You Gotta take the Good with the Bad…

Things about today:

Good:

1.  I’m going to be a huckleberry farmer.  Alright, ‘farmer’ is too strong of a word.  But did you know that you can buy huckleberry bushes online?  I ordered eighteen.  The first two came today.  They will all supplement the lonely, huck singleton already planted out on the land.  Who knows if they’ll ever make berries.  I guess the plants are easy to grow, but getting berries is the challenge.  I got a box from FedEx today.  Out popped two slightly compressed huckleberry plants in one-gallon buckets.  Packed lightly in foam peanuts.  They have blossoms and everything.  At first I didn’t think they were real and that I was the victim of some Nigerian huckleberry online scam artists.  But then a couple of leaves fell off and I noticed a stalk was slightly wilted.  Cool!  But what will I do if the bushes do make huckleberries?  Nineteen huckleberry bushes?  I dunno…make jam? 

2.  I got my car detailed.  I’ve never had a car get detailed before.  I’ve also never had a manicure, but I imagine that the feeling is similar.  What happened was, my “Check Engine” light came on while I was tooling down I-90 at about 85 mph.  I got a tingle of panic.  Is the “Check Engine” light the bad one? I wondered.  Nah, I think the bad one is “Service Engine Soon.”  Or is it?  Ha…”soon” they say…as your engine drops out of your car onto the highway.   It oughta say “Service Engine NOW, mofo!”  Okay so after my train of thought stopped, I made an appointment to get the “Check Engine” light checked.  I might add that the “Cruise” indicator was also blinking.  As it turns out, some air sensor was going bad and it was going to cost about $350.  The standard warranty for a Subaru ends at 60000 miles.  And here I was at 64000.  Doesn’t that just stink, the service guy said.  Ha! 

You underestimated me, service-guy! 

You and your posse of highly-paid labor-guys who were planning to stand around my car, look inside once or twice and then replace a fuse! 

But I bought the extended warranty!  MWAH HA HA HA! Eat that, service-guy! 

He seemed to be annoyed at my dance of triumph, so I stopped.  “Hey,” I said, “since I’m saving all that money, can I get this?”  I pointed at the flyer sitting on the counter.  Gold Detail.  It listed all the things that they cleaned, which was everything, even the engine compartment.  “Sure,” the service guy said.  He was probably thinking “At least we’re getting something outta her…sucker!”  Anyway I picked up my car and it’s so clean I kind of wonder if they brought out the right one.  It even seems to drive better…maybe because it’s happy.  It’s happy because it no longer smells like a combination of toddler fart and month-old Whopper. 

I vow to try harder to keep my car clean.  In order to accomplish this, I plan to tow my children behind the car on a reinforced toboggan.

Bad:

1.  I bought a new lamp for my office.  My new office at my new job is an “inner” office, and I can’t deal with fluorescent lighting.  Yet the dim, flickering bulb over my desk is woefully inadequate, and I may go blind if I don’t get a lamp.  So I found a lamp for 5 dollars.  Score!  Then I went to purchase some light bulbs. 

All the light bulbs have jumped on the Go Green bandwagon.  I was intrigued.  Could *I* be green?  Might *I* contribute somehow, little ol’ me, to saving the earth?  I picked up a package of those curly pretzel bulbs.  “Lasts six years!” the package said.  “Save $141** in energy with these bulbs!” the package said.  I noticed the warning asterisks, and flipped the package around.  The warning reminded me of the contract that Willy Wonka (Wilder not Depp) made all the kids sign, starting out with normal sized writing and getting smaller and smaller and…anyway, the gist was that if you used the bulb for four hours a day for the next six years, your energy savings would be somewhere in the neighborhood of $141**, if lots of other factors came into play and if nothing went wrong***. 

***But it could go wrong. 

I’m no mathematician, but $141/6 years/12 months/30 days ended up saving me about six cents a day***.  I decided it was not worth paying eight bucks for a fancy, green-packaged, tree-hugging, whale saving pack of four light bulbs when I could get four gas-guzzling, forest-fire starting, blood diamond, DDT-drinkin’, starving children bulbs (that were of a higher wattage, mind you) for ninety-four cents.  Sorry earth.  I love my wattage. 

