Talking to toddlers on the phone

I love children. I really do. My favorite child of course is my own, but even being around other people's kids brings a certain degree of joy that nothing else can. My favorite part of teaching was making a room full of children laugh. Children really are wonderous things.

That being said, don't put your toddler on the phone with me while you tend to some routine household chore. No really. Just say something's come up and that you'll call me back. Yes, even if it's just for a minute or so. I really don't want to listen to your child's barely intelligible toddler babble or worse yet his slobbery labored breathing. Sure, to you he looks so adorable standing there in the kitchen awkwardly holding the phone to his ear, but to me his gagagoogoo is no more enjoyable to listen to than automated voicemail prompts or nails on a chalkboard.

What sort of dialogue do you expect me to have with him anyway? Sure, I could ask about his day or his favorite TV show or his latest bowel movement, but funnily enough I don't have near the interest in these things that you do. If he wants to talk on the phone, maybe he has a grandparent who'd be more than willing to listen. Maybe you could just get the kid the Mickey Mouse Talking Phone. Remember that one?

Hey, Mickey, come over for a party.

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Keep your germy paws off my kid

Many apologies for my sudden absence. I know I'm basically only addressing a few family members when I say that, but with my new position at work, I have absolutely no time on the bossman's nickel for creative writing. Can you imagine? Working? The whole time you're at work even?

With the new part-time position comes the added responsibility of parenting my daughter during the day. And let me just tell you, she's another one that's quashed my efforts at casting out my demons via the keyboard. I had planned to use the time that I was home with a four-month-old to write the great American novel or at the very least a few scripted postings about my stuff, but no. She needs bottles, and she needs diaper changes, and she needs interactive time with her dad. Why I thought she'd be content to sit and babble while I endulge in a harmess pasttime I have no idea. That's what my cat does. I guess I thought a baby wouldn't be much different. Oh well. So begins the journey of fatherhood.

Speaking of fatherhood, when my wife first warned me that a man with a baby out in public is a magnet for women, I thought she meant the scantily clad variety whose clothes are as tight as her morals are loose. Sadly, I have yet to be approached by such a gal when I'm out pushing Meryl in her stroller or a grocery cart. We do get approached by women however. They're just not the people I was hoping for.

For example, the other day I was at Kroger minding my own business and trying to locate the numerous items on my list when out of nowhere some frumpy weird teenage store clerk with a dustmop and a personality disorder makes a beeline for me and my daughter. "Awwwwww, look at the baby. Hey sweeeeeetie. You're so cute," she says grabbing my infant daughter's hands. Then sensing my shock at some stranger taking hold of my first born she says to me with a smile, "Don't worry. My hands are clean."

Yeh, as clean as that filthy dustmop.

I didn't say this but I wanted to. Furthermore a baby is not like an adult. If I were to meet you in the street and shake your hand, the last thing I'm going to do is then put my fingers in my mouth. But you see, Psycho Kroger Clerk, this is exactly what babies do. They put their hands right in their mouth. Then all your germs and the dustmop's germs and the germs of everyone who's touched the dustmop or your pudgy hands jump right onto my daughter who will immediately suck on her fingers thus initiating a struggle between the plethora of alien germs and her newly developing immune system. Not only that, Psycho Kroger Clerk, but even if your hands were freshly Purelled, you're still frumpy and weird. That alone is reason enough that I don't want you accosting me in the store.

Not five minutes and three grocery items later some woman whose older than dirt does practically the same thing. This woman wreaks of mothballs and who knows where her hands have been? And she wants to make small talk with me next to the frozen fish section. Meryl, not yet being totally aware of stranger danger, smiles and coos which just eggs the old bird on. Great.

When I get up to my favorite cranky oldster cashier (who by the way will then shame me by making me openly admit that I'm too cheap and stingy to round up to the next dollar and donate to whatever stupid charity Kroger has buddied up with this week) she notices that Meryl is starting to get cranky. I tell Meryl that it's still 45 minutes until her bedtime and the cashier says to me in her volume ten voice, "She's probably hungry." Like I really need additional parental guilt laid on me from the Kroger lady.

