead character basically ends up getting kidnapped, molested, and everyone around her turns out to be horrible. Everyone is basically terrible to each other. It's bad. So the professor starts asking for people's opinions on the book, and a few people give some responses like, "Temple is a frustrating character because she has the power to run away, but does not, thus in a way choosing her fate, however horrible," and "Faulkner's need to tell such a story is disturbing, but it echoes themes that were starting to come to light in other works" and "This reminds me of Proust [plus a lot of other stuff I didn't understand]." So the conversation goes for a few minutes, and then it dies.

The professor asks, "Who else has an opinion on the novel?" And he gets silence.

So then I have the old "Should I say something to break this awkward silence?" debate in my head. I try to decide about that while simultaneously thinking of something decent slash brilliant to offer. He looks at me for a split second, and I feel my hand go up. He calls on me.

"Umm, you know that movie that just came out? The Aristocrats?"

(Most of the class nods - including the professor.)

"Well, anyway, for those of you who, umm, didn't, it's basically these comedians telling this horrible joke 100 times, where the point is to make it as gross and horrific and disgusting and degrading as humanly possible. "

(Pause.)

"So I pretty much think that this is a 300 page version of the joke."

(Well, the silence is still there.)

"Like, an unfunny version, obviously."

"Interesting," said the professor.

(Yup, still pretty much silent.)

"So, I mean, the point of the movie is the competition between comedians... and I feel like Faulkner blew them out of the water, about seventy years ago, even. I mean, it doesn't make the novel funny, but it's what I was thinking as I read it."

"Interesting," he said again. "Anyone else have any other thoughts?"

Yeah, not much he can do with that. I mean, what, can you ask whether the story is most similar to which comedian's version of the joke? Talk about who's better at grossing people out, Bob Saget, George Carlin, or William Faulkner? Or, is it a better use of class time to talk about why Faulkner chooses to explore such degrading topics as a way to portray human beings and their relationships? Tough one.

For the record, I'm one of two graduate students in the class. The other student was the one who referred to Proust in her response.

Like I Said...

I don't know if this is a good idea.

I meant to write about the beginning of the playoffs at the start of the week, on Monday afternoon, before any of the games started. It was going to be about how post-season baseball is the most wonderful time of the year, with some memories of 2004 thrown in there for good measure. I was going to write about how I was going to watch the major moments of the ALCS and World Series wins from last year just to get psyched, kind of like how kids watch "It's a Wonderful Life" and "Frosty the Snowman" to get ready for Christmas.

Yeah, that never happened, because my life got in the way.

I never got to watch those moments from 2004; I never had a chance to write an optimistic piece about the Red Sox post-season; I didn't have the available time to even watch both games in their entirety; and perhaps most appalling, I wasn't even able to wear my lucky Red Sox shirts. I mean, I am ashamed of myself. What a crappy Red Sox fan.

Last night, I reached my personal all-time low for my Sox fandom: while at a meeting, I had friends text message me score updates. The Red Sox were winning, 4 - 0, in a must-win game following the 14-2 debacle. Our meeting ended, and I left the auditorium to go to the nearest sports bar to watch Wells continue his domination and the Sox nail down the win so they could return to Boston with the 1-1 split. Wake on Friday, Schilling Saturday... I could see them taking it in four. And just as I was thinking this, as I was stepping outside and dialing my friend to thank her for the updates, it all started to come down.

"Hey," I said when my friend Ashley picked up. "Thanks for the text messages! Those updates were great! I'm out now, on my way to T's, so if you want to come..."

"Umm, the White Sox just scored. Go back inside," she said. At the time, I thought she was kidding, but just for the record, I momentarily did consider the option of retreating back into the auditorium and having her send me text messages for the duration of the game. I realized that option may make me certifiably insane, so I nixed it and decided to be a mature adult and go to the bar with my friends.

This turned out to be a bad idea.

In the time it took us to travel two blocks, order two drinks, and find two bar stools, the White Sox had regained the lead, 5-4, thanks to one bad error and one bad pitch. About an hour or so later, the game ended and depression set in.