2.  You can’t buy Bran Flakes anymore, apparently.  I am pissed about this.  I love Bran Flakes.  Before you ask, I am not a senior citizen.  But it is what I grew up on.  They used to be called Kellogg’s Bran Flakes.  Over the years, they became Kellogg’s Complete, and you could get them wheat-bran or oat-bran (I love the oat variety).  Is this because people just want their stupid Froot Loops?  It pained me to spell that out.  It is NOT ‘Froot,’ you dumb toucan.  I miss my Bran Flakes!  The metamucil is just not the same.

Side note:  A while back I did a post on Extreme Bust-Up Flaming Nachos.  I want to apologize to all the pervs out there who keep landing on my blog because they were searching for “extreme busts.”  I feel terrible about all the confusion.  I mean, there are dozens of you every week. 

You all must be terribly disappointed.

 

Lowe’s “Professional Installation”

We’re renting a really nice house in Bozeman, Montana.  I haven’t been a renter for a long time.  Though it’s a rental, we had to buy our own refrigerator and washer/dryer since the landlords built a new home down the street and took theirs with them. 

So a friend of mine recommended that I go to Lowe’s, because of their great service and low(e) prices.  I took her advice and we went shopping.  Here is a summary of our experience:

Day 1:  We go to Lowe’s in Bozeman.  The nicest salesman ever helps us choose a refrigerator and a washer and dryer.  He is so good that he helps us find a discontinued refrigerator that is brand new in the box, but because it’s an ‘07 model, it’s $560 dollars instead of the ‘08 model, which runs about $1400.  We love the sales guy. 

Day 3: The refrigerator delivery guy calls and says he won’t deliver the refrigerator because there is an “enormous gash” on the side.  He suggests we come into the store to look at it and be sure we still want to buy it.  I need a refrigerator right now.  We head to Lowe’s.  The gash really isn’t that bad, a little dent really, and there isn’t any internal damage to the refrigerator.  I ask when it can be delivered.  The really nice sales guy isn’t sure, since it missed the journey this morning.  I freak out.  I have two kids.  I need a refrigerator, like now.  Sales guy nods sympathetically and sees what he can do.

Refrigerator delivery truck is there by 11 AM!  I am totally impressed with sales guy.  Truck happily backs into driveway, slowly, slowly…husband starts shouting frantically!  STOP! STOP!  NO!  Refrigerator truck backs into porch roof and tears an enormous gash into the roof.  Not a little dent, an enormous gash.  I educate delivery guy on the true meaning of “enormous gash.” 

I call really nice landlord lady and apologize.  She is really cool about things, considering her new renters have somehow resulted in an enormous gash in her expensive house.  “These things happen,” she chirps cheerfully.  She calls Lowe’s to take care of the problem. 

Day 4:  Noon.  Delivery guys (the same ones) show up with washer and dryer.  They bring washer and dryer upstairs and install.  Lowe’s website talks about their professional installation several times, and that is what these guys are doing.  We’re certain of it. 

Lowe’s delivery guys pack and up and go home.  We are thrilled to start our first load of laundry, because the laundry pile has been growing over the past week. 

1 PM - Shouting comes from the kitchen downstairs: “Shut it off!  Shut it off!”  Shut what off, I wonder?  “It’s leaking!!!!” I walk out from a phone call in progress to be greeted by a big effing soapy mess.  Water is everywhere.  Luckily we purchased a really nice washing machine, so there is a pause button.  I paused the crisis and ran downstairs.  Water is pouring out of the electrical fixtures in the ceiling. 

I call Lowe’s and tell them about their latest fiasco caused by Tweedledee and Tweedledum, their Professional Installation guys.  The manager on duty chuckles in a “Wow, this sort of thing never happens” sort of way.  I ask him if he would send somebody else.   Anybody else.  Is Pee Wee Herman on duty?  Send him, he’ll do a better job. ”Well, we only have so many delivery guys,” he explains.  He must be able to see my head spinning through the phone, because he adds, ”I’ll make sure someone else gets there.”

