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I went to midtown, where there are several branches of my bank. The first one said they could do medallion guarantee, but the person who could do it had just gone to lunch so it would be at least an hour. Having no convenient hour-sized tasks, I said thank you, got back on the train for two stops, and went to a different branch. The person there was able to do it: she asked for ID, verified who I was and all that good stuff, watched me sign the form, and then explained that the medallion was kept under lock and key, so this would take a little while. I sat down in the waiting area, read the paper, and half-listened to what was going on around me: someone came in and asked for a notary, and was directed to a nearby pharmacy; two people seemed quite upset that his name was before hers on a joint account, and the banker explained that it didn't matter, but offered to close that account and open a new one with her name first; another potential customer was asked about ID, said he'd lost his green card, and hurried out. Then the woman returned and handed me my form. I thanked her and headed north, on foot.
I bought biscotti and cheese sticks at Pozzo's bakery, on Ninth Avenue, on my way to the gym. It was an odd and unsatisfying workout. The first problem was a new trainer--I may have mentioned him before--who is pushy and doesn't know when to just go away. He's taken to guessing my name, and getting it wrong; this would be forgiveable if I'd given any sign of wanting to talk to him. He came over while I was doing cardio, and reading. I tried to brush him off gently, failed, and said "Back off" when he held out a hand and suggested that I could hit it because he'd called me Barbara. Instead of apologizing or just backing off, he made a similar remark, suggesting (if I heard him right) that I could hit him when I was done exercising. I said "Back off!" again. He wished me a happy Thanksgiving, and when I muttered something like "Same to you" told me "I love you anyway" before going away.
Bullshit. You do not love me. Not even Hare Krishna love, certainly not anything meaningful that involves knowing me. I suspect he's trying to get some customers for personal training sessions. If I were in the market for same, I'd ask Elliott, a trainer there that I know and like; failing that, at this point I might say "Anyone except Lee," because I don't want to spend significant time with him, and I certainly won't pay to do so. He left me alone for the rest of the time I was there, so I didn't have to go talk to the fitness office about him, but what kind of clueless git doesn't understand "Back off" the first time?
Also, I wound up cutting the gym session short because I was having difficulties: Cardio, 21 minutes, top heart rate 130. Not great, some of that was probably because I was reading almost the whole time, and part may be the annoying interaction with the rude trainer.
Leg press, 220 pounds, 2 sets of 12. The second set was actually more like 12 and a half, because I was having a bit of trouble remembering how to get the machine back into its rest position. When I was done with that, my knee hurt, so I decided to do things that would be easy for it.
Adjustable row, 90 pounds, 3 sets of 15
Biceps curl, 45 pounds, 6. I was having a lot of trouble pushing that through, so I tried a lower weight. 40 pounds, 7. Still problematic.
Crunches, 20. At this point I decided that (a) my other mat work, the back arches and tree, might be hard on the knee as well, and (b) it was time to just call it a session and come back later.
Stretches.
On the way out, I verified that the American Express card I just cancelled is not the card I'm charging the gym to (I didn't think so, but it seemed best to be sure).
After the gym, I went up to the new Scharffen Berger chocolate store on Amsterdam Avenue between 82nd and 83rd Streets. (East side of the street, a narrow storefront, but fairly deep.) They're pricey, of course; I decided I wasn't prepared to pay $5 for 3 ounces (100 grams) of even very good very dark chocolate. Not plain chocolate, that is. I did buy five truffles--reports later--and a box of very-dark-chocolate-covered crystallized ginger, which I plan to bring to Thanksgiving dinner. I suspect we'll have a piece or two each, and then![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
roadnotes, cattitude, and I (and baldanders if he wants, though he's not big on sweets) will nibble our way through it over several weeks.
And so home, with a pleasant interlude of mosaic animals in the subway station (81st Street/Museum of Natural History).
I bought biscotti and cheese sticks at Pozzo's bakery, on Ninth Avenue, on my way to the gym. It was an odd and unsatisfying workout. The first problem was a new trainer--I may have mentioned him before--who is pushy and doesn't know when to just go away. He's taken to guessing my name, and getting it wrong; this would be forgiveable if I'd given any sign of wanting to talk to him. He came over while I was doing cardio, and reading. I tried to brush him off gently, failed, and said "Back off" when he held out a hand and suggested that I could hit it because he'd called me Barbara. Instead of apologizing or just backing off, he made a similar remark, suggesting (if I heard him right) that I could hit him when I was done exercising. I said "Back off!" again. He wished me a happy Thanksgiving, and when I muttered something like "Same to you" told me "I love you anyway" before going away.
Bullshit. You do not love me. Not even Hare Krishna love, certainly not anything meaningful that involves knowing me. I suspect he's trying to get some customers for personal training sessions. If I were in the market for same, I'd ask Elliott, a trainer there that I know and like; failing that, at this point I might say "Anyone except Lee," because I don't want to spend significant time with him, and I certainly won't pay to do so. He left me alone for the rest of the time I was there, so I didn't have to go talk to the fitness office about him, but what kind of clueless git doesn't understand "Back off" the first time?
Also, I wound up cutting the gym session short because I was having difficulties: Cardio, 21 minutes, top heart rate 130. Not great, some of that was probably because I was reading almost the whole time, and part may be the annoying interaction with the rude trainer.
Leg press, 220 pounds, 2 sets of 12. The second set was actually more like 12 and a half, because I was having a bit of trouble remembering how to get the machine back into its rest position. When I was done with that, my knee hurt, so I decided to do things that would be easy for it.
Adjustable row, 90 pounds, 3 sets of 15
Biceps curl, 45 pounds, 6. I was having a lot of trouble pushing that through, so I tried a lower weight. 40 pounds, 7. Still problematic.
Crunches, 20. At this point I decided that (a) my other mat work, the back arches and tree, might be hard on the knee as well, and (b) it was time to just call it a session and come back later.
Stretches.
On the way out, I verified that the American Express card I just cancelled is not the card I'm charging the gym to (I didn't think so, but it seemed best to be sure).
After the gym, I went up to the new Scharffen Berger chocolate store on Amsterdam Avenue between 82nd and 83rd Streets. (East side of the street, a narrow storefront, but fairly deep.) They're pricey, of course; I decided I wasn't prepared to pay $5 for 3 ounces (100 grams) of even very good very dark chocolate. Not plain chocolate, that is. I did buy five truffles--reports later--and a box of very-dark-chocolate-covered crystallized ginger, which I plan to bring to Thanksgiving dinner. I suspect we'll have a piece or two each, and then
roadnotes, cattitude, and I (and baldanders if he wants, though he's not big on sweets) will nibble our way through it over several weeks.And so home, with a pleasant interlude of mosaic animals in the subway station (81st Street/Museum of Natural History).
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From:
no subject
I'm happy for you, but AAAAAAAAGH! There goes my surefire "fun gift from California of things you don't have out there".
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
In this case, it's my signature on a form to get an actual physical stock certificate for some stock I have and want to sell. The form states that if the signature is not medallion guaranteed, it will not be accepted.
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From: (Anonymous)
Medallion guarantee
Thanks...Michael
From:
Re: Medallion guarantee
From:
Medallions and Notarization
From:
Re: Medallions and Notarization
From:
Re: Medallions and Notarization
Thanks!
From:
no subject