David Coursey of ZDNet wonders “Should foreign workers get the boot when Americans hurt?” My biggest complaint about the article is that it ignores Americans who are working overseas. He makes it sound like America is the only possible destination for the “best and brightest” workers. Meanwhile here I am in the U.K., watching the tech sector collapse and praying that I don’t get the axe. I’ve seen British co-workers get laid off, and they simply shrug and start to look again. I’ve also seen an American friend’s U.K. company go under, which meant his stay in England (and his relationship with a South African) was over. Coursey doesn’t realize that when people travel overseas to work, it isn’t just a job. They make a new life. All companies need to realize that when they import labor, that person is basically reorganizing his life to the company’s benefit. The least they can do is respect that.

Sandwiches

Frequent visitors to Meg’s site know about her daily battles with the woman at the Armenian deli. I used to think it was funny, until something similar started happening to me. My morning ritual used to consist of a hot bacon and egg sandwich from the little sandwich man who comes ’round, until I realized that they’re icky, fattening, and give me heartburn. So I started stopping at a little deli called “The Whole Hog” near my office on the way to work. For the first few weeks my order was constantly changing, as I tried through trial-and-error to find the perfect “American” type sandwich. I eventually settled on a brown bap, mayo (not butter), chicken breast, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and mustard. (Helpful tip: British “gherkins” are NOT the same as American dill pickles. They’re more like “bread-and-butter” pickles and they taste AWFUL on a sandwich.) Anyway, so I’ve designed my sandwich and it makes me happy and I’ve been ordering it for weeks. Except that there’s one woman who messes it up every single time. She’s the younger, ditzier one, and she never fails to add cucumbers or forget the mayo or something.

This morning was the absolute worst. My sister was off work so she came along to get a sandwich as well. I walked up to the counter, noted with apprehension that Ditz Woman was on duty, and said, “I’ll just have my usual please. The brown bap with mayo, and chicken…?” You know, to jog her memory. She’s seen me every damn day, even when she doesn’t serve me. (I think she’s like an apprentice or something.) Then she turns to Amy who orders a tuna fish sandwich. We pay, I go to work, and unwrap my sandwich only to discover… there’s nothing on it but mayo and chicken. How could she possibly think that that was ALL I wanted? Do I look like a three-year-old? I know in writing it sounds like it was my fault for not specifying every ingredient, but honestly, both of the other ladies in there can make my sarnie without me saying a word. So this morning’s tea was a complete washout. Next to my soggy bun full of chicken, a hot egg and bacon sandwich looked pretty damn appealing.

Ewww

Omelette, Chips 'N' BeansSo a few days ago a big box that said “Welcome to your new home!” was delivered to our house. (We actually didn’t move; we just renewed the lease but the letting agency still put a sign out front, which is presumably how the box people found us.) Anyway, my sister opened it to find that it was full of samples: toilet paper, air fresheners, food, etc. She, of course, promptly ate all the cookies. Last night Snookums and I were going through the rest of it when we found this. That’s right, “Omelette, Chips ‘N’ Beans” in a can. And that, my friends, is British cuisine in a nutshell. A soggy omelette and a handful of fries dumped into a can of baked beans and hermetically sealed for all eternity. Can you imagine what kind of a desperate, hung-over, poor fool would eat such a thing? And these people had an empire on which the sun never set. The mind boggles.

Confession: I used to think David Beckham was cute… until I heard him speak. He’s got the squeakiest, funniest little voice you’ve ever heard! And what’s with the new eyebrow thing? Hey, Becks, Vanilla Ice called and he’d like his look back.

Marriage

Very good article in Salon today on feminists and marriage. I always swore that I’d never do it, but I’ve been wavering in the years since college. Some of my best friends have gotten married and even I can’t deny that it was the right thing for them to do. They make it seem like the happiest decision they ever made. (Yes, Brigita, I include you in that group, even though your stressing freaks me out sometimes.) But how do I reconcile that with the fact that the very same institution is legally denied to some of my best friends, simply because they fall in love with people of the same gender? Not that I think any of them would resent me for making that choice, but personally I don’t know if I could do that. And I also know several happy couples who aren’t married, who have kids and do everything together without buying into the system. Is that any better? What do you guys think?

I’ve modified the code for my poll slightly, so now if you’ve voted, the next time you visit the site you’ll see the results right away on the main page. (It needs to reset your cookie, though, so you might have to wait til the next poll to see it.)

A good time was had by all at Alex’s birthday dinner last night. We headed to the Angelsea Arms, which is near Goldhawk Road in west London. Here are a few pictures from the event:

Amy and Ciaran     eMan, Alex (under the light) and others     Chris and some more people