Catharsis

I’m certainly glad that I wrote that last post.  It was very healthful, even if I did sound a little whinier than I intended.  I had never really gone through the whole process of “How We Lost Our Home”, and now I’ve written a new school year theme on the subject for my Creative Writing Seminar monitored by Ms. HeatherGreeneyes. 

I feel the need to write further, however, because of a comment I received on another forum to a similar posting.   Someone asked me “Did you expect someone else to help you get it fixed?”

I don’t any anyone to think that I don’t feel ultimately responsible for what happened.  I could have gone to my family for assistance, and did as a stop gap measure a couple of times.   However, when it came down to it, I finally told them “I made this bed, and now I need to lie in it.”  I should have realized that they were merely feeding out the rope from which I would eventually would find myself dangling.  I thought I was smart enough to get through it.  I had no idea. 

What irritates me is they gave me no quarter when I asked for help or tried to explain my circumtances to them.  They didn’t care.  Why should I now care that business pratices they went to school to learn have now failed them?  Why should my tax dollars be used to help them when they weren’t available to me? 

There was a federal grant program advertised here for people who needed assistance with home repairs.  However, we always were just outside of the income range–  we made TOO MUCH money to qualify.  Now these clowns with their gas-guzzling land yachts want schlemiels like ME to bail them out?

Is this a great country or what?

A Public Service Announcement About Removing Tires

I have noticed a fair number of people finding my little corner of the blogsphere by searching for “getting a tire off of a GEO Metro” or “hammer as tire removal tool” or “brute force VS. explosives in tire removal”.

Before any of you get too involved with an ATF investigation while upsetting your neighbors, let me assure you it IS possible. 

The person at the Midas™ shop to whence I took my ailing Metro said that sometimes the rim on this model will rust around the center, causing it to stick to the suspension:

http://www.iautobodyparts.com/rimswheel_covers-catalog/geo/metro.html

Geo Metro Wheel

He figured my WD-40 soaking and driving it to the shop loosened it sufficiently to facilitate removal. 

Personally, I still think the car was laughing at me.

Oh-oh, looks like my blog has flat-lined

Two days and no one has even taken a peek.  Well, what do I expect when I don’t publish new stuff?

Hmmm…more Phone Follies?  Nah, not today.  I’m not out of stories, I just don’t have ay ready to spill out of my head.  Boy, I am REALLY coming up empty here!!! It’s not really writer’s block., just nothing has me really driven to write except the fact that I DON’T feel like writing about anything.

Back to The Vault.  In an earlier post or comment, I mentioned my e-mails at work.  They were my main release for frustration,with many people finding out about my sometimes contentious yet bizarre sense of humor.   One in particlar stands out in my memory as my favorite, to the extent that I’ve saved it. 

I’ve sanitized it, removing references to clients and employers, including the name of the team manager in question.   He has the same first and last name of a famous Hollywood movie director, which should be obvious from the body of the message:

From: Gxxxxx Lxxxx
Sent: Wednesday, December 06, 2006
To:  Ops-Desk
Subject: Schedule

 

                           Folks,  

•    It would be ever most helpful if I were to have something in my folder.  This is a new team being formed and I would like to be able to introduce myself to them and give them their schedules.  This would be most easily accomplished if I had the info.

• Thanks,
• By the way, my name is actually spelled GEORGE (with one “R”).

Dear George,

I heartily apologize for this omission when we did the schedules last night—apparently, “The Force” was not with us. The responsible peon has been flogged, driven into the cold wailing and gnashing her teeth while pathetically clinging to her few pitiful possessions, her family, goods and chattels sold and the money used to erect a monument to you with an engraved scroll detailing the insult you endured. Is that sufficient??

As for the misspelling of your name, I have yet to locate an instance where your name WAS misspelled—at least, not by this office. Perhaps you need to clean your glasses.

Now, perhaps, the few, the proud, this happy band known as “Gxxxxx Lxxxx’ Team” will be come acquainted with your magnificence, and thus be inspired on to great and heroic deeds to the greater glory of (our client), (our employer) and the United States of America.

 

Fortunately (I think) I was so proud of this opus that I showed it to my supervisor before sending it.  He was amused, but was not entirely certain that the manager-in-question would be, and “dissuaded”me from sending it.  Several of my co-workers likewise found it entertaining, including his daughter, who concurred with my supervisor’s assessment that the manager would not have been pleased. 

Many months later, after I had established a working rapport and friendship with this manager, I showed it to him.  He, understanding my sense of humor by this time, laughed.   Perhaps it did get better with age.

CallCenter Life III

This one is based upon a call I made TO Customer Service:

Thank you for calling Acme National Trash Services, how may I help you??

My trash was not picked up.

OK. Let me look at your account.  I see that your bill is past due, and services were cut off.

Yes, and whether I’m an air head for having missed the payment is still under review, but I also recieved a letter from your company today (the 7thday of the month) stating that the were willing to work with me as I was a “valued customer.”

