So I ordered the bright and shiny new iPhone a couple weeks ago, one for me and one for my boyfriend. We’re both Verizon users, but porting our existing numbers to ATT. We both have separate Verizon accounts, but it should be no problem, right? Ha!
10.30am I am texting and receiving just fine, and I get an email saying my iPhones have been shipped! Hoorah! When I receive the phones tomorrow, call this number to activate and register my wireless number, blah blah
11.30 I try to send a text, no luck. Try again, nope. Can’t receive a text either. I call my cell from my work line, only to be told “The voicemail for this account has not been set up yet”. I’m thinking…no way. They wouldn’t just switch services to the new phone when I don’t even have it yet, would they?
So I call ATT. That’s exactly what they did. The customer service lady doesn’t know why they did it that way, she’s very sorry and she’ll see what she can do to port the numbers back to the original phones. After much time on the phone and a conference with Verizon, she manages to get my phone up and running. But, the problem is my boyfriend, who is in Coast Guard training in California. Unreachable except for his cell phone. Who has no idea why his phone is suddenly not working and now has to borrow someone else’s phone to figure it out. He’ll probably call Verizon and go through the whole mess, and won’t think to check his email or Facebook for the urgent messages I’ve left for him.
Just a lot of frustration for nothing.
On the plus side, ATT customer service was very nice and helpful, and they’re waiving both activation fees due to this mess.
Look outside your window. Yes, that’s it. Down into the street. Okay, now tell me which side of the road people are driving on. Oh, the right side? *Not *the left? Okay, now look down at that flagpole, and the other one over there, and tell me which country’s flag you see flying. The Stars and Stripes, you say? *Not *the Union Jack?
WELL THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU USE AN A4 TEMPLATE FOR THIS POWERPOINT?
Ooh, good call. I’ll keep that in mind. Still waiting for a call back from the reservations person. I’ve made reservations at hotels before - this is not how it’s done.
Thanks for all the suggestions re: endometrial ablation. I’ll look into it. Thankfully, at this stage, I usually only have 1-2 days of cramping, and at that it’s usually only every few months where it makes me all stabby. I think I might be moving into perimenopause (I hope). I’m mostly annoyed with doctors who tell me that I what I feel is best for my body ISN’T without giving me a good medical reason why not. Of course, to give my GYN credit, she did eventually listen to me and do a tubal ligation instead of forcing me to use an IUD because I “might” change my mind about having more children. I love my daughter, but one is enough, thanks.
So, you’re clearly calling from a call center asking for my boss. I ask your name and who you’re with. You’re not at all familiar to me, so I buzz into the boss’s office and he doesn’t know you or your company, either.
Me: Thanks for holding, can I take a message?
You: Is he not available?
Me: (Not for YOU, now that you’ve asked such a stupid question.) May I take a message?
You: So, he’s not available?
Me: Can I ask what the call is in reference to?
You: (Heavy sigh.) I have a client here in front of me. (Heavy sigh.) Ah, forget it.
Click.
So, you are training your client in how to be unprofessional?
Look, I know that I can be a Total Bitch on the phone, but it is my job to screen. I just TOLD you he’s not available by asking if you want to leave a message. Do you want me to confirm he has no fucking idea who you are and doesn’t take unsolicited calls? Ok, I’ll do that next time, Ruth Lee from SRC.
I asked you if you had a more recent bio for someone you support than the one I have on file. You said your version was from June of last year. I said, great, that’s more recent than mine. You said you’d send it.
You didn’t send it. Then you logged off and went home.
I fucking loathe you.
We have no A4 paper. Either the printer would refuse to print it, or it would just come out all fucked up.
Oh, lord, you have my deepest sympathy. The only thing worse than the smell of microwave popcorn in the office is the smell of scorched popcorn in the office. No, wait, the only thing worse than that is cooking fish in the office microwave. She’ll probably do that tomorrow.
Well, I found another number and made my hotel reservation. The other number never returned my call at all. That’s professional.
Ugh. Why the fuck are people such nosy fucking assholes? So, I was at a large chain hotel today for a national conference. Said hotel didn’t have a lactation room, even though they regularly host local conferences (i.e., lots of people who wouldn’t have a private room to go to).
So I was advised to use the public bathroom. Definitely not my first choice. But whatever - I can’t do anything about it, all their cubby offices have windows to the hotel, the conference I was attending was national so there are hundreds of attendees and room is at a premium. My car is a few blocks away, so no time to go all the way there to pump under a blanket or something. I’m screwed.