Today I return to Kroger and a group of girls is out washing cars for a fundraiser. Cleverly they nominated the most buxom to stand on the corner and shimmy for passing motorists with the hopes of luring them into making a donation. As luck would have it, this time Meryl was home with my wife.

Just my luck.

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Golem teaches us to enjoy the little things life has to offer

This morning I was reading to my four-month-old daughter. With a children's librarian for a mom, Meryl has a slew of books and did have long before she was ever conceived (which by the way happened almost a year ago to the day -- just thought I'd let you know.) Actually it was my wife who had the books before but we'll tell Meryl we got them in preparation for her arrival. My wife and I were always fans of children's books long before we were considering parenthood so our collection is quite varied and includes small board books like Doggy Dog by Chris Raschka and more elaborate tales like The Three Little Javelinas* by Wutzer Nehm. Ok, that's not really who wrote it but I don't feel like getting up off the couch right now to find out who did. I'll give her credit in a minute.

This morning's story was Golem by David Wisniewski . The book's sitting right by me, otherwise I never would have guessed at the author's name much less spelled it correctly. Anyway, the story is based on an old Czechoslovakian Jewish legend in which the people of Prague are harrassing Jews and spreading rumors that they're mixing Christian children's blood with flour and water to make matzah bread. Now you and I know that if those Czech fundamentalist xenophobes had ever eaten matzah bread they'd know that surely if it had been made with the blood of Jan Hus's followers it might taste slightly better than styrofoam, but this was the Middle Ages and intelligence hadn't been invented yet. To solve the problem Rabbi Loew creates a giant man out of clay named Golem whose job it is to stop the goys from spreading such nasty rumors about the Hebrew people.

Golem, while gargantuan and thus intimidating, has a gentler side kinda like a Lou Ferrigno who keeps the Sabbath. At one point in the story Rabbi Lowe sees Golem staring at the sunrise. When he asks Golem what he's doing Golem says he's admiring the beauty of the night sky as it changes from black to blue. "It's so beautiful," Golem says.

Golem takes great pleasure in something as simple as watching the sun come up. Likewise my daughter has developed quite a fascination for ceiling fans. When she's lying underneath one that's not on, she sometimes will let out a single quiet coo. When you turn it on for her she smiles and babbles at it. Hearing Elaine's voicemail greeting makes her smile too. She is also entranced by the spiraling colors that dance on the screen when we listen to lounge-radio via Windows Media Player. I like to think this is somehow educational for her and that someday she'll grasp fractals and chaos mathematics as a result. A dad can dream, can't he? My point is that the seemingly simplest things bring her pleasure.

Do you think there's something to be learned from this? I'm not suggesting we all lie on the floor and stare at ceiling fans for personal enjoyment, but maybe somewhere in the rat race there's something we take for granted on a daily basis that otherwise might bring us pleasure. My brother enjoys fishing for example. Now I've never understood the appeal to fishing but the conept is simple enough and requirements are minimal. I think some people do it for hours on end.

My mother has always been an avid reader. Whether she enjoys delving into new worlds or temporarily escaping her own I don't know, but what cheaper pasttime is there? Books are free at your public library, and the people there'll even go so far as to put them on hold for you and call you once they arrive.

As for me, I like to write.

I have yet to find the secret to eternal happiness, but I can't help but wonder if the key lies somewhere within us as opposed to outside us. Have you ever noticed that consumerism isn't really so much an economical term for Westerners as it is their dominant religion? We are drowning ourselves in our own stuff? Perhaps happiness comes not from getting all the things we want but from seeking personal enjoyment in all the things we have. After all, if you were to randomly pick a close relative out of your family tree, can you then remember what they got you last Christmas? Sure, there were those socks of mine but I mean besides that.

Golem is told by the rabbi shortly after he's created that once everything's kosher with the Jews and the Bohemians are put back in check, Golem will be returned to clay. Presumably his appreciation for the otherwise mundane can be traced back to this knowlege that his days are numbered. But really now, don't we all know our days are numbered? I've said this before, but none of us is going to live forever. The clay waits for no man.