The Lowe’s “delivery manager” is here now, fixing the washer and dryer.  It turns out that one of those chuckleheads just failed to hook up the drain…you know, the pipe that funnels the dirty, soapy water out of the washer?  Yeah, that was just hanging there like an extra leg.  An extra dirty, soapy leg.  I wrote Lowe’s a nice letter demanding they come out and make sure toxic mold doesn’t grow in the ceiling and hurt my children.  I am also typing this blog.  And I am also never shopping there again, even though they have a really nice sales guy.  Sorry dude. 

Lowe’s sucks.

 

Those Cadillac Commercials

I don’t know about you, but if we were playing “Word Association” and you said “Cadillac”…the first thing that would pop into my head would be the image of an old man’s hat, hovering halfway over the dashboard of a slow-moving vehicle, the vehicle pulling out onto a busy road right in front of my oncoming car. 

There are a few Cadillac commercials on TV right now…you may have seen them…they all have the same message (buy a Cadillac because they are so hot).  One features Kate Walsh of Private Practice.  These commercials were designed to reverse the image of the hat-wearing old man, I think. 

One of the Cadillac commercials features a wealthy looking woman in a white dress, zipping down a road at night, whining about the Christmas presents her husband had given her in past years, such as a pool table and golf clubs.  “This year he let me pick my own present,” she says, nodding to the Cadillac’s luxurious leather upholstery.  The next thing we see is the rear end of the Cadillac, speeding away into the night. 

Who the frick buys a Cadillac for a Christmas present?  What small percentage of Americans are these ads targeted to?  How do you sneak the Cadillac under the tree?  It seems rather voluminous.  

Of course the Cadillacs aren’t the first cars to appear in commercials during the holiday season.  I just wonder about the logistics of buying a car for a gift.  I mean, come on.  First of all, if you could purchase a vehicle as a gift, you couldn’t do it as a surprise.  You know you would get the wrong color, or the wrong options, possibly the wrong vehicle altogether.  If you were going to buy a car for your spouse, you better not do it as a surprise, because when they find out you dropped a few grand as a down payment without asking, they are going to be pissed.  So clearly purchasing a car for Christmas can’t really be a surprise…you would have to precoordinate with your significant other, have them sign some paperwork, and so on.  

I just question the whole idea of vehicles for Christmas.  What planet are these people living on?  Most people I know are looking for deeply discounted, foreign made electronics and plastic crap for their children.  I have a hard time buying into the Cadillac commercials as having anything to do with reality.  However I will admit they have catchy music and interesting videography.   

 

When does it stop?

Boycotting Chinese products may not be impossible, but it’s really, really hard. 

Why can’t retail stores and the like help us by phasing out this disgusting nonsense from our shelves?  How many examples of ‘oops’ do we need to stock?  I think Americans should be able to live without more plastic crap from China.  It’s not enough to have lead paint in toys, plastics in pet food, poisons in toothpaste and cough syrup…but now toys that turn into drugs if swallowed?

Time to give the children some nice wooden blocks for Christmas.  Preferably ones that you have whittled yourself.  This is past ridiculous.

 

Malls Stink

I had the unpleasure of entering a mall today.  Those who know me are aware that I was born without a gene common to many women; the genes that increase female desire to purchase jewelry, perfume, and flowers.  This gene also regulates the mall-crawl instinct, and since I don’t have it, I don’t like to go to malls. 

But I need new contact lenses, and Lenscrafters is in the mall.  I entered through a department store and was instantly greeted by that departmenty smell: leather, imported fabrics, and cologne. 

To get to the actual mall, a shopper is forced to go by the cosmetics and perfume counter.  There is no way around it, unless you have mole teeth and decide to burrow under the floor to get out.  I have used satellite photography and infrared measuring techniques, and my studies conclude that the mall people have designed department stores in such a way that you cannot avoid walking by some area of the perfume counter. 

Walking by the perfume counter is hazardous to your health.  Besides the overpowering, gag-inducing array of scent upon scent, each type of perfume or cosmetic is accompanied by a very, very lame advertisement.  A lady riding a tiger.  A lady riding a carousel.  A lady riding P. Diddy, or whatever his name is nowadays (I am not kidding).  Who buys this crap?  Were the ads always this stupid?  And what about the perfume names themselves?  What does Boucheron smell like? Does every celebrity think they need their own perfume bottle?  Why do my eyes hurt when I walk by this stupid counter?

