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.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Go Fosh Yourself
Everyone I work with has at least one glaring speech impediment. This is ok...I don't really care. But I could've come to blows with one woman after an exchange we had over one particular word this week.
You see, she sat down with me and told me she wanted me to take the oral phonics tests we give the students so I would be completely familiar with everything. No problem. That's fair. These tests involve sitting down and reading a lot of nonsense words. They're designed so students have to utilize their phonics knowledge to blend letters and recognize certain vowel sounds. We sat down and I started reading the words, and all was well until we got to "phish." How would you pronounce that word? "Fish," right? LIKE THE BAND. Phish.
"No," my coworker says. "Read it again."
Me: "Ummm...it's pronounced like 'fish.'"
Her: "No. It's 'fosh.'"
Me: "Uh, are we looking at the same word? P-h-i-s-h would totally be pronounced 'fish.'"
Her: "No, sweetie. Look at it. It's 'ph' like in 'phone' and 'ish' like in 'wish.'"
Me: "Yeah exactly. So 'fish.'"
Her: "NO. Look at it. 'FOSH.'"
Me: "I swear to you I read it and I see it! But it's just like the band, Phish. FISH. I don't see 'fosh' at ALLLLLL."
Her: "How can you not see that it's 'fosh?'"
Me: "How can YOU not see that it's obviously 'fish'? I think we're just going to have to agree to disagree on this one."
Her: "Fine, just as long as you see it's 'fosh' when you grade the kids."
What the hell man? On what planet would you read that word as 'fosh'?" No planet, that's which planet. These people make me nuts with their weird word quirks. My dad put it all into perspective for me, though. "If all else fails and you can't keep working there because the people are nuts," he said, "you can always just relax and go foshing." Heh. Well played, Dad. You've just earned yourself the quote of the day.
I'd write more right now but my computer is starting to act like a crankypants, so I'm not going to push it.
You see, she sat down with me and told me she wanted me to take the oral phonics tests we give the students so I would be completely familiar with everything. No problem. That's fair. These tests involve sitting down and reading a lot of nonsense words. They're designed so students have to utilize their phonics knowledge to blend letters and recognize certain vowel sounds. We sat down and I started reading the words, and all was well until we got to "phish." How would you pronounce that word? "Fish," right? LIKE THE BAND. Phish.
"No," my coworker says. "Read it again."
Me: "Ummm...it's pronounced like 'fish.'"
Her: "No. It's 'fosh.'"
Me: "Uh, are we looking at the same word? P-h-i-s-h would totally be pronounced 'fish.'"
Her: "No, sweetie. Look at it. It's 'ph' like in 'phone' and 'ish' like in 'wish.'"
Me: "Yeah exactly. So 'fish.'"
Her: "NO. Look at it. 'FOSH.'"
Me: "I swear to you I read it and I see it! But it's just like the band, Phish. FISH. I don't see 'fosh' at ALLLLLL."
Her: "How can you not see that it's 'fosh?'"
Me: "How can YOU not see that it's obviously 'fish'? I think we're just going to have to agree to disagree on this one."
Her: "Fine, just as long as you see it's 'fosh' when you grade the kids."
What the hell man? On what planet would you read that word as 'fosh'?" No planet, that's which planet. These people make me nuts with their weird word quirks. My dad put it all into perspective for me, though. "If all else fails and you can't keep working there because the people are nuts," he said, "you can always just relax and go foshing." Heh. Well played, Dad. You've just earned yourself the quote of the day.
I'd write more right now but my computer is starting to act like a crankypants, so I'm not going to push it.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
I'm Learnding!
The good news I've been waiting for since January has finally arrived. That, my friends, is that my teaching license finally came, so I can now legally destroy the minds of middle and high school children in my state in both English AND Journalism. Ooooooh. Double your pleasure, double your fun!
