My destiny just isn't meant to be

One of my earliest first grade memories was at the beginning of the school year when the teacher was telling us what we could and couldn't do in her class. Along with the regular classroom management rules was a non sequitur she threw in about not using the phrase "goody goody gumdrops."

This threw me for a loop because at six years of age, I had never heard the phrase before, and come to think of it, I can't recall anytime I've ever used it other than when relaying this same story. As a kid I thought it was odd that someone would ban you from using a phrase that wasn't profane, but as an adult I have a greater appreciation for this criterion. There are some phrases that just grate on my nerves any time I hear them.

Everything happens for a reason.

A friend of mine said this on the phone the other day. I usually don't write about friends, but she isn't going to read my blog anytime soon, so I'll just talk some smack. Whenever I hear someone say that everything happens for a reason, it's usually after they've done something stupid and therefore had to reap the results.

Yes, it is true that everything happens for a reason. That reason is because you or someone else made it happen. No magic here; usually just haphazard decision making.

If such 'n' such doesn't happen, then it just wasn't meant to be.

Again, when did we move the locus of control away from the individual and chalk up the future to some uncontrollable destiny simply to befall us?

When I was working as a real estate agent, I occasionally would hear this from buyers and sellers. Buyers would offer a lowball offer on a house and sellers would jack up their asking price ridiculously high. Each one would say something like, "Well, we're going to counter with this, and if they don't accept, then it just wasn't meant to be."

I'm not going to launch into a debate on pre-determinism versus free will here. I'm just going to tell you how it is according to me, which is really all you need concern yourself with. There is no "meant to be." You make it be.

It's a sign.

STOP is a sign. CAUTION WET FLOOR is a sign. Suddenly noticing the Baskin Robbins out your passenger-side window when you're hungry for an excuse to go back on your diet is not a sign. Identifying something as a sign is usually done by those who want to do something bad but feel as though they need permission to do it. When they can't get that from an individual, they look for the closest coincidence and deem it a sign.

I don't wanna jinx it.

This one bothers me largely because I find myself occasionally saying it. Not counting one's chickens before they hatch is understandable, but simply saying that the eggs are going to hatch does not decrease the likelihood that they will.

I'm just gonna put it in God's hands.

I am convinced that putting something in God's hands is a religiously acceptable way of saying give up. It's as though the person saying it is not only throwing in the towel but also attempting to take a preemptive strike against your calling them on it. After all, if they've handed their problem to a being who's all powerful, how can you argue with them? Why do some people blame God for their own misdeeds?

God has a plan for us;
It's all part of God's plan; and
God works in mysterious ways.

Employ one of these tautologies after a kid gets hit by a car and see what sort of reaction you get.

Consequently:

The Devil made me do it; and
He must have the Devil in him.

If ever there were a reason to do away with our justice system it would be because of the Devil, wouldn't it?

Git 'er done.

I know it's a little off the mark, but I actually heard a kid say this recently in the parking lot as he was about to put groceries in the trunk of his mom's car and I cringed. We should not still be saying this. Really, we never should have said this. Just because it's funny when Larry the Cable Guy says it doesn't mean it's funny when you say it -- much less for the umpteenth time.

I'm starting to sound like that first grade teacher. Out of curiosity I googled her name as well as looked in wikipedia to see if any entries came up about her. Nothing that I can find.

She was a mean bizzie if there ever was one. I distinctly remember her once making fun of a classmate's drawing and yelling at one girl because she couldn't yet count to one hundred.

Oh well.

I guess everything happens for a reason.

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All Nations Restaurant and Caribbean

I often have a penchant for being the odd man out. Whether it's visiting a foreign country or exploring a part of town my mother would call "lock-your-doors," I just enjoy experiencing new things. I don't like using the word diversity because it's one of those loaded words that gets thrown around so much that it's lost its meaning, values and progressive being other examples, but sometimes I've found that breaking out of the mold someone else has designed for you makes for the best stories to tell at the end of the day. Yesterday I took Meryl to a Haitian restaurant.

Lawrenceville is not Petticoat Junction but nor is it a New York or Miami. Within five minutes driving time, I can find Bosnian food, Romanian food, Dominican food or Haitian food, but these restaurants generally do not cater to the urban Anglo who wants to be able to say he ate Szechuan one day and Cantonese the next. Aside from the usual Mexican, Chinese and Thai places, all of which seem to sprout up around here like kudzu, ethnic restaurants cater largely to their own. Sadly, many don't last, but they usually serve up some delicious dishes while they're here. All Nations Restaurant and Caribbean was no exception.