It’s not just perfume names that tend to be ridiculous.  Apparently we in America cannot stand to purchase soap that is “soap scented.”  I passed a bath and body type store and there was a big advertisement for a soap that was “Moonlight Path” scented.  Now I don’t  know about you, but I have never smelled the distinct smell of a moonlight path.  What does a moonlight path smell like?  Oranges?  Burning paint?  A farm?  I would have to buy the stuff to find out, and then I’d have to take it home because soap from a bath and body store is way more expensive than normal soap, meaning it would be too pricey to dispose of.  Then I would take it home and my bathroom would suddenly smell like the mall.  No thanks.

The one good thing about today’s mall excursion was this observation:  Teenagers today really dress like bums.  Bums, I tell you.  Which means that I am suddenly in style. 

 

Class Action Lawsuits

While we are on the subject of recalls, I would also like to talk about class-action lawsuits.  You have probably been involved in one of these without even knowing it.  Perhaps you received something you thought was junk mail and threw it away; perhaps you got an e-mail you assumed was from Nigeria.  No!  If you have done either of these, you are missing your chance to receive a hefty sum of three dollars and eighteen cents, which is probably the average paid from these lawsuits.

 

I have been involved in many class-action lawsuits, such as:

 

The U.S. versus Bausch and Lomb Contact Lenses

The U.S. versus the makers of DRAM

The U.S. versus Blockbuster Video

 

I guess I must have been on a list somewhere because I got a dollar and seventeen cents for the contact lens lawsuit and some free movies from the Blockbuster lawsuit. The DRAM lawsuit is still pending.  There have been more, but I can’t remember them all. 

 

Lawyers who pursue these class action lawsuits are often evil, bloodsucking people.  I say “often” because I am sure that a small percentage of these lawsuits are valid, I mean, I did see Erin Brockovich.

 

I found out just before my disc-replacement surgery last year that many doctors are pulling out of the surgeries because a team of fat, piggy lawyers got together and sent out letters to everyone who had the disc surgery the year before: “Have YOU been injured by the Charite replacement disc? Call us for MONEY!”  There was no cause to the suit, just a bunch of lawyers sniffing around.  My doctor told me that many life-changing, and some life-saving techniques and implements are pulled each year because doctors and hospitals can’t take the chance of getting sued.

 

Recalls

Have you ever had something recalled?  Today I got an e-mail from Toys-R-Us, informing me that our ‘Triumph’ model car seat has been recalled.  Great timing, I thought, since we just purchased a booster seat because our 2 year old is too tall for the old one.  I read further down the recall information and as it turns out, the recall isn’t due to harness issues, or a risk of the plastic breaking apart in the event of a car wreck.  It’s due to foam.  The cushiony part of the car seat is made of foam, and if you own one of these nightmare car seats, your toddler may discover that he can take off the seat cover, and then if he does, he may decide to break off some of the foam.  Should he do that, he may put it in his mouth, and he may choke to death.  This is why the car seat is being recalled, three years after it was sold. 

 

Both of the non-Subarus I have owned have been recalled: a 1993 Hyundai Excel for a seatbelt problem, a 1999 Chevy S-10 for a brake problem.  I think the Chevy letter said something like “there is a chance that you could step on your brakes to discover that they do not work and also they could start your vehicle on fire.” 

 

I thought my Apple PowerBook laptop was going to be recalled due to the batteries starting on fire, but I had a model that apparently used safe, non-exploding batteries.  Not sure why they didn’t use that same battery in all the other PowerBooks that they DID recall.

 There is a lady at work who sends out a list of stuff that has been recalled each week.  Every week!  The recall list usually includes three or four items that for whatever reason, may cause death, or at least severe burns.  Some of the stuff I have seen on the recall list I wonder why anyone would have purchased it at all.  A couple of weeks ago something called “Baby Bling-Bling” brand pacifiers were recalled because the glued-on faux gemstones could become loose and swallowed by the infant.  If you are the kind of person who would purchase a pacifier covered in glued-on gemstones, then you are also most likely a complete idiot.  Other things on the list range from ceiling fans (wiring issues that could cause fires) to grills (leaky hoses that could cause explosions) to folding chairs (that could cause strangulation).  Clearly, it’s much safer to sell your house and move into a tepee, where you are unlikely to run into any of these dangerous items

 

Stuff, Out of Place

So I have a confession to make…

…I stopped in to check out the recently opened Wal-Mart in Woodland Park.  This big-box behemoth has been the topic of much controversy over the past couple of years, in the small town, anyway.  I am pleased with the way the store appearance has turned out.  The lights aren’t those 1500-watt halogen things that can be seen from the moon; instead they are brown “hook” lights with covered tops that shine a dim, orange-y light to a small area on the ground.  Very nice.  There is also a giant statue of an elk welcoming drivers into the (too-large) parking lot. 