I've also gotten one full week at the tutoring company under my belt, and well, there are things that need to be said about it. Monday began and I gave my new boss my documents attesting to the fact that I am a US citizen and thus legally allowed to work in this country. I was slightly perturbed to discover the I-9 form I had to fill out was a copy of a handwritten original, but let's just hope that's because they've only recently made the leap toward having modern conveniences like computers and electricity here. I then immediately discovered that no one where I work can make "oll" sounds. No one. They all say it "ow." I know this because I had to talk to several people for some reason about "payroll" and was delighted when they each referred to it as "payrow." (There is also clear that there is an epidemic of the Indiana "extra r" complex here, which rears its ugly head in words like "wash," which these people say as "warsh." It makes my skin crawl.) Why do I find this so funny, you ask? Because we teach small children how to read, and how funny is it that these people are setting them up for lifelong speech impediments?
Anyway, after filling out my paperwork, my boss instructed another employee to give me "the tour." At this point it it probably important for you to know that this entire facility is maybe a thousand square feet in total. You can stand at one end of the teaching floor and look to the other end, and that's the entire teaching area. Then, if you turn around, you look through a door to a small room that constitutes the office/break room. That's it. That's the whole facility. I didn't really see why a "tour" was in order, but let me just say it was spectacular. This, I swear, is the Cliff's Notes version of the tour I got from the other worker:
Her: "So, here are the tables. We teach at them. You'll sit in the middle and the students will sit around you."
We move 5 steps toward two bathrooms, one regular and one handicap-accessible. Between the bathrooms is a water cooler.
Her: "Here's bathrooms. There are two. You can use either of them, cause we don't got no handicapped people. If you want more room that is. Here's the water cooler. You can use it if you're thirsty. Blue means cold, white is room temperature, and red is hot water. In case you want to make something hot. Like tea. Or hot chocolate."
(This is the part where the full-body clenching starts because I just couldn't bring myself to show them my true colors on my first day. So I held on with all my might and avoided doing something ridiculous like telling her I was confused and asking her to show me how one fills a cup at that ever-so-complicated water cooler.)
She then began walking me around, pointing to things and identifying them as if English were my second language and we were on the "identifying nouns" stage of my language aquisition.
Her: "There's books we use. Ummm....manipulatives. For math. Toys. Extra paper. Pencils. More tables."
Me: "Ok! Think I'm solid. Thanks so much!"
Then my boss returned and got me started reading the company propaganda....errrr...mission and program materials. First I had to read up on the history of the company and take a short test on it, including an essay over what steps I would take to help the company's success. (In case you're wondering, I spent exactly 30 seconds on this part and was told I passed the written portion with flying colors.) Then I began instruction on the first program I was to learn to teach the kiddies. I'm sure the manual that went along with an instruction manual would've been a gripping read if it weren't riddled with spelling and grammar mistakes, including but not limited to:
-"awaremenss" (Yeahhhh, they were going for "awareness," but as you can see that didn't really work out as planned.)
-"...before its released..." (because who needs those pesky apostophes anyway?)
-..."The learning process begins for a readers when..." (arg.)
So that was....revealing.
On the positive side, though, the people I'm working with have been really nice and helpful, and the kids I've been working with (mostly K-2nd graders) have been super adorable to the point that it almost makes my uterus hurt. Almost, Dad. Don't get your hopes up for grandspawn just yet.
Anyway, so that's life at the private tutoring company. It's going ok, I suppose. I feel like things are a little bit unnecessarily complicated there on just about every level, but perhaps the reasons for the madness will reveal themselves soon. I'll keep you updated.
In other news, I am getting mighty excited to get to see Kathy in a month. I'm not looking forward to ruining her wedding pictures in my generally unflattering bridesmaid's dress, but that's a small price to pay for finally getting to see my hetero life partner and other friends like JoAnna and Carissa. I suppose I should also start composing this maid (matron, I guess, since I'm married, but that sounds so dowdy) of honor speech too, eh? Feel free to give me ideas for something that will deftly walk that fine line between funny and heartfelt without slipping into the abyss of "I will never speak to you again for ruining my wedding" inappropriate (which would be hard to do with Kathy, but still).
On a final note, I'm going to a new doctor tomorrow to have a physical and get established so I'll have access to sweet glorious drugs should I ever need them. So, you know, that's bound to be a great experience that will in no way violate the remaining shreds of my dignity. Worry you not, though. I'll let you know.
