Ohhhh it's such a funny resolution. We all know I'm incapable of sticking to it. But it was an adorable glimmer of hope, wasn't it?
Well, the first semester is finally over, and I'm enjoying the end of my winter break. Christmas has come and gone, and overall it was a very nice one. My parents bought us a Wii, which is delightful in every conceivable way to me. I got to see some family I've not seen in a while, and I got to spend some time with my new brothers to get to know them better. (Yes, let's all acknowledge that it's a little weird, but I suppose there are stranger scenarios in the world.)
While visiting family, my cousins Jadrid and Brennie gave me two pricess quotes of the day, so eat them up while you've got this rare appearance from me!
1. Jadrid, who is 8, was telling us about having seen the movie Step Brothers (his parents had rented it without first screening it for the kiddies....ohhhh, unwise). Apparently, there is a part of the movie where one character accuses the other of putting his man bits on his drum. Jadrid, recounting the line from the movie, said, "I know it was you! You put your pesticles on my drum!" I want to hug him and squeeze him so he never grows up. Pesticles. Heh.
2. Brennie is now 4, and his dad wants people to start calling him by his given name, Brendan, so he'll seem more grown-up or something like that. I don't know. I get it, but at the same time it's like, "Dude, he's 4. If were' still calling him Brennie when he's 14, then that's a problem...but right now I think we've got a free pass until he's 5 or 6." Anyway, so my mom asked Brennie what he thought of the name situation. "Do you want me to call you Brennie or Brendan?" she asked. His reponse, without hesitation: "You can call me Flower if you want to." agh, it makes my uterus hurt.
We returned home to discover that the strange sounds we had been hearing (and trying to ignore) for weeks are, in fact, feral cats living in the crawl space under our house. "Oh, Cor! Just your luck!" you exclaim. To that I respond with a hearty laugh and "I know, right? Allllll in a day's work for the Master Jukemeister." How could such a thing happen, you wonder! How could the cats have access to the crawl space? I'll tell you how.
You see, before we agreed to buy this house, we had the owners fix some ducting in the crawl space. Apparently, their contractor couldn't be bothered putting the access door back on the crawl space entrance, because, you know, mustering up those 5 seconds of effort is exhausting. So since the crawl space door is under the deck, and since we had no reason to go under the deck to check the door (until, of course, we heard cats fighting under our living room floor), we had no reason assume anything was askew down there for the two months it was wide open. Silly, stupid Cor. I sometimes get complacent and forget my mantra: never underestimate the destructive power of one incompetent boob.
So anyway, we've now hired this guy who specializes in humane trap and release methods to catch these cats and get rid of them for us, and so far we've caught two of God knows how many cats. Total cost so far--$200. All because of an asshole who couldn't bother closing a simple crawl space door. *sigh* More on that continuing saga later.
Showing posts with label idiots. Show all posts
Showing posts with label idiots. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
Go Figure
I live in a tri-state area. Living here, I get to see TV commercials not only from my own state, but also from the two nearby states. Imagine my immense glee over this new public service announcement aired by our good friends in neighboring Kentucky.
The scene: images of flowers and complacent, smiling women come across the screen accompanied by sweet, lullaby-ish music. For about ten seconds you watch and wonder, "Hmm...what's this going to be a commercial for?" Then, a young woman begins talking. She has a soft but noticeable Kentucky accent, almost as if she was hand-picked to represent an ideal mainstream dialect for her people--not too twangy and backwoods but not too...northern. "If you're pregnant," she says, "don't drink or smoke. Take your vitamins and see a doctor." We then find out it's a message from the Kentucky Department of Education.
Oyyyy. What year is it?! Is the situation so bad in Kentucky that they've had to issue a statewide PSA campaign reminding women that it is, in fact, NOT okay to chain smoke between keg stands whilst incubating a human being? What is going on across the river?! How is this not common sense, and why does it take a multi-million dollar ad campaign to teach common sense to our neighbors? And finally, what the hell does health class look like in those schools? I must know.
I'm the slightest bit tempted to send a letter to the Kentucky Department of Education that says, "Hey, thanks for doing your part to virtually LEAP into the 1960s on publicizing your public health policies. You take a break now. You've worked hard. Just put your head down and rest. You'll need your energy for that big AIDS crisis PSA you'll be putting out in 15 years."