I wasn’t sure about going to the controversial store, but I was on my way to work the other morning and I thought, “why not.”  Besides, we need to replace our phones.  I decided to go inside.

As far as Wal-Marts go, it’s a couple of notches above your average Wal-Mart (on the inside…the outside is the nicest Wal-Mart I’ve ever seen).

I have to say that I was overcome with a strange sense of displacement once inside.  Walking through row after row of beige shelving, stacked to the top with goods made in foreign lands, I saw all the familiar sights; that frickin’ yellow smiley-face, piles of cheap DVDs with B-list stars, an entire row dedicated to sunscreen.  I was a little bit taken aback.  Woodland Parkers can now purchase a lot of things that once required a 25-mile drive.  Socks?  Go to Wal-Mart.  No need to run to Colorado Springs. 

On one hand, it’s kind of nice to think I can go to this big-box store instead of one in the city…the WP Wal-Mart will be a lot less crowded and a lot more pleasant to shop in than say, the Platte or the 8th St. ones.  That disturbing sense of “being nowhere” still has me concerned, though.  Once I walked in to the store, I could have been anywhere.  Anywhere, USA.  Come to think of it, Wal-Mart in Woodland Park will be one of the few windowless places in the small town, where you can’t look out and know exactly where you are. 

*Shiver*

I never ended up buying new phones.  Most of them were brands I never heard of, and the ones that I did hear of, came in giant boxes with answering machines and three handsets.  I don’t need an answering machine.  I don’t need more than two handsets.  I already attempted a couple of their “Off-brand” phones and the static and interference is the reason we have to replace them. 

So I left. 

 

Weak Stream

I believe in the power of pharmaceuticals that have stood the test of time.  You know, like aspirin.  Ibuprofen.  Pepto-Bismol.  It’s been a long time since those concoctions have been around, and you know that even if the FDA or whatever was around at the time to approve such things (if any) rushed through their decision making process, that it’s okay.  You know a hundred people who take those kinds of drugs each day and they never ever, not even once, grow a third eyeball in the middle of their forehead.

I keep seeing this commercial for Flomax.  One of the raging epidemics that Flomax cures is that of the weak stream.  Now I have never heard of weak stream.  Presumably it’s a “male problem.”  First of all I say it’s about damn time there’s been a ”male problem” since for years men have casually referenced “female problems” as a euphemism for things they don’t understand. 

Secondly, it’s just thrilling that they have a pill for weak stream.  What don’t they have a pill for these days?  Oh, that’s right.  Real problems, like cancer.  If you have cancer, sorry.  All the R&D money has been spent already.  But at least we have five different solutions for seventy year old men who want a boner.  But back to weak stream…

Thing is, Flomax has a lengthy list-o-side effects.  Most drugs do.  Side effects are the “little inconvenieces” that the calm, deep voice on the TV commercial glazes over, quietly, as the picture on the screen displays a person leaping energetically through a green meadow.  In the Flomax commercial, the voice casually states that “a common side effect of Flomax is fainting upon standing up.”  That’s all.  A minor setback, really. 

Whatever weak stream is, I’m sure it’s a tragic, tragic problem.  But just from nomenclature alone, I am pretty sure I’d settle for “weak stream” rather than “random unconciousness whenever I get out of a chair”.  But hey, this is America, land of the fast-approved and minimally tested drugs, so people can do whatever they want. 

My question is, how is the dude leaping through a meadow without fainting?

 

Qwest, I Hate You. Passionately.

It’s official.  I hate Qwest.  You know, Qwest.  That giant entity of doom who we are dependent on for things like telephone service, high speed internet, blah blah blah.  Let me share with you the mind-numbing experience I am having attempting to get a new modem. 