As I sign off, today's quote of the day once again comes from my husband. (We've already established that I don't have contact with a lot of people, and most of the ones I do have contact with aren't that funny, so he wins quote of the day by default most of the time.) It's turning out that RC Cola is becoming a running joke in our house ever since his previous quote of the day about it being undrinkable (which is true). Well, on the news yesterday there was a story about a man who was caught diddling himself in front of a woman and her child (which, for the record, is just super classy and he should tell everyone he knows about how he became a local celebrity). The story continued that the man had been seen in the area previously at a vending machince (flash to the shot of the RC machine). "Man, I'm REALLY glad I don't drink RC now," my husband said. "There's no telling what it could make me do!"
I've also gotten one full week at the tutoring company under my belt, and well, there are things that need to be said about it. Monday began and I gave my new boss my documents attesting to the fact that I am a US citizen and thus legally allowed to work in this country. I was slightly perturbed to discover the I-9 form I had to fill out was a copy of a handwritten original, but let's just hope that's because they've only recently made the leap toward having modern conveniences like computers and electricity here. I then immediately discovered that no one where I work can make "oll" sounds. No one. They all say it "ow." I know this because I had to talk to several people for some reason about "payroll" and was delighted when they each referred to it as "payrow." (There is also clear that there is an epidemic of the Indiana "extra r" complex here, which rears its ugly head in words like "wash," which these people say as "warsh." It makes my skin crawl.) Why do I find this so funny, you ask? Because we teach small children how to read, and how funny is it that these people are setting them up for lifelong speech impediments?
Anyway, after filling out my paperwork, my boss instructed another employee to give me "the tour." At this point it it probably important for you to know that this entire facility is maybe a thousand square feet in total. You can stand at one end of the teaching floor and look to the other end, and that's the entire teaching area. Then, if you turn around, you look through a door to a small room that constitutes the office/break room. That's it. That's the whole facility. I didn't really see why a "tour" was in order, but let me just say it was spectacular. This, I swear, is the Cliff's Notes version of the tour I got from the other worker:
Her: "So, here are the tables. We teach at them. You'll sit in the middle and the students will sit around you."
We move 5 steps toward two bathrooms, one regular and one handicap-accessible. Between the bathrooms is a water cooler.
Her: "Here's bathrooms. There are two. You can use either of them, cause we don't got no handicapped people. If you want more room that is. Here's the water cooler. You can use it if you're thirsty. Blue means cold, white is room temperature, and red is hot water. In case you want to make something hot. Like tea. Or hot chocolate."
(This is the part where the full-body clenching starts because I just couldn't bring myself to show them my true colors on my first day. So I held on with all my might and avoided doing something ridiculous like telling her I was confused and asking her to show me how one fills a cup at that ever-so-complicated water cooler.)
She then began walking me around, pointing to things and identifying them as if English were my second language and we were on the "identifying nouns" stage of my language aquisition.
Her: "There's books we use. Ummm....manipulatives. For math. Toys. Extra paper. Pencils. More tables."
Me: "Ok! Think I'm solid. Thanks so much!"
Then my boss returned and got me started reading the company propaganda....errrr...mission and program materials. First I had to read up on the history of the company and take a short test on it, including an essay over what steps I would take to help the company's success. (In case you're wondering, I spent exactly 30 seconds on this part and was told I passed the written portion with flying colors.) Then I began instruction on the first program I was to learn to teach the kiddies. I'm sure the manual that went along with an instruction manual would've been a gripping read if it weren't riddled with spelling and grammar mistakes, including but not limited to:
-"awaremenss" (Yeahhhh, they were going for "awareness," but as you can see that didn't really work out as planned.)
-"...before its released..." (because who needs those pesky apostophes anyway?)
-..."The learning process begins for a readers when..." (arg.)
So that was....revealing.
On the positive side, though, the people I'm working with have been really nice and helpful, and the kids I've been working with (mostly K-2nd graders) have been super adorable to the point that it almost makes my uterus hurt. Almost, Dad. Don't get your hopes up for grandspawn just yet.
