The last couple of weeks around our house have been all about ears and noses.
The problem with Monkey's sleeping I wrote about a couple of weeks ago turned out to be not teething, but a double ear infection. It took me almost six days of his crazy behavior (plus a fever) to figure out something was really wrong and take him to the doctor. I felt particularly silly about that because, during the first year and a half of Monkey's life, I probably took him to the doctor four or five different times thinking that he had an ear infection when he didn't. Sigh.
The silver lining was that I got a nice little Mommy lesson, which is when MLM doesn't seem like himself, there is probably a reason.
The nose problem has been even less pleasant and more pervasive...
We've discovered a major problem with buying a house in a wooded area that has been vacant for a couple of years and has an easily accessible water supply nearby... rodents. What we thought was a past problem when we moved in has turned into a parade of disgusting as we, and our pest control company, try to take back our house from its former residents. Roof rats, I am told, though I'm grateful not to have seen it for myself.
The good news is, we haven't seen any critters or their, ahem, tracks in our actual living space. They've been partying in the attic and the crawl space, and using the voids in the walls as their little rodent floo network back and forth. The bad news is that the pest control company's special bait -- which was supposed to send Mickey and company out of the house in search of water, where they would die somewhere I could pretend was a pleasant place full of cheese and classical music -- has unfortunately backfired. At least one, maybe two, of our uninvited guests did not find his way out into the yard before meeting his demise.
It started as a faint smell in our bathroom; then spread to almost every room in the house. Two men from the pest control company came out, climbed ladders, wandered around for a couple of hours and confirmed that, yes, something had died in our wall. Next to an air duct. Sweet.
Could they fix it? Well, maybe. They'd be drilling holes in our walls, piping in their cameras, which might not be able to get around the insulation; and there was some chance they'd be able to spot something. If they found it, it was somewhat likely they could get it out. Or not. Then we'd have anywhere from one to several open holes in our wall, which we'd have to fix ourselves. In the meantime, a toddler with free access to the inside of the wall. I could picture Monkey chewing on fistfuls of insulation while the house smelled EVEN WORSE because of the holes.
So the other option: hold our breath (literally), and wait. Ugh, ugh, ugh. We had to move dinner with friends elsewhere one night; opened the windows when we could, and left the house as often as possible when we couldn't. We have endured the sickly sweet smell of plug-in air fresheners turned all the way up to full blast, and the awful funk during showers and while brushing our teeth. I found myself dreaming that the rats were taking revenge, nibbling my extremities while I slept.
Thankfully, after two weeks, the smell has mostly faded. The pest control company is coming tomorrow to seal off all the entry points and set traps for anyone who wasn't frightened off by the smell of their compatriots rotting in the walls. Needless to say, all this smelly drama has left me with little inspiration to blog. If I had been posting, the last 14 blogs would have been titled "My House Still Stinks - What's Up With You?"
The other (better) reason for my absence from cyberspace is that I've been writing like a fiend on that novel I mentioned to y'all last month. There's definitely a learning curve, but I feel I'm scaling it, slowly. I haven't decided yet if the rats will get a cameo in the book, but I'll keep you posted.
Showing posts with label Things that Stick in my Craw. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Things that Stick in my Craw. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Friday, December 17, 2010
Dear PTA Lady: A Protest!
It's Teacher Appreciation Week at Monkey's school.
Sounds nice, doesn't it? I think so. I love teachers. I worked at a school for almost three years and teachers were the majority of my acquaintance. My best friend is a teacher. I know first-hand what a hard and often thankless job it can be. So I was thrilled when we joined the PTA in August and learned that a portion of our dues go to appreciation gifts for the teachers and staff. Perfect. Lovely.
Or it was, until my inbox started getting hit last month with a slew of e-mails requesting -- no, demanding is really the better word -- that all parents have their children make cards for the teachers this week. Not just the kids' specific teachers (Monkey has two), but all the auxiliary teachers who do specific subject work and support staff (there were eight named in the e-mail).
So that's TEN homemade cards this PTA committee chair wants me to sit down with my almost-18-month-old create. And, since my child is, well, one, that means I have to sit down and create ten cards and try to get him to personalize them. I haven't even sent out holiday cards yet, and I am still mailing off the stray moving announcement here and there from almost three months ago. Who does this lady think I am?
Okay, I don't want to be callous, and I'm sure some of my PTA mom friends are going to read this in horror, but.... one of the reasons I have Monkey in school is so that I don't have to do that kind of stuff. I'll admit it. Whether it's crayons or fingerpaint, artwork holds his attention for about 20 seconds, usually. With crayons, that 20 seconds is not enough to produce a serviceable greeting card. And fingerpaint.... Between putting on the smock, getting the supplies, prepping and cleaning, it takes me about 20 minutes to get it ready and then put it away. That's a 60:1 ratio of work to fun! Plus he has to be closely supervised in both cases, or I end up with purple crayon all over the TV and fingerpaint on the cat.
So he does artwork at school, in a controlled environment with great lighting, fun friends, no couches or electronics to ruin, and patient teachers to guide him. Who, again, I appreciate. And he brings home sheets and sheets of fun projects, many of which make their way directly to File 86, with a few going into the permanent file for later.
And that's another thing. Even I, who gave birth to him and love him enough to wipe his nose with my own sleeve in emergencies, even I don't keep all the random crap he 'creates.' So why would a teacher, who does artwork with little kids all day long and has kids of her own bringing home little treasures, why would she want more smudgy artwork as a thank-you for all the long hard hours she puts in? I don't know, maybe it's just the cynic in me, but my experience with teachers is they want what everyone else wants: Starbucks cards.
Don't get me wrong, I really do appreciate Monkey's teachers. The staff at his school are amazing, and I'll gladly throw in an extra $5 or $10 in PTA dues if our appreciation budget is not what it should be. I also try to thank them personally when I see them, take time for conversation, and let them know how much Monkey loves being there. [He was out because of illness recently and kept running to the door saying 'Kool? Kool?']
I get it. I really do. Some people are really into this kind of thing, and baking cookies or creating thoughtful homemade gifts is right in their wheelhouse. Great. More power to you. And I've been in enough school volunteer committee meetings in my day to understand that there can be a lot of pressure to do your particular job really well. Maybe just buying Starbucks cards felt impersonal. Maybe the idea was to allow more parents and kids to participate. I guess the idea that some people don't have the time or inclination didn't occur to them....
I love the PTA organization. I work with PTAs professionally doing presentations and they're great. But as a somewhat-working, somewhat-at-home mom, I just want to say that I put enough pressure on myself, thank you very much, and I don't need extra pressure and extra to-do list items (however small they might seem to someone else).
Why, as parents, can't we take the pressure off ourselves and our peers to do everything in the most perfectly wonderful, wonderfully perfect way? And WHY did I cave? (Well, sort of -- I made 5 of the 10 requested cards because that was all I could manage before Monkey ran off covered in paint). I think I feel the pressure myself to make a good impression in the community and to not be seen as 'the mom who doesn't care.' Which of course, is why I'm venting in a blog instead of confronting the PTA Lady directly....
Shouldn't it be okay to let people who have the time and inclination to do something crafty and super-personal do that, and let the rest of us express our appreciation in our own way? In this age of choice and empowerment, isn't there room for a wide variety of moms who have their own strengths and limitations? Can't some people serve on committees and make hand-crafted gifts, while others focus their energies elsewhere?
Ultimately, my child is in preschool/daycare because I work, and I would much rather spend my downtime enjoying him than making finger-paint cards. Or, you know, blogging about how much I hate making finger-paint cards. Whichever.
Sounds nice, doesn't it? I think so. I love teachers. I worked at a school for almost three years and teachers were the majority of my acquaintance. My best friend is a teacher. I know first-hand what a hard and often thankless job it can be. So I was thrilled when we joined the PTA in August and learned that a portion of our dues go to appreciation gifts for the teachers and staff. Perfect. Lovely.
Or it was, until my inbox started getting hit last month with a slew of e-mails requesting -- no, demanding is really the better word -- that all parents have their children make cards for the teachers this week. Not just the kids' specific teachers (Monkey has two), but all the auxiliary teachers who do specific subject work and support staff (there were eight named in the e-mail).
So that's TEN homemade cards this PTA committee chair wants me to sit down with my almost-18-month-old create. And, since my child is, well, one, that means I have to sit down and create ten cards and try to get him to personalize them. I haven't even sent out holiday cards yet, and I am still mailing off the stray moving announcement here and there from almost three months ago. Who does this lady think I am?
Okay, I don't want to be callous, and I'm sure some of my PTA mom friends are going to read this in horror, but.... one of the reasons I have Monkey in school is so that I don't have to do that kind of stuff. I'll admit it. Whether it's crayons or fingerpaint, artwork holds his attention for about 20 seconds, usually. With crayons, that 20 seconds is not enough to produce a serviceable greeting card. And fingerpaint.... Between putting on the smock, getting the supplies, prepping and cleaning, it takes me about 20 minutes to get it ready and then put it away. That's a 60:1 ratio of work to fun! Plus he has to be closely supervised in both cases, or I end up with purple crayon all over the TV and fingerpaint on the cat.
