Life Lesson #47: Para el español, permanezca por favor en la línea.
Music that, unbeknownst me, I like enough to pay two bucks a pop for:
Atrevete, by Winsin Y Yandel
Sola, by Hector El Father
Ya No Es Igual, by Frankie J
Igual Quw Ayer, by Ken-Y
Mayor Que Yo (parte 2, no parte 1), also by Winsin Y Yandel
But my taste is not just caliente-flavored. I also seem to be into mainstream rap these days:
Shortie Like Mine, by Bow Wow
Money Maker, by Ludacris
Smack That (Remix), by Akon
I Luv It, by Young Jeezy
Oh, and I might be a lesbian with a fondness for the white stuff. Because I really can’t get enough of GuyStuff wallpaper and Maxim Girls screensavers, which I’m willing to pay up to nine bucks an image for, and I downloaded Scarface in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. Twice.
According to my most recent phone bill, I’m a tortillera chica de compania. Ole!
Well, sorry Verizon, but contrary to the above, I am not a partying, Latin lesbian. But trying to get these assholes to believe me was like trying to get an apology from the White House.
Oh – and if you talked to my gym, I go so much, they thought that debiting my account three times in one month seemed about right. Which is really funny, because anyone that knows me can tell my ass is not one that spends massive amounts of time at the gym.
Trying to clear that mess up was quite the adventure. No one at an actual club can help you. Their 800 Member number? Does not exist. And I’m pretty sure that when you send them an email, they take your address and sell it to other companies who in turn flood your inbox with crappy advertisements. It got to the point where I thought maybe I’d spend a night or two at the gym. I figured I might as well use their facilities to the max if they were just going to rape me with charges anyway. But then the idea of spending a night in those creepy bathrooms kind of weirded me out. So I’ve been stealing towels instead. And a box of tissue now and then. Tit for tat, I say.
When I finally got a human being on the line after a week of calling, I was glad I don’t possess the power to travel through telephone cords. Because I most certainly would have used my powers to kill the woman on the other end.
Of course, it’s not just me who deals with life’s irritations. We all do. But doesn’t it seem, just like every other time when it rains, all these annoyances come pouring down at once? Suddenly your bank account goes from cushy to negative because three different automatic debits go haywire. Your patience for human beings tumbles from slim to nonexistent.
What’s really driving me nuts this week, though, is that I’m dealing with all of this type of stuff for my boss as well. While I’m his assistant (four more days, four more days!), I handle some personal stuff as well. Which means more wrong numbers, recorded messages, and people who claim it’s their first day and they have no idea what they’re doing.
So what’s the deal here? I’m going to go out on a limb and say that we’ve reached the end of the Customer Service Age. People may still get paid to answer your calls of frustration, but they are far and few between. The problem really lies in that those real, breathing, eating, teeth-sucking employees, whose main job focus is CUSTOMER SERVICE, generally act like helping you is a total, inconvenient, above-and-beyond task.
Well, I’m sorry, but it is not. It is, however, what you are paid to do.
Listen, I know it’s not a great paying job. And they probably deal with a lot of angry, bitchy people, not unlike me. But you know what? There are tons of other jobs out there that require one to deal with other human beings on a minimum level. Like street cleaners, zoo keepers, subway drivers, morticians, bookkeepers, mail deliverers, truck drivers, dog walkers, or medical examiners, just to name a few.
Life Lesson #47: After many, many wasted hours trying to resolve these issues, I was able to. And to my satisfaction. Verizon dropped the charges after they realized a technical glitch on their part and NYSC finally gave me my money back. I even made headway in regards to my boss’s matters. So I guess the way to go is by starting off calm, rational, even sympathetic. Stick with it ‘til you think you can’t do it anymore. Then change your tactic. Demand a supervisor, refuse to get off unless something is done, and ultimately, don’t back down (all pending you’re in the right, of course).
Oh, and when you need a moment to regroup, put them on hold for a bit. Let me tell you, it feels good!
Life Lesson #46: Sticks and Stones May Break Penny’s Bones, But Momments Will Never Hurt Me. Part 2
I got a lot of great feedback from last week’s Life Lesson #46. I didn’t realize so many people get the same sort of crap from their moms. Leads me to believe that the honing of bitchy, below-the-belt guidance is part of the Secret Rites of Motherhood. So I thought I’d share another gem from yesterday, via her new favorite mode of communication, email (“Oh, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that! That’s just how you read it!):
My email to my mom:
Thanks again for last night – dinner was delicious as always! I’m still full…
Her lovely response:
Glad you guys had a good time. Grandpa really likes Hansel, he can understand him when he speaks as he talks SLOWLY AND LOUDLY! Hint.
