Excerpts from Living on the Sunny Side
Chapter XI: The Next Adventure
The last adventure—my long-awaited return to California—turned out to be a mixed blessing and a financial disaster. In planning the move, I thought I had covered all the bases. I used online resources to find the cost of living in Fresno, and average salaries for people in my field.
Not long before my retirement date, lengthy union contract negotiations were completed and the pilots had a new contract. The company had to cut expenses to meet the new requirements. The first thing to go was independent contractors, whether they were external, or retiring employees. I lost six months of salary, plus the extra they would have paid to compensate for lost benefits like health insurance. I had a commitment from Lindy in Fresno for at least one, and possibly two, part time jobs until I could find something permanent.
I had been working regularly for almost [all my adult life]... I’d never had a problem finding a job. I updated my resume and was very optimistic about my prospects.
The morning of my ‘cake and cards’ farewell party, a manager I’d known since I joined the company took me aside to tell me that about seven people in our department had submitted their letters of resignation. They all had decided (at exactly 10:00 a.m. on the day of my party) that they would resign to ‘pursue other interests’. After September 11, 2001, the CEO had promised there would not be any layoffs as long as he was the CEO and he kept his word—sort of.
I learned that in order to convince them to ‘pursue other interests’ beginning immediately, they received $2,000 for each year of employment. Another missed opportunity: $23,000 was not even close to what I would have received for six months of employment plus insurance and other expenses, but it certainly would have helped! The manager that told me about the ‘resignations’ told me she was quite certain my name was not on the ‘hit list’. Whether or not that was because I had already turned in my resignation, I’ll probably never know.
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...and I spent $15.00 for a cocktail and a half hour of out-of-control slot-machine gambling in Winnemucca, Nevada after a guy in a remote gas station about forty miles east of the city tried to scam me into buying four new tires, warning me that I would certainly die before I could get to Winnemucca if I didn’t replace all my tires NOW.
I was a little suspicious when I was moved to the front of the line of cars waiting to fill up, and was directed to a pump right in front of the building in the shade. I assumed they were being very nice to a mature woman traveling alone. They even pumped the gas and washed the windows. Great! What I didn’t realize until later was that these guys could spot a potential ‘mark’ a mile away: mature woman, car packed with household goods, no wedding ring, Ohio license plates, driving through Nevada all alone...
When the guy finished pumping gas and cleaning the windows and outside mirrors, I handed him my credit card and as he was walking back to the car, he took a few moments to very carefully inspect my tires, then started with the pitch. It was unlikely, he told me, that I’d make it the forty miles to Winnemucca. My life was in serious danger if I even drove out of the gas station without four new tires on my car... and a variety of other dire warnings. I thanked him for the ‘warnings’, promised I’d put myself into ‘little old lady’ driving mode, hug the right edge of the right lane, keep my emergency blinkers on, and not exceed forty miles an hour on I-80, with its seventy-five mile an hour speed limit. Then I left.
I found a decent restaurant in Winnemucca, got something to eat, and recruited the help of my server and other locals to identify the best tire company in town. I don’t remember the name of the restaurant or the tire company, but I’d like to belatedly thank everyone who pointed me in the right direction.
At the tire store, the manager did a thorough visual inspection of all four tires and assured me that I could finish my trip to California, drive back to Ohio, and return to California before I’d probably need any new tires at all, let alone four new ones! I made one last stop for car maintenance a couple hundred miles down the road and got the same answer. So... to the would-be scam artists at the gas station out there in the middle of the desert: Gotcha!
I did replace two tires—in the spring of 2009, two and a half years later!
* * * * *
I spent my last night out in Reno and stayed at the hotel/casino recommended by Lindy. Big mistake, which her long-time “buddy” realized immediately. In addition to being expensive, it was huge and the walk from the parking garage to the lobby was long and mostly uphill. Lindy’s guy reminded her that there was a Holiday Inn just a couple of blocks away, a message she failed to relay to me.
I felt pretty crummy by the time I got to my room, but figured I’d feel better after a short rest and a meal. But the lines at the reasonably-priced restaurants were enormously long; wandering around the huge hotel/casino and through the noise and flashing lights was getting to me. I retreated to my room and ordered a light meal from room service. But I was feeling worse and worse as the evening wore on. I abandoned my plans to blow another ten or fifteen bucks on slots and didn’t leave my room again until morning.
It wasn’t until later than I figured out what was wrong—a combination of exhaustion and time changes, with a touch of altitude sickness thrown in for good measure! I had covered all four time zone in about six days. When I entered a new one, I set my watch back another hour. I had set a minimum number of miles I would drive each day, and planned to stop at 4:00 or 5:00 p.m. every afternoon. By the time I felt ready to stop, it might only be 3:00 p.m. if I’d crossed into another time zone, so I drove another hour or two. The moving company had called to tell me that the truck would be there on Sunday, a couple of days earlier than the original estimate, and I had to make it into town and to the bank before it closed on Friday, open an account, and get a certified check to pay the driver. The speed limit on I-80 is seventy-five miles an hour, and there are a lot more big trucks traveling it at (frequently) higher speeds, especially on downhill stretches. Stressful!
* * * * *
I got to Fresno and to the bank in time to get my certified check, but not without a major hassle! I was carrying almost no cash with me, just traveler checks, which I deposited in my new account. Then I asked for a certified check for slightly over $4,000 and was informed that there would be a hold on my funds for ten days! Banks (and especially a credit union recommended by my Ohio credit union) generally understand that traveler checks are the same as cash. I explained my situation and made it clear that if I didn’t have a check from a bank on Sunday, the truck driver would take my stuff away and probably sell it.
The lovely people at the bank were not moved by my situation. I admit I got more than a little obnoxious when I asked if I was correct in assuming that I could go to any gas station, convenience store, or grocery store and cash a traveler check, but could not cash them at a credit union that had just opened an account for me. They confirmed that I could cash them anywhere but in my new bank.
I asked them to close the account immediately, give me my money, and point me to another bank, gas station, or grocery store in town that would cash a traveler check without putting a hold on my
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