Now...for the rant!

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

Now to that rant I promised yesterday and didn't deliver... Except I can't do it. Not the way I planned, anyway. I can tell you a story. Let's see how that goes instead.

For the past four days, I've been trying to give money to Steve Jobs. And what a job that's been! I've never had so much hassle and kerfuffle trying to get someone to take money from me. It's a nightmare.

So, the back story is this. The Boy (That would be my husband, a nickname I shamelessly stole from Christie Blatchford which is another long story altogether.) never buys things for himself. Hardly ever, anyway. It's not that he can't afford to spend money on himself, he just doesn't do it. For example, he gets his jeans and polo shirts from Land's End. Overstocks. Work clothes he'll buy when he needs to and he doesn't skimp, but just for his own pleasure, not so much.

This means that I was overjoyed when I finally heard him express a wish to purchase something! It's rare. When it happens, I make every effort possible to make this easier for him. See, he hates shopping. No one could ever make him set foot in a mall even at gunpoint. Heck, even if someone had ME at gunpoint, he might think twice. Going to any store is something that he sees as a cubic waste of time.

Driving with him is a hideous experience. Parking, especially when he sees the rates, makes him bananas. Actually going in to a store? About 90% of the time, forget it. He'll stand outside with his hands behind his back, looking like the Secret Service. He does, too. Especially when he's got that leather jacket/beret combo going. Hubba hubba.

So. A few months ago, he expressed an interest in an IPad. Even though he's a PC guy, he figured the IPad would be a nifty way to read magazines and whatnot while he was traveling (which he does every week). Also, he then wouldn't have to do his shopping on the company computer - even though the company doesn't care about that. He just doesn't think they need to know about his new acid-green chair. Whatever. It sounded like a good idea to me.

He decided to wait. It takes awhile for Apple to get it right sometimes, so this made sense to me. When the time came, he decided to take the leap. He decided that he wanted the 32G wi fi only IPad. NOW. That's right. In 21 years of working for the firm, he has never owned his computer. It's never been an issue. On this, he had to have the machine immediately. Bless the lad, I can see his point.

So. We decided to go to an Apple store and just buy the blasted thing. Saturday, after we went to the Farmer's Market and then the gym, we showered, had a snack and set out. I decided to go to the store in suburbopurgatory because the parking is free, which would supposedly make him a little happier. I called the store before we embarked, they said they had what we wanted in stock, and we left.

It took 40 minutes to get there. This was not fun. All the way there, and keep in mind that we're dealing with a 40-nevermind-year-old guy, he was muttering: Are we there yet? Jesus Christ, YOU RAN A YELLOW! You're going to get us killed! Killed! You're driving like a bat out of Hades, woman! Oh dear Gawd. How the hell long does this drive take, anyway? What? How long has that construction been there? Do you come this way often? Well, I can see where that future suspension repair is going to come from! Oh Geez! Now we're in the suburbs! Yuck. I'm getting hives!

I was serene. I am long since used to this nonsense. Since he doesn't enjoy driving himself, I do it and while I've yet to follow through, he knows that if the whining gets to be too much, he can walk home. That is, there's a limit, he just hasn't quite hit it yet. Generally, when we leave the house he has no keys with him (Why should he? I have them, right?), so he settles down eventually. Faster even, when he realizes that he forgot his wallet, too.

So. 40 minutes for the drive. Five minutes to walk to the Apple Store so I could have the following conversation:

"Hi," I said, speaking to the kid at the door, "We're here to buy an IPad."

"Do you have an appointment?" she said.

"No. Can't I just go to the desk, get one, pay for it and leave?"

"Oh no. You have to talk to a salesperson. There's a 30 minute wait. You should have made an appointment. No one can speak to you now."

Can you see where this is going? The Boy heard the part about waiting and headed for the door. I caught him, found a guy in an Apple shirt wandering around, cornered him and told him what I was after. He wasn't thrilled about it, but he went in the back room.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "They aren't in stock. We probably won't see any for a couple of weeks."

"What is this, IKEA? (We all know IKEA is just Swedish for 'It's out of stock.')" I was getting testy, what with The Boy heading for the door and the thought that whoever I spoke to had told me that they WERE in stock, in fact that they had lots of them. The idea of hanging around waiting for a 12-year-old salesperson for half an hour didn't thrill me either. Not to mention the 40-minute drive in 90 degree heat.