My wife and I traveled to Prague a few years back and saw the synagogue where Golem's clay remains are rumored to reside. Just outside is the cemetery where the famous rabbi is buried. All along the streets in that sector of town vendors' stalls are decked out with yarmulkes and miniature replicas of the Golem. I made do with the free paper yarmulke but I did fork out a few crowns so that I could have my own little Golem. I'm sure if some people familiar with the Golem legend were to spot it they would tell you the moral of the story is that good triumphs over evil or more simplistically put don't mess with the Jews. I on the other hand like to think a more befitting message is that beauty and the enjoyment thereof can be found in the things right around us and that in the search for pleasure, we need not venture far.

I'd like to think I'm not big on material goods. There are few things I possess that I couldn't live without if I had to. You can take my souvenir postcards, my disposable furniture from Ikea, or my Mona Lisa socks. That stuff is truly that: just stuff. You're not getting my miniature Golem though.

He's mine.

* The Three Little Javelinas was written by Susan Lowell. See, I told you I'd give her credit.

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Ode to the anonymous poster

You know those things that are on your to-do list that just never seem to get done? One of mine is responding to comments left on my blog. I thoroughly enjoy reading all of your comments. I really do, but I'm not good at quipping back. Originally I saw blogging not as a way to engage in conversation but simply to promote the International Society for Kevin Consciousness. I also wanted people to feel free to say whatever they wanted to say without concern that I would post ridicule about them and their lesser -- I mean different -- opinions. I enjoy reading the occasional feisty comment and I wouldn't want to stifle that. But one anonymous poster has helped me change all that and become a better person.

In early July I wrote about the hits I get from people seeking photos of tricholtillomania, or the urge to pull out one's own hair. They land on my blog because of this post. Specifically I said that writing in a blog about the urge to pull out one's own eyelashes and eyebrows was effed up. Just yesterday this anonymous poster bent my ear with this:

No Kevin, the uninformed individuals like yourself are what's "effed" up about
this world. The fact that you make fun of medical conditions affecting millions
of people makes you the weirdo, not them.

Where do I begin?

I feel like I should use some caution here because I once got a similarly scolding comment when I wrote about the limbless wrestler who wrote a book. I called him a freak. So what? Anyway I got a comment from an anonymous poster who said some of my postings were crude. My sister responded with a follow-up comment saying that whoever that preceding anonymous poster was, he was probably just self-conscious about his club foot and coincidentally she was willing to pay five bucks to see it. As it turned out the anonymous finger shaker was my mother. You can imagine how proud she must be of her two youngest children. You can click here to learn about the whole debaucle. Anyway I've learned you never know who the anonymous poster is, so I feel I should be somewhat mindful of what I say in response.

My dearest anonymous poster, I am duely glad that you have found your way to enlightenment via cocktailswithkevin.com. However it concerns me that you think poking fun at self-mutilators should be discouraged. Perhaps when you look in the mirror you see a person devoid of any eyelashes or eyebrows because of your constant urge to pull them out. Maybe you have pulled to the point that you resemble a cancer patient currently undergoing chemotherapy (You know they're a laugh riot.) Maybe you're one of those who makes a meal of your own scabs. I don't know. What I do know is that your inability to see the humor in writing about freakish habits is unsound. You will be a happier person if you flush the psychotropic contents of your medicine cabinet down the toilet and just accept me as your Lord and Saviour.

Frankly what I found most interesting about the whole hair-pulling situation wasn't so much the actual act of pulling out the hairs. Like I said in my original post, I too am guilty of that. What I found bothersome to the point of being amusing was that people feel it necessary to write about their hair pulling. Not just write about it in their own personal diary but write about it for all to see. Why do they think we should care? If they were writing about family, human anomalies or their sock drawer I could understand it. But pulling out their hair? That's not newsworthy, is it?

I also find it funny that this poster passively claims that pulling your hair out is a condition. Does anyone remember at what point in human history we started recategorizing personal choices as conditions? Is D.A.D. (Disorder Addiction Disorder) a cultural universal or is this strictly an American thing? International readers, please fill us Yanks in.

Anyway, I do wish to thank this poster for helping me to be a better blogger. I will now make it a point to respond to comments that I get. And I promise not to be so uppity all the time.

