Meh, I half-heartedly pit Amazon. They’re having a “Prime Day” to celebrate, apparently, the anniversary of their Prime service. “More deals than Black Friday” is what they said. Well, predictably, the deals have been somewhat lame. And 715 is not even close to being a prime number.
And …their software is both baffling and broken. For the one small deal I’m actually interested in (memory cards for the camera), the little picture says 0% claimed. Click on the product. Nope, it’s 100% claimed. (Go back to the previous page. Still 0% claimed.) Do you want to be on the waiting list (whatever that is)? Sorry, that’s full too. Apparently even if a deal doesn’t start for a while, you can get on a waiting list to buy it? Then what’s the fucking point of having the deal start at a given time?
Look, if you’re going to have stupid lightning deals or whatever the hell you want to call them, at least have the goddamn courtesy to clear the slate once the products are gone. Quit pretending they’re still available.
My rage burns with the ferocity of, well, actually, I’ve got plenty of memory cards. A couple more would have been nice, but mostly I’m just baffled by a company that is theoretically trying to build good will but has a deal system that’s designed to frustrate the crap out of you.
Most state governments have laws that require accounts that have been inactive for X time to be turned over to the state, which then makes efforts to locate the account owner (or their heirs). Usually passed because banks used to just keep these inactive accounts, without making much effort to locate the owner (or heirs). You’ve probably seen big ads that the State put in newspapers with a long list of names from such accounts. That’s probably what the bank was referring to.
But the big bank chain I used to work for figured out a way to steal that money for itself.
If an account was inactive for 2 years, they charged an ‘inactive account fee’ against the account, and deducted that amount from the account. But now there was a withdrawal from that account, so they did not have to turn it over to the state. Then every year, they charged another such fee. It may take decades, but eventually the bank gets all the money in the account, and never has to turn it over to the state to go to the owner (or heirs).
There’s a whole book to be written about the crazy side of my family. But for a short clarification, my sister (actually half-sister) is 70. Her “kids” range in age from 38-50. They also live on the other side of the country. When the adopted kids were teens we had them out and gave them as much love and support as we could. We even asked them to move in with us. They are now adults and have apparently moved on with their lives.
I had this happen once too. Like yours, a multiple of 4 pages, so a printing error. I took it back to the bookstore, the owner checked the shelf and every copy was the same. So he pulled them all, and sent them back to the publisher.
I expected to get a good copy eventually. I wanted one, because it was a mystery, a good one so far. But the publisher said that it was a low-selling book (lots of bookstores were returning copies), and so they weren’t going to reprint it. I sometimes wonder how that mystery story turned out. And feel sorry for the author – he really got screwed by that publisher.
Since all 50 states passed laws classifying bank accounts which go 3 to 5 years without activity as abandoned property, which escheats to the state. Your bank has no choice in the matter.
This is totally not worth getting upset about. Just transfer $5 in or out of the account and you’re good for another three years.
Yeah my husband (the name on the account) is going to stuff the funds in paypal so the state can’t take it. I use that account to help pay for little luxuries like birthday and Christmas presents. It’s still stupid. Isn’t the point of an emergency fund that you don’t have to touch it in the first place?
We all know that most everybody hates robocalls and phone solicitations, right? There can’t possibly be anyone in the business world that doesn’t know that people HATE cold calls to sell products. So why do they persist? Over the past week, I’ve had daily calls from the Cooking Light magazine people, which I’ve ignored. When the phone rang this morning at 8:30, I answered it, and before the woman could start her spiel told her that I didn’t appreciate being harassed and to not call us again. Do these companies honestly think that daily phone calls are going to endear you to them?
Friend found out that he got a STD from this crazy guy he’s been seeing, and now is using that as justification for staying with him, despite the numerous red flags that have been apparent throughout the month or so they were dating (off-and-on).
“Who is going to want me now? I don’t want to have to have the ‘disclosure’ conversation with someone else…”
I can’t remember where, but I read an article about a group of fraudsters who had a sideline of robocallers. According to the article, businesses are paid a few pennies per call for providing the call identification information that shows up on your phone. Since they were a business running banks of robocallers using many different phone numbers, they apparently were making decent money even if no one ever answered the calls, let alone bought a product.
