True Story

A few days ago, I stopped by the office of a potential customer. He was busy, so I left my card. He contacts me to set up a meeting. Today we meet.

All seems normal.

Except, he surprises me with some new-found information about me, my education and probing my experience. You know, stuff NOT on my business card. I was caught completely off-guard by this sudden turn of events. Do you know how disarming it is to talk to a total stranger who possesses knowledge on your past you didn't provide.

It wasn't creepy. Really, it was more funny....in a creepy way.

After coming to the conclusion he must have Google'd me, I came home and frantically reviewed what dirty little internet bugs pop up with variations of my name. Thankfully, I recently privatized many of my accounts and removed inappropriate content (some stuff I say makes for awkward conversation later). While locking my internet profile up tighter and throwing away the key, a light bulb went off over my pretty little head.

If HE can search ME, I most certainly can search HIM. It's only less weird when done in reciprocation.

To my surprise, a quick Google search only pulls up his Twitter account, which is private. But it links to his semi-private Facebook page where I wonderfully discovered he read the Twilight Saga and The Dresden Files-which I will tease mercilessly and praise, respectfully. And that's not all...FB gives up the MySpace account which, like the rest of society, hasn't been updated in years and has all the juicy shit we posted on the internet before we knew to make our accounts private, then forgot all about.

As we say in Las Vegas: "Jackpot, Baby!"

True Story

Married Life

The hub works from home. He's one room over in the home office and I'm showering in the master bathroom. He comes into the bathroom and I act sexy through the glass. He ignores me completely to use the restroom. I get out and dry off. With the towel wrapped around me, he emerges and washes his hands. "Seriously?" I ask as he doesn't so much as glance at me even though he's facing the wall mirror spanning the length of the His and Hers sinks. "Does a naked, wet wife do nothing for you anymore?" "Of course it does." He responds. He eyes the towel cloaking me and makes a bee-line. Thinking he's going to rip it off and expose me, I smile. He dries his wet hands on the corner and sneaks a peak at the empty towel rack behind me. Then turns and walks out-back to work.

Web Recommendations

I love to write. I started my blog as a way to overcome writer's block and get my creative juices flowing. Then I thought it would be fun to share some pictures, a story about my day, or random thoughts and reviews. I lack consistency and POV, but it's my blog to do with I please. 

Although I love my blog, it amuses me to no ends to read this start-up blog with promise: TekSapport.com. It gives voice to the frustrating world of IT/Technical Support/overall customer service positions. Let's face it, when you deal with people, you have a certain level of stupid you must put up with. This genius website details the hilarity that is educating the masses about technical issues. 

At first, I was mildly offended. On a vast number of these problems, I fall into the "duh" category. It's very possible I am the unnamed irate caller that's just NOT getting it. I know it's hard to believe, but if you need help seeing it, you obviously haven't checked out this TRUE STORY. 

After the initial peeverocity, I realized, this is actually really funny. I mean, really, really, funny. It's all good-natured, clean fun based on real encounters with actual people. In this crazy, fast-paced world, it can be difficult to keep up with rapid changing technology. It's nice to laugh when you see yourself in one of these humiliating stories and it's even better to realize you aren't alone.

Just one of the stories (so you know what you're getting into):

If you would, please type 'i,' like Internet, 'p,' like peter, 'c,' like Charlie, 'o,' like omega, 'n,' like November, 'f,' like frank, 'i,' like Internet, 'g,' like gamma
"I get the message 'i is not recognized as an internal or external command'"
What did you type?
"'I like Internet--'"
Hold on... just to clarify, you typed "I LIKE INTERNET" on this screen?
"Yes."
Just to clarify: You typed 'i' space 'l-i-k-e' space 'i-n-t-e-r-n-e-t'?!
"Yeah."
-The Facepalm heard 'round the call center.

Updating Tuesdays and Thursdays, TekSapport.com is entertaining even if you don't understand the jargon you will enjoy the silliness.

True Story

So I'm managing a large warehouse operation that currently has no warehouse or counter personnel. I've resorted to hiring a temp warehouse guy who takes care of all my fork-lifting and grunt-work needs. Don't get me wrong, he's great, but I'm still responsible for the counter work, customer service, phones, daily paperwork, and all my branch manage duties as well. It can be a little overwhelming. 

In an act of sheer brilliance, it is decreed I shall have the new BM for our new store help me out for the week. And get a little extra exposure considering he's only been at the job for 3 weeks now (2 weeks of which were spent setting up the new location). He doesn't know how to use 10 key or the 'TAB' key. He's a very smart, capable guy, but he doesn't grasp the concept that you can open multiple windows simultaneously. There's more, but let's sum it up: his computer skills are a little lacking. Needless to say, my job has become more difficult because instead of handling everything myself, I am forced to slow down to a snail's pace to train which tests my patience by the minute and creates extra work for me causing me to stay late. 