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Welcome to my stuff again

Long overdue is this fourth installation of Welcome to My Stuff™. This one comes almost as a response to a dare in which I jovially mentioned that if I were not able to come up with any more stuff of mine to write on, I may have to resort to the sock drawer. Some fellow bloggers held me to it. Here goes.

Obviously the six pair shown here don't constitute my entire sock collection. My other socks are hidden under that Tiffany blue bathing suit that I wear to look chic at the beach. I just pulled a few pair that I thought served as a decent representation of my hosiery. So as to provide you with an even more detailed description of what you're looking at, I'll rate the six pair you see here on four factors: attractiveness, practicality, comfort and frequency of wear.

I purchased the pair on the far left during our honeymoon in Paris. Specifically they were acquired from a little overpriced boutique in the subway underneath the Louvre museum. For the most part the Paris Metro is functional at best and some stations smell of bodily fluids. The station underneath the Louvre though fancies itself a tourist-infested mini-mall complete with calendars, sweatshirts and Japanese camera-wielders.

What's the name of that station? Surely if I just walk backwards in Google my mind, it will come to me. Ah yes, the Palais-Royal - Musée du Louvre station. It seems like it was only yesterday that I was exploring the City of Love with my new bride thinking to myself Hey, I could really use a new pair of socks. I actually bought two pair that day: the Mona Lisa socks pictured above and some Matisse socks that saw much more wear and therefore have found there way to the trash with other holy socks. Funny thing is I seem to recall paying around 80 francs for each pair which at the time was just a buck and some change short of $20. What makes it funny is that shortly after I got back from my honeymoon I found them in the Toscano catalog for around $10 a piece. Good thing I passed up the Mondrian socks. Now on with the rating scale which goes from 1 to 5 with 5 being the best in each category.

Attractiveness: 5 - They look cool and get comments.

Practicality: 3 - Worked great when I taught French. Not my first choice for job interviews.
Comfort: 2 - Way too tight! Feels like I'm wearing tourniquets.
Frequency: 2 - I like the way they look in the sock drawer and their uncomfortable.

The doodoo brown socks lying next to Mona Lisa were a gift from my mother-in-law which she bought from her local Brooks Brothers store. No, they don't heat up or vibrate -- that's the Brookstone store. These are just your average thin sock labeled truly as men's hosiery. Men's hosiery looks great for the first few wears and after that falls like Bea Arthur's cleavage. I think these were a Christmas present.

Attractiveness: 1 - What can I say, they're doodoo brown and they attract lint in the dryer.
Practicality: 4 - They work with jeans, khakis, suits, you name it.
Comfort: 5 - I admit that once you shake out these sad forlorn socks, they're comfy.
Frequency: 2 - I wore them more often when they were new. They're just so . . . flimsy.

The socks in the very middle have seen me through many a day in the office or at play. They are always a pair that makes it into my suitcase when I travel. Sometimes they'll go for two, maybe even three days at a time without being changed I like them so much. They too were a gift from my mother-in-law, and these socks just look sharp, feel sharp. I could go on.

Attractiveness: 5 - They're jazzy but not too busy. This picture doesn't capture they're beauty.
Practicality: 4 - They're starting to show some wear and tear in the heel but they're still a staple.
Comfort: 5 - Not too tight. Fit just right.
Frequency: 5 - Like I said, these see a lot of foot action.

You can't really see it from the photo, but the second to last pair of socks actually have little Ralph Lauren teddy bears on them. These were a gift from my own mother who happily catered to one of my wardrobe phases, wild socks. Aside from the one instance where I forked out twenty bucks for a pair on vacation, I typically wouldn't spend enough on my footwear to justify owning a pair of Ralph Lauren socks. This is why it's nice to have generous parents. These were also a hit when I was teaching elementary school.

Attractiveness: 5 - Again, these spark comments without being too gaudy. I like that in a sock.
Practicality: 5 - Ralph Lauren equals suit; teddy bears equal jeans. How can I go wrong?
Comfort: 5 - These socks have seen just enough wear that they're comfy and supportive.
Frequency: 5 - These socks score big in all 5 categories.