As I sat at our table, waiting for the check, I started to feel absolutely horrible. I could not get out of that place fast enough, even though kareoke was starting (don't ask). It's hard to explain, and even when I try, I realize how crazy it sounds, but it was like being in that bar made that game - the error, the homerun, the final out - seem interminable, lasting forever. (Same thing with the 2003 heartbreaking game seven loss: I pretty much sprinted out of the building. It was like a desperate attempt to separate myself from the grotesqueness of it all, just as though if I ran away from it, I could leave it all behind me. Man, I wish.) It's like all I could think about was the loss, as long as I was still sitting at that table. I practically screamed at the waitress to just get our check so we could leave. Fifteen agonizing minutes later, we were gone, but the bad, sunken feeling has pretty much stayed with me (and other Sox fans) all day.

The thing is, I kept thinking of ways to make myself feel better. "What else is good in life?" I asked, outloud, several times, to both myself and others. "We won last year," I kept saying, several times, to both myself and others. "We can't win every year." "We were lucky to be holding on this long, with the pitching rotation we have." "Did you see our bench graphic? No Kapler. No Roberts. No Mientkiewicz." "Well, I guess I'll have more time for school stuff." I tried everything, and nothing worked.

Why do people get so involved in sports? I mean, why is it so important? Has my life changed since the Red Sox won the World Series last year? No. As a Sox fan, life is better, but I mean, my personal life has not been changed by the Red Sox winning. I'm in a considerably better mood if the Red Sox win a tough game than if they lose, but aside from my mood (which I acknowledge can dictate a lot), that's all that's truly affected by the Red Sox wins or losses.

I finally came to the conclusion that it isn't so much how the season ends that is getting me, it's that it's going to end. The playoffs, while they are the most wonderful time of the year, they're also the toughest, because you know it's all about to end. I mean, I love Christmastime, but I don't really enjoy Christmas that much. Sure, you could make the case that my preference is because I don't actually celebrate Christmas Day, but I think it's more that I don't like that Christmas Day marks the beginning of the end of the holiday season. The lights aren't going to be up anymore; Christmas carols are now out of season; no more trees, wreaths, or Santas. Depressing.

The playoffs are the same. You get excited because it's THAT time of the year, but you also recognize that this also means it's the end of the season. Whether it's in three weeks or three games, the Red Sox season is going to end. November first, there's going to be a five month hiatus for baseball. And I think that's the toughest part to take: it's not the Graffanino error, the Clement catastrophe, the bullpen implosion, the lack of offense, Francona being asleep at the wheel, Dale Sveum's right arm (God, how long IS this list?!); it's the idea that no matter what, we're seeing the demise of the season.

Obviously, the World Series winner is happy to spend November through March in the celebratory haze of parades and t-shirts and DVDs. Last offseason, I spent an embarrassing amount of money on all the commemorative books and clothes and movies. My friend Taldus and I spent an embarrassing number of afternoons re-watching "Faith Rewarded" and the NESN broadcast of the parade (and, ok, we also watched "Newlyweds" and "Elimidate"... there were a lot of snowdays.) This off-season, what are we going to do? Can we really watch the 2004 season highlights? (Umm, even if you can't, I'm going to.)

I wish I could be more optimistic, but I don't know. Nobody was afraid of Chicago, but I was. Chicago had what Boston had last year: the emotional edge. These guys want to win. The Red Sox? I don't know. You've got guys in their contract years, guys who feel like the Red Sox aren't going to come calling when the time really counts. (I'm gonna miss Millar.) And as tough as it is to admit, the bond that united the 2004 Red Sox seems to be absent - or, at the very least, severely skewed - this year. Between injuries and bitterness and egos, I feel like we're watching some horrible TV show where all the characters who were regular folk suddenly won the lottery and now you have the stratification between guys who deal well with it and guys who go nuts. I don't know, but it doesn't feel the same.

Maybe everyone got spoiled by the 2003 and 2004 Red Sox. Here were a bunch of solidly good guys who just wanted to win for their city. Well, they did that. Everyone was happy and satisfied, and the 2004 team became instant Boston heroes. And when the 2005 season began, the eternal question changed. It was no longer, "Is THIS the year?" Instead, it became, "Now what?"

Well, pretty soon, we'll know the answer. Whether tomorrow or in three weeks, it will all be over, and it will be time to wait again. Not for the once-eternal "next year", but for spring.

Still, perhaps somewhat greedily (and this is what kills me!), in some ways, doesn't that just feel the same?