After having to continuously answer the loudly-bellowed question, “Oh, my gawd! What is that sound? Do you know what that is? We should report it to maintenance! Where is it coming from?” I was a little pissed. But do you know what really pissed me off? The women banging on my stall door while I was pumping asking me what the noise was. Goddamn it! It’s bad enough I have to pump in the toilet. Will you fuck off and give me some goddamn privacy?
I swear, the next time I hear someone taking a shit or talking on their cell phone in that bathroom, I’m going to start banging on doors and demand to know what the racket is.
Having just driven halfway across Canada and back again, I’d like to remind other road users of a few things:
– Self-propelled RVers: You’re driving the equivalent of a city bus. Learn how to drive it correctly. You are sitting forward of your wheels; remember that, and you will turn corners without going up over the curb.
– Again, for self-propelled RVers: If you’re towing your car, remember that you are effectively drining a fifty- to sixty-foot combination. I learned how to professionally drive a sixty-foot combination, only it was called a “semi-truck.” You might benefit from a few lessons, so you don’t think you are driving your combo the same way you’d drive that little car you’re towing.
– RVers towing trailers: Make sure your tow vehicle has enough engine to tow your trailer. Nothing like following such a rig on two-lane blacktop uphill, when the speed limit is 90 km/h (55 mph), and you can only manage 60 km/h (35 mph). And no passing lane in sight.
– Cyclists: It’s great that you’re out seeing our country from the road. But remember that in a car-cyclist accident, you will lose. Most cyclists I met were terrific folks to share the road with–I’d pull into the passing lane if I could for them, and if I couldn’t, I rode the centre line as much as I could, and they were appreciative with friendly waves. But where it was impossible (two-lane blacktop, 90 km/h, with opposing traffic), I’d ask cyclists not to ride beside each other. Ride single-file. When you ride beside each other, I’m standing on my brakes so the opposing traffic, and I, and you two cyclists, are not trying to occupy the same portion of the road at the same time. And all I get for my efforts is the finger from one of you. Inasmuch as it would be satisfying to have you, Finger-Man, join the dead bugs on my windshield, I will not do so. I will, however, ask that you be as aware of the traffic, both with you and opposing, as I have to be, and adjust your path appropriately. We can all pass each other at the same point in the road if we recognize the limitations we’re each dealing with.
I would say our ongoing peeve with highway driving is the guy who has the line of 30 cars behind him, yet refuses to pull over to let people go by on a two-way highway with passing lanes few and far between (and yes, it’s usually an old guy driving an RV). A corollary peeve to that is the people who refuse to pass on a two-way highway - you’re not supposed to pass two or three cars in a row because it’s so frigging dangerous, but some people simply will. not. pass. Now we’re sitting behind them, waiting for them to get on with it, and people are piling up behind us, and it’s just getting worse and worse and more dangerous by the minute.
I long ago developed a theory that people do this on purpose, so nobody asks them for a handful of yummy, yummy popcorn.
Kind of like how (as kaylasmom recounts) my late mother-in-law used to put Tabasco sauce on her snacks (specifically peanut butter sandwiches), so her little nippers would let her have more than a single bite.
I sent out the final version of those two decks for your reference. The phrasing of the email made it **VERY CLEAR **that they were being printed RIGHT THEN, and if nothing else the fact that the email went out at 5 p.m. on the dot should tell you that the person printing them was going to do it RIGHT THEN, because she should have been walking out the door.
So **WHY THE FUCK **is there a reply email at 6 p.m. from you, saying, “Oh, here are some more changes”? And why is one of them about your bio saying you sent a more recent version to someone who wasn’t me? Hint: IT WASN’T ME. If you want that shit to get in the deck, you have to send it to… THE PERSON PUTTING TOGETHER THE DECK.
You should thank them. Pretty small price to pay to avoid a hotel that’s sure to be terribly run.
You should have told her it was some kind of sex toy. Or a pump for your colostomy bag.
So today I’m working from home since I’ve got to put together a presentation for a conference I’m going to next week. Lots of research to do, and I can get more done if I use my home desktop (sans distractions) instead using my tiny netbook in a noisy lab.
Except that the kids next door are playing. Normally that’s fine – run around and scream your heads off all you want, I don’t mind. But they’ve been playing “all the single ladies” for the last god damn hour. I’m not kidding. Every time it stops, they start it over. Or maybe they’ll just start it over at the halfway point.
God damn. I don’t mind the song that much, but played like this it’s driving me fucking crazy. This is the kind of thing that prompts murderous thoughts. And now the song will be stuck in my head for fucking weeks, making me more stabby with every refrain.
Amazingly, the cable and interent are back up today for both of us…apparently, both houses had a bad splitter.