The scene: images of flowers and complacent, smiling women come across the screen accompanied by sweet, lullaby-ish music. For about ten seconds you watch and wonder, "Hmm...what's this going to be a commercial for?" Then, a young woman begins talking. She has a soft but noticeable Kentucky accent, almost as if she was hand-picked to represent an ideal mainstream dialect for her people--not too twangy and backwoods but not too...northern. "If you're pregnant," she says, "don't drink or smoke. Take your vitamins and see a doctor." We then find out it's a message from the Kentucky Department of Education.
Oyyyy. What year is it?! Is the situation so bad in Kentucky that they've had to issue a statewide PSA campaign reminding women that it is, in fact, NOT okay to chain smoke between keg stands whilst incubating a human being? What is going on across the river?! How is this not common sense, and why does it take a multi-million dollar ad campaign to teach common sense to our neighbors? And finally, what the hell does health class look like in those schools? I must know.
I'm the slightest bit tempted to send a letter to the Kentucky Department of Education that says, "Hey, thanks for doing your part to virtually LEAP into the 1960s on publicizing your public health policies. You take a break now. You've worked hard. Just put your head down and rest. You'll need your energy for that big AIDS crisis PSA you'll be putting out in 15 years."
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Serenity Now, God
*siiigh*
It appears Teacher Appreciation Week continues at my work. Do allow me to give you the updates so you know just how well things have blossomed since Monday's quarter-sized cupcake.
Yesterday my boss called me and told me not to come in because several of my students had canceled. So today I arrived to find my Teacher Appreciation Week gifts from yesterday AND today at my desk.
Tuesday's treat was a single serving box of chocolate chip cookies. I know you're wondering what kind, and the answer is they went really fancy and got Keebler. I learned later, though, that it actually wasn't from my boss; it was from a man named George whom, I swear, I've never heard of in my life. My boss added that "technically, Teacher Appreciation Day was only supposed to be Monday," but she decided to wave her beneficent hand through the end of the week on account of George's generosity yesterday. (For the record, I have no ill will against this George character. Thanks for the cookies, George. I'm glad you were able to convince my boss to spend five whole dollars on her staff over the course of this entire week.)
I digress.
Today's treat was eeeeven better: two "fun-sized" 100 Grand candy bars and a coupon book that is distributed for free with the newspaper every week. This (again, I swear), is what my boss had to say about it:
"I was going to just give one candy bar, but then I decided what the heck! You're not worth 100 grand, you're worth 200 grand! And someone was coming around to the office complex giving out these coupon books, so I grabbed a bunch and decide to give one to each of you. There are more in the front if you want more of them."
Again, I make $9 an hour and I am a licensed teacher. At this point it would be wise for me to say pray for me as I forge ahead with another interview tomorrow morning. Mama needs a light at the end of what is quickly becoming a godforsaken tunnel.
It appears Teacher Appreciation Week continues at my work. Do allow me to give you the updates so you know just how well things have blossomed since Monday's quarter-sized cupcake.
Yesterday my boss called me and told me not to come in because several of my students had canceled. So today I arrived to find my Teacher Appreciation Week gifts from yesterday AND today at my desk.
Tuesday's treat was a single serving box of chocolate chip cookies. I know you're wondering what kind, and the answer is they went really fancy and got Keebler. I learned later, though, that it actually wasn't from my boss; it was from a man named George whom, I swear, I've never heard of in my life. My boss added that "technically, Teacher Appreciation Day was only supposed to be Monday," but she decided to wave her beneficent hand through the end of the week on account of George's generosity yesterday. (For the record, I have no ill will against this George character. Thanks for the cookies, George. I'm glad you were able to convince my boss to spend five whole dollars on her staff over the course of this entire week.)
I digress.
Today's treat was eeeeven better: two "fun-sized" 100 Grand candy bars and a coupon book that is distributed for free with the newspaper every week. This (again, I swear), is what my boss had to say about it:
"I was going to just give one candy bar, but then I decided what the heck! You're not worth 100 grand, you're worth 200 grand! And someone was coming around to the office complex giving out these coupon books, so I grabbed a bunch and decide to give one to each of you. There are more in the front if you want more of them."
Again, I make $9 an hour and I am a licensed teacher. At this point it would be wise for me to say pray for me as I forge ahead with another interview tomorrow morning. Mama needs a light at the end of what is quickly becoming a godforsaken tunnel.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Phishing for Answers
Yesterday evening, I had to give a little girl the nonsense words test that I wrote about a few posts ago. Guess what word came up, friends? Oh, you guessed it. P-H-I-S-H.