So he does artwork at school, in a controlled environment with great lighting, fun friends, no couches or electronics to ruin, and patient teachers to guide him. Who, again, I appreciate. And he brings home sheets and sheets of fun projects, many of which make their way directly to File 86, with a few going into the permanent file for later.
And that's another thing. Even I, who gave birth to him and love him enough to wipe his nose with my own sleeve in emergencies, even I don't keep all the random crap he 'creates.' So why would a teacher, who does artwork with little kids all day long and has kids of her own bringing home little treasures, why would she want more smudgy artwork as a thank-you for all the long hard hours she puts in? I don't know, maybe it's just the cynic in me, but my experience with teachers is they want what everyone else wants: Starbucks cards.
Don't get me wrong, I really do appreciate Monkey's teachers. The staff at his school are amazing, and I'll gladly throw in an extra $5 or $10 in PTA dues if our appreciation budget is not what it should be. I also try to thank them personally when I see them, take time for conversation, and let them know how much Monkey loves being there. [He was out because of illness recently and kept running to the door saying 'Kool? Kool?']
I get it. I really do. Some people are really into this kind of thing, and baking cookies or creating thoughtful homemade gifts is right in their wheelhouse. Great. More power to you. And I've been in enough school volunteer committee meetings in my day to understand that there can be a lot of pressure to do your particular job really well. Maybe just buying Starbucks cards felt impersonal. Maybe the idea was to allow more parents and kids to participate. I guess the idea that some people don't have the time or inclination didn't occur to them....
I love the PTA organization. I work with PTAs professionally doing presentations and they're great. But as a somewhat-working, somewhat-at-home mom, I just want to say that I put enough pressure on myself, thank you very much, and I don't need extra pressure and extra to-do list items (however small they might seem to someone else).
Why, as parents, can't we take the pressure off ourselves and our peers to do everything in the most perfectly wonderful, wonderfully perfect way? And WHY did I cave? (Well, sort of -- I made 5 of the 10 requested cards because that was all I could manage before Monkey ran off covered in paint). I think I feel the pressure myself to make a good impression in the community and to not be seen as 'the mom who doesn't care.' Which of course, is why I'm venting in a blog instead of confronting the PTA Lady directly....
Shouldn't it be okay to let people who have the time and inclination to do something crafty and super-personal do that, and let the rest of us express our appreciation in our own way? In this age of choice and empowerment, isn't there room for a wide variety of moms who have their own strengths and limitations? Can't some people serve on committees and make hand-crafted gifts, while others focus their energies elsewhere?
Ultimately, my child is in preschool/daycare because I work, and I would much rather spend my downtime enjoying him than making finger-paint cards. Or, you know, blogging about how much I hate making finger-paint cards. Whichever.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Cobwebs and My Addled Brain (Unrelated, Mostly)
First, I have had the heebie-jeebies all day [that's right, I said heebie-jeebies] after a trip to our basement laundry area this morning. I have noticed in the last few days that the cobwebs have gathered amazingly fast on our new washing machine and hot water heater, both of which were installed within the last two weeks. This morning I went down to find teeny little strands attached to almost everything, including our hanging clothes from earlier in the week.
I grabbed a duster and went to work. Then I noticed that under the light fixture, there were tons of dust particles lingering in midair. Weird. So I looked closer, and, yep -- those were itty bitty spiders. There had to be at least 30 of them, hanging over my head by almost imperceptible single strands from the fluorescent light bulbs. After spraying them down with my trusty Citrus Magic (sorry PETA, I'm a peaceful person and animal lover, but spiders in the house incur my wrath), I moved the clothes and went back upstairs. Ugh.
Wait.... was that a spider on my shoulder? Do I feel something crawling on my foot? Is my back always this itchy in the morning? Now there is definitely something in my hair.... All morning I was scratching and searching, battling phantom spiders everywhere in my clothes, on my skin, in my hair.
Once the ick factor wore off a bit, I started wondering about cobwebs, which I have always assumed were just collections of dust that had somehow formed a sticky line. I guess I thought it was static electricity or something. But I did a little research (esoteric code for Googling 'what is a cobweb'), and learned that cobwebs actually are spiderwebs that have been abandoned.
So the little guys start a web and get interrupted, or they make a web and it turns out not to be ideal hunting ground, etc. So they head out, leaving the sticky little strands behind to attract dust and conjure up spooky visions of Miss Habersham's wedding cake. What? Just me? Fine.
There's probably some interesting metaphor in there somewhere. Hmm.... Nope. I've got nothing.
That's a perfect segue to my brain issues. I love, love, love having my sweet baby boy around (and with me so often) and I can't express the joy he's brought to my life. But his impact on my cognitive abilities -- well, it isn't pretty. My memory, already lousy, is so much worse than ever. I forget birthdays and phone numbers that I never thought would slip out of my awareness and I forget to do basic stuff sometimes like locking the front door and paying rent at my office.
The distraction factor is huge, too. Today I had lunch with one of my favorite people (with MLM tagging along) and as we said goodbye I thought of several little things I wanted to ask him.... nothing major, just simple follow-up questions and bits of conversation that got lost when I was checking someone's mouth for pieces of chewed-up crayon or distracted by what could've been a choking-on-apple noise. We still enjoy our time together, I know, and it doesn't weaken our friendship. But I do have hazy memories of our long, intellectual conversations tucked into a booth at an Oxford pub, and I sort of long for the days when I could hold onto a topic long enough to cover it deeply.
Even when Little Man isn't at the table, the many tasks and duties of motherhood seem to be a constant soundtrack in the background of my brain, keeping me from focusing completely on whatever is in front of me. Part of it is the move, of course, and my mental acumen will stabilize as life becomes more normal. And whatever I have lost in the process of having a baby and raising a toddler is 100% worth it.
Still, it would be nice to be able to clear out the cobwebs -- literally and figuratively!
I grabbed a duster and went to work. Then I noticed that under the light fixture, there were tons of dust particles lingering in midair. Weird. So I looked closer, and, yep -- those were itty bitty spiders. There had to be at least 30 of them, hanging over my head by almost imperceptible single strands from the fluorescent light bulbs. After spraying them down with my trusty Citrus Magic (sorry PETA, I'm a peaceful person and animal lover, but spiders in the house incur my wrath), I moved the clothes and went back upstairs. Ugh.
Wait.... was that a spider on my shoulder? Do I feel something crawling on my foot? Is my back always this itchy in the morning? Now there is definitely something in my hair.... All morning I was scratching and searching, battling phantom spiders everywhere in my clothes, on my skin, in my hair.
Once the ick factor wore off a bit, I started wondering about cobwebs, which I have always assumed were just collections of dust that had somehow formed a sticky line. I guess I thought it was static electricity or something. But I did a little research (esoteric code for Googling 'what is a cobweb'), and learned that cobwebs actually are spiderwebs that have been abandoned.
So the little guys start a web and get interrupted, or they make a web and it turns out not to be ideal hunting ground, etc. So they head out, leaving the sticky little strands behind to attract dust and conjure up spooky visions of Miss Habersham's wedding cake. What? Just me? Fine.
There's probably some interesting metaphor in there somewhere. Hmm.... Nope. I've got nothing.
That's a perfect segue to my brain issues. I love, love, love having my sweet baby boy around (and with me so often) and I can't express the joy he's brought to my life. But his impact on my cognitive abilities -- well, it isn't pretty. My memory, already lousy, is so much worse than ever. I forget birthdays and phone numbers that I never thought would slip out of my awareness and I forget to do basic stuff sometimes like locking the front door and paying rent at my office.
The distraction factor is huge, too. Today I had lunch with one of my favorite people (with MLM tagging along) and as we said goodbye I thought of several little things I wanted to ask him.... nothing major, just simple follow-up questions and bits of conversation that got lost when I was checking someone's mouth for pieces of chewed-up crayon or distracted by what could've been a choking-on-apple noise. We still enjoy our time together, I know, and it doesn't weaken our friendship. But I do have hazy memories of our long, intellectual conversations tucked into a booth at an Oxford pub, and I sort of long for the days when I could hold onto a topic long enough to cover it deeply.
Even when Little Man isn't at the table, the many tasks and duties of motherhood seem to be a constant soundtrack in the background of my brain, keeping me from focusing completely on whatever is in front of me. Part of it is the move, of course, and my mental acumen will stabilize as life becomes more normal. And whatever I have lost in the process of having a baby and raising a toddler is 100% worth it.
Still, it would be nice to be able to clear out the cobwebs -- literally and figuratively!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
What if Customer Service Representatives Were Honest?
CSR: Thank you for calling Comcast/AT&T/Other Big Conglomerate. How may I demean and frustrate you today?