"I don't know who told you that. We've been out of those for days."

"Doesn't Best Buy have them?"

"Yes."

"Do you know which ones have got them?

"No, and I'm not allowed to phone and find out."

So we left. The Boy was surly about it, but there's a Best Buy across the street from the Apple Store, so I figured we could ask there. A slap-happy optimist, that's me! They didn't have one.

*And here I have to insert something of an apology to Best Buy. I have long complained about the staff and their terrible attitude, especially to female customers. I have learned the way to navigate there, and I'll share it. Don't wander around the store. Go to the greeter at the front, smile and ask if they can find out if what you want is in the store. They're happy to do it. In fact, when they don't have something, they'll even phone around and find out if another store has it. This time they only thing they could do is tell me to check another store that happened to be on our critical path homeward.*

We checked a second Best Buy store and they couldn't help us either, but the guy did find out that the store that stocks IPads is so far on the other end of the city that it isn't worth the drive. It's PAST the downtown Apple Store by another 20 minutes in the car.

So we went home. The Boy was disappointed. After all, we had spent half a day TRYING to spend six hundred bucks. Being thwarted is a powerful thing. Emotions were running high. We went for a walk, stopped at our local for a beer, and determined that we would just order it online. We did just that. We felt better. Ok, I had a hip cramp from all the damned driving and he was still vibrating even AFTER I told him that the truck had been at least 30 feet away when I made that left..... ok, maybe ten.

Sunday morning rolled around. The sun was shining. The world continued to rotate. Everyone in the house was still breathing. A good day. We made another trip to the gym, (That foie gras isn't free any more. We have to earn it.) got home, make breakfast and commence to check e-mail.

"Oh shit-bugger-damn, those assholes!" The Boy trumpeted, "That is the absolute goddamned limit! I'm done! I quit! I'm going to order an HP web thingamie right now!"

He was clearly still reeling from the drive. I had no idea he was so traumatized. I poured a little coffee into him and made sure he was eating. Also, he isn't a patient soul at the best of times, and he was being tested severely by that point. Frankly, I'm surprised it took him that long to bust out the bad language. It turns out that the IPad we ordered wouldn't be shipped until the end of the month, but we were guaranteed to get it......right about the time we're going to be out of town for a week.

Now I was getting pissed. I had picked up on the psychosis and decided that dammit, I was going to get him the blasted machine no matter what! I suspect this is similar to parents who are desperately determined to get the hottest new toy for their kids at Christmas. Whatever. I was DAMNED if he wasn't going to get what he wanted within the next 48 hours.

First, I went to the web site. No dice. I couldn't open the invoice, even by signing in on my account (they make you have an account, even if you only spend fifty cents on a piece of string there). I had no choice. I phoned Apple. This takes time. To find the phone number, you have to spend about half an hour online. That's how many hoops you have to jump through.

Once you have the number and dial it, a perky male voice comes on, informs you that it can handle any question you have (yeah, right) and you have to say "operator" a dozen or so times while it runs through the entire call menu three times. No shit. This is the way it works. The machine switches you towards a human, after telling you (no matter what time of day it is or even what day) that they are "experiencing higher-than-average call volumes and you'll have to suck it up and wait...unless you want to go back to Automated Guy.

I got a human. Here's the conversation:

"This is Cedric (I'm making that up), how may I give you excellent customer service today?"

"Hello Cedric, I need help with an online order. Can you access order number (13 digits plus letters) for me?"

"Well Mrs. -----, I can't do that from here. I can send you back to the automated service, though..."

"NO!!! Gawd NO! Please no! Can you just transfer me to..."

"I'll transfer you to sales, ma'am."

(There was clicking on the line. Lots of clicking. And Musak. From Dr. Zhivago. Fitting. Something that sounds like half a dial tone. Then another voice.)

"Hello Mrs. ----. This is Tina (I'm making her name up, too). How may I give you excellent customer service today?"

"Tina! So glad to hear a voice...any voice (I was starting to sound a little unhinged, but I think she's used to that), can you access Order number....."