Don't you just love that name? All nations. And Caribbean! This is kinda like saying European nations . . . and Sweden, but I digress.

The restaurant was recommended to me by a Haitian guy I ran into at Wal-Mart. All nations love the big boxes. This guy used to be a student of mine, and when I expressed sadness over Bistro Creole closing its doors, he smiled and said that his friend had opened a new Haitian restaurant around the corner. Enter the suburban Anglo and his Anglokin.

The moment I walked into this place it was like a sauna. I don't know if the air wasn't working or if they just like to keep the restaurant hotter than a Port au Prince sidewalk, but if I was sweating I can't imagine how the people in the kitchen must have felt. We were the only customers in there and Meryl immediately wanted to be put down where she could explore the tables and chairs and fire extinguisher. Somewhat hesitantly I acquiesced.

A woman emerged from the kitchen and said hello.

"Komon ou ye?" I asked, "How are you" being the one phrase I know in Haitian Creole. She smiled and wanted to know where I had learned it. I name dropped a few Haitians I know, thinking maybe this will get me a discount or at least a larger helping. She knew the guy from the Wal-Mart, but I think that's it.

I asked if they have fried plantains. They do. I tried to order on the cheap with a steak and cheese sandwich and plantains. After discussing my selection with the manager it's decided they don't have the fixings for steak and cheese. She suggested Curry Chicken. Hesitantly I acquiesced.

She retreated to the kitchen to prepare our food. The manager, before leaving, turned on the Disney channel, I suppose for Meryl to enjoy. She did, but only peripherally. The plastic tablecloths and bubblegum machines were her main focus, and I spent much of my time chasing after a baby that refused to be held and instead wanted to pull tablecloths off of tables.

Because it was hot as blazes in there, I reached into the cooler and helped myself to a watermelon flavored soda. It was yummy. I don't know that it tastes so much like watermelon as it did cotton candy, but either way, I gulped it down like there was no tomorrow. I found a straw behind the counter and let Meryl have a sip. She didn't like it. Fine, more for me.

The woman, who all this time had been bantering back and forth in Creole with another employee, came back out with our food all wrapped up in a to-go bag. "You should come back many times. We have lots of good Haitian food for you to try," she said to me. I asked if its okay to feed curry chicken to a baby. "Oh yes," she says, "but not with bones of course."

I don't care how hot they keep the restaurant. That food was delicious! The chicken I think was stewed and it just fell off the bone. The flavor was like nothing I had ever tried before. My plantains came with a dipping sauce that I think was a blend of . . . well, I don't know what it was but it was good too. It was yellow, if that means anything to you. Meryl ate the plantains without the sauce, but I liked it.

Speaking of whom, my solitude has now ended because she has woken up. Smells like she needs a diaper.

Probably the curry chicken.

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English Class

This article is about the Mexican president. Click on the link to read about what he wants to do.

http://www.mexiconews.com.mx/miami/22367.html

You can do a lot of things on the internet, but this article talks about something you cannot do. Click on the link below to learn what the article is about.

http://www.pcworld.com/article/id,51923-page,1/article.html

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Gwinnett County aquatic center lap swim farce

Twice now my daughter in all her infinite cuteness and I were turned away from a Gwinnett County recreational swimming pool. Why? Not because she didn't have the proper attire Both times she had on her swim diaper and regulation plastic pants. It was because we showed up during the three-hour block they call "lap swim."

Do you know what lap swim is? You might think it is a time when nimble bodied triathletes can work on their breast stroke. That's what it sounds like anyway. At the very least you might think it was to provide those who enjoy swimming for exercise an opportunity to do so without having to worry about running into a pool noodle or cute toddler in swim diaper and regulation plastic pants. But "lap swim" is neither of those things.

Lap swim is a misnomer, a coverup for the real reason kids can't go into the pool during those hours. It's because a small group of portly geriatrics needs to work on their bobbing skills. In both cases when I was politely denied access to the big kids' pool because of "lap swim", I peered through plate glass at the Olympic sized pool only to find the token geezer along with some cream rinsed grandmas, all of whom were just bobbing up and down on tiptoe in the pool. There was no displacement involved either. They weren't going anywhere. Just standing in place. Bobbing.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not opposed to bobbing. I'm sure it can be a life-saving skill for the geriatric crowd. I've seen Cocoon. And Titanic. It's just that they call it lap swim and there's no swimming involved, much less in the form of laps. Instead of lap swim, they should call it "old bob" or something.