ME: Yes, hello. I'm having a problem with my service.
CSR: I'm not even a little bit sorry to hear that, ma'am. Actually, I was really enjoying a conversation with the people in the cubicles around me, and you're interrupting. So what's the problem?
ME: Well, what happened was this..... I did A as I was supposed to, then B happened, and now my C won't D. I called two days ago and someone told me to E and F, but it's still just D.
CSR: I can't decide if I don't believe what you're saying or I don't fully understand. Either way, please hold for one moment while I pull up your file, which as far as I am concerned is the only thing that counts about you. Meanwhile, you'll be listening to some advertisements from our company talking about all the ways we can serve you. Don't worry, though, I won't appreciate the irony.
[4 minutes pass]
CSR: I'm now required to say "thank you for holding." I've looked at your file on my computer, and it appears that two days ago you called and were told E.
ME: Yes, and F.
CSR: There's no note in the system about F.
ME: Okay. But the problem is, it's all still D.
CSR: I actually don't care very much about D, or you, but the script in front of me suggests that I place you on a "brief hold," which won't really be brief, while I try to figure out what to do next. I'm also going to run to the vending machine. Ready?
ME: Uh, sure, I guess....
[6 minutes pass]
CSR: I've done some research on your file, which means I talked to someone near me who's been here two months longer than I have; and I've come to the conclusion that your problem is actually D.
ME: Right, that's what I've been saying.
CSR: It doesn't matter when you say it, I have to come to the conclusion myself.
ME: Great. So we're on the same page now?
CSR: I'm not allowed to respond to colloquial expressions or idioms. What I can tell you is that I've researched your file and concluded D.
ME: Okay, fine. How do we fix D?
CSR: What I'm going to do now is assume you're a complete idiot and ask you some unbelievably basic questions. So did you try turning it on? Plugging it in? Breathing in and out?
ME: Yes. I did all those things, three days ago. And then I did them again when I called in last time. But I'm thinking that it might actually be a problem on your end, because.....
CSR: I'm going to cut you off right there because I'm not allowed to have you participate in the troubleshooting process with your service. You are the customer, and therefore, have no qualifications to understand the complexity of our systems. You couldn't possibly know what is wrong, and your suggestion that you might understand the problem or be able to offer insight is a direct insult to me and my professional integrity. I will therefore work hard from this point forward to be even less accommodating and polite than before.
ME: Really? How can you be less accom--
CSR: Hold please.
[12 minutes pass]
CSR: Ma'am?
ME: (from a distance) Wait, hold on! I put you on speaker so I could do something else while I waited. Don't hang up!
[exasperated sigh from CSR whose time is being wasted while I return to the phone].
CSR: Ma'am, we need to troubleshoot your service to find out what's going on so, I need to ask you some questions. Would you please pick up your X and push the power button?
ME: Sure, but I've tried this already, and --
CSR: Ma'am, please pick up your X and push the power button. Wait 24 seconds.
ME: Okay, done.
CSR: And?
ME: Nothing.
CSR: It seems that the problem could be D.
ME: You think???
CSR: Sarcasm triggers an immediate 3 minute hold. Please hold.
[3 minutes]
CSR: Again, I'm required to say thank you for holding, but I will not try to hide the fact that I'm annoyed the first page of my flow chart did not resolve your problem. Everyone else around me got to go on break and have birthday cake, but since your problem wasn't resolved in the usual time, I have to stay here and help you. This makes me resent you personally.
ME: I don't know what to say. Sorry about the cake. I'm a little annoyed myself, what with my service being down for 3 days and D and everything. Also, I have to say, this hasn't been very helpful so far and it's been 34 minutes.
CSR: I'm interpreting your frustration as hostility and moving into defensive mode. Prepare to be completely shut down.
ME: Wait, no! I'm sorry. I am frustrated, but all I want is a resolution to the problem. See, I pay you guys for this service. I've been paying you for years on time without fail, and I feel like maybe I'm entitled to some help when something goes wrong.
CSR: I have no idea what you're talking about. You're not paying me.
ME: But I pay the company you work for.
CSR: That means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me. I hate my job, and I have no incentive to be nice to you. Nothing changes about my world whether you get D fixed or not. All I care about right now is that I'm missing out on cake in the breakroom and that I have to put enough notes in the system to justify my existence here for a few more months until I get my hairdresser's license.
ME: Okay, fine. I get that -- you're not very invested and my problem might be more complex than average. Can I talk to your supervisor instead?
CSR: I don't want you to talk to my supervisor because then I'll have to endure some sort of training session.
ME: I'm sorry, but I really think I need to.
CSR: Fine. There is a 3-hour wait to talk to a supervisor. I put you on the list, and they call you back.
ME: What? Why a 3-hour wait?
CSR: Our customer service is so colossally bad that pretty much everyone wants to talk to the supervisor. So we put you on the list and hope that by the time she calls you back, you'll be doing something else. She will leave you a non-committal message, and then the problem will be lost in the world of Phone Tag. By the time it's over, you will have found a way to work around your problem, or it will have resolved itself through our incomprehensible system.
ME: But what about the customer? What about me? I'm really angry right now and I want to change to a different company. Well, what I really want is for someone to be nice to me when I call and for you to be able to fix what's wrong.
CSR: Sure you do. But by the time the issue gets resolved, you'll have researched your options and found that they are all pretty much the same. It's one crappy huge company or another, really. In a couple of days, you'll forget how unbelievably pissed off you are right now and realize you don't have time to change your life based on one bad week. Your bills are probably on autopay, so you won't even resent writing the check every month. You'll just go on with your pathetic little life and roll your eyes whenever someone else tells a story of their bad experience with our company.
ME: You're wrong! I have rights as a consumer! I don't have to stand for this!!
CSR: Really?
ME: No. Not really.
CSR: That's right. You'll get nothing and you'll like it. Still want the supervisor to call you in 5 hours?
ME: Huh? Oh.... sure, okay. Thanks.
CSR: Okay, then. I'm still not sorry about your situation, but I am glad I don't have to think about it anymore. It's chocolate cake. I am required to invite you to participate in a survey about the service you received today. It will be a hassle - you have to leave your number and an automated system will call you with questions. You can do it if you want, but no one is going to pay attention to the results and since it's not even a human being calling, you're not going to feel like you said your peace at all. Would you like to participate in the survey today?
ME: Um, no thanks, I guess.
CSR: Is there anything else I can help you with?
ME: You didn't help me at all.
CSR: Okay then. I'm required to thank you for calling and sarcastically wish you a good day.
ME: Yes, hello. I'm having a problem with my service.
CSR: I'm not even a little bit sorry to hear that, ma'am. Actually, I was really enjoying a conversation with the people in the cubicles around me, and you're interrupting. So what's the problem?
ME: Well, what happened was this..... I did A as I was supposed to, then B happened, and now my C won't D. I called two days ago and someone told me to E and F, but it's still just D.
CSR: I can't decide if I don't believe what you're saying or I don't fully understand. Either way, please hold for one moment while I pull up your file, which as far as I am concerned is the only thing that counts about you. Meanwhile, you'll be listening to some advertisements from our company talking about all the ways we can serve you. Don't worry, though, I won't appreciate the irony.
[4 minutes pass]
CSR: I'm now required to say "thank you for holding." I've looked at your file on my computer, and it appears that two days ago you called and were told E.
ME: Yes, and F.
CSR: There's no note in the system about F.
ME: Okay. But the problem is, it's all still D.
CSR: I actually don't care very much about D, or you, but the script in front of me suggests that I place you on a "brief hold," which won't really be brief, while I try to figure out what to do next. I'm also going to run to the vending machine. Ready?
ME: Uh, sure, I guess....
[6 minutes pass]
CSR: I've done some research on your file, which means I talked to someone near me who's been here two months longer than I have; and I've come to the conclusion that your problem is actually D.
ME: Right, that's what I've been saying.
CSR: It doesn't matter when you say it, I have to come to the conclusion myself.
ME: Great. So we're on the same page now?
CSR: I'm not allowed to respond to colloquial expressions or idioms. What I can tell you is that I've researched your file and concluded D.
ME: Okay, fine. How do we fix D?
CSR: What I'm going to do now is assume you're a complete idiot and ask you some unbelievably basic questions. So did you try turning it on? Plugging it in? Breathing in and out?
ME: Yes. I did all those things, three days ago. And then I did them again when I called in last time. But I'm thinking that it might actually be a problem on your end, because.....
CSR: I'm going to cut you off right there because I'm not allowed to have you participate in the troubleshooting process with your service. You are the customer, and therefore, have no qualifications to understand the complexity of our systems. You couldn't possibly know what is wrong, and your suggestion that you might understand the problem or be able to offer insight is a direct insult to me and my professional integrity. I will therefore work hard from this point forward to be even less accommodating and polite than before.
ME: Really? How can you be less accom--
CSR: Hold please.