How did the little girl pronounce it?
FISH.
I am vindicated. She missed every other word, but for the love of God, at least she got that one without hesitation.
In other news, many of you know about my ongoing one-sided death match with my former landlord. For the sake of this blog we'll call him David (because that is his name). If you remember the old Windows Live Spaces blog, I'm sure you'll recall a number of problems I had with David. They included (but are not limited to):
1. He attempted to cut down a 30-foot-long span of 8-foot-tall bushes with a pair of hedge trimmers and then, because he was too cheap to haul the yard waste away, he systematically attempted to BURN the bushes IN A PAINT CAN (I swear) over the course of several weeks, violating numerous city codes related to fire, smoke, being an idiot, etc. This brought Kathy and me ENDLESS delight as we would observe this burning ritual day after day until finally some neighbor called the fire department and they came and made him put it out. (I have pictures. Thanks again, Kathy, for having the presence of mind to document the occasion.) In case you're wondering, he made about eight feet of progress and then left the wilted shrubs out to rot. They're still there along with the now-rusted paint can.
2. He had a "girlfriend" (this is in quotes because it seemed that she was more of an indentured servant than a girlfriend) who was very nice but was, for lack of a better word, his bitch. There was NO END to the things he would ask her to do for him, and much to our amazement she did them all! Goodbyeeeee, self esteem, is all I can say about that. These chores included her manning the burning paint can for hours on end while he left or played chess and drank with his roommate; taking his laundry away, doing it for him, and then returning it FOLDED for him; cooking for him AND his roommate; and (this is my favorite) mowing the lawn at ten o'clock at night in the PITCH DARK for him. After ALL of this that she did for him, David admitted to Kathy that the girlfriend was nice but that he wished he would've found someone hotter. Just...just read it all again and then let it stew. Yeah....now you've come along on that journey.
3. He refused to do anything like help with snow removal, despite the fact that he lived there too, so by the time we moved out it was a death trap of glacially compacted ice. My husband and I had to go buy 120 pounds of sand to put on the driveway just to keep ourselves from dying as we moved all the heavy stuff.
4. He forced me to play chess with him once and then bragged about his liquor stock, which, when I added it up in my head, was worth more than my CAR.
5. Sunday night Martini Nights. I swear. Is it sinking in what a douchebag this guy is?
6. To top it all of, he had (has) a myspace page, and the background of the page is tiled pictures of Michaelangelo's statue of David. Our David, dipshit, douchebag landlord David, has written on his profile, "By the way, that picture is the statue of David." It just...makes me cringe.
Anyway, before we moved out I left David a note telling him my new address and how to get ahold of me and all of that crap so he could send my deposit to me. Weeks passed and in the middle of February I called him (having found his phone number on the infamous myspace page because he never would actually give it to me in person). I left a voicemail reminding him to send it. He did nothing.
So a couple of weeks later I called and left another voicemail that was a little firmer. Again, nothing.
Finally I got pissed and put on my business voice and drafted a letter in March that said, essentially, "I will have you by the balls in court if you don't send my deposit back by (insert date here)." STILL nothing, as my "I'd better have that check in hand by April 11th" ultimatum neared.
Well, kids. Imagine my surprise when he called the other night. Incredible. "Whaaaaa?" he asked like the true wank he is. "I totally sent you your deposit back and an explanation of charges way back in January!"
Me: "Noooo ya didn't. And didn't you notice that that much money never left your bank account?"
Him: "I'll be honest, I don't really check my bank account ever." UH HUH.
Me: "Well I never got the money that you claim you sent. I don't want to have to sue you because it is going to be an enormous pain in my ass, but I will do it. I'll be there next week for a wedding and I'll file papers while I'm there if I have to."
Him: "No no! Oh this is just a miscommunication! I'll FedEx a new check on Friday! Saturday at the latest."
Me: "Uh huh."
Etc. Etc. Blah blah it was insufferable.
It went on like this for a few minutes, but I can't be bothered typing it all. The point is he's keeping $140 of the deposit because he claims he needed to replace the drip pans on the stove (that's fair) and change some lightbulbs (interesting, since apparently in his world lightbulbs go for something like $10 a pop, and there were only three fixed ceiling bulbs in the entire apartment anyway, all of which worked just fine when we left). He also claimed my roommate stacked up "18 bags of trash" that he had to pay extra to remove, which is hilarious because 1. all the trash that was there was there before I left, and Kathy specifically talked to David about it being a lot of trash and he said no problem....she added nothing to it and MOST of that trash was stuff that had been accumulating from both apartments for a month because it was icy and David wouldn't help us take the trash down (he made his girlfriend do it), and frankly we were sick of it; and 2. according to an acquaintance who drove by the place at the end of March, all (ALL) of that trash was STILL THERE, thus showing he hasn't paid extra to get rid of it.
