What Kind of Hotel Is This Anyway?

Yesterday, I felt all igry.  I didn’t want to (but, really, when does anyone WANT to feel igry?), but it just happened.

My parents are in town, and they are staying at a swanky hotel.  We were hanging out in the room, watching the boob toob (as my grandma used ot refer to it), when we decided to leave and get dinner.  As we opened the door into the grand hallway, we heard a woman in a room all the way at the other end of the very LONG hallway....enjoying herself (and whomever she was with).  I immediately heard it and panicked.  What to do?  I’m with my parents.  I don’t want to have to listen to this in their presence.  I don’t want to have to listen to this outside of their presence, but it seems even more heinous when they are right there.  My mom suggested we walk the other direction, but that was a dead-end.  So, we wandered down the hall, and the woman’s cries of ecstasy got louder as we finally passed her door (which was on the corner, so her moans echoed throughout two hallways).  All we could do was laugh.  And once we got into the elevator, all was restored.  We never spoke of the incident again.

Eww...igry!

Could it Be? Did My Nightmare Just End?

Well, in true triathlete form, I’m skipping track practice today.  Why?  Because I need to clean my house.  My parents will be here tomorrow, and it’s a disaster.  Since I don’t want to suffer through my mom’s disappointment, I will clean.  Okay, I will do a half-assed job of cleaning and hide the rest.

But that’s not why I’m here.  I just got off the phone with Phonies.  Fingers crossed, it was my final call.

Things have been a little quiet on the Phonies front, mostly because I’ve been too busy to deal with it.  Let’s see, where did we leave off?  I returned the phone and was awaiting my refund.  I was also awaiting a refund for the rest of those erroneous charges, which added up to $10 (yes, I know I’m cheap--shut it).

So, my bill arrived, and it had a negative balance.  Hoorah.  But it wasn’t negative enough for my satisfaction.  Two days later, I checked my account on the website, and the number was more negative, but not negative enough to account for the price of the phone.  I had a sinking suspicion that they cheated me out of my money.  I know, how could I possibly think such a thing?  They’ve been so honest and giving. 

Last week, I finally found some time to call them, and even though it was 2 o’clock in the afternoon, the call center was closed.  I know what you’re thinking...they’ve totally blackballed me.  Knowing that my hands were tied and not wanting to get into another tete-a-tete with the online support, I opted to wait a few days.

Today was the day.  I called, and I spoke with Phyllis.  She was a sweet lady--dumb as a box of rocks, but sweet.  Feeling that honey would get me further (and feeling a little removed from the whole situation since I hadn’t spoken to them in a month), I was nothing but sugar.  Phyllis ate it up.  She couldn’t figure out what I was talking about, but she was on my side.  She read me every line item on my bill.  She hemmed and hawed, not understanding how or why I would have $475 in credits.  When I started discussing my concern about getting under-credited for the phone, she told me that I had already gotten $475 in credit and felt that I should be happy with that.  I will never be happy with that.  I wanted the remaining $60....and I wanted that other $10 as well...but not as much as the $60.  After crunching some numbers with her, I managed to convince her that I did actually have a case. 

Prior to this happening, there was a hilarious conversation in which, I was trying to explain that the credit on my bill should be larger.  Phyllis, in all her sweetness, said, with great concern, "Oh dear.  You know just because there’s a negative next to that number...  It doesn’t mean you are in the negative.  We owe you money."

Oh Phyllis...you silly goose!  "Oh, I KNOW that.  You owe me quite a bit of money.  I’m not one to drop the fight early either."  And we laughed.

Then, she transferred me to tele-sales.  The woman helping me at tele-sales was also very nice.  I returned the favor and explained my situation.  When she first looked up the phone credit, which was $60 less than what I paid, she told me that they had already reimbursed me for the remainder of that balance back in February.  "Ha!" I said. "Those credits were for other erroneous (my favorite word to throw around with Phonies) charges.  Only $40 was taken off of the price of the phone."