Anyway, so that's life at the private tutoring company. It's going ok, I suppose. I feel like things are a little bit unnecessarily complicated there on just about every level, but perhaps the reasons for the madness will reveal themselves soon. I'll keep you updated.
In other news, I am getting mighty excited to get to see Kathy in a month. I'm not looking forward to ruining her wedding pictures in my generally unflattering bridesmaid's dress, but that's a small price to pay for finally getting to see my hetero life partner and other friends like JoAnna and Carissa. I suppose I should also start composing this maid (matron, I guess, since I'm married, but that sounds so dowdy) of honor speech too, eh? Feel free to give me ideas for something that will deftly walk that fine line between funny and heartfelt without slipping into the abyss of "I will never speak to you again for ruining my wedding" inappropriate (which would be hard to do with Kathy, but still).
On a final note, I'm going to a new doctor tomorrow to have a physical and get established so I'll have access to sweet glorious drugs should I ever need them. So, you know, that's bound to be a great experience that will in no way violate the remaining shreds of my dignity. Worry you not, though. I'll let you know.
As I sign off, today's quote of the day once again comes from my husband. (We've already established that I don't have contact with a lot of people, and most of the ones I do have contact with aren't that funny, so he wins quote of the day by default most of the time.) It's turning out that RC Cola is becoming a running joke in our house ever since his previous quote of the day about it being undrinkable (which is true). Well, on the news yesterday there was a story about a man who was caught diddling himself in front of a woman and her child (which, for the record, is just super classy and he should tell everyone he knows about how he became a local celebrity). The story continued that the man had been seen in the area previously at a vending machince (flash to the shot of the RC machine). "Man, I'm REALLY glad I don't drink RC now," my husband said. "There's no telling what it could make me do!"
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Blah
I know I normally update every few days or so, but I'm just not feeling it right now. I'll make a list and try to squeeze out a nice, comprehensive entry sometime this weekend. Dry your eyes.
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.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Ahhh, Another Day...
...another lesson from a grocery store bagger about his bagging technique. (In case you're curious, this one's was more of a "crush everything indiscriminately" tactic, although he'd have you believe it was the "conservation of resources" approach).
Before going to get groceries, I first went to the office (and by office I mean home, and by home I mean hoarder's delight bordering on bona fide hovel) of the woman I picked randomly from the alterations listings in the phone book to alter my bridesmaid's dress for Kathy's wedding. When I first entered I immediately noticed an errant child asleep on the living room couch, followed by two empty baby carriers (car seats? whatever they're called when they're not strapped into the car) with no sign of actual infants in sight. It's possible she's running a baby mill in addition to her prolific alteration business, but I'll have to do more research and get back to you.
I followed her through her living room into her "kitchen," which is in quotes because I swear to you all that could be seen in the entire room to identify it as a kitchen was the faucet peeking out from a stack of odds and ends, catalogs, and god knows what other crap. "Oh this is promising," I thought to myself as I rounded the corner into the main part of the room and walked into a man with a full-fledged, four-alarm mullet dressed head to toe in NASCAR merchandise. (In case you're wondering, he's a big fan of whoever drives the Home Depot car. I'd look it up, but I'm trying to protect what's left of my precariously dangling IQ until I can secure a full-time teaching job.) "Hellooooo to you," I said to him. "How's it goin?" he grunted in reply. Never been better. Never been better, indeeeeeeed.
She led me into a room that appeared to be the center of operations for her alterations business. She left me there to change into my dress, and while she was gone I couldn't help but notice her personal library in the room, which consisted largely of books espousing the indisputable fact of Creationism and of the best ways to evangelize to nonbelievers. (Interjection: I'm glad I at least have found the target market for Fun Bible Sudoku. Now I can go on living.) There was also a book titled FOOD right in the middle of all of her religious zealotry paraphernalia, which seemed strange, but it was clear that I was half naked in a stranger's house at this point and not in a position to ask questions.