The little white ankle-high pair is one I think I stole from my father-in-law. Florida summers call for shorts and not even the octagenarians wear them with long socks anymore. The problem was I didn't own any suitable Florida socks and rather than venture into the local discount store, I just ventured into my father-in-law's sock stash. He has about a thousand.

Attractiveness: 2 - The only way they'd be a one is if they weren't easily bleachable. Practicality: 3 - I reserve these mainly for when I mow the lawn
Comfort: 5 - Socks really don't get more comfortable than these.
Frequency: 3 - They're good with shorts and slash or tennis shoes. That's about it.

Lastly that Christmas pair was also a gift from my mom. Thanksfully she gave them to me before Christmas that year. I don't mean to sound ungrateful but one of my pet peeves is receiving Christmasy things on Christmas day. How exactly is a guy really supposed to get full enjoyment out of such a gift? That's like giving a woman a pair of white shoes on Labor Day.

Unlike the Brooks Brothers socks my mother-in-law gave me that don't do anything special, the Santa socks did in fact make music. The little gadget inside the one of them stopped working a few Christmases ago so I eventually removed it, but when I first got them they had one of those music makers inside that makes the high-pitched electronic music like what you hear in musical greeting cards. Along with this pair I probably own at least three other pair of Christmas socks, all of which make it out at least once every holiday season.

Attractiveness: 4 - Well, this is in the eye of the beholder, but I like them.
Practicality: 1 - Other than Christmas, they're only use would be as a dog toy. You couldn't even make a decent sock puppet out of these.
Comfort: 4 - Now that the little noise maker is gone, they're much more comfy.
Frequency: 1 - The Chrismakuh season is it for these guys.

Well, that about does it for my sock drawer. Like I said, I do own more socks than these, but I think if I were empty out the whole drawer for the sake of a picture, you'd pretty much just see more of the same. Not only that but then my wife would walk in to the bedroom and say something like You better pick everyone of those up before I come back in this room.

Yeh, I think we'll just stick with these six.

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Making call center phone calls short and sweet

. . . unlike this post.

Since I accepted this call center job over a year ago I have acquired a knack for dealing quickly and efficiently with people over the phone. I have since accepted a position with another department in the company, one which sadly no longer entails dealing with bewildered chaps on the phone, but for the sake of my fellow compatriots and cube-mates I want to leave with a few hints and tips for efficiently but politely wrapping up a call. For those readers who are not my compatriots and cube-mates, I invite you to have a candid glimpse into the wonderful world of call centers so that perhaps you too can use this information to your advantage. I'll try and avoid specialized vocabulary and company jargon.

When a consumer calls in, simply say Thank you for calling XYZ, this is so-and-so. How may I help you?

Sometimes we're tempted to begin the conversation by asking the consumer for his consumer number. In theory this would be acceptable because in theory people don't call our line unless they have already received their reports in the mail. That theory also assumes people will love calling up a robot, one that seldom understands the spoken word no less, to leave their personal information including their prized Social Security number.

Most people who call in have not yet received their reports in the mail and therefore do not have a consumer number. Of those few consumers who have received their reports in the mail, a very select minutia actually even realize what a consumer number is or where to locate it on their paperwork. Undoubtedly these few savvy consumers will NOT call on your shift. Therefore when you begin the conversation with the request for a consumer number, you are asking the caller for something they likely don't have and don't understand. Doing so will simply aggrevate the caller and thus prolong your time on the phone with them.

Every second you spend aggravating the caller is an additional thirty seconds they will want to stay on your phone asking you to solve a problem you cannot solve. Since you are not permitted to prematurely disconnect the call, you will be making your job harder by starting the conversation any other way than simply asking how you can be of service.

Surprisingly, another way to shorten the time on the phone with someone is remaining silent while they tell you their tales of woe. It doesn't matter that they are the third person within the hour who has told you the same tale of woe. They each think their problem is unique, and frankly to them it is. Here is a deep dark secret that most people do not understand or appreciate:

At least 90% of people who call don't want you to do anything other than LISTEN to their problem. Therapy is a costly luxury, one which the everyday Joe can't afford. Therefore that same everyday Joe calls the first 1-800 number he can find. If that 1-800 number is yours, rejoice in knowing that all you need do is surf the internet, check your email, or read something on cocktailswithkevin.com while this guy boohoos about whatever it is he wants to complain about. Nine times out of ten you can let him go on for thirty seconds and follow up with I understand exactly and I appreciate you calling XYZ; If there's anything further we can do to assist you, please don't hesitate to call back.