"Yes, ma'am! Here it is! It's going to be delivered August __."

"Er, Tina, we're going to be out of town. Can we change the shipping to overnight? That way we'll get it before..."

"I'm sorry ma'am, we can only do that if you cancel your order and reorder."

"Ok, let's do that. Right now. The same credit card..."

"I'm sorry ma'am, you have to do that online. You can cancel the order with me, though."

At this point, I'm shaking and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, "Tina," I say in gentle, dulcet tones, "Honey, I'm trying hard to give you folks money here, and I just can't seem to do it. Can you at least tell me if that thing is in stock?"

"Oh no ma'am! If you re-order now, you'll lose your place in the line and it'll be September before we can ship it. And I'm not allowed to tell you if an item is in stock."

"Fine," I muttered softly while humming a Ramones tune and clicking a pen on my teeth, "just please cancel the order."

I hung up and The Boy spared me a pitying glance before returning to his newspaper. We've had the "why on earth do you think they'd help with anything" conversation many times. I live in hope, but it's really the triumph of hope over experience.

We read the papers, I baked a cake, we started to prep dinner, there were cocktails. Things were looking up. Naturally, I had a brainwave. The downtown Apple store was going to close at five, and it was ten to five. I stopped everything, and reeking of onions and gin, ran to the phone.

Someone actually answered. This is a minor miracle. When you phone an actual Apple location, the phone system ALWAYS tries to send you to the national call center. That way lies madness, because if you do push the wrong button, you'll be told that they can't give you the phone number to any store AND they can't transfer you.

"This is Dillon (another made-up name), can I help you?"

This voice sounded kind of cranky. I was reassured in a way. It sounded as if the artificial perky had worn off.

"Dillon. Do you have the 32 gig IPad wi fi in stock?"

"No. No one has that one in stock. Nowhere in the country is THAT MACHINE.... *puff puff* in stock. We have the 64 gig version here."

"Great, here's my credit card number, put one on hold and I'll get it first thing in the morning."

"Ma'am. No. We aren't allowed to do that. No holds, not for anyone, not ever."

"Ok, then just pay for the thing..."

"NO! *long shuddering sigh* I mean no. We need to take an imprint of your credit card."

Ask yourself, people. When was the last time anyone ever took an imprint of your card? I smelled bullshit.

"Fine. I'll be in first thing in the morning." I hung up.

This morning, I was at the store less than five minutes after it opened. I walked over to the cash desk in a purposeful manner, asked for the 64 gig whatsit and waited. She looked for a millisecond as if she were going to ask if I had an appointment, so I said, "Listen, kid. No appointment. Just a credit card. Do. You. Have. The. Machine."

She turned and looked for it. For a second, it looked like she was going to say something, but found the cabinet empty, shivered for a second, opened another door and found the thing. On a pile. Beside ANOTHER pile of the same device, the one that whatshisname couldn't even tell me if the had or not, but could certainly never put on hold..... that had cards labelled "Hold for..." on them taped to the boxes.

I rallied. I paid for the IPad. Told the very nice cashier what I'd been told the day before and also told her that her company wasn't doing her or any of the other staff any favors.

--------------------- --------------------------- ---------------------

That was the adventure of my weekend. It sucked. I was going to write a profanity-laced rant at Apple, at the lousy service, at the crappy set-up they have going, about the shit customer service...but then I had a think as I was driving home this morning. (Parking downtown for 36 minutes, $17.00. Worth every nickel.) There was very loud music (Smashmouth. Fush Yu Mang, their best disc.) on the CD player. It's calming.

See, the people that work at Apple are terrific. They are smart young people. They know their stuff. They are extremely well trained and they honestly and sincerely do their best to help their customers. They're nice. Honestly and without any qualifiers, these are nice people trying to do a good job. NOTHING in the surreal journey that I had to go through to buy a one pound piece of cool technology was their fault. NONE OF IT.

This is what I think it's about.

It's all about a sales strategy that pretends to be as cool as a 70s night club. They deny access. They abuse their customers because they are laboring under the delusion that the customers want to be treated like crap. It doesn't matter if you have the money to spend, you have to wait in line. You can spend half a day and a tank of gas to spend your money there and they don't care. They have actually convinced a whole lot of people that this is cool! It's working for them.