Blah, whatever. So the point is I'm supposed to be FINALLY getting this deposit back (or most of it, since I don't feel like fighting him tooth-and-nail about the rest of it, even though I should just to make his life a living hell) soon. I don't know about you, but I'll believe it when I see it.
How did the little girl pronounce it?
FISH.
I am vindicated. She missed every other word, but for the love of God, at least she got that one without hesitation.
In other news, many of you know about my ongoing one-sided death match with my former landlord. For the sake of this blog we'll call him David (because that is his name). If you remember the old Windows Live Spaces blog, I'm sure you'll recall a number of problems I had with David. They included (but are not limited to):
1. He attempted to cut down a 30-foot-long span of 8-foot-tall bushes with a pair of hedge trimmers and then, because he was too cheap to haul the yard waste away, he systematically attempted to BURN the bushes IN A PAINT CAN (I swear) over the course of several weeks, violating numerous city codes related to fire, smoke, being an idiot, etc. This brought Kathy and me ENDLESS delight as we would observe this burning ritual day after day until finally some neighbor called the fire department and they came and made him put it out. (I have pictures. Thanks again, Kathy, for having the presence of mind to document the occasion.) In case you're wondering, he made about eight feet of progress and then left the wilted shrubs out to rot. They're still there along with the now-rusted paint can.
2. He had a "girlfriend" (this is in quotes because it seemed that she was more of an indentured servant than a girlfriend) who was very nice but was, for lack of a better word, his bitch. There was NO END to the things he would ask her to do for him, and much to our amazement she did them all! Goodbyeeeee, self esteem, is all I can say about that. These chores included her manning the burning paint can for hours on end while he left or played chess and drank with his roommate; taking his laundry away, doing it for him, and then returning it FOLDED for him; cooking for him AND his roommate; and (this is my favorite) mowing the lawn at ten o'clock at night in the PITCH DARK for him. After ALL of this that she did for him, David admitted to Kathy that the girlfriend was nice but that he wished he would've found someone hotter. Just...just read it all again and then let it stew. Yeah....now you've come along on that journey.
3. He refused to do anything like help with snow removal, despite the fact that he lived there too, so by the time we moved out it was a death trap of glacially compacted ice. My husband and I had to go buy 120 pounds of sand to put on the driveway just to keep ourselves from dying as we moved all the heavy stuff.
4. He forced me to play chess with him once and then bragged about his liquor stock, which, when I added it up in my head, was worth more than my CAR.
5. Sunday night Martini Nights. I swear. Is it sinking in what a douchebag this guy is?
6. To top it all of, he had (has) a myspace page, and the background of the page is tiled pictures of Michaelangelo's statue of David. Our David, dipshit, douchebag landlord David, has written on his profile, "By the way, that picture is the statue of David." It just...makes me cringe.
Anyway, before we moved out I left David a note telling him my new address and how to get ahold of me and all of that crap so he could send my deposit to me. Weeks passed and in the middle of February I called him (having found his phone number on the infamous myspace page because he never would actually give it to me in person). I left a voicemail reminding him to send it. He did nothing.
So a couple of weeks later I called and left another voicemail that was a little firmer. Again, nothing.
Finally I got pissed and put on my business voice and drafted a letter in March that said, essentially, "I will have you by the balls in court if you don't send my deposit back by (insert date here)." STILL nothing, as my "I'd better have that check in hand by April 11th" ultimatum neared.
Well, kids. Imagine my surprise when he called the other night. Incredible. "Whaaaaa?" he asked like the true wank he is. "I totally sent you your deposit back and an explanation of charges way back in January!"
Me: "Noooo ya didn't. And didn't you notice that that much money never left your bank account?"
Him: "I'll be honest, I don't really check my bank account ever." UH HUH.
Me: "Well I never got the money that you claim you sent. I don't want to have to sue you because it is going to be an enormous pain in my ass, but I will do it. I'll be there next week for a wedding and I'll file papers while I'm there if I have to."
Him: "No no! Oh this is just a miscommunication! I'll FedEx a new check on Friday! Saturday at the latest."
