I just came across this blurb on consumerist.com (Thanks, K and other friends, for introducing me to one of my new favorite sites).I thought it was a fitting follow-up to my previous post on customer service.
Knowing what I myself have muttered to those automated voice services, I can only imagine what those recordings might hold...
Friday, May 30, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
R.I.P., C.S.
Did I miss the funeral?
I'm wondering, because all of my experiences in the past week indicate that customer service is dead. Toes up, six feet under, cold as ice--dead. Instead of actually helping you, company reps seem intent on responsibility-shifting...sending you from one person to the next person to the next, and oddly, none of them seem to know what to do to make the situation better. This week, I have heard myself say more than once "I need you to make this right for me," which everyone knows is the very polite way of saying, "Look, you flaming idiot, you've got less than two seconds to work this out in my favor, or else I'm gonna put down this phone, drive to your office, and beat you senseless with my left shoe."
So what's the end response that I've gotten? "I'm sorry." And I can imagine them saying it while shrugging their shoulders and giving a little half smile to the phone receiver. I'm sorry? That's it? I mean, thank you, Home Depot, but "sorry" doesn't exactly help the fact that your mistake probably effected my credit report...nor does it remedy the fact that a bunch of people are showing up tomorrow morning to build a fence, and we still don't have all the lumber you promised us. And, Leaderpromos, "sorry" still leaves me SOL and looking like a very unprepared alumni relations director when I don't have anything to give the seniors as a gift next week when they graduate.
Am I venting? Yes. So don't even get me started on the automated answering services. I am convinced that in the seventh level of hell, you are forced to sit on a phone with an automated answering service that never gets you anywhere, and no matter how many buttons you push, or how many times you scream "representative!" in the phone, you never get to speak to a live person. Ever.
Sigh. I feel a little better now. Although, if the security guards at HD or LP headquarters see a woman with crazy eyes approaching the building, carrying one of her shoes in her hand, they better watch out.
I'm wondering, because all of my experiences in the past week indicate that customer service is dead. Toes up, six feet under, cold as ice--dead. Instead of actually helping you, company reps seem intent on responsibility-shifting...sending you from one person to the next person to the next, and oddly, none of them seem to know what to do to make the situation better. This week, I have heard myself say more than once "I need you to make this right for me," which everyone knows is the very polite way of saying, "Look, you flaming idiot, you've got less than two seconds to work this out in my favor, or else I'm gonna put down this phone, drive to your office, and beat you senseless with my left shoe."
So what's the end response that I've gotten? "I'm sorry." And I can imagine them saying it while shrugging their shoulders and giving a little half smile to the phone receiver. I'm sorry? That's it? I mean, thank you, Home Depot, but "sorry" doesn't exactly help the fact that your mistake probably effected my credit report...nor does it remedy the fact that a bunch of people are showing up tomorrow morning to build a fence, and we still don't have all the lumber you promised us. And, Leaderpromos, "sorry" still leaves me SOL and looking like a very unprepared alumni relations director when I don't have anything to give the seniors as a gift next week when they graduate.
Am I venting? Yes. So don't even get me started on the automated answering services. I am convinced that in the seventh level of hell, you are forced to sit on a phone with an automated answering service that never gets you anywhere, and no matter how many buttons you push, or how many times you scream "representative!" in the phone, you never get to speak to a live person. Ever.
Sigh. I feel a little better now. Although, if the security guards at HD or LP headquarters see a woman with crazy eyes approaching the building, carrying one of her shoes in her hand, they better watch out.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
blog-hopping
This whole blogging world is quite strange.
If you're anything like me (a curious cat), you can totally get sucked in to link-hopping. I'll visit friends' blogs that I like to follow, and I'll see the list of their blogging friends, so I'll click on a few of the links to check out what their other friends are like. And then while I'm visiting those other blogs, I might become intrigued by a cool name on their link list...so I just keep traveling from blog to blog until my eyes get a little blurry from reading so many life essays.
And in the process, I've actually discovered a few blogs that I quite like, and I find myself going back to visit them (once I can retrace the link-map that got me there). Part of me would even like to add them to my link list...except that it seems a little weird, considering that they have no idea who I am. Unless, of course, they have done the same thing I have and discovered my blog during their web-wandering.
I did find one blog, though, that I thought I would share, because it's just too darn funny. Anytime I need a laugh, I visit this blog, and it almost always delivers.
If you're anything like me (a curious cat), you can totally get sucked in to link-hopping. I'll visit friends' blogs that I like to follow, and I'll see the list of their blogging friends, so I'll click on a few of the links to check out what their other friends are like. And then while I'm visiting those other blogs, I might become intrigued by a cool name on their link list...so I just keep traveling from blog to blog until my eyes get a little blurry from reading so many life essays.
And in the process, I've actually discovered a few blogs that I quite like, and I find myself going back to visit them (once I can retrace the link-map that got me there). Part of me would even like to add them to my link list...except that it seems a little weird, considering that they have no idea who I am. Unless, of course, they have done the same thing I have and discovered my blog during their web-wandering.