[12 minutes pass]
CSR: Ma'am?
ME: (from a distance) Wait, hold on! I put you on speaker so I could do something else while I waited. Don't hang up!
[exasperated sigh from CSR whose time is being wasted while I return to the phone].
CSR: Ma'am, we need to troubleshoot your service to find out what's going on so, I need to ask you some questions. Would you please pick up your X and push the power button?
ME: Sure, but I've tried this already, and --
CSR: Ma'am, please pick up your X and push the power button. Wait 24 seconds.
ME: Okay, done.
CSR: And?
ME: Nothing.
CSR: It seems that the problem could be D.
ME: You think???
CSR: Sarcasm triggers an immediate 3 minute hold. Please hold.
[3 minutes]
CSR: Again, I'm required to say thank you for holding, but I will not try to hide the fact that I'm annoyed the first page of my flow chart did not resolve your problem. Everyone else around me got to go on break and have birthday cake, but since your problem wasn't resolved in the usual time, I have to stay here and help you. This makes me resent you personally.
ME: I don't know what to say. Sorry about the cake. I'm a little annoyed myself, what with my service being down for 3 days and D and everything. Also, I have to say, this hasn't been very helpful so far and it's been 34 minutes.
CSR: I'm interpreting your frustration as hostility and moving into defensive mode. Prepare to be completely shut down.
ME: Wait, no! I'm sorry. I am frustrated, but all I want is a resolution to the problem. See, I pay you guys for this service. I've been paying you for years on time without fail, and I feel like maybe I'm entitled to some help when something goes wrong.
CSR: I have no idea what you're talking about. You're not paying me.
ME: But I pay the company you work for.
CSR: That means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me. I hate my job, and I have no incentive to be nice to you. Nothing changes about my world whether you get D fixed or not. All I care about right now is that I'm missing out on cake in the breakroom and that I have to put enough notes in the system to justify my existence here for a few more months until I get my hairdresser's license.
ME: Okay, fine. I get that -- you're not very invested and my problem might be more complex than average. Can I talk to your supervisor instead?
CSR: I don't want you to talk to my supervisor because then I'll have to endure some sort of training session.
ME: I'm sorry, but I really think I need to.
CSR: Fine. There is a 3-hour wait to talk to a supervisor. I put you on the list, and they call you back.
ME: What? Why a 3-hour wait?
CSR: Our customer service is so colossally bad that pretty much everyone wants to talk to the supervisor. So we put you on the list and hope that by the time she calls you back, you'll be doing something else. She will leave you a non-committal message, and then the problem will be lost in the world of Phone Tag. By the time it's over, you will have found a way to work around your problem, or it will have resolved itself through our incomprehensible system.
ME: But what about the customer? What about me? I'm really angry right now and I want to change to a different company. Well, what I really want is for someone to be nice to me when I call and for you to be able to fix what's wrong.
CSR: Sure you do. But by the time the issue gets resolved, you'll have researched your options and found that they are all pretty much the same. It's one crappy huge company or another, really. In a couple of days, you'll forget how unbelievably pissed off you are right now and realize you don't have time to change your life based on one bad week. Your bills are probably on autopay, so you won't even resent writing the check every month. You'll just go on with your pathetic little life and roll your eyes whenever someone else tells a story of their bad experience with our company.
ME: You're wrong! I have rights as a consumer! I don't have to stand for this!!
CSR: Really?
ME: No. Not really.
CSR: That's right. You'll get nothing and you'll like it. Still want the supervisor to call you in 5 hours?
ME: Huh? Oh.... sure, okay. Thanks.
CSR: Okay, then. I'm still not sorry about your situation, but I am glad I don't have to think about it anymore. It's chocolate cake. I am required to invite you to participate in a survey about the service you received today. It will be a hassle - you have to leave your number and an automated system will call you with questions. You can do it if you want, but no one is going to pay attention to the results and since it's not even a human being calling, you're not going to feel like you said your peace at all. Would you like to participate in the survey today?
ME: Um, no thanks, I guess.
CSR: Is there anything else I can help you with?
ME: You didn't help me at all.
CSR: Okay then. I'm required to thank you for calling and sarcastically wish you a good day.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Dear Microsoft: Please bite me. Love & Kisses, Manda
Here's one of the annoying things about life in the 21st Century: Over-designed technology that actually gets in the way more than it helps.
Take Microsoft Word as my current, though not singular, example. The other day I was out and about with time on my hands but no internet access, so I decided to do a rough draft for a blog in MS Word. This morning, I decided to cut and paste the text of said blog into this site so that I can do a few more edits and - hopefully - click "publish" a little later this week, once I've made it passing readable.
So I did a quick copy and paste, the same seamless motion I've been doing on a near-daily basis for over a decade and a half, and tried to quickly save the blog so that I can get on with my busy day and return to the post later in the week.
But the blog won't save. "Form errors." Hmm.
I deleted the text, went back to the document, and saved it in a text-only version. Closed, reopened the text version, cut and paste what I hoped was really just text, and tried again. Form errors again. So I went to the "Edit HTML" tab in Blogger, and deleted the (no-kidding) HUNDREDS of lines of Microsoft gibberish that automatically attached itself to my text BOTH times I tried to paste it, and was finally left with the basic text I expected.
Now I realize that this only added about seven minutes to my life and for me, a relatively computer-savvy person in her mid-30's, it was a simple fix. But this sort of thing was never a problem until I started using the most "advanced" copy of MS Word (which of course isn't even the most advanced copy anymore - I think mine is the 2007 version). In the past, when you needed to cut and paste text, you just did it, and it worked. That was nice.
And it's not just this most recent issue or this version of Word. Every time there's a new iteration of software that's "easier" to use, I find that there is less and less control over all the little automated things that Word wants to do for you. Why all the sudden do all paragraphs have to be 1.5-spaced unless you manually go in, every time, and fix it? Why can't I decide what I want to indent and by how much? Have you ever tried to un-indent a numbered list, draw a long line for writing in text or -- Heaven forbid! -- delete a blank page in MS Word? Aaaack!
I realize how much I sound like my Grandfather when he used to complain about the price of cigarettes when I say this, but it "used to be" that with a little bit of knowledge and intuition, you could move around in Word really easily and get it to do pretty much whatever you needed it to do. At one time in my life I was close to an expert-level user of MS Word, and I even helped teach classes on how to use it to my teacher colleagues five years ago. So if anyone can figure it out, it should be me, right? Wrong!
Nowadays it seems like if I don't want to do exactly what the software designers thought I might want to do with their software, it's going to add an extra 20% to 40% of time and hassle to the project while I experiment with trial and error or research solutions online. The "easier-to-use" versions of the software are increasingly automated and there is seldom any easy or intuitive way to "undo" the automation. That's fine if you're using Word for the first time and don't want to have any control: which probably means you're either six years old or from another planet.
And more versions of more products with more features and more stumbling blocks means the solutions are harder to find, even online. Most of the time the "help" offered by Microsoft answers only the most basic questions -- as though "how do I create a new document?" is really a commonly asked question. Really? By the way, good luck finding the "help" button in Word, anyway...
What's even more frustrating about this whole situation is that -- unlike a stodgy old coot who keeps her antique typewriter and correction fluid, thank you very much -- I'm not really free to stick to the old familiar versions of Word, even if I want to. They become obsolete and incompatible with what everyone else in the world is using, limiting my ability to share documents via e-mail, etc. Plus, as soon as the computer on which the software is loaded has lived it's short little life, I'm forced to upgrade whether I want to or not.
This is a love-hate relationship I think we often have with technology. To keep up with standard levels of communication, to maintain even minimal levels of professional competence, we have to adopt new and widely used technologies and then adapt to the differences in using them. In some ways, the changes can improve our experiences by offering new features, etc.; but often the arrogance (or maybe just hurry to the market) of those who develop the tools does not give enough power or control to the end user.
It seems that authors of many technologies fail to consider the possibility that the person on the purchasing end of their product might have a different idea about how it would be most useful; or at the very least want to be able to simplify or minimize the features presented.
I'm sure my technorati friends will have some interesting views on this that I will be fascinated to hear, and I'd also love suggestions if anyone knows of a good MS Word substitute that actually works. Otherwise, I guess this 'old coot' is going to need some tutoring, or at the very least a dartboard with a picture of Bill Gates on it.
Take Microsoft Word as my current, though not singular, example. The other day I was out and about with time on my hands but no internet access, so I decided to do a rough draft for a blog in MS Word. This morning, I decided to cut and paste the text of said blog into this site so that I can do a few more edits and - hopefully - click "publish" a little later this week, once I've made it passing readable.
So I did a quick copy and paste, the same seamless motion I've been doing on a near-daily basis for over a decade and a half, and tried to quickly save the blog so that I can get on with my busy day and return to the post later in the week.
But the blog won't save. "Form errors." Hmm.