Yes, sir that letter was mailed out on the 1st.  We cut off your services on the 2nd.

So you mailed a letter to me on the 1st promising to work with me, and I don’t receive it until the 7th.  There is no way I COULD have received this letter by the 2nd, and yet that is when you cut off my services.

Yes sir, that’s the policy.

Young lady, I hope this call is monitored.  Not because you have done anything wrong, but so your managers can listen to how stupid what they just made you say sounds.

NOTE:  I have since changed trash companies.   The old one has yet to come pick up their container.  If it’s here much longer I’m going to sell it at a yard sale.

—————————————

Thank you for calling Blah Technical Support, my name is Ishmael, how may I help you?

I’m having trouble connecting to the Internet.

Who is you service provider??

Internet Explorer.

No, I mean who did you contact to connect your computer to the Internet?  Do you use AOL?  CompuServe?  A local ISP?

You mean I have to call someone else to connect?  You sold me this computer, YOU should make it connect for me!

————————————————

Thank you for calling Blah Technical Support, my name is Ishmael, how may I help you?

Every time I try to dial into the Internet, I get an error that says “No Dial Tone.”

Are you sure that telephone line is active?

Yes, we’re speaking on it. 

How many phone lines do you have in the house?

Just this one.

Is someone else using the phone when you get these errors?

Yes- what difference does that–OH!!

———————————————

Be Careful what you Ask For

Last Wednesday, Bailey went in to be groomed.  It had been a couple of months, and she was beginning to look somewhat “scruffy.”

Bailey pre-groomer

OK, DECIDEDLY “scruffy.”  Anyway, it was determined that she needed to visit the groomer, and an appointment was made. 

Now, you must understand that, in matters of style and/or design, I leave that all to my wife, Mary.  When she met me, I was buying all of my clothes from Farm & Fleet: fleece-lined corduroy jacket; harness boots; REAL denim blue jeans; and flannel lumber-jack shirts.  I thought it all looked just fine.  Flannel shirts are STILL banned from my wardrobe.  So it is that I rarely make any decision on appearance without consulting her.

Life was simpler in the Army.  Not only did I not have to THINK about what I wore, because it was all out-lined for me,  but everyone wore their name on their uniform.   This is a tremendous boon for someone who wins easily at Trivial Pursuit but can’t remember the names of people with whom he has worked for years.  But I digress.

So it was that I called Mary at her office from the groomers to ensure that I had her instructions correct in my head.

“How did you want Bailey’s hair?” 

“Short,” was her reply.

“Didn’t you want some particular style or something?”  I asked.

“I don’t know, you know, SHORT!”  were her instructions, which I passed along to the groomer. 

Bailey Post-Groomer

Mary said when she picked her up she almost didn’t recognize her.

So as I said in the title of this post:  be CAREFUL what you ask for- you just might get it.  Bailey probably won’t need a haircut now much before Thanksgiving. 

Bleah!

Sorry, but that’s the way I feel tonight.  For two magic beans I wouldn’t go back to that job again if I could help it.  No backing, no clear leadership, no allowance for the people who KNOW what’s going on to actually perform their jobs.  In a crisis situation, all of the managers are too busy trying to show how THEY can handle it rather than allowing those who are SUPPOSED to handle it do so.  It’s like hospital administrators criticising a surgeon’s suture technique.  They don’t really know what they’re talking about, but they don’t want to appear inept, so they do SOMETHING.  Never mind that the people whoare SUPPOSED to be controlling call flow are being ignored and not even consulted.  We finally told agents not to even bother to call and ask us, because everyone else with a radio had the situation well in hand.  Of course, there was no co-ordination, and some were doing one thing and others were doing the opposite, but never mind– they management had the situation well in hand. 

And the wonder why my attitude stinks.  I tell them I don’t have an attitude problem- I have the attitude, THEY have the problem with it.

The local Animal Control Officer makes more than me.  Maybe next time they advertise I should go for that.

Life returns to what passes for normal around here.

The year’s at the spring,

And day’s at the morn;

Morning’s at seven;

The hill-side’s dew-pearled;

The lark’s on the wing;

The snail’s on the thorn;

God’s in his Heaven –

All’s right with the world!

 Pippa Passes, by Robert Browning (7 May 1812 – 12 December 1889)

I have repaired the wireless connection, which is good, because my son returns from GenCon Indianapolis 2008 this evening.  Actually, early tomorrow morning since he decided to take the train as it was easier than driving and cheaper than flying. 

I won’t miss the set up he has in his room.  It’s been useful, but it’s set up for someone with a spine 24 years younger than mine.  We won’t go into what has happened to my spine and other joints in the ensuing years.  I retired from the Army/Army Reserve with 27 years of service- `nuff said.