Sadly, when someone like, say The Boy, just wants to buy and go home to play with his purchase, he's not allowed do it. He's like an increasing number of their customers. He has money and he wants to spend it with the minimum of hassle. He doesn't give a rat's behind if he's supposed to think waiting around for a commodity product to be handed to him is "cool". He's past all that crap.

Like he says, after all the years he's spent working, "I AM The Man."

Is this all an elaborate upsell? I ended up spending a hundred bucks more than I planned just to avoid going through this process again. Think about it. I'll grant you that I could have got stubborn and decided to wait. I'm generally pretty tight-fisted when it comes to overspending. This was too much for me, though. I paid a hundred bucks to escape. I wonder how many other people do the same?

It's too bad, really. I LIKE Apple products. We both have IPods. We like them. I'm writing this on my MacBook. I like it a lot. I've got a couple of IPhones on order (and do NOT get me going on how "cooperative" AT&T is, please), and they're going to be fun. I know that.

I can't help feeling as if we've been taken, though. I wonder if Mr. Jobs, safe from the scrutiny of actual people in his sterile lair, understands exactly how pissed off people are getting? I wonder if he understands how unfair he's being to his sales staff, because they're the ones who have to deal with customers...like me. Frustrated people. Unhappy people.

Do you think he's paying them enough to deal with that?

A Rant.

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

Can't rant right now. Still too angry. You'll hear it all after I have a couple of cocktails, I promise.

Happy Canada Day!

Yes kids, it's Canada Day! I know it's also the Fourth of July long weekend, but since I am Canadian (for the next couple of weeks, anyway), I feel compelled to bring to you images from your Neighbor To The North. Also America's largest trading partner.

We Canadians are notorious/famous for our sense of humor, our maple syrup, poutine, media figures (Peter Jennings, Pamela Anderson, Wayne Gretzky, John Candy and a whole bunch of others, anyone?), outstanding scenery, oil, gas, um.... and a whole bunch of other stuff that drives some Americans around the bend.

For those of you who ARE Canadian and living here in the States, for the next couple of days, say words like house, louse, and mouse a lot. People either think the way we say those things is "cute" or they go slightly batty. Try it! It's fun!

So here you go. I give you this song and a few photos for the day.

No matter where you are, have a terrific long weekend!

Coastal Rain Forest, Vancouver Island.

This might LOOK like simple graffiti, but it's actually a remnant of the big fight over legalizing marijuana country-wide. Medical marijuana IS actually legal, but that doesn't mean a whole lot yet.

Queen's Park, Toronto. Yes, it's a government building which is not so very exciting, but it was a pretty day, so why not?

The east coast of Vancouver Island. I took this picture at a wharf just before we went into the fish shop to get crabs and oysters for dinner. YUMMY! And no oil spill, either! (Just sayin'.)

(All photographs copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

Father's Day

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved)

I think I've written on this topic once before. If I have, then you can stop reading right now. I won't mind. If you think I'm tiresome on the subject, then go ahead and tell me, I'll feel free to ignore that.

Every year around both Father's and/or Mother's Day, there are glowing tributes all over the place written by people who truly adored their parents. Some of them head directly into what I like to call "The Land of Smarm" because NO ONE is that wonderful. Make no mistake. I've met and know a lot of genuinely wonderful people of both genders and all I can say is that not one of them is as wonderful as hindsight seems to make the parents of some writers. There are, after all, no perfect humans.

I know that it's tempting to editorialize the lives of people who have died. Turning dead people into saints is common and has been for who knows how long. It's natural not to want to dwell on the down side. No one wants to know after the fact that good, kind Uncle Freddy who loved puppies and kittens and gave a fortune to children's charities was screwing his secretary(ies) for the entire length of his 48 year marriage. And managed to knock them up. Or that Auntie Jillian was a compulsive gambler who went bankrupt four times and left her kids alone in the house while she went to win it all back. Families don't talk about these things while the people in question are alive - after they die, all of the nastiness is erased from discussion altogether (at least where other relatives can hear it).