The fitting itself went ok, and she's only charging me $30 to alter it (although she claims she's never worked with this kind of material before, so that could make things interesting), so that's probably a fair exchange for her bizarre library, creepy mulleted husband, and baby mill. Cross your fingers.
As of right now, I've not heard back yet from the tutoring company about whether or not they want me. The interview on Monday was promising (that is, I made less of an ass out of myself than one would expect) and the owner told me she really liked me but wanted to think it over for a day or two to make sure it was right. So today is the second day, and so far I've not heard anything from her but I'm trying not to let my pessimism take over. (Okay, that's a lie. My pessimism is totally starting to take over, but fear not....I will update with my good news or shame--probably my shame--either way.)
Looks like that's about it for now. Today's quote of the day comes from our mailman, who clearly has an anger management problem. (To help you visualize, he looks like Kenny Rogers before his bad plastic surgery.) One day last summer when we first moved my husband into this house, I was sitting in the living room when the mailman came, and at that moment someone honked their car horn repeatedly. The mailman, overcome with a flash of anger, started yelling, "WHAT IS WITH THE HONKING?! JESUS CHRIST!!!!" My eyes widened in delight at knowing this man was going to be my source of rage-filled joy for as long as we live here. Anyway, fast forward to this morning. Our mailbox is what you might call "broken." The little plastic bar doodads that hold the opening flap onto the main box fell off right about the time we moved in, so my husband fixed it the best way he could--with tightly knotted strings through the holes. (Hey, we don't own this house so we're not putting the money into actually fixing things.) Now, when you close the mailbox, you have to line it up right so it stays closed. It's not really that big of a deal....takes maybe an extra one or two seconds to close it. Well, apparently the mailman wasn't having it this morning. Once again, I was sitting in the living room when he arrived, and this is what I heard:
(rough banging of plastic)
"LOCK, DAMMIT! WHY WON'T YOU LOCK?! SON OF A BITCH, LOCK!!!!!"
Yeah! You tell that mailbox who's boss!
Before going to get groceries, I first went to the office (and by office I mean home, and by home I mean hoarder's delight bordering on bona fide hovel) of the woman I picked randomly from the alterations listings in the phone book to alter my bridesmaid's dress for Kathy's wedding. When I first entered I immediately noticed an errant child asleep on the living room couch, followed by two empty baby carriers (car seats? whatever they're called when they're not strapped into the car) with no sign of actual infants in sight. It's possible she's running a baby mill in addition to her prolific alteration business, but I'll have to do more research and get back to you.
I followed her through her living room into her "kitchen," which is in quotes because I swear to you all that could be seen in the entire room to identify it as a kitchen was the faucet peeking out from a stack of odds and ends, catalogs, and god knows what other crap. "Oh this is promising," I thought to myself as I rounded the corner into the main part of the room and walked into a man with a full-fledged, four-alarm mullet dressed head to toe in NASCAR merchandise. (In case you're wondering, he's a big fan of whoever drives the Home Depot car. I'd look it up, but I'm trying to protect what's left of my precariously dangling IQ until I can secure a full-time teaching job.) "Hellooooo to you," I said to him. "How's it goin?" he grunted in reply. Never been better. Never been better, indeeeeeeed.
She led me into a room that appeared to be the center of operations for her alterations business. She left me there to change into my dress, and while she was gone I couldn't help but notice her personal library in the room, which consisted largely of books espousing the indisputable fact of Creationism and of the best ways to evangelize to nonbelievers. (Interjection: I'm glad I at least have found the target market for Fun Bible Sudoku. Now I can go on living.) There was also a book titled FOOD right in the middle of all of her religious zealotry paraphernalia, which seemed strange, but it was clear that I was half naked in a stranger's house at this point and not in a position to ask questions.
The fitting itself went ok, and she's only charging me $30 to alter it (although she claims she's never worked with this kind of material before, so that could make things interesting), so that's probably a fair exchange for her bizarre library, creepy mulleted husband, and baby mill. Cross your fingers.