 5/19 - Massive thunderstorm knocks out power to the house several times in the course of two hours.  Modem does not survive

5/20 - Call Qwest’s 1-800 number.  The recorded message politely informs me that I should try out Qwest’s super-cool online help chat feature.  This would be awesome, if I could get online.  Thanks for the advice, Qwest. 

I stay on the line.  Finally a speaker of poor English answers the phone and says “I would be happy to assist you.”  They walk me through a clearly scripted series of steps to troubleshoot my lack of internet connectivity.  Things like “Reverse the ethernet cable” and “Power down the modem and power it back up.”  I say I will call back later because I have somewhere to be.  The truth is, the futility of talking to this person makes me want to kill myself.

5/21 - Early morning at work I try to use Qwest’s super-cool online chat feature.  Chat lady finally comes online, eager to assist.  I tell her I think I need a new modem.  She asks a bunch of questions.  I answer them.  They send out a tech guy to the house to test the lines to the house.

5/22 - Tech guy shows up at the house to test lines.  All the lines are fine.  He calls me and says that my modem is probably blown, so I should get a new one.  Luckily I’ve only had this one three months, so replacement should be free, he tells me.  He lets me know I have to call the 1-800 number again to set up the modem swap.

5/24 - I call Qwest to ask for a new modem.  “No problem,” they tell me.  They will send me a label “right now, so I get it tomorrow” so I can send the modem back.  Once they get the modem back, they will send out a new modem.  The process should take “5-7 days” .  My other option is to pay a 99.95 deposit, you know, in the event I decide to go all renegade on them and keep the broken, useless modem as a paperweight with blinking lights.  It could happen.  I opt to wait for the label.

I mentioned that a year ago when this same thing happened, they were able to replace the modem the next day, by sending out a tech guy.  “No,” says the speaker of poor English.  “We only do it by UPS now.”  Crap.  My MySpace inbox must be overflowing by now.

5/30 - The label is STILL NOT HERE.  I call Qwest’s happy f’ing 1-800 number.  I want to puke when they tell me to try out their online chat.  I’m seriously experiencing inner rage; however, I am very polite and explain that I REALLY WANT THE INTERNET I AM PAYING AN EXORBITANT MONTHLY FEE FOR.  I say “Surely there must be a way to get a modem faster than this.  It’s 2007.  I should not have to wait for a modem like this. 

The speaker of poor English (not the same one as before, I might add) gives me two local (Colorado Springs) numbers to call.  “They should be able to help you swap out your modems,” he says.  I call the first number.  It’s freaking out of service.  The Qwest guy gave me a number that is not in service.  Suddenly it’s not surprising that this process is taking so long.  Morons.  The second number works!  Hurray!  A friendly, local, perfect-English lady answered.  “Help me,” I tell her.  “I need to swap this modem out!”

“They shouldn’t have told you to call us,” said the lady.  “We can’t do warranty replacements.  Qwest doesn’t let us.  I don’t want you to get it replaced here, because you would have to pay for something you should get for free.  Call them back.” 

Major eff.

I call Qwest again.  I am a seething ball of fury.  Another speaker of poor English answers this time, not just poor English but I-have-no-idea-how-to-construct-an-intelligible-sentence English, and I explain my quest with Qwest for the umpteenth time.  Unfortunately I don’t know that she has a clue what I am talking about. 

“I need to replace my modem,” I tell her.  “They sent out a label for me to send this one back, but it never got here.  I want a new modem.  Tomorrow.”

“You have two option,” says S.o.P.E.  “We can send out label, you send back modem and you get new modem in ten working day.”

“I did that,” I said.  “It’s not working.  I want a new modem.  Now.  Yesterday.”

“Oh, I see,” says S.o.P.E.  “They already do label send you.  You can deposit 99.95 on credit card and you get refund when you send modem back Qwest.”

“Can’t I just put it on my bill?”  I ask her.

“Let me find out help you,” she tells me.

I am on hold for thirteen minutes.

“Sorry you wait,” she says.  “We put deposit on next bill.  Now I transfer you to hardware person to help you with modem.”

I am on hold for a couple minutes and then Tech Guy answers.  (He speaks good English)

“Hello.  All I need is a credit card number for a 99.95 deposit and I can send out this modem.  You’ll have it tomorrow.”