I tell you that so you can understand my fragile mental state when i tell you this:

This morning I am bouncing off the walls dealing with a customer who needs equipment delivered yesterday that isn't expected to come in on the truck until today which I then need to schedule with our delivery driver to drop at the job site asap, but the truck comes in and the product shifted and the unit is damaged so I have to take pictures, file a freight claim and calmly notify the customer so we can work out something else all the while having 4 phone lines constantly lit up-each a new order or a new problem. *gasp for breath* There are still 2 customers at my counter waiting to be serviced one of which is compiling a massive parts order requiring individual entry and with no barcode to scan this forces me to manually enter dozens of sku's based off memory while *pause for effect* the apprentice is royally botching the other customer's basic order so I'm supervising his entries and gracefully correcting his never-ending mistakes and running damage control on his fed-up customer... You get the picture. 

In the midst of all this a loud WHAH WHAH WHAH emits from my office. "WTH" I ask to nobody in particular. I take a moment to run into my office and investigate the ungodly noise. My computer looks fine; nothing's on fire. I simply shut my office door blocking off some of the wretched siren and promptly begin helping the customers at hand. I instruct my bitch-the temp- to check it out. He comes back to me stating he is all about the warehouse and is not computer savvy. FINE. Turning to the trainee, I tell him to handle it while I take over and finish with his customer. He turns off the computer and the noise continues so he stands a foot away from me, staring, absolutely flabbergasted. I swear, you'd think he just witnessed my computer re-enact The Exorcist. 

Not at all flustered by this turn of events, I prattle off the number for IT in between phone calls. "Do you want me to call them?" Um...yes. All I overhear from the conversation "yeah it just started....WHAH WHAH WHAH (why he didn't call from the room that was making the noise, I will never know)...I already tried that and it kept beeping...If you say so..." He proceeds to my office to turn the computer off and on again. The noise stops. 

Finally a reprieve from demanding customers allows me to consort over the issue. So what was it? Do I need a new computer? Did IT solve the problem? I am quickly informed by the rattled student the source of the noise was....

DRUM-ROLL PLEASE

The alarm clock. Yes, the elusive alarm clock I inherited with the office who foiled my every attempt to keep accurate time. The radio clock that annoyed me with it's incessant flashing of 12:00. The very one I pushed behind my clunky early 90's monitor instead of unplugging and trashing for the sheer fact that the cord tangled with my other cords in a Velcro wrap I was too lazy to deal with. The clock, which in my defense, had never made a single noise in the 14 months it resided on my desk chose NOW to go off hiding under my computer monitor. 

True Story

True Story

Several weeks ago my brother and I drove to Phoenix and had some very lively conversations. (you can read these at your own risk HERE and HERE) Among these inane conversations was the invigorating debate whether PMF was already established. My brother said he was claiming PMF as the new meme Palm Meets Forehead- a gesture of striking your palm against your forehead as a sign of showing annoyance at the ignorance around you. I disputed that FacePalm already existed. Bryce exclaimed he thought PMF already existed as short for Pissed Motha Fucka.

Daniel, in his valiant attempt to prove everyone wrong immediately searched UrbanDictionary.com and found no such entries referring to PMF as Palm Meets Forehead. Furthermore, he wrote the editors of UrbanDictionary.com his proposed meme and accompanying definition and examples.

PMF

Palm Meet Forehead- to show the person(s) around you that you know they are doing either 

the blatantly obvious or that they are dumber than a box of rocks. PMF is often accompanied by 

the "doh" sound upon striking the palm on the forehead.

In an obvious situation; My friend stuck his hand in boiling water and said it was "Hot."  

The proper response would be to PMF

In a dumb situation; My friend got drunk and thought he was falling off the face of the Earth. 

Show your feelings by PMF

He was just emailed the reply:

Thanks for your definition of PMF!

Editors reviewed your entry and have decided to publish it on urbandictionary.com.

It should appear on this page in the next few days:
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=PMF

Urban Dictionary

My brother can be so irritating when he's right. Although, there are other PMF references and FacePalm does, in fact, already exist, I concede he wins this battle. BTW once it's up on the site, you can buy a T-shirt with PMF definition and all proceeds benefit the my-little-brother-owes-me-rent fund! 

True Story

My job requires someone be available after normal business hours to meet customer demands so a cell phone is provided for such occasions and rotated among the employees every week. This weekend was my turn. I received a call from one of our largest customers only to discover I did not have the product he needed in my warehouse, but it was available through our other local branch. My dilemma: I found myself without their after hours phone number and unable to contact the on-call employee. This frustrated me to no end because I had this problem previously and instructed my CSR to program the other phone number into our emergency cell for this very reason.

Frantically, I left messages for the other Branch Manager, my TSM and another employee hoping someone could provide this elusive number. Typically, no one was responding on an early Saturday morning. As my customer's patience grew thin and temper flared, I desperately dialed a former colleague and friend. He obligingly assisted and was able to relay the cell number. I finally get hold of the on-call person and ensure he can open up and assist the customer.

Ready to rip into my CSR first thing Monday morning, I am fuming when I grab the flip phone to program the number. After, I slam the phone down only to discover:

Instead of programming the number into the phone, I find that it is taped to the back of the phone. So who's more dumb, the CSR confused by all this newfangled technology, or the Branch Manager so blond she doesn't even turn over the phone? Don't answer that.