But, and here's where so many people are going to declare me evil and rotten, what if there is no up side? What if the LAST thing someone wants to do on Father's Day is listen to someone blither on about how "special" and "important" all fathers are, and how they're all just fantastic human beings who deserve a day of worship all of their own?

See, there were many, many years when the very thought that I might have to participate in some celebration that would involve my father made me nauseous. I felt ill at the thought that I would have to sit through a dinner where I would be expected to make nice to my father. I distinctly remember being in Grade Three or Four and being made to sit in the hall for an hour because I flatly refused to make a glittery card for my father. I just could not do it.

The man was a rat bastard. He was scum. He was living proof that even violent, verbally abusive (yet stony sober at all times) scum do indeed reproduce. When he died by his own hand in 1997, I was relieved. Those of you who adore all of your relatives can't relate, I'm sure. Save it. Believe me, I've heard the line, "But he's your faaaaaaaaaaaaaather, you have to love your faaaaaaaaaaaaaather" all my life. And no, I don't. I do remember lying awake at night wishing he would die in a flaming car wreck on his way home from work.

Here's the kicker. I'm not the only one who feels that way. Not even close. My childhood was pretty rotten, but what I went through is nothing compared to what other kids experienced or are experiencing right now. There are thousands of us. We don't ask for sympathy. We don't care about that.

At 46 years old, I'm well past the obsessing, the fear, and the self-pity. It's done. My tormentor is long since moldering in the ground and that's the way it should be. He and my past no longer have any power over me. In fact, I'm having fun. Life is good. My father-in-law IS one of the best people I've ever met and his son is just as wonderful. Better actually, but I'm biased. I'm grateful for both of them.

So, you ask, what the hell is this all about? Not much. Just remember, those of you who are tempted to canonize all fathers because your own is wonderful, that all fathers (or mothers for that matter) are NOT worthy of praise in any sense. If you find yourself tempted to yatter on about how there must be SOMETHING to adore about every father, save it. We've heard it all before. And you're wrong.

If you run across someone on either Father's or Mother's Day who is dancing around singing "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" buy them a beer and count your lucky stars that you don't have cause to do the same. If you know someone who isn't participating, or is saying the equivalent of "Bah, humbug" leave them alone. Don't make excuses. Don't brag. Don't try and talk them into anything. Accept that not everyone had your experience and leave them alone.

For those of us who are going to get increasingly queasy as we get closer to the holiday - it's just fine to feel that way. Shut off the television when the treacly movies come on. Throw out the newspaper when the poetry about Dad contest finalists are published. Make barfing noises when radio shows featuring the three hairball choker Tributes to Daddy are on the radio. Those of you who go to church can skip it that day without guilt.

It's all right. You aren't alone. In fact, you're still standing, which means you won. Never forget that.

Things I plan on doing that are "bad" for me. A Messy Poll!

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

I keep hearing about all of the things in life that are going to kill us, and I'm really starting to wonder just how seriously to take them. Of course, whenever I say things like this, someone gets all indignant and tells me how horrible I am that I would do such things and how dare I even consider it....

So to hell with the lot. One day "sugar is poison", the next it's not. Coffee used to be "poison", but it turns out it's fine, too. Margarine instead of butter was Gospel for twenty years or so...until someone found out about polyunsaturated fats, trans-fats and all of the other nasties that margarine contains that will kill you. I'm bitter about that last one, by the way. I have always like butter better, and I was deprived for far too long.

What am I going to do then?

1. I'm going to eat the good stuff. That means things like pork belly, foie gras, lamb - all of the meat products. Whole eggs. Butter. I'm going to cook with it, bake with it and put it on my toast, just like I do now, for the rest of my life.

Dessert. I'm going to eat desserts. In all their sugary glory. That's what gyms are for, right?

2. I will NEVER eat things that health enthusiasts tell me I "have" to eat. There will never be soy or foodlike soy products in my house. NEVER. Weird, uncookable grains? No thanks. Brown rice? Yuck, tastes like dirt. Even yogurt. I never particularly liked the stuff. It tastes like milk gone bad...oh wait! It IS milk gone bad!