“The lady just told me, like two minutes ago, that it was going on my next bill.”

“No, they don’t do that,” said the hardware man.  “I can’t send this out without a credit card.  Go ahead and give it to me.”

“Um,” I say.  “Um, I don’t think I will.  Can you put me back on with the lady?  She just told me I’d see it on my bill.  I don’t want to get charged twice.”

“That won’t happen,” the man said.  “It’s not even possible within our system.  Just give me the credit card and you’ll get your new modem tomorrow.”

“No,” I tell him.  “Though I’ve had a great time dealing with Qwest for the last week and a half, I think I’ll just talk to the lady again.”

“Hold on,” the man says.  “Let me see what I can find out.”

I’m on hold for seven minutes.

“Okay,” he says.  “We’re going to go ahead and waive that credit card requirement.  You’ll have your new modem tomorrow.  Just send the old one back and you’ll get your refund on your next bill.”

Stay tuned.  If I get the modem, the actual modem, tomorrow I may forgive them. 

It must be pretty hard for a mega-corporation such as Qwest to hire phone-people who have a clue (and a grasp on verbs), create a system that enables communication between their own workers, and allow local branches to take care of local people.  It is a communications company, sure!  But how can we expect an entity such as Qwest to operate with any semblance of common frickin’ sense?  The higher-ups probably don’t have much time to deal with such minor inconveniences.  After all, there’s golf to play!  And martinis to drink!  And tropical vacations to endure! 

Not that I am bitter.   

 

Marketing That I Hate

Topping this illustrious list is Sherwin-Williams.  I guess it gets the point across.  I can’t display it here due to a bunch of copyright mumbo-jumbo, bu essentially it is a graphic of the earth getting a can of red paint dumped on it.  The words say COVER THE EARTH.

Now I like Sherwin Williams paint.  It’s great.  And I am no tree hugger by any stretch of the imagination.  But somehow I think the world getting dumped on is more depressing than convincing. 

Am I taking this too literally?

 

A Sirius Dilemma

I can’t believe what I did yesterday.

A little bit of background:  I use a Sirius “Sportster” to listen to satellite radio.  Sirius has rendered my commute to work “fun”, and long road trips “adventurous.”  My one complaint about the portable receivers is that they come with a suction cup and need to be stuck to your windshield. 

In Colorado the ol’ suction cup method never lasts long.  Too much hot sun and cold weather eventually make the suction cup useless.  My suction cup gave out after I had to leave my car parked on the roof of the parking garage at Denver International Airport for a week.  The suction cup was pretty much melted when I returned.

Because of this, I went for months and months sticking the receiver into the passenger door “cubbyhold” - you know, the little door pocket where passengers stick gum wrappers, junk mail, and other trash.  This worked fine up until yesterday. 

I parked my car in the parking garage at work.  I am guessing that the receiver fell out of the car as I was removing my laptop from the passenger side.  It was early.  It was dark.  I didn’t notice that it fell out.  Hours later it was time to drive home.  I felt a little “bump” as I pulled out of the space.  What in the world?!  I got out to see if I had backed over a small animal; perhaps a pigeon or a kitten.  Nooo!  It was worse!  I backed over my own satellite radio! 

Noooooo!

I have to say that the receiver held up remarkably well.  In fact it didn’t crack at all.  The wires were ripped out, and the button pushed in a little. 

It was a long drive in to work this morning.  And, may I add, a staticky one.

 

Not Our Best, but Good (Extra)

While we’re on the subject of Mr. Clean’s Magic Eraser, I thought I would take the time to rant about a certain ridiculousness that we all have experienced at one time of another. The ridiculousness is that of the “extra.”

My first contact with extra was back in the late 80’s, when I last used hairspray. When a girl shopped for hairspray at the drugstore, she was confronted with a plethora of choices. And I am just talking about AquaNet. If a girl wanted, she could purchase an aerosol can of “regular hold.” But if she looked a little to the right, there next to the ordinary hairspray stood cans of “extra hold.” 

Why in the world would she settle for regular when she might get extra?  Continuing down the aisle, her confusion of what to choose would be further mucked up due to cans of super and maximum.  Oh, the temptation!