As of right now, I've not heard back yet from the tutoring company about whether or not they want me. The interview on Monday was promising (that is, I made less of an ass out of myself than one would expect) and the owner told me she really liked me but wanted to think it over for a day or two to make sure it was right. So today is the second day, and so far I've not heard anything from her but I'm trying not to let my pessimism take over. (Okay, that's a lie. My pessimism is totally starting to take over, but fear not....I will update with my good news or shame--probably my shame--either way.)
Looks like that's about it for now. Today's quote of the day comes from our mailman, who clearly has an anger management problem. (To help you visualize, he looks like Kenny Rogers before his bad plastic surgery.) One day last summer when we first moved my husband into this house, I was sitting in the living room when the mailman came, and at that moment someone honked their car horn repeatedly. The mailman, overcome with a flash of anger, started yelling, "WHAT IS WITH THE HONKING?! JESUS CHRIST!!!!" My eyes widened in delight at knowing this man was going to be my source of rage-filled joy for as long as we live here. Anyway, fast forward to this morning. Our mailbox is what you might call "broken." The little plastic bar doodads that hold the opening flap onto the main box fell off right about the time we moved in, so my husband fixed it the best way he could--with tightly knotted strings through the holes. (Hey, we don't own this house so we're not putting the money into actually fixing things.) Now, when you close the mailbox, you have to line it up right so it stays closed. It's not really that big of a deal....takes maybe an extra one or two seconds to close it. Well, apparently the mailman wasn't having it this morning. Once again, I was sitting in the living room when he arrived, and this is what I heard:
(rough banging of plastic)
"LOCK, DAMMIT! WHY WON'T YOU LOCK?! SON OF A BITCH, LOCK!!!!!"
Yeah! You tell that mailbox who's boss!
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Stating the Obvious
Last night we went to dinner at an Amish buffet restaurant we've been to once before (because nothing, and I do mean nothing, says "romantic Friday night date" like a trip to the Amish buffet). Just as the last time were were there, they served waaaay too much unidentified fried stuff for my taste. You know it's bad when my husband (who will eat just about anything) inspects the texture of some bizarre glob of miscellaneous deep-fried animal organ and decides to pass on the grounds that it's a bit too suspicious.
Anyway, as we were leaving he noted what might be the best stupid thing I've seen in a while. The restaurant has an attached gift shop much like you'd see in a Cracker Barrel or other assorted redneck dining establishment. Prominently displayed on one of the shelves was a $10 game book called Fun Bible Sudoku. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but sudoku is a numbers game involving putting numbers in the correct order so they add up a certain way. What the hell kind of sudoku is Bible sudoku supposed to be? It's so stupid! Talk about taking people for a ride. Idiots. I'm going to invent Bible Rubick's Cube, charge twenty bucks for it, and see what kind of morons will buy it.
Finally, today's quote of the day comes from a bona fide asshole who yelled this from a passing car to my husband (but clearly directed it toward me) as we were on a walk together this afternoon: "Hey, she's fat! Get away from her!" To that person I say 1. how you've not won a Pulitzer Prize yet for your eloquence is beyond me, and 2. thank you for reminding me of alllll the reasons I'm glad I never have to be a middle-schooler again.
Anyway, as we were leaving he noted what might be the best stupid thing I've seen in a while. The restaurant has an attached gift shop much like you'd see in a Cracker Barrel or other assorted redneck dining establishment. Prominently displayed on one of the shelves was a $10 game book called Fun Bible Sudoku. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but sudoku is a numbers game involving putting numbers in the correct order so they add up a certain way. What the hell kind of sudoku is Bible sudoku supposed to be? It's so stupid! Talk about taking people for a ride. Idiots. I'm going to invent Bible Rubick's Cube, charge twenty bucks for it, and see what kind of morons will buy it.
Finally, today's quote of the day comes from a bona fide asshole who yelled this from a passing car to my husband (but clearly directed it toward me) as we were on a walk together this afternoon: "Hey, she's fat! Get away from her!" To that person I say 1. how you've not won a Pulitzer Prize yet for your eloquence is beyond me, and 2. thank you for reminding me of alllll the reasons I'm glad I never have to be a middle-schooler again.
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