3. I'm never going to stop drinking. Wine is good. Red wine is better. There's nothing like a lovely bourbon to bring smiles (I recommend "Noah's Mill) to my life. Good Scotch. The next time someone accuses me of "alcoholism" because I had two glasses of wine with dinner, I might just smack them.

4. I quit smoking in my late 30s after smoking for 20 years. I did it only for the sake of my health, NOT because I didn't like it. When I hit my late 70s/early 80s, I'm going to take up smoking again. I LIKE smoking. Nonsmokers will never understand this. I'm all right with that.

I'm an addict, I admit it. A full decade after quitting, the cravings are still there. There are many times when I'd like to mug that teenager for his/her cigarettes, sneak into the alley and smoke'em all. The funny part of this is that whenever I say this to former smokers, they either remain silent (because they agree) or they loudly proclaim that they would NEVER..... But they never say they don't want to do just that.

5. I'm not giving up the sun. I can't do it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a fan of lying around on beaches or lounge chairs, but I'm damned if I'm giving up the sun on my face and the Vitamin D I get from it. Screw supplements, I want the real thing. If you live in a place that has winter for more than six months out of the year, you understand me.

Let me go further. Sunscreen sucks ass. It makes me itch. It makes my skin do weird things. It smells funny. I'm allergic to some of them.

Yes, I'm a fair-skinned person with a few (not many) freckles and red hair. I don't really tan, and what I consider to be a tan (on me), most people snicker at. I'm not just fair, I'm fishbelly white. But I LIKE my freckles. I already have a wrinkle or two, but I'm going to be 47 this year. I've earned them.

________________________________________________

Naturally, I don't plan on paying any attention to people who seem determined to suck all the fun out of life and preach at me to obey them in all things. I find the older I get, the less likely I am even to be polite to these folks. They're pretty obnoxious and the kind of nosiness they display is something I find really irritating.

I guess I really AM on the road to curmudgeonhood. Hmm. I'm ok with it, too.

So here's the poll:

What "bad" things are YOU not giving up?

In praise of real people.

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

We love to hate the people that provide the services we need. Over the years, it seems like every single time I have to deal with, say....cable that doesn't work properly, dodgy electricity, insane phone bills that make no sense... no. A comprehensive list would only serve to piss me off again, and I'm actually in a pretty good mood, all things considered.

Here's one of my main peeves. Have you ever noticed companies like the cable company or your cell phone provider has a sweetheart of a promotional deal for new subscribers about four times a year? This irritates the hell out of me. After all, here I am, a loyal customer for ten years or so, and I GET NO BREAKS.

Sign up for the new texting plan.... get unlimited free texting for six months! WTF? How about cable television? Sure, they advertise the premium movie channels for a ridiculously cheap price for NEW SUBSCRIBERS only and we longstanding customers get hosed, right? Sigh. We have to pay full price and beyond for the service that others are getting for free, and there's nothing we can do about it!

Or is there?

For years, these companies have been shunting customers off onto web sites in an effort to cut down on the number of humans they have to pay and provide with benefits. For the most part, I have no trouble with this. As someone who has moved a lot, it's convenient as hell to just go online to cancel service and reinstate it somewhere else. I like it.

But there are always questions that just can't be answered by the machines. You have to PHONE for help. This is where I go bananas. In the past, I would sit on hold (I know you've all done this, bear with me), push buttons for half an hour, finally get a call center person who couldn't do anything that wasn't already online, and would therefore transfer your call and hang up on you without getting through to another person. Start over. Repeat as necessary. The whole process (IF you got help) would take hours, suck up half the day and leave me limp and exhausted, fit only for a stiff drink and a long nap.

Still - what choice did I have? It's not like you can just refuse to pay your bill until the problem is fixed, right?

I think things are changing, though. Clearly I'm not the only one that has problems with this nonsense. I've complained all over the place, and it seems that so have a whole LOT of other people. So much so that I've been pleasantly surprised not once, but TWICE in the last month.

Ready? I'm still reeling. This was too easy!

1. About two weeks ago, I got my cell phone bill and it was insane. Never mind how insane. Just nucking futz. It was bad. I figured there HAD to be a better way, so I bit the bullet and called AT&T.

A nice young lad answered the phone. I told him about the insanity of my bill, he called it up and said, "Wait a minute (clickety click)..... do you NEED two thousand free texts every month?"

