davethegrinch.net

Dave says:

I have a hole in my thumb – almost. It started as a mild welt, then became a slight abrasion and now it’s almost a complete breach of my haberdashery. A few desperate and disparate threads of my cheap Dutch gloves separate my thumb from the world at large. Once they give up, the thumb will make a break for it and my body, being firmly attached, will have no choice but to follow. I estimate another six weeks – give or take.

Albert Heijn is just about the only supermarket in town. Not that there’s only one supermarket in Amsterdam, there are many, but they’re all Albert Heijn. AH started out as a welt that quickly became an abrasion too. I ask myself only three questions as I embark on our bidiem shopping excursions:

1) Will it be open?

Each store in this nationwide chain has different opening times regardless of branch size or metropolitan location.

2) Will it have what I want?

Each store in this nationwide chain stocks different things.

Each store in this nationwide chain sells out of things, not just a few things but lots of things and all of the time.

Each store in this nationwide chain stocks all its shelves simultaneously during opening hours making aisle negotiation impossible. What actually is placed on the shelves remains a mystery because the previous statement concerning stock levels is always true.

3) Will I have to wait long to checkout?

Each store in this nationwide chain never has enough checkout staff; perhaps they are all busy in the aisles stocking shelves chock-a-block with the finest Dutch thin air. They have several ‘basket only’ express lines but their entire Amsterdam customer base arrives and departs by bike so shopping carts only tempt more groceries than can be transported and are not a popular option. Perhaps they should have a 15 items or more line.

Tonight was a particularly frustrating shopping experience but that may have been because I have a hole in my thumb – almost.

Beth, darling Beth, is going back to Seattle this week for a brief respite and recharge from Amsterdam. She blogs about her life here brilliantly. It is a grand and sweeping epic compared the minor distraction of this effort. She is looking forward to going Stateside for a couple of weeks. We can tell because the original reasons she gave for leaving the United States are now temporarily the reasons why she wants to return. The minor quirks of Amsterdam have now become major irritations. For some reason, she has become fixated on the alleged prevalence of the Dutch female over-bite. This is a sign of a woman who needs a break. She is frustrated with Dutch grocery shopping too. Gone is the novelty of taking all Saturday to bike around the butcher, baker and candlestick maker. Last week, a gourmet, US style grocery store opened on her street. She flipped with joy even writing a blog entry and emailing us twice. We checked it out on Saturday (closed on Sunday – not very American). It wasn’t all that but then we haven’t been crawling on our bellies though the Amsterdam retail desert for quite as long as she. I can’t blame the girl for her over excitement – she saw a mirage of Trader Joe’s oasis. She’s worn right through her gloves but I’m confident she’ll buy some new ones in Seattle, ready for her return to her adopted home.

I have officially switched pronouns to ‘we’ when describing the company I work for. I guess that’s encouraging, but more for my employer than for me. But not for long. This week I shall hand in my notice at work. Remember that job I wanted but didn’t want and then wanted again until I realized I finally didn’t want it? I’m giving them 6 weeks notice which I think is quite generous. I hope they will be suitably devastated and beg me to stay. To which I will gracefully decline and leave them with a deep sense of loss that will take more than an hour but less than a day from which to fully recover. I won’t be there for the launch of the project I’m leading. That’s somewhat of a shame. I also won’t be there for the two week panic prior to the launch. That’s definitely not a shame because it proffers nothing but late nights and misery. I would like my boss to keep news of my departure from my team until close to the date but it’s unlikely he will.

Last time something involving me occurred at work, (the unfortunate firing, on my behest, of a ne’erdowell team member) I was chastised by the class. Left out in the cold and treated like a boy who does not wash his hands and then touches everyone’s keyboard. They can be quite childish so this time I wish to not be in the playground during recess. I will wait until a week or two before my departure date, break it to them gently and then slip quietly away. No fuss. Despite my reservations about the job, this work experience has been the reverse of my thumb dilemma. It started out as a breech of my freedom and has now mended itself to be part of the fabric of my life. I’m sure I’ll have more to say on this topic in the last week of my gainful employment.

So that’s the story of my gloves and the thumbs that live in them. Even though they might head south before we head east, they will owe me nothing. My life is richer for owning them. I thank the Hema store, Kalverstraat, Amsterdam and my wife for purchasing me a small but important present that brought comfort, warmth, protection and good times to my hands and to winter 07/08.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 27th, 2008 at 9:58 pm and is filed under Amsterdam, Global Travels. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.