Atrevete, by Winsin Y YandelSola, by Hector El Father
Ya No Es Igual, by Frankie J
Igual Quw Ayer, by Ken-Y
Mayor Que Yo (parte 2, no parte 1), also by Winsin Y Yandel
But my taste is not just caliente-flavored. I also seem to be into mainstream rap these days:
Shortie Like Mine, by Bow Wow
Money Maker, by Ludacris
Smack That (Remix), by Akon
I Luv It, by Young Jeezy
Oh, and I might be a lesbian with a fondness for the white stuff. Because I really can’t get enough of GuyStuff wallpaper and Maxim Girls screensavers, which I’m willing to pay up to nine bucks an image for, and I downloaded Scarface in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. Twice.
According to my most recent phone bill, I’m a tortillera chica de compania. Ole!
Well, sorry Verizon, but contrary to the above, I am not a partying, Latin lesbian. But trying to get these assholes to believe me was like trying to get an apology from the White House.
Oh – and if you talked to my gym, I go so much, they thought that debiting my account three times in one month seemed about right. Which is really funny, because anyone that knows me can tell my ass is not one that spends massive amounts of time at the gym.
Trying to clear that mess up was quite the adventure. No one at an actual club can help you. Their 800 Member number? Does not exist. And I’m pretty sure that when you send them an email, they take your address and sell it to other companies who in turn flood your inbox with crappy advertisements. It got to the point where I thought maybe I’d spend a night or two at the gym. I figured I might as well use their facilities to the max if they were just going to rape me with charges anyway. But then the idea of spending a night in those creepy bathrooms kind of weirded me out. So I’ve been stealing towels instead. And a box of tissue now and then. Tit for tat, I say.
When I finally got a human being on the line after a week of calling, I was glad I don’t possess the power to travel through telephone cords. Because I most certainly would have used my powers to kill the woman on the other end.
Of course, it’s not just me who deals with life’s irritations. We all do. But doesn’t it seem, just like every other time when it rains, all these annoyances come pouring down at once? Suddenly your bank account goes from cushy to negative because three different automatic debits go haywire. Your patience for human beings tumbles from slim to nonexistent.
What’s really driving me nuts this week, though, is that I’m dealing with all of this type of stuff for my boss as well. While I’m his assistant (four more days, four more days!), I handle some personal stuff as well. Which means more wrong numbers, recorded messages, and people who claim it’s their first day and they have no idea what they’re doing.
So what’s the deal here? I’m going to go out on a limb and say that we’ve reached the end of the Customer Service Age. People may still get paid to answer your calls of frustration, but they are far and few between. The problem really lies in that those real, breathing, eating, teeth-sucking employees, whose main job focus is CUSTOMER SERVICE, generally act like helping you is a total, inconvenient, above-and-beyond task.
Well, I’m sorry, but it is not. It is, however, what you are paid to do.
Listen, I know it’s not a great paying job. And they probably deal with a lot of angry, bitchy people, not unlike me. But you know what? There are tons of other jobs out there that require one to deal with other human beings on a minimum level. Like street cleaners, zoo keepers, subway drivers, morticians, bookkeepers, mail deliverers, truck drivers, dog walkers, or medical examiners, just to name a few.
Life Lesson #47: After many, many wasted hours trying to resolve these issues, I was able to. And to my satisfaction. Verizon dropped the charges after they realized a technical glitch on their part and NYSC finally gave me my money back. I even made headway in regards to my boss’s matters. So I guess the way to go is by starting off calm, rational, even sympathetic. Stick with it ‘til you think you can’t do it anymore. Then change your tactic. Demand a supervisor, refuse to get off unless something is done, and ultimately, don’t back down (all pending you’re in the right, of course).
Oh, and when you need a moment to regroup, put them on hold for a bit. Let me tell you, it feels good!
Life Lesson #46: Sticks and Stones May Break Penny’s Bones, But Momments Will Never Hurt Me. Part 2
I got a lot of great feedback from last week’s Life Lesson #46. I didn’t realize so many people get the same sort of crap from their moms. Leads me to believe that the honing of bitchy, below-the-belt guidance is part of the Secret Rites of Motherhood. So I thought I’d share another gem from yesterday, via her new favorite mode of communication, email (“Oh, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that! That’s just how you read it!):
My email to my mom:
Thanks again for last night – dinner was delicious as always! I’m still full…
Her lovely response:
Glad you guys had a good time. Grandpa really likes Hansel, he can understand him when he speaks as he talks SLOWLY AND LOUDLY! Hint.
posted by Penny at 11:26 AM
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WHEN IS THE NEW POST COMING UP?!
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