"Heck no!" I responded, "How did THAT get there? I don't use more than a hundred or so a month and it's not listed on the bill!"

"Hang on (silence, followed by clickety click) I can reduce your bill by thirty bucks a month just by cutting your texting limit in half.... (silence, followed by MORE clickety click)...Ok. Wait a minute. Ok..... Wow.... (silence) hang on here... You're paying WAY too much for roaming! Let me just...."

Now at the time, all I did was make affirmative noises and hope he was getting this right. I figured he was on a roll. I was right. By the end of the call, he had cut my bill by just over fifty bucks by changing the texting thing (I have 7 gazillion unused minutes, by the way, and he let me keep them), and giving me a discount that I should have been getting all along for roaming. I was shocked....

"Ma'am, could you hold for just a minute, please? I have to talk to a supervisor about something."

I agreed, and about three or four minutes later, he came back on the line.

"Thank you for holding. Here's what I did. You get your discounts, and we are back-dating them for six months because of the error with the roaming charges. Your next bill will be around ten dollars, and the discounts will all be applied for the one after that."

I thanked him, he gave me the stock canned answer (Is there any other way we can provide you with excellent service today?) We hung up. I was in shock. It had to be a freak thing, right? I mean, no one gets a deal from the phone company!

2. A few months ago, The Boy suggested that I cut HBO. We don't watch a lot of television, and most of it is time-shifted anyway because he's away all week. We watch whatever we watch on weekends and there's only so much time available. I did it. I must have been nuts. I missed the entire season of TWO of my favorite shows. So today, I just thought screw it. I'm reinstating HBO.

Now, there was no easy way to do that on the web site. I puttered around on it for twenty minutes or so, then gritted my teeth and called them. I did the menu thing. I groaned when I realized that I started this whole sleigh ride just before I meant to have lunch and would probably be starving to death by the time I finally finished. I sighed.

But...but.... There was NO HOLD TIME. You heard right! Comcast - the former call center from hell had someone answer the phone right away! The cynic in my was convinced that it would just be someone who would redirect my call.....but no. No, she didn't!

She reinstated HBO for me, then told me to hang on. When she came back, she said, "Aunt Messy? I just checked to see if you were eligible for any discounts, and I see that we can offer you HBO for ten dollars a month for the next six months."

She asked me to hold again and came back in a minute or so.

"Ma'am? I asked my supervisor if there was anything else I could do for you and she has authorized me to give you the promotional rate on your Internet service for six months as well. Sorry I couldn't find anything else."

Again, there I was, shocked at how easy this was. My cable bill has dropped by $45.00 for the next six months!

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Is there a moral here? Yes. As much as these companies hope and dream that all of their customers will just do business online, it's not going to happen. Seriously - I have Comcast internet, so just how am I supposed to deal with a problem if it craps out? Exactly. They will ALL need to have people available to actually talk to customers.

Now note that not a single discount that I got was available online. How's that for a kicker? By spending about an hour on the phone, I cut about $90.00 per month off my bills for the next six months! There is no down side here. Sure, the bills will go up at the end of that period, but who cares? It's not like they're going to ask for my savings back, is it?

After the six months has passed, I'm calling them back. If the only way I can qualify for loyalty programs and discounts is to be nice to a call center kid twice a year I am all over that. It costs me nothing to do that at all. In fact, I suggest that all of you try the very same thing. You have nothing to lose, right?

Questions...Always Questions....

(Photographs copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

For anyone that's interested in the pictures....

These were taken on a recent trip to Portland OR. We had one sunny day, and that's the one we decided to spend at Washington Park, which is huge and gorgeous. Sadly, we were early for the roses, even though it was the first week in May. Spring there was so cold and wet that everything slowed down.

The pictures were taken at the Japanese Garden. That azalea is actually two plants. Over the years they've been pruned into a perfect ten foot diameter circle. The second is a Japanese Maple and it looks overexposed because it is. I was standing inside the canopy looking up when I took the picture. I was more interested in the structure of the tree than the leaves.

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Some of this is prompted by the fact that The Boy and I have applied for citizenship. Our forms are in, and we got fingerprinted by Homeland Security a couple of weeks ago. If things go at their normal pace, we will probably be sworn in by the end of September/beginning of October, in time for the November elections. We'll see.