I deleted the text, went back to the document, and saved it in a text-only version. Closed, reopened the text version, cut and paste what I hoped was really just text, and tried again. Form errors again. So I went to the "Edit HTML" tab in Blogger, and deleted the (no-kidding) HUNDREDS of lines of Microsoft gibberish that automatically attached itself to my text BOTH times I tried to paste it, and was finally left with the basic text I expected.
Now I realize that this only added about seven minutes to my life and for me, a relatively computer-savvy person in her mid-30's, it was a simple fix. But this sort of thing was never a problem until I started using the most "advanced" copy of MS Word (which of course isn't even the most advanced copy anymore - I think mine is the 2007 version). In the past, when you needed to cut and paste text, you just did it, and it worked. That was nice.
And it's not just this most recent issue or this version of Word. Every time there's a new iteration of software that's "easier" to use, I find that there is less and less control over all the little automated things that Word wants to do for you. Why all the sudden do all paragraphs have to be 1.5-spaced unless you manually go in, every time, and fix it? Why can't I decide what I want to indent and by how much? Have you ever tried to un-indent a numbered list, draw a long line for writing in text or -- Heaven forbid! -- delete a blank page in MS Word? Aaaack!
I realize how much I sound like my Grandfather when he used to complain about the price of cigarettes when I say this, but it "used to be" that with a little bit of knowledge and intuition, you could move around in Word really easily and get it to do pretty much whatever you needed it to do. At one time in my life I was close to an expert-level user of MS Word, and I even helped teach classes on how to use it to my teacher colleagues five years ago. So if anyone can figure it out, it should be me, right? Wrong!
Nowadays it seems like if I don't want to do exactly what the software designers thought I might want to do with their software, it's going to add an extra 20% to 40% of time and hassle to the project while I experiment with trial and error or research solutions online. The "easier-to-use" versions of the software are increasingly automated and there is seldom any easy or intuitive way to "undo" the automation. That's fine if you're using Word for the first time and don't want to have any control: which probably means you're either six years old or from another planet.
And more versions of more products with more features and more stumbling blocks means the solutions are harder to find, even online. Most of the time the "help" offered by Microsoft answers only the most basic questions -- as though "how do I create a new document?" is really a commonly asked question. Really? By the way, good luck finding the "help" button in Word, anyway...
What's even more frustrating about this whole situation is that -- unlike a stodgy old coot who keeps her antique typewriter and correction fluid, thank you very much -- I'm not really free to stick to the old familiar versions of Word, even if I want to. They become obsolete and incompatible with what everyone else in the world is using, limiting my ability to share documents via e-mail, etc. Plus, as soon as the computer on which the software is loaded has lived it's short little life, I'm forced to upgrade whether I want to or not.
This is a love-hate relationship I think we often have with technology. To keep up with standard levels of communication, to maintain even minimal levels of professional competence, we have to adopt new and widely used technologies and then adapt to the differences in using them. In some ways, the changes can improve our experiences by offering new features, etc.; but often the arrogance (or maybe just hurry to the market) of those who develop the tools does not give enough power or control to the end user.
It seems that authors of many technologies fail to consider the possibility that the person on the purchasing end of their product might have a different idea about how it would be most useful; or at the very least want to be able to simplify or minimize the features presented.
I'm sure my technorati friends will have some interesting views on this that I will be fascinated to hear, and I'd also love suggestions if anyone knows of a good MS Word substitute that actually works. Otherwise, I guess this 'old coot' is going to need some tutoring, or at the very least a dartboard with a picture of Bill Gates on it.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Customer Loyalty.... What?
In the middle of running between places and appointments the other day, I had an overwhelming desire for something chocolate. With about $1 in my bag and very little time to spare, I stopped into one of about 10,000 pharmacies between wherever I was coming from and my office [which have really turned into huge convenience stores with a pharmacist in the back].
As I pulled into a parking spot, I figured I had 12 minutes to get in, get the chocolate, and get to the office to prepare for my next client. The drive is 4-6 minutes, probably; and I'll admit I spent about 3 minutes reading labels to determine which candy bar would be the smartest choice -- wasted minutes, as it turns out everything has either 200 or 210 calories per serving. Candy conspiracy.
I finally selected something, mostly because it had a huge tag on it saying it was on sale for 50 cents, figuring if I couldn't do right by my waistline I could at least give the old budget a nod. I waited in line for what seemed like forever, because the lady in front of me was buying groceries for her entire household and had the lone cashier run over to the photo counter for her to retrieve her photos. It seems like whenever I'm in a hurry, I get behind the one person with nowhere to be. Anyway, she paid her $95 -- seriously, $95 at Rite Aid -- and finally it was my turn.
I chucked the candy on the counter, looked at my watch, and pulled my sad little dollar out of my wallet. The cashier, who may have also been a manager, rang me up. Here was the conversation:
CASH: How are you?
ME: Great, thanks. You?
CASH: Do you have a Wellness Card with us?
ME: No.
CASH: Do you want one?
ME: No thank you.
CASH: That will be 91 cents.
ME: But the sign says it's 50 cents?
CASH: That's with the Wellness Card.
ME: Seriously?
CASH: Yes, ma'am. I can get you a card if you want, it's free.
ME: Okay, fine, I'll take a card.
CASH: [pulling out brochure] I just need you to fill out your name, address, and phone number here, and sign it.
ME: For a candy bar?
CASH: We need it for the card.
ME: Never mind, I'll just pay the 91 cents or whatever. I don't have time to fill anything out today.
CASH: Okay. [completes transaction, hands over candy bar and 9 cents]. Thank you, come again.
Yeah, right.
****************
Obviously, this is a case of a customer loyalty program gone horribly, horribly wrong. The whole reason that this particular chain of pharmacies instituted these 'Wellness' cards was to get customers to walk through their doors more often and buy more products when they do. They want me to shop there because I see the card in my wallet, which they hope will give me the impression I can save money there. But more importantly, they want to use said card to track my buying habits, which will help them tailor their products and services to me and others like me.
In this case, however, the way the loyalty incentives are implemented did nothing but piss me off. At least for a while, if I can easily avoid going into Rite Aid, I probably will -- and it won't be that hard, considering nearly every time I see one there's a competitor's store on the other corner. They wanted me to get the card so that they could understand me better and encourage me to shop there, but in my case this tactic backfired. Instead of turning a casual customer into a frequent shopper, they turned me into someone else's casual customer instead.
And it's not even that I mind being tracked. I have a marketing background myself, so I know how this stuff works, and I see it as potentially mutually beneficial. They learn about me so that I will buy more, and I will probably get benefits like custom coupons, etc. No problem. But I don't want to have to keep up with a card for a place I shop maybe once every couple of months and typically for less than $20, and I don't like being told something is 'on sale' with a big yellow tag, only to find out at the register that forking over my personal information is part of the fine print.
I don't have the solution, of course. What blogger does? From a marketing research perspective, it will take someone far more creative than I to solve this problem [if Rite Aid even sees losing my tiny bit of business as a problem]. Maybe it's about rearranging the discount structure or finding a different way to 'incentivize' buyers to hand over their data. I don't know.
What I do know is that all the marketing data in the world is useless when the face-to-face interaction with the customer, the biggest and most direct opportunity to win me over, goes badly. In my humble opinion, more emphasis on old-fashioned customer service and making people feel they've been treated fairly is still worth far more than knowing how often they buy toothpaste. If that cashier/manager had taken a moment and made an exception to the rule, with a big friendly smile, she might've had a customer for life. As it is, she's got 41 extra cents and a "Wellness Card" that will have to wait for the next person.
As I pulled into a parking spot, I figured I had 12 minutes to get in, get the chocolate, and get to the office to prepare for my next client. The drive is 4-6 minutes, probably; and I'll admit I spent about 3 minutes reading labels to determine which candy bar would be the smartest choice -- wasted minutes, as it turns out everything has either 200 or 210 calories per serving. Candy conspiracy.
I finally selected something, mostly because it had a huge tag on it saying it was on sale for 50 cents, figuring if I couldn't do right by my waistline I could at least give the old budget a nod. I waited in line for what seemed like forever, because the lady in front of me was buying groceries for her entire household and had the lone cashier run over to the photo counter for her to retrieve her photos. It seems like whenever I'm in a hurry, I get behind the one person with nowhere to be. Anyway, she paid her $95 -- seriously, $95 at Rite Aid -- and finally it was my turn.
I chucked the candy on the counter, looked at my watch, and pulled my sad little dollar out of my wallet. The cashier, who may have also been a manager, rang me up. Here was the conversation:
CASH: How are you?
ME: Great, thanks. You?
CASH: Do you have a Wellness Card with us?
ME: No.
CASH: Do you want one?
ME: No thank you.
CASH: That will be 91 cents.
ME: But the sign says it's 50 cents?
CASH: That's with the Wellness Card.
ME: Seriously?
CASH: Yes, ma'am. I can get you a card if you want, it's free.
ME: Okay, fine, I'll take a card.