Me: "Uh huh."
Etc. Etc. Blah blah it was insufferable.
It went on like this for a few minutes, but I can't be bothered typing it all. The point is he's keeping $140 of the deposit because he claims he needed to replace the drip pans on the stove (that's fair) and change some lightbulbs (interesting, since apparently in his world lightbulbs go for something like $10 a pop, and there were only three fixed ceiling bulbs in the entire apartment anyway, all of which worked just fine when we left). He also claimed my roommate stacked up "18 bags of trash" that he had to pay extra to remove, which is hilarious because 1. all the trash that was there was there before I left, and Kathy specifically talked to David about it being a lot of trash and he said no problem....she added nothing to it and MOST of that trash was stuff that had been accumulating from both apartments for a month because it was icy and David wouldn't help us take the trash down (he made his girlfriend do it), and frankly we were sick of it; and 2. according to an acquaintance who drove by the place at the end of March, all (ALL) of that trash was STILL THERE, thus showing he hasn't paid extra to get rid of it.
Blah, whatever. So the point is I'm supposed to be FINALLY getting this deposit back (or most of it, since I don't feel like fighting him tooth-and-nail about the rest of it, even though I should just to make his life a living hell) soon. I don't know about you, but I'll believe it when I see it.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Sigma Tau Dipshits
Nearly a full year ago I joined an English honor society at my university. "What the hey," I thought. "I don't really like other English people because they're usually pretentious and annoying, but this will be good on my resume." So, along with a few of my friends who were invited, I joined. We should have all been tipped off that things were awry when only half of the new members showed up to the induction ceremony, and one of the sponsors didn't even show up. At that induction ceremony last April we received nothing and they said, "Ahhh, don't worry about it! We're going to mail your membership certificates and pins!" No big deal, right? I didn't particularly care.
So the induction passed and I went to the meetings (averaging five whole members each week, which, in case you're wondering, is awkward, especially when your new president tells you her favorite book of all time is Harry Potter and you have to suppress your bile without drawing too much attention to yourself).
Fast forward to the end of last semster, early December, as many of us are preparing to graduate. We all receive e-mails from one of the new sponsors informing us that, golly-gee-whiz, a "miscommunication" must've occurred in the spring because no one ever sent off our dues or information to the national home office of the honor society! And no one ever thought to double-check it when they curiously heard nothing back from the home office. Oh by the way, she adds, would you like to still be a member since, technically speaking, you never were one?
Ha, perrrrfect. I wrote her back telling her that, oh boy, they should be embarrassed by this. I also asked her how I'm supposed to explain their screwup to people who've received my resume in the meantime and would check my affiliations, awards, and honors only to discover it looked like I completely made this one up out of thin air. Not cool, I told her. Regardless, though, I told her I still wanted to stay in the national organization, and to go ahead and send my dues money in and keep me in as long as the membership would backdate to the time we all originally thought we were being inducted. She wrote back and apologized for everything and then said she'd send do that and then forward all of my memberhip materials to me.
Another month and a half passes. By now it is the end of January. I've still not received anything from her, so I e-mail the sponsor back. She tells me the new group secretary (someone who was literally coerced into taking the position so the group wouldn't lose its certification with Campus Student Organizations) is in charge of that now. Ohhhh great, way to follow through. So I e-mail that girl, and she tells me my materials are on the way! Yay!
Nooooooo.
Which brings us to this week. I write the secretary again. I've still received nothing, and frankly, it's been almost A YEAR since we were supposed to be inducted into this piece of crap organization. Where is my stuff? She writes back. "I still haven't sent them yet for a couple of reasons. Sorry!" What the hell reasons can there be, man? Her thumbs fell off? Her cat mauled her in the middle of the night, grossly disfiguring her face and leaving her emotionally scarred and unable to forward a fricking envelope? It's so beyond me!
So, it's been almost a year now, and of course I probaby owe renewal dues now, but how the hell would I know? I don't even have my original materials! Which means I can't access the national website, I can't pay my updated dues, and you guessed it, I'm soon going to be out of the national organization AGAIN because of these bumbling idiots at my school's chapter. So much for trying to utilize one's opportunities to make one's resume look better.
On a final, totally unrelated note, I was just watching The Price is Right. Drew Carey lets contestants give "shout-outs" while they spin the big wheel. This guy just used his "shout-out" moment to say, "Yeah, I wanna say hello to my lord and savior, Jesus Christ." Yeah, dude, don't suck up to Jesus. I guarantee you he is not watching The Price is Right, and he is not going to help you win the Showcase Showdown. He has other things to do.
