Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Customer Service

in the wake of the latest Pear yPhone offering, my phone company offered its customers a generous buyback option with purchase.

as Pie works for said company, she made sure that i knew about it and, being a good sister, reminded me that the deal ended today.

for reasons unknown to you and also because I forgot, I'm lazy, and I'm a procrastinator, I waited until this evening to drag my happy ass a whole mile to the phone store.

Now, I am in customer service AND I recently turned over a new attitude leaf (again) so I bounced my way into the store with a happy smile and a phone just about ready to be turned over.

i mentioned the deal. The girl's face fell, and in a small voice she informed me that they were out of phones. so was everyone else in town and no, I could not take a rain check on the generous deal.

the look in her eye and on her face told me a story. it told me that she spends a lot of time getting yelled at.

it reminded me of the time i asked an ex boyfriend's daughter if she spilled water on the carpet and she cringed. she shrunk away as if i was going to hit her. more upset over her reaction than I ever could be about water on the floor, I sent her back to her business (of happily and quietly playing in the dog kennel). i never want to see another child cower in my home.

this girl, behind the counter, she gets abused every day. people come in, expecting the world, and blaming her if they can't get it. i suspect that they beg, cajole, and throw tantrums when they don't get what they want.

i smiled at her and told her it wasn't a big deal. she apologized. i told her it was my fault, and really no big deal. she apologized. i told her it wasn't her fault that I procrastinate, give her the biggest smile i had, and walked out the door.

because there isn't a fancy phone on earth that is worth making someone feel shitty. but for some, the latest gadget is worth more  than another person's self worth.

that's not a person that i want to be.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

I looked him in the eye and I lied

I went to In and Out tonight. I don't really have the money to be buying fast food, and there IS food at my house, but I really wanted a cheeseburger so I stole five bux out of my Europe fund, promised the dog I would be right back, and left

When I arrived, the drive through line was so long I figured I'd waste a burger's worth of gas sitting in it so I went in, passing by a kid at the door on my way.

He looked at me, teenage eyes glowing with embarrassment and asked if I had 75 cents or so.

I looked him in the eye and said, I only have enough for my dinner.

Which isn't completely untrue, a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake is about $5. but I wasn't going to get a shake.

I entered the restaurant and looked around me. I was surrounded by a high school sports team. I don't know if they are connected, but I remembered what it was like to watch your friends eat and not have any money to buy your own. To tell them you aren't hungry. To wish you had a bit of cash so you could pretend you were like them.

I know it was my own issues talking. I know I have no reason to feel guilty, but when I got my change, I went looking for that boy; the need to help overcoming my dislike of begging. He was gone.

But he was back when I left. So I gave him $1, much to his surprise, and muttered something about remembering what it is like to be hungry. I felt a little silly. And who knows, he might have made all sorts of cash out there by the In and Out door. Maybe I'm a sucker.

Or maybe he was hungry.

Tuesday, June 03, 2014

I caught myself

I caught myself about to be an asshole today. About to pull the " but, so and so does it this way" crap that you hear from a ten year old when there's a substitute teacher in the classroom.

Then I looked at what I was doing and I stopped. I looked at how the message I was about to send appeared to the recipient and I thought, I don't want to be that person.

So I went back, and I followed the directions instead of pouting because there was more work for me. And I found a mistake. My mistake.

I was extra glad I didn't send that message. Instead, I thanked that manager for bouncing the request back and admitted that I had a typo in there. An email typo. It would have really screwed the customer up later.

Instead of sounding like a petulant child, I got a "good teamwork"

I think I grew a little today.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Answers

tonight we are playing, How Many Electronic Devices will fit in my Bed? I am currently at three. Laptop, Cell Phone, Kindle.

I got answers yesterday, from the blood tests I had last week, and it turns out, that I have a genetic predisposition to blood clots, which, I obtained from one of my parents.

It's good to have answers.

As I considered this, though, I wondered. If 1 in 100 persons of European descent have this gene, as the internets tell me, and if blood clots are indeed killing people like crazy out of the blue on a regular basis (they go undiagnosed frequently because people either don't know they have them or they think they are a sprain or strain. Sounds logical). Why aren't we testing more frequently in high risk groups? Or at least giving the suggestion?