CASH: [pulling out brochure] I just need you to fill out your name, address, and phone number here, and sign it.
ME: For a candy bar?
CASH: We need it for the card.
ME: Never mind, I'll just pay the 91 cents or whatever. I don't have time to fill anything out today.
CASH: Okay. [completes transaction, hands over candy bar and 9 cents]. Thank you, come again.
Yeah, right.
****************
Obviously, this is a case of a customer loyalty program gone horribly, horribly wrong. The whole reason that this particular chain of pharmacies instituted these 'Wellness' cards was to get customers to walk through their doors more often and buy more products when they do. They want me to shop there because I see the card in my wallet, which they hope will give me the impression I can save money there. But more importantly, they want to use said card to track my buying habits, which will help them tailor their products and services to me and others like me.
In this case, however, the way the loyalty incentives are implemented did nothing but piss me off. At least for a while, if I can easily avoid going into Rite Aid, I probably will -- and it won't be that hard, considering nearly every time I see one there's a competitor's store on the other corner. They wanted me to get the card so that they could understand me better and encourage me to shop there, but in my case this tactic backfired. Instead of turning a casual customer into a frequent shopper, they turned me into someone else's casual customer instead.
And it's not even that I mind being tracked. I have a marketing background myself, so I know how this stuff works, and I see it as potentially mutually beneficial. They learn about me so that I will buy more, and I will probably get benefits like custom coupons, etc. No problem. But I don't want to have to keep up with a card for a place I shop maybe once every couple of months and typically for less than $20, and I don't like being told something is 'on sale' with a big yellow tag, only to find out at the register that forking over my personal information is part of the fine print.
I don't have the solution, of course. What blogger does? From a marketing research perspective, it will take someone far more creative than I to solve this problem [if Rite Aid even sees losing my tiny bit of business as a problem]. Maybe it's about rearranging the discount structure or finding a different way to 'incentivize' buyers to hand over their data. I don't know.
What I do know is that all the marketing data in the world is useless when the face-to-face interaction with the customer, the biggest and most direct opportunity to win me over, goes badly. In my humble opinion, more emphasis on old-fashioned customer service and making people feel they've been treated fairly is still worth far more than knowing how often they buy toothpaste. If that cashier/manager had taken a moment and made an exception to the rule, with a big friendly smile, she might've had a customer for life. As it is, she's got 41 extra cents and a "Wellness Card" that will have to wait for the next person.
Monday, January 18, 2010
More Specifics on the Hacking Thing
Now that I've recovered from some of the panic from earlier today, I thought I'd try to distill down as much as I know about what happened to my account(s) so that anyone reading this can be on the lookout for similar problems in their own e-mail accounts.
This was NOT, as I originally thought, a virus. The problem was never on my computer (at least as far as I know so far - and thanks to my awesome brother-in-law for helping me diagnose that). What happened to me today was online identity theft, and my hope is that it was more a huge hassle than any actual destruction.
That said, the hassle DID take up my whole day, and I'm still concerned that someone may have lost money because of this garbage, or that some personal information of mine might've been compromised. Anyway, enough people have been thoroughly shocked at the depth and cunning of what seemed like a simple virus at first, that I thought a more thorough warning might be helpful.
So, here's what happened:
So, here's what I did:
Be careful out there!
This was NOT, as I originally thought, a virus. The problem was never on my computer (at least as far as I know so far - and thanks to my awesome brother-in-law for helping me diagnose that). What happened to me today was online identity theft, and my hope is that it was more a huge hassle than any actual destruction.
That said, the hassle DID take up my whole day, and I'm still concerned that someone may have lost money because of this garbage, or that some personal information of mine might've been compromised. Anyway, enough people have been thoroughly shocked at the depth and cunning of what seemed like a simple virus at first, that I thought a more thorough warning might be helpful.
So, here's what happened:
- Early this morning, someone hacked into my gmail account. I've never given out my password, and I didn't fall for a phishing scam. There was some kind of security breach with my gmail password.
[I should point out here that I made the careless mistake of keeping the same password for a very long time, and that I do use the same password for lots of non-financial accounts, like gmail.
Someone more knowledgeable than I in this arena has pointed out that since this "London Scam" has been around (I've seen accounts of it as early as last May) some technorati fingers have been pointing at Facebook for the security breach, which Facebook apparently denies. According to my internet-wise friend, the theory is that the scam artists stole a whole bunch of passwords from somewhere, and have been holding onto them and slowly meting out this lovely lesson ever since. So, if you are reading this and haven't changed your e-mail password in a month or so, go do it now. Go ahead. We'll wait. Done? Good.] - Once the hackers were in my gmail account, they changed my password to lock me out. Then they sent out an e-mail to many of my contacts, claiming to be me, and claiming that I'd been robbed at gunpoint in London and needed money. I've noticed as the day wears on that they mostly contacted people who are not on my "most frequent contacts" list, the ones who I e-mail daily and would obviously know I'm not in London.
- While in gmail, they also used my gmail-based Instant Messenger to contact friends of mine who were online, still pretending to be me and claiming to be in a library in London with only a passport. I find this especially creepy.
- The hackers then created a fake e-mail address using my name at "OperaMail.com" and put it in my gmail account as the 'alternate' e-mail. They set my account to forward any incoming e-mails (like those of concerned friends wanting to help, for example) to this fake account and to delete them from my gmail. So, when I used google's account recovery system to get into my gmail account, it almost looked like nothing had happened - they deleted all the sent e-mails and any incoming e-mails were being automatically forwarded.
- They also changed my security settings and put in a Nigerian cell phone number as my "password recovery option" - so when they locked me out of my gmail and I tried to use the automated system to reset the password, they received a text message notification so that they could jump in and beat me to the punch. I don't know about you, but these aren't things I immediately knew to look for when I got back into my e-mail the first time (instead, I started trying to send out warning e-mails to my contacts).
- In addition to trolling through my gmail contacts, they also found all the other e-mail addresses I have connected to that account and tried to hack into those as well. I got a notification from yahoo asking me to confirm that I'd added a new e-mail address (which I hadn't), and fortunately I was quick enough to get in and fix that before they did too much damage on that account. They did, however, manage to change my contact information!
- In the meantime, they used their access to my gmail account to get to my facebook page. I use a completely different password for facebook, but since they had access to my e-mail, all they had to do was go to facebook, click to reset the password, and then change it to their own.
- They also created another e-mail account in my name, this one just like my yahoo account, but with one extra letter before the @. They added this fake account to my facebook page; and then deleted the e-mail that facebook automatically generates letting you know that changes have been made to your account. If I hadn't trolled through my gmail trash later, I never would've known that they did this. As it was, I was locked out of Facebook all day until I found that e-mail (and of course they were not only e-mailing my FB friends but also instant messaging with those who were online --- asking for money).
So, here's what I did:
- I used Google's account recovery form to get back into my account (twice) via my yahoo account, and the second time, I waited for the first possible chance to get in and then quickly: changed my password to one much harder to duplicate, deleted all alternate e-mails from my profile, and deleted the Nigerian cell phone number from my password recovery options.
- I changed the passwords on all my often-used social/e-mail sites, and on the sites for my financial institutions
- I updated my friends and family via social networking, blogging, phone calls and (when possible) e-mail
- Did a "deep scan" on my computer (again, thanks to my brother-in-law) to make sure I am virus-free
- Going through my e-mail accounts looking for passwords and/or login information that might have been vulnerable while the hackers had access to my email account. Deleting those e-mails once I've updated the information elsewhere.
- Exporting my seldom-used contacts to a spreadsheet so that I can delete them from my e-mail account but still have them if I need them again.
- I'm considering decentralizing some of my e-mail functions - while it's convenient having everything in one place, it also makes me pretty vulnerable
- Credit freezes: since I don't know how far this "identity theft" actually goes, and I've seen how determined these bad guys are, we're calling the credit bureaus to have them freeze our credit. Clark Howard says it's a good idea anyway, and this little incident is just a good reminder....
- Counting my blessings. I have to say I felt pretty violated today, but watching the news reports about the devastation in Haiti reminds me to keep even major annoyances like this one in perspective.
- Changing passwords more often
- Deleting more e-mails (instead of just archiving), especially those with any kind of login information
- Creating an offline, protected list of login names and passwords that I can maintain and update frequently
- Stop using the same or similar passwords when I register for new websites or shop online. I've always done this because it makes it easier to remember, but I'll just have to go with a different system instead.
Be careful out there!
Hacking Scam (I Just Wasn't Myself Today)
Well, I guess the Universe noticed my hubris in my last blog entry this morning and decided to take me down a notch... Right after I posted, someone hacked into my gmail, yahoo and facebook accounts. Someone claiming to me and claiming to be stuck in London needing money just spammed my entire address book and changed all my passwords for me (wasn't that nice?). They also not only put in a fake backup e-mail that looks like mine (at OperaMail.com), but they changed my security settings to alert a Nigerian cell phone whenever I tried to reset my password, so they could beat me to the punch.