This accomplishes several things in a matter of seconds. Many people who call in will assume you're trying to hurry them off your phone so you don't have to talk to them anymore. If you assure them they're welcome to call back, that fear is alleviated. If you've done a good job letting them vent, trust me, they won't call back, and even if they do it's not likely you're going to be the one to intercept the call.

Also if you use an assuring, comforting and closing tone, they will naturally feel obligated to take you up on your invitation to end the conversation. By closing tone I mean that same voice you use on the phone with a tertiary relative when you've shared all you wanted to share and therefore start saying things like Well, I'm glad you called or Well, I better get these kids to bed or Well, my prostate's acting up again. If you use this same friendly but conclusive tone when you've done all you can do for a caller AND YOU SOUND SINCERE, that caller will most often be content to hang up happy. If on the other hand you deliver this line sounding like you're not interested and can't wait for him to hang up, I guarantee you, he will prolong your time on the phone simply because he thinks he's never going to have a live person on the phone again.

Taking control of the call is another important part of working in a call center. So many times we add significant amounts of time to our phone calls simply because we allow the caller to take control of the conversation, many times without even realizing it until it's too late. Some callers actively try and bulldoze their way into the driver's seat through intimidation and others will just usurp control once they sense insecurity or they think they're not going to get the answer they want.

Regardless of how uncomfortable a consumer makes you feel on the phone, make sure you come across as knowing what you're talking about (even if you don't.) In spite of how little you may feel you know, because let's face it -- there's actually a lot to keep up with in this business -- you know more than the caller does. Use that knowledge to your advantage. Be polite but be assertive. As long as you sound like you know what you're talking about, the caller will trust you and let you take control.

Most everyone who calls this department needs one of two things. They either need us to order their reports so that they can file a dispute once they receive them or they need to file their dispute now that they've received the report. You likely can decypher which of these two things they need within the first few seconds of their phone call. People who need their reports ordered will often start the phone call with one of the following phrases:

• I just go off the phone with my insurance company . . .
• I need to order an XYZ report . . .
• My insurance agent said something's showing up on my record . . .
• You people are reporting some erroneous information about me (oh how people love the word erroneous)
• Let me ask you something. Who is XYZ?

On the other hand people who say these things likely have already received their reports and just need a dispute filed:

• I just got something from you people in the mail . . .
• I called last week and spoke with some lady. I don't remember her name.
• Hi so-and-so, my consumer number is . . .
• What do you need from me off of this report?
• I called last week for an XYZ report and instead I got an ABC report . . .

A primary key to getting people on your phone and quickly off is figuring out which of these two things they need and guiding the rest of the conversation in the direction you need to get that task accomplished. In spite of how hard the caller might try to get you off track by filling your ears with their irrevelant backstory, stay focused. A seasoned veteran will likely tell you most of what these people say has absolutely nothing to do with your job description with the exception of you having to be polite and trying to extrapolate any splinter of information you'll actually need.

If the caller needs his reports ordered, politely take the first opportunity you have to interrupt and ask for his last name. If on the other hand he needs a dispute filed, politely take the first opportunity you have to ask for the date of the claim that's showing up incorrectly. In either case, be ready once they answer to quickly BUT NOT RUDELY ask for your next piece of needed information. You being concise and polite is key to them trusting that you know what you're doing.

The moment you insert a pregnant pause they will assume you either don't know how to help them, don't want to help them or worse yet, you want them to start telling you their tales of woe. Save this pregnant pause for when you are actually ordering the reports or filing the dispute. This way you're getting something done while they think you're listening to them tell you about a deer coming out of nowhere or how bitter their divorce was or that they think because QRS insurance company wants to charge them extra money for their auto policy someone must have stolen their identity. Oh, how they love to think their identity's been stolen.