Having access to two computer, however, has given me more opportunity to write in my blog.  I can’t access it from work (which would be inappropriate anyway) and in the evenings when my wife and I are both home, it can be a race to see who gets to the keyboard first.  Andrew lives with us, and as an adult we give him his own space- which means we don’t enter his room without permission, nor do we use is equipment without permission. 

Getting his permission while he’s present, however, is akin to peeling a pomegranate.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, it’s not so much a computer as his electronic life support.  Yes, he still lives at home, even though he’s 29.  He’s what you might call a “late bloomer.” 

Actually, he’s more what you might call a NON-bloomer, since he has only recently began to develop friendships and relationships that do not involve the computer.  He has a form of autism known as Asperger’s Syndrome.  It may seem odd to some  that he’s never lived outside of the home,  but not to us. 

Asperger’s presents as above-average intelligence but below-average social skills– sounds like the definition of a nerd, doesn’t it??  Individuals can also exhibit obsessive/compulsive behavior and disorganized thought processes.  Andrew even had seizures when he was younger, for which he took medication.  He SEEMS to have out-grown them- we hope.  Albert Einstein is suspected of having had this disorder. 

As he gets older, Andy becomes more confident and able to deal with unexpected situations on his own.  However, he is definitely behind his peers, for whom he has little use.  I once asked him what it was he disliked so about people his own age.  He said he considered them “vapid.”  (Extra points if you know what that means- a gold star if you’ve ever used it in a sentence. ) 

He reads Time® magazine cover-to-cover every week, and has taught himself Japanese.  But if you could see him struggling with asking a simple question in a store or watch his frustration when something unexpected occurs that throws his plans off is to better understand why he’s still living at home.

Sorry- No pictures

Author : grnidone
URL    : http://www.GreenEyeWire.com
Comment: I want pictures of the guy at the service station fighting the tire off
 of Pickle Chip.

Much as I truly hate to disappoint Heather, there ARE no pictures of the guy at the service station wrestling the tire off of Pickle Chip. There are many reasons for this:

1.  I didn’t take Pickle Chip to a service station (careful, you’re dating yourself of you even REMEMBER “service stations”!) I took him to Midas™.

2.  I refuse to get a camera phone, and do not routinely carry my digital camera with me. That’s OK, however, because I was at work at the time.

3.  Most importantly, THE STUPID TIRE CAME RIGHT OFF FOR HIM WITH NO PROBLEM!!

After I had slaved in the hot sun trying to remove the goofy thing, getting it nice & loose for him and slathering it with enough WD-40 I should qualify as an investor I the company, it popped right off.

Of course, I suppose he could have been pulling my leg, or the mechanic might not have wanted to look like a doofus who couldn’t even get a tire off of a car, but that’s their story and their stickin’ to it. Anyway, I had them replace the axle part that was causing all of the tire wear, which was the primary reason I took Pickle Chip to Midas™. Besides, they understand why it takes two keys to drive him- one to open the door, and half of one to use in the ignition because the OTHER half is still broken off inside of the switch. Remember – 40 miles per gallon.

Reports of my incapacitation have been greatly exaggerated,…

…,to paraphrase one of my favorite all-American rascals, curmudgeon and author, Samuel Langhorne Clemens (November 30, 1835 – April 21, 1910)- better know as Mark Twain. 

I connect wireless through a router hooked up through my son’s computer.   If the router dies, or just decides to take a Dog Days vacation, it makes it VERY hard to get on line, since this machine is not a computer so much as “life support” for him.   However, right now he’s packing to go to Gen Con in Indianapolis,  so I have a window of opportunity. 

This set up is not ergonomically friendly to my neck or back, so I’ll leave you with the promise that I will fix his router or run co-ax out to the family room and connect that way.

It’s The End of the World as We Know It

Actually, that happens every day.  Time marches on, and as it advances, the world changes.  Every second is a portent of the Impending Apocalypse- because if we’re aware of it, the I.A. hasn’t occurred yet.  Nikos Kazantzakis character Zorba the Greek, said “Life is what you do while you’re waiting to die…”  Dilbert said, on a refrigerator magnet, “I get e-mail, therefore I am.”  “I think.  I think I am.  Therefore, I am!  I think.” In The Beginningby The Moody Blues,a fine take off on “Cogito, ergo, sum” first espoused by  René Descartes (1596–1650).

By these criteria, I’m alive.  Or at least, I exist.  But then, mold exists.  I’m not aware of any mold that receives e-mail, although have known some people over the years that have made me wonder.  

If you sense me getting anywhere near a point, please let me know.

So if I exist, on this plane of existence, what now?  There are only two things absolutely mandatory in life, and I’ve done one of them- I was born.  As Zorba put it, I’m still  “waiting” for the other one.

People have told me I have a very dark outlook on life, and a very low opinion of my fellow human beings.  That’s true, to a certain extent, and yet I can still laugh, still recognize the simple beauty of a sunrise, the awesome power of a thunderstorm or the charm of a romping puppy.  But there remains this undercurrent of dark rumblings that inhibit me in some relationships.