UPDATE: Hell if that guy didn't totally win the Showcase Showdown.
So the induction passed and I went to the meetings (averaging five whole members each week, which, in case you're wondering, is awkward, especially when your new president tells you her favorite book of all time is Harry Potter and you have to suppress your bile without drawing too much attention to yourself).
Fast forward to the end of last semster, early December, as many of us are preparing to graduate. We all receive e-mails from one of the new sponsors informing us that, golly-gee-whiz, a "miscommunication" must've occurred in the spring because no one ever sent off our dues or information to the national home office of the honor society! And no one ever thought to double-check it when they curiously heard nothing back from the home office. Oh by the way, she adds, would you like to still be a member since, technically speaking, you never were one?
Ha, perrrrfect. I wrote her back telling her that, oh boy, they should be embarrassed by this. I also asked her how I'm supposed to explain their screwup to people who've received my resume in the meantime and would check my affiliations, awards, and honors only to discover it looked like I completely made this one up out of thin air. Not cool, I told her. Regardless, though, I told her I still wanted to stay in the national organization, and to go ahead and send my dues money in and keep me in as long as the membership would backdate to the time we all originally thought we were being inducted. She wrote back and apologized for everything and then said she'd send do that and then forward all of my memberhip materials to me.
Another month and a half passes. By now it is the end of January. I've still not received anything from her, so I e-mail the sponsor back. She tells me the new group secretary (someone who was literally coerced into taking the position so the group wouldn't lose its certification with Campus Student Organizations) is in charge of that now. Ohhhh great, way to follow through. So I e-mail that girl, and she tells me my materials are on the way! Yay!
Nooooooo.
Which brings us to this week. I write the secretary again. I've still received nothing, and frankly, it's been almost A YEAR since we were supposed to be inducted into this piece of crap organization. Where is my stuff? She writes back. "I still haven't sent them yet for a couple of reasons. Sorry!" What the hell reasons can there be, man? Her thumbs fell off? Her cat mauled her in the middle of the night, grossly disfiguring her face and leaving her emotionally scarred and unable to forward a fricking envelope? It's so beyond me!
So, it's been almost a year now, and of course I probaby owe renewal dues now, but how the hell would I know? I don't even have my original materials! Which means I can't access the national website, I can't pay my updated dues, and you guessed it, I'm soon going to be out of the national organization AGAIN because of these bumbling idiots at my school's chapter. So much for trying to utilize one's opportunities to make one's resume look better.
On a final, totally unrelated note, I was just watching The Price is Right. Drew Carey lets contestants give "shout-outs" while they spin the big wheel. This guy just used his "shout-out" moment to say, "Yeah, I wanna say hello to my lord and savior, Jesus Christ." Yeah, dude, don't suck up to Jesus. I guarantee you he is not watching The Price is Right, and he is not going to help you win the Showcase Showdown. He has other things to do.
UPDATE: Hell if that guy didn't totally win the Showcase Showdown.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Serenity Now, God
Trying to talk to those imbeciles at AT&T Wireless is like talking to a retarded monkey about Shakespeare. (Actually, making that analogy probably does a disservice to retarded monkeys everywhere, who are clearly more qualified to run a business than AT&T Wireless.)
You'll remember that last Friday my husband and I ordered new phones. To ease confusion, we both ordered Blackberry Pearls, his is black and mine in red. The timing was good because my cell phone had just died, leaving me impotent in communications. We were super excited yesterday when UPS showed up to deliver these new phones, but my joy quickly turned to anger when I saw that they only delivered my husband's phone. I hopped online and discovered my phone is now on backorder--something the woman on the phone didn't tell me when we ordered and I never received an e-mail about or anything like that. Being as how I'm the one with the dead phone, this pissed me off. But we worked out a way to keep my phone on life support so I can keep in contact with people until my new one comes.
*sigh*
Fast forward to today. Unable to find how long the phone would be backordered online, I called customer service to ask the most basic question I could possibly ask about this problem: "How long is this phone going to be on backorder?"
I had first logged on to online customer service "live chat" and was immediately told that they don't have access to that information (of COURSE not!), and would have to call a phone number the rep provided me. Allow me, then, to explain to you how the next FORTY MINUTES of my life progressed trying to get this question answered.