I did find one blog, though, that I thought I would share, because it's just too darn funny. Anytime I need a laugh, I visit this blog, and it almost always delivers.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
how you know you've hit that stage where you're a weird hybrid of young and old...
...when you get the tubes in your medicine cabinet mixed up, and you accidentally rub your acne spot eliminating gel under your eyes, and you dab your rejuvenating eye serum on your cheek zits.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
random thoughts from the road
I'm spending a few days in lovely and historic Chatt-town, visiting the family and, well, sleeping (I had a two-hour nap today that was totally uninterrupted by dogs. It was glorious.) Here are some random observations from my road-trip down here:
* There is a flea market on top of Monteagle where you can buy socks, t-shirts, and camoflonge. That's not a typo...that's actually what the sign said, camoflonge. Being a curious person, I googled it to see if it might actually be a legit item, and not just an egregious misspelling of camouflage (it is, in fact, the latter). But, someone else had totally taken a picture of the same sign and posted it on the internet. Here it is:
Randomly, the syllable "flonge" makes me think of another word that I like-- phalanges. Not sure why, I just think it is fun to say.
* As I was driving, I saw a Michigan license plate, and it reminded me that I used to call people from that state "Michiganese". Then I dated a guy who was from the Detroit area, and he let me know that the correct term was "Michiganders". I still like my word better. Michiganders makes me think of geese.
*On the highway going down Monteagle mountain towards Chattanooga, there are occasional emergency truck ramps off to the side-- long, upward-sloping gravel ramps that trucks can use if they are having trouble braking on their descent. Every time I pass these, I always have the urge to gun it and see how far I could drive my car up the ramp. It just seems like it would be fun to try it out. Well, until it gets to the part where your car gets stuck, and someone has to come and tow you out, and you get cited for being an idiot. That might not be so fun.
* Today was extremely windy. My car is extremely small and light. It makes for an interesting combination, and a rather exciting drive (Hey, look there, I just changed lanes without even meaning to. Sweet!)
Ok, I think that's it for road randomness...now, it's time for me to go sleep some more...
* There is a flea market on top of Monteagle where you can buy socks, t-shirts, and camoflonge. That's not a typo...that's actually what the sign said, camoflonge. Being a curious person, I googled it to see if it might actually be a legit item, and not just an egregious misspelling of camouflage (it is, in fact, the latter). But, someone else had totally taken a picture of the same sign and posted it on the internet. Here it is:
Randomly, the syllable "flonge" makes me think of another word that I like-- phalanges. Not sure why, I just think it is fun to say.
* As I was driving, I saw a Michigan license plate, and it reminded me that I used to call people from that state "Michiganese". Then I dated a guy who was from the Detroit area, and he let me know that the correct term was "Michiganders". I still like my word better. Michiganders makes me think of geese.
*On the highway going down Monteagle mountain towards Chattanooga, there are occasional emergency truck ramps off to the side-- long, upward-sloping gravel ramps that trucks can use if they are having trouble braking on their descent. Every time I pass these, I always have the urge to gun it and see how far I could drive my car up the ramp. It just seems like it would be fun to try it out. Well, until it gets to the part where your car gets stuck, and someone has to come and tow you out, and you get cited for being an idiot. That might not be so fun.
* Today was extremely windy. My car is extremely small and light. It makes for an interesting combination, and a rather exciting drive (Hey, look there, I just changed lanes without even meaning to. Sweet!)
Ok, I think that's it for road randomness...now, it's time for me to go sleep some more...
Friday, May 09, 2008
unsubscribe
About a year or so ago, I joined the East Nashville listserv. I thought that it would be a great way to keep up on information related to the neighborhood, and that it might also help me get to know a few of my neighbors in the process.
Well, after a year of receiving the digest e-mails and following every crazy thread, all I can say is...holy crap. I've personally never been a watcher of soap operas, but this listserv is basically like an online version of "The Days of Our Lives." Except that it seems chock-full of people who are intent on broadcasting just how ignorant, obnoxious, and offensive they can be. And what I discovered was...if these people are anywhere near like what they represent themselves to be on the listserv, then there are quite a few of my neighbors that I don't really ever care to meet.
So, today I unsubscribed. It felt good. It felt...healthy. I could hear a faint chorus of Mary J.'s "No More Drama" echoing in the back of my mind.
And although I might miss a few good announcements or a bit of interesting information, I figure that if it's important enough, I'll either hear it from my friends, or I'll see it on the news.
Although, local news might be the next thing that I cut out...I mean, honestly, how many minutes of a broadcast can you dedicate to covering the weather? Really?
Well, after a year of receiving the digest e-mails and following every crazy thread, all I can say is...holy crap. I've personally never been a watcher of soap operas, but this listserv is basically like an online version of "The Days of Our Lives." Except that it seems chock-full of people who are intent on broadcasting just how ignorant, obnoxious, and offensive they can be. And what I discovered was...if these people are anywhere near like what they represent themselves to be on the listserv, then there are quite a few of my neighbors that I don't really ever care to meet.