Earlier this afternoon, I was confronted with the extra again.  Mr. Clean has multiple types of the Magic Eraser to confound consumers with stupid choices. 

A person can choose between the Original Magic Eraser, or the one with Extra Power.

I just want to know why.  Who says to themself, “You know, I think I’ll just sort of clean today.  Later on, when I feel like really cleaning, actually getting that deep down dirt, then I’ll come back for the one with Extra Power.”  Or, “I really want my big, scary, 80’s hairdo to just sort of stay elevated today.  If Chip Rogers was coming to the dance, I’d go for Ultimate Hold, but since he has detention, screw it.  I’m getting Regular.”

I just think that if a company is going to make something better, then they should just make it better.  Why keep selling the half-assed products?  If they do, they ought to make it clear.  We Americans have way too many choices as it is.  So when it comes to shopping, we’d all save time if labels were more direct. 

The Mr. Clean Half-Ass Magic Eraser. 

Motto: It might clean your shower, but not nearly as well as the one with Extra Power would.

 

Magic Eraser

Thanks to all of you who recommended the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser to me.  I tried it today for the first time, and it worked like…magic.  I was a little concerned for my safety.  I have tried the most toxic, paint peeling chemicals legally available to clean off the textured floor of my shower, which has some hard water stains.  (Or should I say, had some hard water stains.)  If none of those smelly poisons worked, what in the world was this two-bit sponge going to do for me?

I checked for a warning label; sure, it was there.  Don’t eat.  Don’t scrub your retinas.  Don’t stuff it in your ear.  You know, the usual.  I was searching for the don’t touch warning…I mean, anything that claims to be able to clean like this has to be deadly, right?  Yet the little picture on the back of the box showed the lovely hand of a lady, happily scrubbing sans glove, sans HAZMAT suit, sans fear.  So I bravely wet the Magic Eraser and went straight for the shower floor.  Eureka!

Now I just had to know, what in the world is this fantastic device fashioned from?  Magic? 

No.  But you can read more about formaldehyde-melamine-sodium bisulfite copolymer here.  In the meantime, I am adding the Magic Eraser to my list of the best inventions ever:

1. Tivo
2. Magic Eraser
3. Sliced Bread
4. The Crock-Pot
5. The Pampered Chef’s orange peeler

 

Little Trees

I cleaned my car this weekend.  This is a big deal.  It happens maybe twice a year.  Some of the things I found lurking in cracks and crevices:

• 739 receipts, mostly too worn to read
• 14 pens
• 3 packets of antibacterial wipes
• $13.66 cents in change
• A banana peel
• 3 sippy cups
• one sock
• one chicken nugget
• two crayons (green and red-orange)
• numerous tic-tacs
• one purple skittle
• …and more!

Anyway, I’m not proud of the state of my car, but when you commute and have a toddler, you kind of stop caring.  But I cleaned my car.  In effort to mask any lingering chicken nugget odor, I bought a Little Tree (Vanillaroma). 

Is it just me, or did Little Trees get wimpy over time?  I remember when they used to just have those pine-scented ones.  I used them a lot in high school (probably to cover up the scent of whatever my friends brought into my ‘81 Tercel).  I remember that if you touched the surface of one of those pine-scented trees, you would smell like pine for hours.  Cancer probably started forming under your skin from touching the tree, so powerful were the aromatic chemicals.  You could actually taste the tree if you came within twelve inches of one.

If you put a pine scented tree in your car (normally it would hang from the rear-view mirror…I didn’t have a rear-view mirror) and checked back a year later, your car would still reek of overpowering pine tree smell. 

The scent of pine was so intense that many people could not stand those Little Trees.  Someone might walk up to your passenger door, catch a glimpse of a tree somewhere near the dashboard, and say “Oh, you have a little tree.  You know, I think I’ll take a cab.  Thanks anyway.”

Fast forward to today.  When I purchase a Little Tree and hang it from my rear-view mirror (I have one now), three days later I have a hard time telling if the scent of my car is more ‘Vanillaroma’ or ‘McNugget’.  Check out the Little Tree website.  These days you can get a papaya-scented tree if you want.  There are dozens of colors and scents of Little Trees for you to choose from.  However, I would be fine with just a few scent selections if they were nearly as powerful as they were ”back in the day.”