Once you've done what you need to do, stay focused on your goal. If at all possible give simple noncommital responses to their rambling such as In that case let me go ahead and get your reports ordered and mailed out to you so that we can get that disputed. If you're filing the dispute, you might follow up with something like I'm glad you brought that to my attention so I can go ahead and dispute this with the insurance company. You'll get that reponse in 30 business days. In either case start using that polite but conclusive tone so that they get the message that you've done everything you can. Otherwise you'll have to sit through more about the deer, the divorce or the stolen identity.

Most people who call us are polite. Some are confused, others frustrated and still a select few are angry. For the most part, even the angry ones are polite if you come across as polite on the phone to them. On rare occasions however you get the people who are just plain beligerent or worse yet lonely. These are the Chatty Cathys and Chatty Charlies. Dealing with them successfully takes practice, but here are a couple of tips:

• Don't get caught up in their game of 20 questions. If their questions have nothing to do with your goal or your job description be prepared to give very short, preferably one-word, answers or no answers at all.
• Don't be afraid to use silence to your advantage. A savvy Chatty Cathy will intentionally use silence with the hopes that you will feel intimidated and fill the conversational void with your nervous mumblings. Don't give them the satisfaction. Instead let silence prevail. You remaining silent or inserting a hefty pause before answering them sends the message that you're not quaking in your boots the way they hope. Their pride will dwindle and they will eventually hang up.
• Do not under any circumstances let your tone convey that you are irritated with them. They are trying to get under your skin. If you give them any hint that they are succeeding, they will keep going. There is no reason they should get to you anyway. They are only a voice on the phone.

Regarding insurance scoring . . . this is something I could write endlessly on and we all know there many different types of insurance scoring. Using a consumer's credit report to try and determine how likely they are to file a claim or how many claims they're likely to file is something many people find difficult to understand. Many times those who understand it, don't like that their insurance company is doing it or don't think they should. Here's a quick breakdown of what insurance scoring is:

An insurance company looks at a consumer's credit report. Then they look at the credit reports of those people whose credit reports look like the consumer's (similar types of accounts, similar usage of accounts, similar number of accounts, etc.) The insurance company looks at the number of claims those other people file, assumes that the consumer will file a similar number (or dollar amount worth) of claims. And then the insurance company rates them accordingly.

This is difficult for people to understand because everyone assumes the only thing their credit report is used for is to determine whether or not they pay their bills. Furthermore they associate their credit score with their integrity. People would rather you say horrible things about their mother and then spit on them than say their credit report wasn't good enough. Throw in the fact that some insurance companies tell 99% of their insureds their credit report was the reason they didn't get the best rate and you can see where a lot of their frustrations come from.

I found that telling the consumer their credit score has nothing to do with their insurance company's decision sometimes makes them feel better even if they still don't understand what's going on. At times I even said politely Your insurance company does not care how good your credit score is or that you pay all your bills on time; they are simply trying to assess your risk by looking at various factors on your credit report. Now, after you say this you can rest assured some stoop will answer back "but I pay all my bills on time." Just politely keep repeating what you said.

Insurance score calls do not have to be intimidating or even lengthy for that matter provided you have some well-scripted explanations and polite rebuttals.

Speaking of lengthy, this how-to guide has gotten to be somewhat long, and there's still plenty I could say. Let me finish off with some suggested things you can say in different circumstances to keep things short and sweet.

• What's the date of the claim that's showing up incorrectly?
• I'm going to go ahead and ask the insurance company to correct that. By law theyhave 30 business days to respond and then you'll get a new report in the mail letting you know it's been corrected / taken care of. (Notice this sounds to the consumer like you're going to make it say what they want even though you're really just saying it will be corrected.)
• I notice the claim says the driver was at fault. If you weren't at fault, I'll ask the insurance company to change it. Would you like me to do that?
• ABC insurance company didn't say whether or not you were at fault for the claim and because xyz insurance company doesn't see not at fault, they're assuming it's an at-fault claim. But if you'd like I'll ask ABC if they'll put "not at fault" in there?
• I believe that's got you taken care of, and I appreciate you calling. Is there anything else I can do for you?

Now in closing I'll just say that although many of you cube-mates knew I could be crabby at times, I absolutely loved talking to those consumers on the phone. I really did. Likewise working with all of you was a great pleasure each and every day I sat down in the Tiki cube. When the callers weren' making me smile, all of you made me smile.