And furthermore, regardless of what they called it, why do those oldsters need the entire pool to themselves? Each time the number of people in the group wasn't even in the double digits. How much room do you need to practice your underwater toe touches?

And another thing: there is something amiss when my kid has to wear a swim diaper and plastic pants along with her bathing suit but an octogenarian can get away with only a speedo. That's just wrong for so many reasons.

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ScribeFire

This just in. I'm trying out ScribeFire for Mozilla Firefox. Let's see how this goes.

Powered by ScribeFire.

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Call Center Etiquette

It was a year ago today that I wrote an entry I entitled "Call Center Etiquette" and since that time it has been one of my most highly vistied blog entries. My guess is that people who have been given the runaround on the phone by a customer service representative turn to me via Google in their frustration. Finding the spell-unchecked job-related babble of yet another teledrone probably isn't what they were hoping to find, but because i worked in a call center at the time, I enjoyed rambling on about my job and the sometimes tedious callers. Click here to read it.

Recently I've had my own annoyances with customer help centers, but because of my past experience, I've gotten much better at being a call center caller. By better I don't necessarily mean being more polite; I mean getting what I want. My months in a the cube farm paid off and I thought I'd share some tips in case you're one of those forlorn souls whose tired of verifying the last four digits of your Social Security number only to be transferred to a dial tone.

DON'T THINK THAT BECAUSE SOMEONE PICKS UP THE PHONE THEY WANT TO HELP YOU.

The biggest mistake most people make when calling a call center is assuming that once they tell the rep what's wrong, the rep is going to try and solve their problem. Someone who sits in a cube eight hours of the day listening to irate people yammer on over the phone all for very little pay could really care less about some stranger's problem. The rep has his own problem to solve, mainly how to get you off the phone in as little time as possible.

IF YOU WANT SOMETHING SPECIFIC, DON'T WASTE TIME RAMBLING ON ABOUT HOW YOU DESPISE THE COMPANY.

This does not endear you to the rep or the company. Many people think that because an automated voice tells them the call may be monitored for quality assurance that the CEO is listening in. The vast majority of calls are not recorded, and the only person who hears your tale of woe is someone who has heard the same story over and over all day long to the point of anesthetism. Be calm and be brief.

Furthermore some reps will, after taking a disliking to you, add notes to your profile screen to dissuade any future reps from helping you. Your profile screen is like your permanent record. It follows you wherever you go in the cube farm.

DON'T ALLOW A REP TO REDIRECT YOU FROM THE ISSUE AT HAND.

I was very good at this, and you might be surprised to learn what percentage of angry callers hang up empty handed but happy simply because a rep could steer them away from the reason they called. In my case, I would use the tactic because their problem was not one my company could solve. So rather than simply say I can't do anything for you (because people will talk your ear off after you say something like that), I would find something in their account that I could tweak or change. Some reps will plant a hint of doubt or fear in the caller about something not related to their original concern and then magically come up with the solution to this newly invented problem. Et voila. Another happy customer.

DON'T ASK FOR A SUPERVISOR.

Doing so will almost certainly result in nothing other than you being passed over to the customer service rep's next-cube neighbor. My neighbor and I had an agreement. I was her supervisor and she was mine. If you're not getting the result you want, you'd be better off asking the rep to pass you on to another representative. Tell them their phone is cutting in and out and ask if you can be passed on to someone else. If you really think your problem merits a supervisor, it's time to write a letter.

FOR FUTURE REFERENCE GET THE NAME AND ID OF THE PERSON YOU'RE SPEAKING TO.

This one is tricky because if you ask for a rep's employee ID flat out, they'll assume you want to tattle on them. Try this route instead: Midway in the conversation say in a soothing voice, "You know, So-and-So, you are the first person I've spoken to at your company who understands and is actually trying to help. If I write a letter commending you for good service, do you have a last name or a number or something I can identify you with?

Most reps have some sort of incentive program where they get extra shekels when a customer pays them a compliment. You don't care about a compliment; you just want to be able to say John with employee i.d. 247356 said I should have a credit as opposed to I thought you said I was getting a credit. Notice one has more clout.

DON'T AUTOMATICALLY DISCOUNT THE OVERSEAS CUSTOMER SERVICE REP.