A couple of weeks ago, I got a very official looking envelope in the mail, addressed to me by name, that looked a lot like the Census form. Now, I sent that in as soon as I got it - it was in the mail the very next day. This envelope looked about the same, so I opened it, figuring that it was either a duplicate (strange but I imagine it happens), or I'd screwed something up so they were asking me to re-do.

I opened it, and there was an official-looking letter inside with a huge black heading that said "2010 Congressional District Census". In very tiny little black print underneath that it said "Commissioned by the Republican Party". Now it was addressed to me by name and signed (by machine) by a Michael Steele, who I've never heard of. I'm sure he's a nice man, even if he IS a Republitard.

The cover letter was filled with loaded language that interspersed the usual paranoid idiocy with things like:

" Barack Obama was barely in the White House a month when he dropped all pretense of "hope" and "change" and laid bare his real agenda of massive tax increases, government-run health care, amnesty for illegal aliens (it's ok, The Boy and I are legal), and bigger, more intrusive government."

You get the gist. It's a three page letter, demanding that this "census" be returned by 28 May and also begging for money. We've seen it all before. Still....when I looked at the survey it was STILL iffy as far as I was concerned.

The form LOOKS like the real Census form. There's a blurb at the top about being selected for the survey and so on, and in small print with a white line through it that was meant to look like a copier malfunction and so virtually unreadable; "This is not a U.S. Government document."

Neat, hey? Oddly, this "malfunction" is present ONLY on that small line of text.

The rest of the printing job is beautifully done with not one error as far as I can see. It has all sorts of numbers on it, a tracking code, due date etc. I know that this is an old advertising/marketing trick. No one reads the text of the letter, right? Most people just toss that out. No one really pays attention to the exact wording at the top of the survey, either. They just fill in the boxes. It's even postage paid.

There are 21 questions, and they read like the typical paranoid Republican bullshit we've been hearing since the last election was called.

"5. Do you think the record trillion dollar federal deficit the Democrats are creating with their out-of-control spending is going to have disastrous consequences for or nation?" (Like the Shrub didn't start that whole sleigh ride.)

"9. Are you concerned that as other countries like China buy up hundreds of billions of dollars of our national debt they will have more control in directing our nation's future economic policies?" (Hmmm. A new take on the Yellow Peril bullshit that was around a hundred years ago?)

I found these questions hilarious, but that's just me. No, they really ARE hilarious. So there. The funniest part of the whole thing, though is Page 4 of the "census". It's a donation form that is designed to take credit cards. Gotta love political parties! The whole thing seems like a lot of work to ask for money, don't you think?

It's also funny that this is coming to me. Not only am I not registered to vote, I CAN'T do that. I'm not a citizen!

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However, this got me thinking, and I have questions about politics here. I'm Canadian, so give me a tiny break here before mocking me.

1. Do you have to declare a party before you go into a polling booth?

2. When you register to vote, is that done by a civil servant or do you have to register with party officials? If it IS a civil servant, do you have to tell THAT person what party you're affiliated with?

3. Why do party officials count the ballots? Isn't that begging for trouble, or at least corrupt counting practices? Shouldn't the people counting be neutral? In Canada, that means civil servants.

I am genuinely confused by this. I've voted in a lot of elections in Canada, and we were always taught that the secret ballot is sacred - that no one has a right to ask how you're going to vote. Ever never. It's not just that no one answers the question, no one asks because it's considered so rude.

Also, Elections Canada used to (I don't know if they still do) count damaged and defaced ballots. Defacing a ballot- usually by drawing a big black X through it) is considered a legitimate form of protest. Essentially, if you deface your ballot, you're making it clear that all of the candidates are idiots so it doesn't matter who gets in.

There are no exit polls in Canadian elections - again with the secret ballot. All campaigning has to stop before the vote and the bars are closed. Apparently a favorite tactic among the politicians of yore was to park a wagon full of kegs of beer outside polling stations.

So anyway, what gives? I was raised believing that it's nobody's damned business how I vote or for who.

That's right - you got it. Messy asks for help AGAIN.