Thursday, January 7, 2016

Customer Service Sucks These Days



There probably isn’t a person out there who hasn’t called a customer service number and gotten so frustrated and completely irate. It’s really annoying not to get a real person and hear a recording say:

 Thank you for continuing to hold. 
Your call is very important to us.
 The next available agent will be with you shortly.

 Um, I’m not continuing to hold because I want to. Nor am I continuing to hold because I have nothing else better to do. Actually, I’d rather stab myself in the eye with a broken pencil instead of continuing to hold for your dumb ass.

 If my call is so important, why am I holding for 15 minutes listening to horrible music or static and a freaken recording telling me how important I am?

 Perhaps if you have enough agents, I wouldn’t have to hold for 15 minutes listening to horrible music or static and a freaken recording telling me how important I am.

 I also hate when I complain and the agent immediately says, “I’m sorry” or “I apologize for your inconvenience”. How about they stop the cookie cutter answers and talk to us. Ask, “How can I make your experience better?” or “Is there anything I can do to relieve your frustration?”.

I mean, heck, having someone acting human is just a thought.

 What do you hate about calling customer service?



 

Thursday, November 5, 2015

I Have Another Fur Baby

On Saturday, September 26th, my husband and I went house hunting.

We found a kitten.
The house the kitten was in should've been condemned. It had a huge hole in the living room floor. I saw the kittens—yes there were two—opened the window and pulled one out. The other shot back in the hole and never came out again. I held this tiny kitten in my arms and said to my husband, "I have to save it." 

"I know you do," he replied. 


Kitty went to the vet the following Tuesday. She didn't look well. Plus she was sneezing and had snots in her eyes. Turned out she was sick and undernourished—only weighed one pound! She got medicine and began to look, and apparently feel, better because she went from a snuggle-bug to a demon-kitty.


Snuggle Bug because she wasn't feeling well.

She can't jump yet. But she can climb and she likes to be on top of my chairs! My custom chairs. Which is an absolute no-no. My dogs never go on these chairs, so there's no way Kitty is going on them.




Chillin' on my custom chair !


Kitty doesn't have a name yet. If I name her, she'll be a permanent part of our family and I just don't know if I can take care of another animal right now. They need a lot of time and attention. But I am willing to get her ready for adoption.

Pretty, spoiled, Kitty.



 Only time will tell. 


If I've learned anything in my 50 years, it's plans are sure to get screwed up. So, until I make a decision, Kitty is happily running around my house, eating a ton of food, gaining weight and learning the word "no".



Wednesday, October 21, 2015

I'm Not Crazy









Do you hate noises? Cracking gum, smacking lips, teeth scraping over a fork, fingernails tapping on a keyboard and even the clicking of a mouse? And when I say hate, I actually mean you-could-slap-someone-hate-it.

You see, I do. I can’t tolerate those noises and many, many more. I remember feeling like this when I was ten years old. I used to think I was bitchy, but as I got older and my sensitivity to noise grew worse, I began to think I was crazy. I found out today, I’m not a bitch (well, sometimes I can be) and I’m not crazy.

 I have a rare, newly recognized disorder called Misophonia: The strong dislike or hatred of specific sounds. What makes this bad is the noise can set me off. My heart races, my muscles get tight, my stomach and head can hurt, setting off a migraine. And I get angry—very, very angry.

It didn’t make sense because it was just a noise. But apparently the neurons in my brain don’t respond to sound stimuli like other people. I’m relieved to know what it is, but not too happy there isn’t a cure.

 So when you’re around me, don’t chew with your mouth open, crack your gum, tap your fingers, hum, click a mouse, use your fingernails to type on your keyboard, cough, sneeze, snore or breath and I won’t feel the urge to slap you.


 

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Happy Birthday To My Husband David


A little over thirty-three years ago, I began dating a young man. I didn’t know at the time that I’d end up marrying him and having two sons. Nor did I know we’d shelter one another through storms and hold hands while we’d climb some pretty hazardous mountains. I had no clue that life would be hard at times and he’d have to dry my tears and support me while our life spun out of control, and that I’d do the same for him.

I didn’t have a crystal ball to see that this young man would make a good husband and father. But in hindsight, I made a damn good decision in marrying him. He’s kind, compassionate, intelligent, chivalrous, romantic and dignified. And I’m very lucky to call him my husband.

David, I love you and I’m honored to be your wife and the mother of your sons.

 Happy Birthday, David!

 

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