So, today I unsubscribed. It felt good. It felt...healthy. I could hear a faint chorus of Mary J.'s "No More Drama" echoing in the back of my mind.
And although I might miss a few good announcements or a bit of interesting information, I figure that if it's important enough, I'll either hear it from my friends, or I'll see it on the news.
Although, local news might be the next thing that I cut out...I mean, honestly, how many minutes of a broadcast can you dedicate to covering the weather? Really?
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
the dog days of spring
Sunday was totally a dog day. Here's the sequence of events:
Approximately 8:00am--Todd has left for golf, and I am putzing around picking up laundry. I glance out the window to check on the dogs in the backyard, only to see Tucker take a flying leap over the back of the fence at that exact moment. Sweet. I get to go chase my dog through the neighborhood in my pajamas. So, if you were sitting in your kitchen Sunday morning, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper, and you looked out the window to see a woman wearing a bathrobe and wonky glasses traipsing through your yard carrying a leash and a dog treat, then hi, I'm your neighbor, and I'm sorry if my dog chewed on your gladiolas.
8:20am--Tucker is relegated to puppy-jail, to sit and think about what he has done wrong. Levi is in the backyard playing with the neighbor's dog...or at least I think that's what he is doing, until I hear a crash in the basement. I go investigate and discover that Levi has knocked Tucker's big bag of dog food over, and it has spilled down the stairs, and he and the neighbor dog are now having a feast. Side note--add dog food to the grocery list. Second side note--large bags of dog food generally aren't cheap.
9:00am-- Tucker is released from puppy-jail and decides that he needs to proclaim the injustices he has suffered to the entire world, so he proceeds to stand in the backyard and bark his fool head off...despite my repeated commands of "Tucker, no bark!" I have decided that Tucker either doesn't understand this command, or he just refuses to follow it. I'm pretty sure it's the latter.
10:00am-- Yep, Tucker is still barking...and now he has persuaded the other dogs to join him. It's kind of like a symphony. No, more like a cacophony.
10:30am-- I am getting ready to leave, so I bring the dogs inside as I'm gathering my things. I walk into the back bedroom only to discover that Levi has peed all over the bed. Really, dog? You've been outside all morning long, and you've only been inside for 5 minutes, and now you decide to release your bladder? On the bed? Ironically, when I told a friend last week that Levi had peed on the couch, he said "That's the 2nd worst place he could have peed-- the first being the bed." Yep, bingo. Now all Levi has to do is piss in my car, and he'll have a trifecta!
So, it isn't even noon yet, and already my day has gone to the dogs. And I can't help but wonder two things:
1. Why did man think it was a good idea to try to domesticate animals?
2. And why, oh why, when we already had one dog that was quite a handful all on his own did I think that "hey, let's get another dog" sounded like a good plan?
Approximately 8:00am--Todd has left for golf, and I am putzing around picking up laundry. I glance out the window to check on the dogs in the backyard, only to see Tucker take a flying leap over the back of the fence at that exact moment. Sweet. I get to go chase my dog through the neighborhood in my pajamas. So, if you were sitting in your kitchen Sunday morning, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper, and you looked out the window to see a woman wearing a bathrobe and wonky glasses traipsing through your yard carrying a leash and a dog treat, then hi, I'm your neighbor, and I'm sorry if my dog chewed on your gladiolas.
8:20am--Tucker is relegated to puppy-jail, to sit and think about what he has done wrong. Levi is in the backyard playing with the neighbor's dog...or at least I think that's what he is doing, until I hear a crash in the basement. I go investigate and discover that Levi has knocked Tucker's big bag of dog food over, and it has spilled down the stairs, and he and the neighbor dog are now having a feast. Side note--add dog food to the grocery list. Second side note--large bags of dog food generally aren't cheap.
9:00am-- Tucker is released from puppy-jail and decides that he needs to proclaim the injustices he has suffered to the entire world, so he proceeds to stand in the backyard and bark his fool head off...despite my repeated commands of "Tucker, no bark!" I have decided that Tucker either doesn't understand this command, or he just refuses to follow it. I'm pretty sure it's the latter.
10:00am-- Yep, Tucker is still barking...and now he has persuaded the other dogs to join him. It's kind of like a symphony. No, more like a cacophony.
10:30am-- I am getting ready to leave, so I bring the dogs inside as I'm gathering my things. I walk into the back bedroom only to discover that Levi has peed all over the bed. Really, dog? You've been outside all morning long, and you've only been inside for 5 minutes, and now you decide to release your bladder? On the bed? Ironically, when I told a friend last week that Levi had peed on the couch, he said "That's the 2nd worst place he could have peed-- the first being the bed." Yep, bingo. Now all Levi has to do is piss in my car, and he'll have a trifecta!
So, it isn't even noon yet, and already my day has gone to the dogs. And I can't help but wonder two things:
1. Why did man think it was a good idea to try to domesticate animals?
2. And why, oh why, when we already had one dog that was quite a handful all on his own did I think that "hey, let's get another dog" sounded like a good plan?
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