In July, I don't know if I mentioned, I talked to my OB about alternatives to the pill. I had been on it for almost 18 years strait  at that point (there was a couple of months after I moved to Reno wherein my prescription ran out and I didn't get another one right away) and wondered if perhaps I should try something different. She told me that it was working and that I may as well stick with it. I'm not saying it was bad advice, but I will point out that perhaps at that point she might have said, "hm. your risk for blood clots related to The Pill increases with age. Lets do a simple blood test to see if you are high risk" or, 18 years ago, when I had my first appointment, perhaps the test could have been done then.

Here's the thing. I could have died. And women have died. And it seems to me that maybe those deaths could have been prevented if the test were offered. The conversation could go, "The Pill is a great option! Some women develop clots. Would you like to be tested to see if you have an increased risk?" and then, many years later, "hey, you're getting older. and your risk is increasing. would you like to take a test to see if you should consider a different method?"

I'm just putting it out there. And i am going to keep putting it out there. Because it seems like a logical move to me.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

By the time you read this

I will have gotten my results from the 7 vials of blood they pulled out of my arm last Thursday. I will know whether I am a statistic because my body got tired of being bombarded with extra estrogen every month or if there is something actually wrong with me.

That's the second time I've freaked out Phlebotomists, by the way. The first time was when they were testing me for my donations. They took 11 vials that time, and she looked at me and said, "do they really think you might have Sickle Cell Anemia?" Giggle. I told her they couldn't rule anything out. This time, they double checked the orders. apparently, they don't see requests for those tests very often.

Now I wait. I'm not a fan of waiting. But at least I will know.


Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Bloggerama

Watching an old episode of House featuring a woman who blogs her whole life. Everything. She feels that unless she included it, she's lying to her readers.

Sometimes, I have a lot to say. Sometimes, I don't say much at all.

There's a lot I don't say.

I'm very careful what I say about my relationship with HM. I am careful because he would not want his personal life broadcast over the internet. I've already been through the ugliness of a person (or two) who read my blog, saw what I wrote while I was angry or frustrated. There have been hurt feelings, there has been anger. And I learned my lesson from that. I'm not willing to risk him.

I have also learned to be careful what I say about my other relationships. We are human and we are going to have hiccups with each other. My next post, actually, will talk about one.

I can talk all day about my blood clots and crazy shit I do. I try to only talk about the things that affect me directly. I think I have discussed not telling other people's stories.

The internet is no longer anonymous. If I hate my job, I can't complain about it, lest my bosses  happened to google me. I'm pretty sure they have. My last job had their eye on my little corner of the internet. i don't blame them.

For the record, I like my job. It's challenging and at time difficult. More than I ever thought it would be. But I like it. I'm thankful for the challenge and the opportunity.

So, I don't post everything. And I am glad. I don't post everything to Facebook either. But i still like to write.

Tuesday, May 06, 2014

Creeperama

Today, I was sitting at work, innocent as can be (of course) when I got the following text:


Now, at this point, I'm feeling quite proud of myself. I don't know who this person is, but I have successfully pulled a Disney song out of my ass.

Then, I asked who it was.

Turns out, it was someone I met several years ago (??) who recalled me fondly in a bikini (???!!!!???) who wanted to flirt a bit and have sexy fun times over the phone, which is safe (apparently) because this person is 1000 miles away and just wants to have good times with me like we should have done when we met (WTF) but I had a boyfriend then.

I let them know that I don't do that. That I have a man in my life, and that I'm not that kind of girl. At one point he offered to send photos. I declined. He offered to be my secret friend.

What kind of person has a secret friend?

I explained that I don't have secret friends, that they undermine trust, and wished him well on his (I think it was a he) quest to find a nice lady. I didn't bother to point out that ^^That^^ is not the way to woo a lady.

I think it's time to go ahead and change my number. I can get a business number through Google that will forward to my cell phone, and I REALLY think it's time to leave behind any lingering creepers from my past. Anyone I might want to be in touch with (and a few I might not) are on facebook.  There's a point where maintaining a lifelong commitment to an area code just isn't worth the weirdos that might come with it. Lets hope he's one of the ones who thinks my name is really Grace.