Further investigation ensued, and she returned to tell me that I did have a point.  She wrote some notes in my file and transferred me to finance, so they could make the changes.  When I got transferred, I found myself stuck in computer option hell.  How could this be?  It didn’t even respond to my cries for a person. Finally, after pushing several buttons, I was transferred...to Passion.

Passion was no-nonsense.  If ever there was a stereotypical finance employee, it was her.  It took awhile, but I made her laugh.  Within minutes, she saw that they DID owe me $60, and she credited me.  Then, I asked her how I could get that money, and Passion was silent.  I thought I lost her, so I repeated my query about getting a check in the mail.  "Why would you want that?  You’ve got the credit on your account."  Oh, Passion...so innocent and naive.  It took some explaining, but telling her my tale of cancelling my service at the end of the month, she put me on hold.

Before I knew what was happening, Omega was on the line to help me.  At first I hoped she said, Amanda, but she didn’t.  Her name was Omega, and, to the best of my knowledge, she isn’t one of the American Gladiators.

"Miss Cardelia, how can I help you?"

"Well, I want to get this credit on my account sent to me in check form.  I’ll even settle for you depositing into my bank account (from which you unethically took it a month ago--I didn’t say that part)."

If I thought Passion was no-nonsense, I was wrong.  Omega had this act down.  "You can’t cancel your account.  You have an equipment upgrade, so you’re contract isn’t up for another 2 years."

She clearly had no idea who she was dealing with.  "Uhh...that’s impossible.  I returned that phone.  The whole reason I have this enormous credit is because I got refunded for it.  There’s no equipment upgrade here.  Trust me.  I’d take a picture of me holding the phone in front of the mirror, except that it doesn’t have a camera (Okay, I didn’t say that last sentence either, but it would have been rad if I did.)"

"Did you return it after 30 days?"

Seriously?  What’s with this question?  And, I’ve said it before, what the hell kind of cheap-ass computers are they using over at Phonies?  How is this information not right there?  Why must I go through the whole ordeal EVERY F-ING TIME?  "It was in your warehouse on February 27.  I got refunded.  It was well within the 30 day time limit."

"Oh, I see that.  Why didn’t you cancel your service when you returned the phone?"  She asked, sure that she had me between a rock in a hard place.

"Because my contract isn’t up until the end of April, and the only way to avoid the early termination fee was to keep the account until then."

Still not having it, she replied, "Well, why did you want to cancel your service in the first place?"

I can’t believe that I haven’t just recorded this already.  I’m bored with myself here.  I went through the whole thing, and just like everyone else, she decided to stick with the "technical issues" reason as my reason for leaving Phonies.  Knowing that that wasn’t good enough, I expressed my disgust with their lies.  Then she told me she was canceling the account.  Worried, I asked if she was charging me a fee.  Apparently she waived that because there was no way to convince me to stick with them.  Why couldn’t that have happened two months ago?  Where have you been all of my life, Omega?

So, as of April 10, I am free of Phonies, and a check will be in the mail (and it better be in the damn mail and it better be for $266 because I have a phone, and I am not afraid to use it).  AND, I ported my number over to the Heaven phone.  In 24 hours, I will be whole again...I hope.

Now I should do my taxes, and clean my house, and do my dishes, and change my flat tire, and vacuum, and brush my teeth, and maybe I should get a cookie...oh, and I have some work to do as well.

It never ends.

...and in case you were wondering. I didn’t change any of the names in this story to protect the innocent.  Their names really were Passion and Omega.  Awesome.

Even the Universe Knows I'm Out of Shape!

Big news.  Huge news.  Colossal news.

That triathlon that I signed up for in January because I wanted to get into shape and find a renewed passion for physical fitness; you know, the one that I haven’t really been training for?

It got cancelled.

I know.  It was symbolic.  It was on my birthday.  I thought that might help me do a little better.  It was the same course as the very last triathlon I did a few years ago.  It was going to be a transcendental experience for me.

Alas, it simply wasn’t meant to be.  I just got an email from the race director regretfully informing me that the race will not happen in less than two days.  They apologized profusely to all of the athletes that trained so hard for the event.  They certainly weren’t talking to me. 