I have found that these people are often far more willing to do something than the stateside crew is. You just have to know how to talk to them. Many people make the mistake of thinking the overseas rep doesn't understand English. They likely do understand English provided it's not too colloquial. If your rampage is fast and heated with run-on sentences and incomplete thoughts, the rep will have difficulty understanding what you want. If you find yourself on the phone with someone who lives in a country where they celebrate Force your Daughter to Work Day, be succinct and use simple sentences.

NO WHEN TO CALL IT QUITS.

I recently had an issue with Vonage phone service where they failed to close my account on time as instructed and billed me for an additional month of service. At first I thought it might be a mistake, so I called their customer support line. After I spoke with the third rep and had waited on hold for north of forty minutes, I realized I was the fool. This was no mistake; it was a shady business practice on their part and no one I spoke with would have the power to help solve my problem. Their call center was designed to frustrate callers to the point of hanging up prematurely and not cancelling the service as a result.



I did finally get the credit back to my account, but it was only after writing a few emails and digging up the phone number of someone who had the authority to make changes. If you're getting the runaround, it's up to you to stop running. There's no point in rushing through a rat race if you're never going to get any cheese.

Before I wrap up, I want to make a request. Some of the favorite comments left on entries I wrote about my horrible experiences with Charter Communications came from people who identified themselves as former Charter employees. If you work in a call center, I want to hear from you. What are some ways callers can make your job easier and still get what they want?

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Charter Sucks (the final chapter)

Today is a day in my household where there is much rejoicing, at least by Papa Bear. My blog and all my cyber-doings come to you now from a new internet provider, namely AT&T. Charter, that previously monopolistic monster that stalked my neighborhood knowing I and other residents had no other choice for bandwidth, has been fired as of yesterday.

If you need to be brought up to speed with my ongoing battle with Charter, click here or here. Either place will take you to some online bitching from yours truly along with commentary from other poor souls, some of whom claimed to have been subjected to Charter's similarly shoddy service and others who claimed to have worked for the company itself.

I stopped counting the phone calls I made to this company's technical support team. I just remember I spoke with people in five different countries, America, Canada, India and the Phillipines. Well . . . that's only four but I probably spoke with a Bangladeshi once the Indian center was experiencing its highest call volume. I'm only guessing.

At different times I received callbacks from follow-up reps, people at the local dispatch office and an executive officer in the technology department. Because I am an effective bitcher I was receiving credits upon credits on my Charter bill to the point that I've now been told I will receive a check in the mail for the outstanding balance. I fully believe I could have continued calling each month to complain about them not having buried a cable in my neighborhood that was causing me to not receive the full bandwidth I subscribed to and they would have continued giving me free internet.

But guess what?

I don't care.

I don't want their shitty internet service that functions only when the Moon is in the Seventh House and Jupiter aligns with Mars. I want a true always-on connection. I don't mind paying for it. I just want it to work.

Can anyone tell me how I can go about getting the notes that are in my customer profile at Charter? The last few people I spoke with at that company were most anxious to shut me up and get me off their phone. I barely had to ask for a week's worth of credit before being granted an entire month's worth of one. And when I was cancelling my service over the phone, the representative brought up my account after asking for my phone number and I just heard this long "Oooohh . . . " like she couldn't believe whatever she saw on the screen.

I used to work in a call center so I know the info screen on a customer's account is a hotbed for customer service rep gossip and heads-ups. I don't know if it says PER SO-AND-SO AT HQ GIVE HIM A CREDIT or something as simple as THIS GUY'S AN ASSHOLE but I'd love to find out. I still think part of the reason i squeezed as much out of them as I did was because I filed a complaint with the Federal Communications Commission, but I may only be flattering myself. In any case, I only wanted them to deliver what they promised. They never did.

For the record, I have had little difficulty signing up with AT&T so far. There was some confusion on their part as to when they were coming to my house to perform various tasks but after two visits I now have a working phone and innerwebs. They have promised me some cashback awards that will arrive over the next six weeks time and their asses better deliver.

The tech who came out to the house to hook up my DSL couldn't have been more polite. He even went to the trouble of setting up my router to work with my laptop and installed some file management software on my computer. He also spoke at length about his most recent love interest, but I offered him a bottled Coke the moment he showed up so he might have thought I wanted to be his friend. I don't care.

He only drank about half the Coke before he left it sitting on the floor next to the hole he drilled in my baseboard. I finished the drink before recycling the bottle. Yeah, I drank after him. So what? He was good people.

P..S. Now Vonage is screwing me over royally but I'll have to address that later.

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