The first time I thought I had gotten in and fixed the problem I was able to e-mail some of my contacts to let them know about the problem, but then the hackers reset my password again, kicking me out and taking over my e-mail. The only way to fix it (I think) was to use google's account recovery form and a secondary e-mail address, then IMMEDIATELY get into the account, delete the phony e-mail address & cell phone and change my password to something much more difficult to hack.
[I was relieved and annoyed to find that I'm not the only person this has happened to; you can read here how this happened to a business, as well. ]
I'm still sorting through the wreckage these unholy bastards have created in my techno-life. I can't get into my facebook account, for example. In the meantime, if you follow this blog or we've corresponded by e-mail, please go and update your e-mail security settings immediately. If your e-mail password is outdated or easy to figure out, change it. If you get an e-mail saying that a new address has been added to your account, change your password immediately and delete any e-mail address you don't recognize; you should also check your address & phone number to make sure they have been fiddled with.
And, if it's not obvious, please don't send money to me in London. I'm not there, I haven't been mugged, and if you really want to give me money, please come do it in person so I can thank you properly. ;)
When the hackers had control of my IM, my friend Rob also had a brilliant way of figuring out something was up - he just typed, "How is _____?" with a made-up name of someone we don't know, and the hackers of course responded that _______ was fine -- demonstrating that they weren't me! I thought it was pretty clever for a Monday morning and I'm glad he (and others) know me well enough to sense when I'm not myself.
I'm writing all this so that everyone else can be on guard for these horrible, pathetic excuses for human beings and their miscreant behavior. If only we could harness the intelligence and cunning of these jerks (not the word I want to use, but you get the idea) for something productive and useful in the world. Sigh.
On the flip side, I can't say how touched I am that some people actually were willing to help me when they thought I had an emergency in the U.K. I also got lots of phone calls and e-mails from people who figured out something was wrong and wanted to make sure I had a heads up. It is really nice to know that we're all looking out for each other.
So, that's my silver lining. And if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure I've closed all the loopholes and then let off some steam. URRRGH!
The first time I thought I had gotten in and fixed the problem I was able to e-mail some of my contacts to let them know about the problem, but then the hackers reset my password again, kicking me out and taking over my e-mail. The only way to fix it (I think) was to use google's account recovery form and a secondary e-mail address, then IMMEDIATELY get into the account, delete the phony e-mail address & cell phone and change my password to something much more difficult to hack.
[I was relieved and annoyed to find that I'm not the only person this has happened to; you can read here how this happened to a business, as well. ]
I'm still sorting through the wreckage these unholy bastards have created in my techno-life. I can't get into my facebook account, for example. In the meantime, if you follow this blog or we've corresponded by e-mail, please go and update your e-mail security settings immediately. If your e-mail password is outdated or easy to figure out, change it. If you get an e-mail saying that a new address has been added to your account, change your password immediately and delete any e-mail address you don't recognize; you should also check your address & phone number to make sure they have been fiddled with.
And, if it's not obvious, please don't send money to me in London. I'm not there, I haven't been mugged, and if you really want to give me money, please come do it in person so I can thank you properly. ;)
When the hackers had control of my IM, my friend Rob also had a brilliant way of figuring out something was up - he just typed, "How is _____?" with a made-up name of someone we don't know, and the hackers of course responded that _______ was fine -- demonstrating that they weren't me! I thought it was pretty clever for a Monday morning and I'm glad he (and others) know me well enough to sense when I'm not myself.
I'm writing all this so that everyone else can be on guard for these horrible, pathetic excuses for human beings and their miscreant behavior. If only we could harness the intelligence and cunning of these jerks (not the word I want to use, but you get the idea) for something productive and useful in the world. Sigh.
On the flip side, I can't say how touched I am that some people actually were willing to help me when they thought I had an emergency in the U.K. I also got lots of phone calls and e-mails from people who figured out something was wrong and wanted to make sure I had a heads up. It is really nice to know that we're all looking out for each other.
So, that's my silver lining. And if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure I've closed all the loopholes and then let off some steam. URRRGH!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Lesson #68 and 'Mother of the Year' Nominee: Don't Breastfeed in a Sports Bra
Any of my female readers who are like me and, well... (ahem) generously endowed, already know that sports bras can be tricky business. I've always thought it was ironic that those of us who need support the most seem to be furthest from the minds and intentions of sports bra designers.
First of all, it's all but impossible to find a plus-size sports bra that will stand up to more impact than a gentle stroll [the rationale being, I assume, that we're pretty much just walking from the car to the Krispy Kreme counter anyway]. My working theory is that whoever is advising clothing manufacturers about the fitness habits of larger women is the same person who thinks we all want to wear animal prints and fuchsia fringe. Size 10? Soft navy in a subdued, classy fabric. Size 16? How about LEOPARD PRINT WITH SEQUINS?!?
And once you do find a sports bra that will actually keep "the girls" restrained, it's so hard to put on that it's a workout in itself. In college - and I am not even kidding with this - I actually pulled a muscle in my shoulder trying to get out of a sports bra! And I didn't even mind the painful muscle strain, because in the moments before it, I'd been mildly concerned that we were going to have a "Pooh stuck in Rabbit's door" kind of situation on our hands. Now that would've been an embarrassing call to the paramedics.
Up until now, my sports bra injuries have been primarily self-inflicted. Yesterday, however, the sports bra claimed a new victim: my six-month old son. I had to feed him immediately after Jazzercise class; so he was lying across my lap after nursing. I reached up to try to wrangle the sports bra/torture instrument back into place, my hand slipped and.... WHAP! I smacked my unsuspecting baby right in the face with my knuckles.
Now, as you can imagine, this was more than a little surprising to him, and absolutely horrifying to me. A smack in the face is such a painful, disrespectful thing to do to another person; and even though this particular smack in the face was completely accidental, it's hard to explain that to a six-month old infant whose relaxing lunch just had a terrible ending.
We both cried it out, and of course he's fine now. But I actually rescheduled getting his picture taken yesterday afternoon because of the red spot above his eye -- no one else would've noticed it, probably, but for me it would've been a permanent reminder of that unhappy moment.
So, I will be feeding MLM post-post-workout-shower from now on; and if anyone knows someone in the design arena of women's athletic wear, tell them I'd like to set up a meeting!
First of all, it's all but impossible to find a plus-size sports bra that will stand up to more impact than a gentle stroll [the rationale being, I assume, that we're pretty much just walking from the car to the Krispy Kreme counter anyway]. My working theory is that whoever is advising clothing manufacturers about the fitness habits of larger women is the same person who thinks we all want to wear animal prints and fuchsia fringe. Size 10? Soft navy in a subdued, classy fabric. Size 16? How about LEOPARD PRINT WITH SEQUINS?!?
And once you do find a sports bra that will actually keep "the girls" restrained, it's so hard to put on that it's a workout in itself. In college - and I am not even kidding with this - I actually pulled a muscle in my shoulder trying to get out of a sports bra! And I didn't even mind the painful muscle strain, because in the moments before it, I'd been mildly concerned that we were going to have a "Pooh stuck in Rabbit's door" kind of situation on our hands. Now that would've been an embarrassing call to the paramedics.
Up until now, my sports bra injuries have been primarily self-inflicted. Yesterday, however, the sports bra claimed a new victim: my six-month old son. I had to feed him immediately after Jazzercise class; so he was lying across my lap after nursing. I reached up to try to wrangle the sports bra/torture instrument back into place, my hand slipped and.... WHAP! I smacked my unsuspecting baby right in the face with my knuckles.
Now, as you can imagine, this was more than a little surprising to him, and absolutely horrifying to me. A smack in the face is such a painful, disrespectful thing to do to another person; and even though this particular smack in the face was completely accidental, it's hard to explain that to a six-month old infant whose relaxing lunch just had a terrible ending.
We both cried it out, and of course he's fine now. But I actually rescheduled getting his picture taken yesterday afternoon because of the red spot above his eye -- no one else would've noticed it, probably, but for me it would've been a permanent reminder of that unhappy moment.
So, I will be feeding MLM post-post-workout-shower from now on; and if anyone knows someone in the design arena of women's athletic wear, tell them I'd like to set up a meeting!
Monday, November 9, 2009
You say "infestation;" I say, "thousands of new friends"
Okay, so maybe not everything has a positive reframe....
As the title indicates, we had an invasion in our kitchen this weekend -- ANTS. It was actually the third or fourth time we've had a major visit from the ants this season (rain and cold, I guess); but this was the first time the little buggers have actually infiltrated our pantry. I woke up yesterday morning to find an army swarming down from the ceiling (go figure, since we'd treated all the other entry points) and teeming in all our vulnerable snacks and pre-packaged foods.