I have to admit, I’ve been feeling a little nervous about the race.  I’m totally out of shape right now.  Of course, I do have a much more difficult race coming up in a month, and I really need to hunker down and something about it (while also guiding tourists through the California wine country).  But, I’m pretty relieved that I don’t have to change the back tire on my bike before Saturday morning.

Birthday miracles DO happen!

So, I just have this to say....

Don’t cry for me Argentina.  The truth is I haven’t been training.  I like to watch TV, and sit and eat at Sparky’s.  I can’t start racing, until I quit flaking.

*sigh*

I wonder if I should get a cookie.  You know, treat myself for a hard day’s work..

Saving Mannequins, One Torso at a Time

Should I ever be strolling down the street and notice a mannequin isn’t breathing, I now know what to do!  I can conduct CPR on them, I can conduct the heimlich maneuver, and I can even command people to call 911.  I am CPR certified.  WOO!

So, you just keep that in mind next time you see a plastic person in need of help.

I can revive plastic babies too.

Chevy's: Some go for the Chips, I go for the Conversation

Yes, yes, I know, where have I been?  Why haven’t I written anything in weeks?  Do I not care about the needs of my readers?  Well, of course I do, but I’ve just been very busy.  I hope everyone took a good look at themselves and found something productive to do with their time that would have been spent reading my prose.  Now that I’m back, please stop doing those other things and pay a little attention to me.

So, tonight I went to Chevy’s.  No, you don’t need to tell me what kind of chain-restaurant-adoring loser I am, I already know.  The thing is, as much as I love/hate Chevy’s, I haven’t been there in ages.  In fact, I was only there on a whim.  You see, I had to go to the bookstore to purchase some books on wine.  I have less than a week to become an aficionado (of which I will tell later because I don’t want to jinx anything).  Since Chevy’s was right next to Borders, I thought, "Why not?"  So I did.

It was happy hour, and the place was bumpin’.  No, seriously.  It was totally crowded.  You’d think that a crappy chain restaurant in San Francisco would be last place to be considered a "hot spot", but when you’re at the mall on the edge of the city, just bordering on the ’burbs...that joint is off the hook.  (No, I don’t know when or why I started speaking in faux ebonics)

Since I was a lone diner and really just wanted to dig into "Wine: For Dummies", I figured I’d sit in the bar (and just hope that my usual waiter wasn’t there because even if I haven’t been there in 12 years, he still knows me and still asks me about his job and tells me about his sister...but he is really good about refilling my iced tea in a timely manner...and if I have leftovers, he gives me extra food, so I have a full meal at home...so it’s not all bad I suppose, but sometimes I just want to be incognito).  After waiting for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only 7 minutes, I found my spot in the second to last seat at the bar.  An older Asian lady sat next to me and pointed out the happy hour specials.  Admittedly, I planned on eating fajitas...until I looked at the happy hour specials and determined that $3 fajita nachos would do the trick.  Eventually, I ordered, and I perused the introduction of my book.

After snacking on chips for awhile, my food arrived.  I dug in just in time for the show to start.  We’re talking impromptu dinner theater here.  It was awesome (the food was not...much like in actual dinner theater).

The first character, a biker type, walked up to the server side of the bar and asked if he could make an order to go.  He seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, yet took his sweet time deciding what he wanted as he asked the bartender (who was overloaded with fruity margarita orders) to describe almost everything on the menu.  He wandered away for awhile, then came back and inquired about happy hour because the Asian woman next to me alerted him to its existence.  He then added some flautas onto his order and walked away.  After a few minutes, he was back.  It was at this point that realized he was acting like a total tweaker.  He ordered a shot of tequila and insisted that the bartender fill it to the top.  When he ordered it, he said he needed it quickly.  Once it was in his hands, he downed it and looked around nervously.  Then he ordered a margarita.