If I can ever be of further assistance to any of you, please don't hestate to call back.

I mean . . . let me know.

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Happy blogiversary to cocktailswithkevin.com

On the day I turned 30, I woke up prematurely around 5:30 in the morning. It was a Saturday as I recall, and for whatever reason I couldn't fall back asleep, so I sat in my comfy plaid chair in the living room and downloaded birthday music. One of my favorites was a tune by the Arrogant Worms called, ever so justly, "The Happy Happy Birthday Song." The lyrics are high-larious and worth googling but I think the gist of the song can be summed up with this verse:

So let's drink to your fading health

And hope you don't remind yourself

The chance of finding fame and wealth

Decrease with every year.

My blog turns one year old today, and while I can't say it's helped me find fame, much less wealth for that matter, I have to say it's been a pretty good year. Through the miracle of modern blogology I've shared my worthless opinion on everything from sitting in a doctor's waiting room to pretentiously faux French restaurants to adorning our cars with those silly magnetic ribbons to a run-in with a bear. I've talked about far-away places and up-close places. Readers of my blog have suffered through my cantankerous opinions, a couple illnesses and most recently parenting.

I have evolved as a blogger. My first posts averaged about 150 words a piece and were basically just short blurbs about whatever thought ran through my head at the time. After reading other blogs I found that I enjoyed other people's writings more if they gave me more to read. As my sister once put it, short entries don't satiate one's voyeuristic tendencies quite enough. Now, I've run into some blogs that I think are too wordy for me, so I like to keep my entries such that they don't go beyond my childlike attention span. I now average around 900 words per entry.

I've also learned that blogs come and go with greater frequency than Atlanta nightclubs or cheap Mexican restaurants. For instance I used to link to fatasianbaby.com who has since gone belly-up. Well, I assume she didn't go belly-up, but once some of her family members found out about her online rants, she put the kibosh on her blog. Sad. This blogger has packed up and moved to a different corner of cyberspace twice now just since I started reading her a few months ago for similar reasons. The Soap in My Mouth blog referenced in my blogroll also mysteriously has disappeared. Where have all the bloggers gone . . . long time passing?

Lately I've been considering adding a podcast to my list of bloggy things. The only person I link to who does one is blackgayblogger.com and I have to confess that I don't listen regularly. I did listen to a few which I found interesting, but I just can't commit to listening to podcasts on a regular basis. I don't seek them out, probably because most of my cyber-time wasting is done at work, and somehow I think the bosslady would frown on me spending the corporate bandwidth listening to someone else's self-aggrandizing mp3s. But I truly am considering doing one of my own, so if you have any tips about podcasting you want to throw my way, please don't hesitate to do so.

I am proud to say that within the past year I have yet to litter my site with advertisements and frankly I don't foresee doing so anytime in the future. I even thought about coming up with a qualifier of no ads on your site in order for me to list you in my blogroll. So far I've opted not to impose such harsh restrictions not because I don't find cyber-commercials annoying -- I do -- but because some of my favorite reads have ads on their sites.

One site I find enjoyable is theendisnow.com, but I warn you that he's added personal ads to his site, such that when you visit the advertiser checks out the location of your internet provider and flashes up photos of local whores singles. And let me tell you there are some ugly-ass singles in my area. I guess I also don't understand the whole ad thing, especially when it comes to personal ads. Has anyone ever thought to themselves Gee, that guy who writes Nappy Diatribe sure is funny; I think I'll cruise for some tail.

Before I let you go, I have to share something else I've learned about blogging. I think I remember someone else mentioning this in one of their write-ups: Just because someone's family doesn't mean they care if you have a blog. This goes doubly for friends and coworkers. Personally, if I found out one of my friends had a blog, I would dive into that with reckless abandon on a daily basis, but whenever I tell people I write an online journal, they look at me like I just told them I have an extensive phonebook collection. I've quit trying to get people to read my stuff and instead just count on the fact that I'm basically writing for an array of faceless strangers.

Oh yeh, Peaster's mom, too. If you want to know why my wife and I call her that, click here.

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