I called that number and explained my problem to the rep. "My husband and I are on a family plan together. We both ordered new phones on Friday. He got his yesterday but I didn't get mine, and I just want to know how long mine will be backordered since it doesn't say online."
The rep put me on hold and came back a couple of minutes later. "Yes ma'am. My records show the order was shipped and you received it yesterday." Arg...it begins.
Me: "Yes, my HUSBAND got his. I did not get mine. I'm asking about mine....how long it will be on backorder."
Numnuts: "Yes, one moment. Let me check on that." (goes away for another 2 minutes) "Yes ma'am, ok. I am showing that your phone is on backorder. You will receive it when we get it."
Me: *breathe...breeeeeathe* "I know it's on backorder. We've established that. I want to know HOW LONG it will be on backorder. One week? A month?"
Numnuts: "Yes, one moment. Let me check on that." (goes away for another 2 minutes) "Yes ma'am, ok. You have a discounted account, according to my screen."
Me: "Yes, we have an education discount through my husband's work. Just now saw that, eh?"
Numnuts: "Yes, then I can't help you with that. You'll need to speak to Business Services. I'll transfer you."
Breathe...count to ten. No one is going to die today.
I wait on hold with Business Services for ohhh...5 minutes, then speak to a woman who seems more promising at first than Numnuts.
Me: "OK. Let's make this easier than it was for the last person I talked to. I ordered two phones. One came, one shows online as being backordered. For the love of God, can you tell me how long that other phone will be backordered? That's all I want."
Her: "Ok, no problem. It's showing here that that phone is backordered. We'll ship it out to you as soon as we get it back in stock."
MOTHER F!
Me: "I know this! I would sincerely hope you wouldn't just hold on to your new shipments of phones and hoard them for sadistic pleasure. Can you find out how long this phone will be backordered? Will it be days? Weeks? I'd like to know because my current phone is dead and that's not good for me."
(at this point we'll commence calling her ohhhh...how bout Asshat...yeah that works)
Asshat: "I'm gonna need to put you on hold for a few minutes to figure that out."
Me: "Sure why not? I don't have anything better to do with my time. Bring it on!"
She's gone for several minutes, then returns and tells me the phone will be backordered for three weeks. Of course it will! Why not? It's not like I didn't already pay for it or anything.
Me: "Ok, that's kind of a long time for me since my phone is dead and I was never told this was backordered from the beginning. I wouldn't have ordered it if I'd have known that. Since you haven't processed the order yet with the phone being on backorder, can I just cancel that order and pick a different phone that I can get sooner?"
Asshat: "I've never had to cancel an order before. Let me put you on hold for a few minutes to figure that out."
Me: "Ok."
Asshat comes back a few minutes later. "Ok, I won't be able to do that. You've already placed your order and committed to this phone."
Me: "Uhhh, but you guys also committed to send it to me in 3 to 5 business days, and that part's not happening either, is it? It's not like it's sitting there waiting to be shipped. You don't even HAVE this phone to send to me. How hard can it be to just pick a different one of the same price?"
Asshat: "I'm sorry, but unfortunately you already committed to this phone. If you'd like to pick a new phone, I'll have to charge you the full, undiscounted retail price for it. Then, if you don't still want the other phone that's currently on backorder, you'll have to refuse delivery from UPS when it shows up in a few weeks."
Me: "I'm sorry, but I don't see how it could possibly be this hard to make a simple switcheroo at this point in the game."
Asshat: "Unfortunately, ma'am, that's how it works."
At this point I ended the call because, well, I could feel my head beginning to explode. Hopefully yours is too, because I can't possible be alone in this, can I? I mean, seriously. Idiots! It's easier to get out of a goddamn marriage than it is to change an order with these people!
The good news I have to report, though, is that I got a call yesterday evening from the woman at the private tutoring place, and she offered me the job. I'll be starting there on Monday. Yay to finally being a little less of a pile of crap. Updates on that later.
You'll remember that last Friday my husband and I ordered new phones. To ease confusion, we both ordered Blackberry Pearls, his is black and mine in red. The timing was good because my cell phone had just died, leaving me impotent in communications. We were super excited yesterday when UPS showed up to deliver these new phones, but my joy quickly turned to anger when I saw that they only delivered my husband's phone. I hopped online and discovered my phone is now on backorder--something the woman on the phone didn't tell me when we ordered and I never received an e-mail about or anything like that. Being as how I'm the one with the dead phone, this pissed me off. But we worked out a way to keep my phone on life support so I can keep in contact with people until my new one comes.