Around this time a couple wandered over to order drinks while they waited for a table.  Once again, the Asian lady next to me encouraged them to drink margaritas during happy hour.  In the beginning, they were pretty uninteresting.  He was an older guy in his late 40’s, early 50’s.  She was a Slavic woman in her mid-30’s.  Then, he opened his mouth, and he sounded like Thurston Howell III.  I had no choice but to eavesdrop, and now I will re-enact the conversation for your reading pleasure:

Thurston Howell III: (You have to do the voice in your head, otherwise it’s far too mundane) What are those drinks over there? (pointing at bartender making a strawberry margarita.)
Asian Lady: That’s a margarita.  You should get one.  They are on happy hour special until 7pm.  Order now, so you get it for $3.  The fruity ones are $3.25.
THIII: Really?  Well, then we should get that.  I’ll get that one, what will you have?
Slavic Woman:  I want a regular one like her.
AL: Mine is on the rocks, the strawberry one is frozen.
THIII: Okay, so we want a frozen on the rocks margarita.
AL: No, they are different.  One is frozen, the other is one the rocks.
SW: I want the one she has.
THIII: Okay, we’ll both get that.  Bartender!  We’d like 2 margaritas before 7pm. (at this point, I wondered what time it was...and it was 5:55, so the whole "before 7pm" thing wasn’t exactly necessary)
SW: What is in those anyway?
AL: Tequila.
SW: Oh.  It’s like on vacation.
THIII: Yes, I only get these on vacation in Mexico.  I normally drink nice wine.  I can’t believe we’re having a vacation drink.  This is so fun.
SW: Yes, I get those when I go on vacation...in Mexico.
THIII & SW: (in unison) on the beach.
AL: Don’t go to Mexico on vacation.  They don’t need the money.  The United States needs the money.  You stay here for vacation.  We have a beach too.  Here’s what I do.  When I want to go to Mexico, I come here.  It’s just like Mexico.  If I want to go on a city vacation, I go get Irish Coffee at the Buena Vista Club.  You can go on vacation here.  US needs money.  Don’t spend money in Mexico.  They’re fine.
THIII: That’s a good idea.  I haven’t been to Mexico in awhile.  This is fun with the margarita.  It IS like being on vacation.
SW: I drink these on the beach.  It’s strange to drink them here.
AL: You should drink them here in the US.  They are better.  Mexico doesn’t need money.  We have to save our economy.
(The margaritas arrive.)
THIII: These are delicious.
SW: Yes.  What’s in them?
THIII: I don’t know.  I think there’s tequila. (Turning to Asian Lady)  What’s in these other than tequila?
AL: You can make at home.  Tequila, Triple Sec, Sweet & Sour.  It’s easy.
THIII: It’s delicious.
SW: Yes, very.  It’s like we’re on vacation.

(Time passes.  The Asian Lady asks me to pass the happy hour menu and inquires as to what I’m eating.  Apparently, even though she’s an expert at directing people TO the happy hour menu, she doesn’t actually know what anything is ON the happy hour menu.  I describe all 6 items because I’m a begrudging connoissuer of Chevy’s after living 2 blocks away from one in Manhattan--no, I refuse to explain any further)

SW: Their salsa is the best.
THIII: Yes, it’s spot-on.
SW: Everything here is so fresh.
THIII: Yes, this place is very authentic.
SW: It’s really impressive.

(At this moment, their name is called, so the leave to go to their table.)

THIII: (To Asian Lady) Have a great night.  Good luck saving the economy.
AL: Thanks, I will.
SW: Thanks for the suggestion.
THIII: Yes, I don’t know what we would have done without you.
AL: Okay.  Remember to spend your money in the United States.

Uhhhh....what?  I don’t even know where to begin with this.  The entire time they were talking, the tweaker dude was standing behind them looking paranoid and occasionally ordering more food to go.  But back to the conversation.  Ummm...so that couple was totally pretentious, and yet, they were acting as though Chevy’s was fine dining.  I think they were aware that they were slumming it, but they seemed to believe that they were on the high end of the crappy chain restaurant range.  And what was the deal with them not knowing what was in a margarita?  And what was going on with happy-hour-pusher-turned-savior-of-the-US-economy?  I have to credit her with the fact that my dinner only cost $6, but I’m not so sure ordering off the happy hour menu at Chevy’s is going to pull us out of this slump.

