I think my sister really loved skydiving. I think! She got the instructor with a tattoo and t-shirt. She also got the cameraman that wore shorts and skater shoes. Like totally awesome dude!

I was reading a blog the other day about the last mile. A woman had planned a company party in advance. Making the reservations for the location, etc. Sending the invitations 2 months in advance. Ordering the catering and so forth. But when the time came, not many people showed up.

She forgot the last mile. To send the reminders.

And in some sense, this kind of customer service matters.

The last mile is the last thing one experiences in service. Your last impression. The final stretch that the company should deliver not just well, but the best. They often say the first impression matters, but the last impression is usually the one you remember the most.

I always wondered why AT&T despite how they have honed the business models well. How consumers are attracted to the plans and the array of the phones…why is the customer service so uneven and unreliable. Rude and inconsiderate even. It sounds like I am commenting on a restaurant service, but I am. Like restaurants, it doesn’t matter what I am consuming or how much I am paying, it’s the service. If the server spills water on my lap accidentally, I expect something in compensation. An apology at least. And an attempt to resolve the accident (like a napkin).

But in other places. Parties and the like, the last mile for the goal of getting people to arrive is that simple social interaction. In the several parties I have hosted, the people who are most likely to attend are the people I have interacted with one-on-one. Despite my love of the passive invitations (evite), I still go to ask people. Sometimes perhaps to the extent of bugging them.

It doesn’t matter what decorations I have or the food/drink I serve. If people aren’t happy at the party, if they aren’t interacting, if they aren’t participating, that’s the last mile. That I think is the duty and responsiblity of the host.

I saw my first musical (besides those…random cheap shows in Vegas) last year. Rent with Lele in New York City. We had seats high in the balcony and somehow I didn’t understand anything that was going on. Why are people dying? Are we supposed to be crying? Am I supposed to sing along?

But oh yesterday!

Chris would like me to say that he got good seats. For cheap. For Avenue Q. Only $25 each. Third row!

And this time, I think being up close to the action and the dialogue helped. Kate Monster is really furry. That’s probably why she’s a monster. And also the two roommates are quite reminiscent of Ernie and Bert. The adult version.

And perhaps it’s true, the Internet is for porn.

I am pretentious. Sometimes. I admit it.

I probably even would put a sticker on top of my car. Just so that I can uh…attract the guys to my awesome faux sunroof!

I’ll even see if I can put it on my convertible!

After my sister and I jumped out of the airplane, suddenly our parents wanted to do it too. They demanded and spent time looking at our photos and videos. And now, despite how old they are, they want to go.

What is the scariest part? Is it jumping off the airplane?

A little bit. The moment that you realize you’re going to step into nothingness. But really like a friend said before, it’s when I signed my life away to the papers.

The papers that say that I can’t sue the skydiving company, the airplane manufacturer, the parachute manufacturer, the instructor, the clothes, etc etc etc.

I did end up scratching my ankles slightly because I forgot to put my legs in front instead of tucked under me.

But another worst part?

I got really bad motion sickness going in the plane and floating downwards as my instructor tried to show me the different views of the Bay Area, moving to the right and moving to the left.

I skydived. Something quite unnatural of me. But I easily succumb to peer pressure. It was hot and sweaty. My ears kept popping. But it was awesome!

“Here you go, Christine,” she said cheerily, showing the salad to me.

I paused, wondering if I should correct her, not wanting to ruin her usual optimistic way. Another guy looked over at my direction giving me a knowing look. Several people overheard, but nobody said anything.

Beat.

But instead I said thanks and took a spoonful of salad onto my plate.

A few moments later when everyone had departed for the front of the room. I said in a low voice, “I didn’t want to embarrass you, but I am Jennifer.”

She looked a little embarrassed and apologized. Then she asked me to point out the names of other people around.

Well, mistaken identity. Being asian, because all asians look alike, I often have been called the wrong name. I would like to think I am unique with my features so clearly distinct as me. But in reality, that’s not so.

Should I have corrected her earlier at that moment or wait as long as I did? Or rather let her figure out herself?

Today would mark approximately one year since I first stepped into your apartment. A thrill of the unknown and the chance to harness the power of creation. That’s what I felt when I first took a seat on the couch and listened the investor pitch that first day.

And so I remember toward the end of the first week, when we were sitting on the couch and you told me about your birthday party you were holding that Saturday. I was invited even though I barely knew the group. I was really included. I went to the party, knowing that I would know nobody, but I took that risk. The feeling that you believed in me. I won’t forget that first week.

I do miss the great view of the downtown and the bay bridge. The intensity yet laid back feeling of it all.

It is now one year later. And six months later. I believe we should live with little regrets. Because ultimately, we gained experience in our own mistakes and failures. And that itself brings us closer to our hopes and dreams.

It seems appropriate to share my thoughts now in this pseudo-anniversary. Thank you for the great experience and have a great birthday.

From the Q&A last week, the director of Helvetica the movie asked the audience that he would award the asker of best question an autographed poster.

My coworker asked the winning question:

Which letter in the alphabet would you marry?

In regards to a job…

would you prefer to be in a car alone?

taking the bus?

or ride along on the train?