Needless to say, clearing out the pantry while battling thousands of happy, hungry ants was NOT the way we wanted to spend our Sunday morning. Still, it's ultimately a fairly minor inconvenience and an opportunity to clean out the pantry of stuff like those oh-so-healthy sweet potato chips that we tried so hard to like. Turns out, they were better as ant food than a replacement for the plain old fatty Salt 'N' Vinegar ones we really love.
It was also a little unnerving, watching the massive numbers of insects take over our cabinets overnight. I found myself wondering how quickly the insect world would take over our condo and everything in it if we were somehow to disappear for a long period, or even forever. It's kind of morbid, but I couldn't help but imagine what would become of all the trappings of our life if we were no longer in it.
Without our constant vigilance, spraying with Veggie Wash (an awesome ant killer, btw), and expensive pest control, how long would it take before our home was completely overrun, and then unrecognizable? It was like my own little mental version of "Life After People." Just one of those "human life is fleeting" moments.
Fortunately, we had a fun afternoon planned with friends on Sunday, to get me out of my insecticide-scented kitchen and, perhaps more importantly, my brooding existential thoughts. It was a beautiful day, perfect for enjoying a fleeting, barely controlled life!
As the title indicates, we had an invasion in our kitchen this weekend -- ANTS. It was actually the third or fourth time we've had a major visit from the ants this season (rain and cold, I guess); but this was the first time the little buggers have actually infiltrated our pantry. I woke up yesterday morning to find an army swarming down from the ceiling (go figure, since we'd treated all the other entry points) and teeming in all our vulnerable snacks and pre-packaged foods.
Needless to say, clearing out the pantry while battling thousands of happy, hungry ants was NOT the way we wanted to spend our Sunday morning. Still, it's ultimately a fairly minor inconvenience and an opportunity to clean out the pantry of stuff like those oh-so-healthy sweet potato chips that we tried so hard to like. Turns out, they were better as ant food than a replacement for the plain old fatty Salt 'N' Vinegar ones we really love.
It was also a little unnerving, watching the massive numbers of insects take over our cabinets overnight. I found myself wondering how quickly the insect world would take over our condo and everything in it if we were somehow to disappear for a long period, or even forever. It's kind of morbid, but I couldn't help but imagine what would become of all the trappings of our life if we were no longer in it.
Without our constant vigilance, spraying with Veggie Wash (an awesome ant killer, btw), and expensive pest control, how long would it take before our home was completely overrun, and then unrecognizable? It was like my own little mental version of "Life After People." Just one of those "human life is fleeting" moments.
Fortunately, we had a fun afternoon planned with friends on Sunday, to get me out of my insecticide-scented kitchen and, perhaps more importantly, my brooding existential thoughts. It was a beautiful day, perfect for enjoying a fleeting, barely controlled life!
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Do We Like Speaking in the First Person Plural? Do We?
Yesterday, MDH and I went to lunch at what I would like to call a "Suburbistro" [This is a new term I'm officially coining -- you heard it here first! It refers to all those chain restaurants that crop up near strip malls and try way too hard to be quaint, but are really just fatty, mediocre, mass-processed food.]
In this case, it was a place called "California Dreaming," and if I were writing a restaurant review, I'd say it would more appropriately be called "Iowa Waiting," just because there was nothing California-esque, dreamy or even interesting about it. I might also mention that it tasted just slightly better than Nacho Day at a public school cafeteria.
But this isn't a restaurant review. It's an opportunity to vent about one of my pet peeves. Call me a grammar geek, but I hate, hate, HATE it when a server in a restaurant refers to the dining party as "we." As in, "Do we want something to drink besides water?" or "Did we leave room for dessert?" I mean, if you're going to pull up a chair and join us, feel free -- but otherwise....
Yesterday's experience was beyond the pale because not only did the waitress use "we" to the point of complete absurdity [at one point she actually said, "Do we have any questions for me?" My head almost exploded], but she also ramped up the perkiness when she noticed that we weren't all that responsive to her cloying questions. Instead of a simple, courteous "How is everything?" she said, "Does everything look wonderful? And does it taste even better?" Considering that we hadn't even tasted our food at that point, it was hard to do anything but nod and mumble. And when I later mentioned that the nachos were just "okay," she looked at me like there was a festering sore growing out of my forehead and flitted away without another word.
That, I think is the problem. She didn't actually care if we were enjoying our food, or our experience -- she just wanted to keep the tone so artificially positive that we'd have to be real jerks to either complain about the food or (more importantly) skimp on the tip.
Okay, I know, I've been a waitress myself. I know what it's like to live and die by your tips, and I understand that anything you can do to improve the percentages is a definite plus. I remember learning that if you touch someone during the dining experience, they will leave on average a 40% higher tip. So I learned unobtrusive and (hopefully) inoffensive ways of casually touching my customers -- like placing a hand lightly on their shoulders when they would joke around with me. Hey, it can't hurt, right?
But when I waited tables, I really did enjoy the interaction with my customers. I liked the group of three couples who came in every Wednesday night for pitchers of amber beer and who always told me terrible jokes. I really did care (at least a little) if people liked the food I recommended. I like making people happy; that's my thing -- and while there are different levels of superficiality and depth to that, it was never total BS....
It's the sugary insincerity of this type of linguistic ass-kissing that bothers me, more so than the ridiculous grammar. To presume that "you," who don't know me from Adam's housecat, can become part of "we" just by saying the word... it feels not only false, but even a little intrusive.
My annoyance, however, has made me stop and think about how I talk to my clients -- as well as my colleagues, friends... even my little boy. [I caught myself saying that "we" had a dirty diaper the other day, and I'm pretty sure my pants were clean!]
The little polite phrases and niceties that make life easier and conversations smoother can become second-hand to us (me) over time; and maybe after a while we (I) stop noticing them and their effect on other people. Maybe what seems natural and comfortable to me sounds like nails on a chalkboard to someone else. Perhaps my quirky turns of phrase or conversation "fillers" are making other people feel like I felt at the restaurant yesterday. I guess it's worth paying closer attention.
I don't know. What do we think?
In this case, it was a place called "California Dreaming," and if I were writing a restaurant review, I'd say it would more appropriately be called "Iowa Waiting," just because there was nothing California-esque, dreamy or even interesting about it. I might also mention that it tasted just slightly better than Nacho Day at a public school cafeteria.
But this isn't a restaurant review. It's an opportunity to vent about one of my pet peeves. Call me a grammar geek, but I hate, hate, HATE it when a server in a restaurant refers to the dining party as "we." As in, "Do we want something to drink besides water?" or "Did we leave room for dessert?" I mean, if you're going to pull up a chair and join us, feel free -- but otherwise....
Yesterday's experience was beyond the pale because not only did the waitress use "we" to the point of complete absurdity [at one point she actually said, "Do we have any questions for me?" My head almost exploded], but she also ramped up the perkiness when she noticed that we weren't all that responsive to her cloying questions. Instead of a simple, courteous "How is everything?" she said, "Does everything look wonderful? And does it taste even better?" Considering that we hadn't even tasted our food at that point, it was hard to do anything but nod and mumble. And when I later mentioned that the nachos were just "okay," she looked at me like there was a festering sore growing out of my forehead and flitted away without another word.
That, I think is the problem. She didn't actually care if we were enjoying our food, or our experience -- she just wanted to keep the tone so artificially positive that we'd have to be real jerks to either complain about the food or (more importantly) skimp on the tip.
Okay, I know, I've been a waitress myself. I know what it's like to live and die by your tips, and I understand that anything you can do to improve the percentages is a definite plus. I remember learning that if you touch someone during the dining experience, they will leave on average a 40% higher tip. So I learned unobtrusive and (hopefully) inoffensive ways of casually touching my customers -- like placing a hand lightly on their shoulders when they would joke around with me. Hey, it can't hurt, right?
But when I waited tables, I really did enjoy the interaction with my customers. I liked the group of three couples who came in every Wednesday night for pitchers of amber beer and who always told me terrible jokes. I really did care (at least a little) if people liked the food I recommended. I like making people happy; that's my thing -- and while there are different levels of superficiality and depth to that, it was never total BS....
It's the sugary insincerity of this type of linguistic ass-kissing that bothers me, more so than the ridiculous grammar. To presume that "you," who don't know me from Adam's housecat, can become part of "we" just by saying the word... it feels not only false, but even a little intrusive.
My annoyance, however, has made me stop and think about how I talk to my clients -- as well as my colleagues, friends... even my little boy. [I caught myself saying that "we" had a dirty diaper the other day, and I'm pretty sure my pants were clean!]
The little polite phrases and niceties that make life easier and conversations smoother can become second-hand to us (me) over time; and maybe after a while we (I) stop noticing them and their effect on other people. Maybe what seems natural and comfortable to me sounds like nails on a chalkboard to someone else. Perhaps my quirky turns of phrase or conversation "fillers" are making other people feel like I felt at the restaurant yesterday. I guess it's worth paying closer attention.
I don't know. What do we think?
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