Oh well.  I finished my crappy meal, and headed home...because I had something to write about.

There's a Mime in the Room

Why is it that the first person you meet (whether it be summer camp, new job, random class, vacation) ALWAYS turns out be a freak? Does this happen to everyone, or is it just me?

Summer camp - 7th grade. First day I meet Brandy. She seems nice. A little weird, but nice. She didn't know anybody, so she glommed onto my church group (which consisted of a bunch of girls that I didn't really know and who were way cooler than me and made sure that I was aware of that fact). By day 2, Brandy started showing off her inner freak. The other girls in my cabin decided they hated her...and because I was associated with her, they hated me too. Later Brandy went on to make other friends. I was stuck with a bunch of people that thought I was a nerd.

Work. My first job out of college was as a bookkeeping assistant. My boss was an annoying, fat, complainer. Everyone in the company hated her. She forced me to be her best friend. Because we were in an office 3 floors away from everyone else in the company, I had no choice but to exclusively socialize with her. The other girls in the office snubbed me because they didn't like my boss.

Vacation. Last summer I went to China. I spotted a woman in the lobby of the hotel when it was time to meet our group. I knew she was with us. Immediately she started talking and seemed nice enough...but after about 30 minutes I knew she'd be a freak. I wasn't wrong. She was in the circus field, though, at the time, she was unemployed. Having lived through the hell of being associated with the freak, I did my best to distance myself. Luckily it worked. 

Class. Right now I'm taking a class. On my first day, I was paired up with a guy who was around my age. He seemed pretty nice, full of energy, funny...you know...cool. We had to interview each other, and he told me that he was an actor. In the conversation, he said that his parents were starting to worry that he didn't have a real job. I laughed and reassured him that most people on the west coast don't have real jobs. He said, "But I'm 36." I still didn't think it was that big of a deal. Then, I asked him what kind of acting he did...and he told me he was in a street performance troupe that specialized in.............MIME. I knew I was in trouble. the next day, he was slightly annoying, but not bad. He likes to speak up and ask stupid questions in class just to turn people's attention to him, and he laughs loudly at somewhat inappropriate times. Even when a joke is told, he laughs loudly without any sincerity. Day 3, we were on a bus, and, in between naps, he would pester people around him. Basically, he's a total freak, and has found a fast friend in a loud 20-year-old girl who acts like she's 12.

Why?!

It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over

Yep, Phonies is STILL the bane of my existence. Ready for the update? Where to begin? Last week, I received the return envelope from Phonies, so I sent back blackberry deux. I diligently tracked the shipment and saw that it was delivered to their warehouse on Thursday. Upon making that discovery, I called Phonies to inquire about my credit.

Unfortunately for me, their phone system hung up on me every time I called. Under normal circumstances, I'd just think they were having technical problems; however, considering the fact that I call them almost every day, I suspect they blackballed me. On Friday, I attempted to call again. The phone system still wouldn't let my call go through. Just so we are clear, it hung up on me after I entered my number and asked the computer voice to transfer me to a representative. Suspicious, no?

At this point, I decided to log onto Phonie's website. While there, I saw that they had a web chat function with customer service. Feeling that I had nothing to lose, I had a nice chat with Beverly who informed me that I wouldn't get the credit for 1-2 billing cycles. After telling her that this was totally unacceptable and demanding that I not be held responsible for the price of the phone that I no longer have in my possession, she seemed baffled. Apparently, waiting two billing cycles for a couple hundred dollars seems perfectly reasonable to her. She actually thought I'd be happy to have a big credit on my account. I explained to her that I want a check for the amount, rather than a credit. Baffled, she typed, "I don't understand. Are you canceling your service?" 

Do they really need to ask? After going back and forth with her on the subject (throwing in my opinion on how unethical they are regarding their outright refusal to send me an adjusted bill, so I know what the charges actually are), she agreed to put the amount in question in "dispute". That means, I am not responsible for paying for that amount (since she wasn't keen on cutting me a check, and I have no desire to pay them money I don't owe them, this was a decent solution). I thanked her for her help, and logged onto the computer.