I started looking around after midnight, thinking I might find some cool stuff maybe I could use or convince myself I need. I soon realized this must be some kind of clearance sale from the back of some forgotten warehouse. [grumpy cat] I am disappoint [/grumpy cat]
I always tell the story of when, in my twenties, I got a coldcall solicitation…from some guy who was selling tombstones! I actually felt bad for that guy. What a shitty job.
Please do not make snide comments to your granddaughter about the woman in the aisle across from you with no clothes on. I’m not certain why you think I’m deaf (or maybe you think if you pretend to care no one will hear you), but I can hear you when you hiss, “Some people have no modesty or shame. Don’t look!”
I’m in a public changing room for women, the purpose of which is for women to take their clothing off, maybe shower, possibly get a steam in, then put on clean clothing. All of these activities (taking clothing off, showering, etc.) generally require that clothing be removed. I’ve got my back turned so my protuberant genitalia will not offend, but these clothes are coming off.
And another thing, I’m supposed to feel shame? About…what, exactly? Being naked? Being female and having boobs? Being such a slut I’d change in front of another person? You do know that if you call me the whore of Babylon I’ll be forced to punch you, right?
Finally, how the hell do you and your granddaughter (who looks about the same age as my 9 year old son) change anyway? There are two curtained stalls in the entire changing room, which is large enough to hold a couple hundred lockers. Do you lock yourself in the toilet stall?
Unless I start rubbing my naked ass against you or your granddaughter, maybe you should just grab the smelling salts and try to persevere until I leave, ok?
Wait, what? You couldn’t find another printing or another edition somewhere? Complain to the publisher! If nothing else, track down the writer and find out the details!
I’ve seen that lady in a locker room, and that’s exactly what she does. Women can be very strange about body image. I’ve seen them change in toilet stalls and I have also marveled (discretely, without staring) at some who changed clothes under the towel wrapped around their bodies without ever dropping the towel until they were completely clothed. Kind of a mad skill, there. But not for me, I strip down and do the needful and expect anybody who might have a problem with it to just not look.
Maybe six months ago I bought cutlery. Really pretty, solid, vintage-looking stainless-steel stuff. We’re not talking solid gold here, but every piece cost like 4 quid, and I bought four each of big forks, small forks, big spoons, small spoons, big knives and small knives - because our family is half grownups and half small kids - plus a dozen teaspoons. So I dropped a decent chunk of money on this cutlery, because I was planning on using it for a long time.
All of a sudden we have three forks, three knives, four spoons and half a dozen teaspoons.
Where the FUCK is the rest of it?!
I asked the kids. The six-year-old swears she has no clue, and she’s an honest kid. The two-year-old said she hid them in the garden hedge, but when I asked her to show me where, she clearly had no idea, because she had made it up to make me happy. Plus we don’t have a garden hedge.
I tell you, the Madison Wisconsin Dipshit Driver’s Association is really stepping up their game lately. I shall explain.
If it’s nice out, I take my motorcycle to work. If I take my motorcycle to work, I take the backroads, because breaking the speed limit is way better than sitting in gridlock. If I take the backroads, when I get close to home I hit the four-way stop near the train tracks.
This intersection (let’s call it X) as I said, is a four way stop. Let’s call the roads A and B. At the point of the intersection both are pretty straight. There is a railroad track that runs parallel to road A. The railroad track intersects with road B a good twenty five feet from X. The stop signs at X, like most stops, pair with a big fat white line on the pavement to, you know, *delineate *where you need to fucking stop. The challenge area, for members of the MWDDA, is that the railroad track has its own set of big fat white lines on the pavement to show, you know, where not to get hit by a fucking train.
I have seen, no fewer than three times in the past month (THREE TIMES!), members of the MWDDA stop at the line for the goddamn tracks (no hint of a train), and then consider that their stop for the STOP sign at X and drive straight through the intersection. Three times! What the shit?! Are you insane?! Are you insane.