*sigh*
Fast forward to today. Unable to find how long the phone would be backordered online, I called customer service to ask the most basic question I could possibly ask about this problem: "How long is this phone going to be on backorder?"
I had first logged on to online customer service "live chat" and was immediately told that they don't have access to that information (of COURSE not!), and would have to call a phone number the rep provided me. Allow me, then, to explain to you how the next FORTY MINUTES of my life progressed trying to get this question answered.
I called that number and explained my problem to the rep. "My husband and I are on a family plan together. We both ordered new phones on Friday. He got his yesterday but I didn't get mine, and I just want to know how long mine will be backordered since it doesn't say online."
The rep put me on hold and came back a couple of minutes later. "Yes ma'am. My records show the order was shipped and you received it yesterday." Arg...it begins.
Me: "Yes, my HUSBAND got his. I did not get mine. I'm asking about mine....how long it will be on backorder."
Numnuts: "Yes, one moment. Let me check on that." (goes away for another 2 minutes) "Yes ma'am, ok. I am showing that your phone is on backorder. You will receive it when we get it."
Me: *breathe...breeeeeathe* "I know it's on backorder. We've established that. I want to know HOW LONG it will be on backorder. One week? A month?"
Numnuts: "Yes, one moment. Let me check on that." (goes away for another 2 minutes) "Yes ma'am, ok. You have a discounted account, according to my screen."
Me: "Yes, we have an education discount through my husband's work. Just now saw that, eh?"
Numnuts: "Yes, then I can't help you with that. You'll need to speak to Business Services. I'll transfer you."
Breathe...count to ten. No one is going to die today.
I wait on hold with Business Services for ohhh...5 minutes, then speak to a woman who seems more promising at first than Numnuts.
Me: "OK. Let's make this easier than it was for the last person I talked to. I ordered two phones. One came, one shows online as being backordered. For the love of God, can you tell me how long that other phone will be backordered? That's all I want."
Her: "Ok, no problem. It's showing here that that phone is backordered. We'll ship it out to you as soon as we get it back in stock."
MOTHER F!
Me: "I know this! I would sincerely hope you wouldn't just hold on to your new shipments of phones and hoard them for sadistic pleasure. Can you find out how long this phone will be backordered? Will it be days? Weeks? I'd like to know because my current phone is dead and that's not good for me."
(at this point we'll commence calling her ohhhh...how bout Asshat...yeah that works)
Asshat: "I'm gonna need to put you on hold for a few minutes to figure that out."
Me: "Sure why not? I don't have anything better to do with my time. Bring it on!"
She's gone for several minutes, then returns and tells me the phone will be backordered for three weeks. Of course it will! Why not? It's not like I didn't already pay for it or anything.
Me: "Ok, that's kind of a long time for me since my phone is dead and I was never told this was backordered from the beginning. I wouldn't have ordered it if I'd have known that. Since you haven't processed the order yet with the phone being on backorder, can I just cancel that order and pick a different phone that I can get sooner?"
Asshat: "I've never had to cancel an order before. Let me put you on hold for a few minutes to figure that out."
Me: "Ok."
Asshat comes back a few minutes later. "Ok, I won't be able to do that. You've already placed your order and committed to this phone."
Me: "Uhhh, but you guys also committed to send it to me in 3 to 5 business days, and that part's not happening either, is it? It's not like it's sitting there waiting to be shipped. You don't even HAVE this phone to send to me. How hard can it be to just pick a different one of the same price?"
Asshat: "I'm sorry, but unfortunately you already committed to this phone. If you'd like to pick a new phone, I'll have to charge you the full, undiscounted retail price for it. Then, if you don't still want the other phone that's currently on backorder, you'll have to refuse delivery from UPS when it shows up in a few weeks."
Me: "I'm sorry, but I don't see how it could possibly be this hard to make a simple switcheroo at this point in the game."
Asshat: "Unfortunately, ma'am, that's how it works."
At this point I ended the call because, well, I could feel my head beginning to explode. Hopefully yours is too, because I can't possible be alone in this, can I? I mean, seriously. Idiots! It's easier to get out of a goddamn marriage than it is to change an order with these people!
The good news I have to report, though, is that I got a call yesterday evening from the woman at the private tutoring place, and she offered me the job. I'll be starting there on Monday. Yay to finally being a little less of a pile of crap. Updates on that later.
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