While on there, I canceled the automatic bill-pay from my checking account, paid the balance not in dispute with my credit card, and felt like I was making slight progress. Monday rolled around, and I decided that I didn't entirely trust Beverly. Who would? She works for Phonies. They're a bunch of dirty liars. So I attempted to call their customer service line, and this time I got through. A fellow of African American heritage answered. I explained to him that I wanted to make sure that the cost of the phone was in dispute. He hemmed and hawed, telling me that he had no way of knowing that information, leading me to wonder what kind of computer system they are using that it doesn't allow customer service agents to actually see what's happening on a person's account. I also asked him if he could confirm that the phone arrived in the warehouse. That was also impossible. Since I was on a roll with the impossible requests, I figured I might as well tackle the old "I want a revised bill" request as well. This time I took a different tact, and asked him to read me everything on the bill. Misunderstanding my request, he informed me of my plan. I then asked him to read the actual charges on my bill, and he started reading the bill I already have. Then, he told me that I did have an amount on my account in dispute, AND he mentioned that my phone arrived back in the warehouse and was processed as a return. How this information just randomly popped up is beyond me. I attempted to question it, but decided to drop it. Instead, I chose to stick to getting a revised bill. He told me that he had no access to that information, but insisted that if I go into a store, they could pull a report for me.

In my frustration (and I forget exactly when during the conversation), I said something that I immediately regretted. What's that? Oh, nothing big. I just said something to the effect of "You people keep screwing me over." Yeah, so, when I used the phrase, "You people", I really was talking about the company; however, I immediately realized that that phrase may have sounded more like a racial slur...in which case, I wanted off the phone immediately.

Now, as you may recall, last time I went to the store, they told me that they couldn't give me any information about billing and directed me to the phone people. I knew it was a long-shot, but it was worth a try regardless. Wednesday morning rolled around, and I checked the website to see if my account was credited (just because I'm a dreamer). To my surprise, there was a zero balance. When I investigated further, I discovered that Phonies took the disputed amount out of my checking account. Now if you'll recall, five days earlier, I cancelled the direct payment function. What does that mean? They stole my f-ing money!

That night I was ready to rumble. I walked into a Phonies store and asked them for a revised bill. The girl behind the computer tappity-tapped away at the keyboard and pulled up my original bill. As she was doing this, the store manager was on his way out. I explained to her that I did not want that bill because I already had that bill. I wanted to know what the adjustments were. She stared at me blankly. For whatever reason, I gestured wildly as I explained a customer's right to information about their account. At this point, the manager returned (probably because my hands were flailing around in such a way that it may have appeared that I was on the verge of physical violence...and, in a very unsubtle attempt at using subliminal messages, I kept referring to Phonies as dirty liars under my breath in the middle of every sentence. The girl showed me the screen and told me that she didn't have access to any of my account information. My only response was, "So you're all a bunch of dirty liars. Fine. Thanks." I then walked out and said something to the effect of "F-ing dirty liars."

And that brings us to today. Tonight I called over to my friends at Phonies after logging onto my account just to find that it wouldn't display any information (making me once again suspect that they are purposely trying to keep information from me). A lovely woman in Charlotte, North Carolina answered. She spent a good 10 minutes reading the notes on my account. I can only imagine what it says about me, and, quite frankly, I'm shocked that they don't automatically send me to a supervisor. Once she finished reading about what a pain in the ass I am, I explained my dilemma about the money that was taken from my bank account without my permission, and she agreed that they shouldn't have done that. She, however, informed me that she couldn't help me. So I was transferred to the finance department.

Once I was connected to the finance department, they told me that they have no control over my billing information and had to transfer me back to the customer service department. Seeing that they were just trying to wear me down, I insisted that the poor girl, who answered the question "How are you?" with "extremely wonderful", listen to my tale of woe. She didn't help, but was certainly sympathetic. She also told me that I could get a check rather than a credit. Now that's progress!

I'm sure I'll call again in a couple of days. My new bill comes in a couple of days, so I'm anxious to see what dirty lies are on that one.

Stupid, dirty liars.