Book Order Rant

I placed an order with Amazon.com. My daughter wanted to order a particular book as a joke for one of her very good friends. I will not embarrass either of them by telling you what the book was. Wish I could, because it’s pretty funny.

Amazon’s online order system was wigging out and though I changed the order to ship to my home it apparently didn’t take. You can imagine my confusion three minutes later when I saw an email from Amazon thanking me for my order to the Naval Base telling me how quick my order would get there with 2 day shipping.

Well, crap. I didn’t ask for 2 day shipping and I didn’t ask for the order to go to the Naval Base where my son no longer was and certainly NOT where Meg’s friend lives. Immediately upon seeing this, I went back to amazon, clicked on the order number and the option “I need to change this order” button.

After going through the steps to change the order – mind you, this was within 10 minutes of placing it – amazon’s website stated, “Due to an internal error, we are unable to process your changes. Please try again later.” Bullsh*t. I located the customer service number.

Rea in India answered the phone. I was required to give her my order #, and then verify my billing address. I explained the problem.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we are unable to process the change at this time.”

“I just placed the order, how can you not be able to change it?”

“Because your order was placed as 2 day delivery, we cannot make a change. It is already prepared to ship. What has to happen is that the order will be delivered to the other address, they will not accept it and the order will be returned to us at Amazon. We will refund you your money once the order is returned. You may go ahead and place the order again so it ships today.”

As if their credibility wasn’t an issue.

“Rea, you can’t tell me that the order is on the truck. I just placed it. I just need the address changed.”

“We are sorry, but because of the volume of orders, we are not able to make a change like that.”

I was not pleasant. “Your website made the error in the first place. Then it gave me the option to make a change, but that didn’t work either. This is extraordinarily poor customer service. May I speak to your supervisor?”

“What? What? I can’t hear you.”

“You are telling me I have to place this order again and wait,…”

“What? What? I think we got cut off. I can’t hear you.”

“Rea?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Let me talk to your supervisor.”

“I can’t hear you ma’am. Hello? Hello?”

I AM NOT MAKING THAT UP.

I hung up and called again. I got someone else in India who gave me the same answer but without the fake “Hello? Hello? I can’t hear you.” line at the end. I was on hold for the supervisor, but decided that I didn’t have a lot of options, India was unwilling to help me and amazon had lousy customer service. I let it go.

Not the only pig in the pen guys. Barnes and Noble is just as good, and their shipping is less expensive. Later.

Good and Evil

Bee Gees Song of the Day: One More Look at the Night

I guess I've never been more on my own
And the thought of you makes me cry
'cause you made me feel like sunshine
There's a danger, you ain't forever
Watching the memory die

Interesting day today. I was exposed to both good and evil.

I think it started as far back as yesterday. I got a call from an old high school friend and in the course of the call, she admitted she had read my blog and had mentioned the Butterfly Effect blog that I had, for the most part, forgotten about.

Then earlier today, I went to subway for lunch. An old woman was standing outside Subway and she held up an index card. She alleged she could not speak the language. "I am a single mother of four children. I have no money for food. Please help me feed my children." Never faced with begging directly, I was moved and gave her money. I'm not telling you this to thank me and I'm not telling you this so you can tell me how irresponsible my action was. (She's just going to buy crack with it!") Berate me if you want. I did what I thought was right. I did it for the sisterhood, I did it for a single mom struggling to feed her kids; and even if it was for an old doxie trying to raise money to satisfy her pimp's drug addiction, I did it because I was moved enough to help her. I paid it foward. That was it, end of story.

As I walked into Subway I thought that maybe the cosmos would reward me. Maybe someone would give me a boat load of cash. Eh. Probably not. I promptly forgot about it.

Later in evening, I was on my way home from work. Truth be told, I was on my way to a fledgling meeting of the Legion of Mary at a neighboring parish. I had wanted to be there to support the new group, being an active member at my own parish. The roads were damp having rained intermittently throughout the day. And at 7:00 pm, it was dark out. I was on Route 7 headed west towards Leesburg at on a Friday evening. Traffic was typical; heavy.

My front driver's side tire went flat.

Guess I wasn't going to make the meeting.

I pulled over onto an exit ramp. At least I was out of traffic (or so I thought). I found my jack (my boys, only weeks before had shown me how to use it to change the oil in my car, so I had some familiarity). As I was jacking up the car, I was approached by an angel wearing the guise of a shirt and tie. "Need some help?"

"That would be great." We introduced ourselves, found the lug wrench, pulled out the donut and Scott started jacking up the car. "I'd like to think that if my wife were in the same situation, someone would help her." God Bless him.

Be warned friends. Satan and his legions were obviously released from hell this evening; the apocalypse is upon us in the form of crap hole drivers! Though we both had our hazard lights on, I shone the flashlight between Scott and traffic - Scott so he can see what he was doing and traffic, so that they could see that people were on the road. The actual turn off to the exit was 200 yards up the road. Go around folks, go around.

Can you believe that some of the demonic sons of pigs or jackals or mastiffs actually pulled onto the exit ramp and came within inches of hitting us? WTF? Does NO ONE in Northern Virginia get tested on the definition and clear message that HAZARD LIGHTS mean slow the bleep down? When they see people squatting down by a car tire, is it so HARD TO INTUIT that someone has a flat tire or car trouble and CAUTION should be observed?

Scott finished putting on the donut, gave me some advice about how fast to drive, how to get back home, and how far I could adequately drive on the spare. He put everything back in my trunk for me and we shook hands. He would take no money and just wished me luck.

I had done someone a kindness earlier today. In turn, a kindness was bestowed on me. In the past, whenever someone has done me a good turn, I remember them in my prayers. I can go for years asking God to bless them and their families. I will pray for Scott, I will pray for the aging mother of four, and I will pray for the dangerously stupid who populate the roads of Northern Virginia.

They may not know they are evil, but I do.

Commute Rant

Two years driving in Northern VA has taught me a great deal.

I’ve learned that VA drivers slow down at the threat of snow. They slow down at the sight of flakes. They slow down when it rains and they slow down when it’s sunny. The only time VA drivers proceed at a normal pace is when it is overcast in the summer. VA drivers do NOT heed any weather restrictions though, when riding your bumper. They speed up actually, slam into you from behind causing $2400 worth of damage to your trunk.

Just some of my assembled wisdom.

Yesterday, I came up with yet another “VA Commute Constant”:

“The randiness of the couple in front of one is directly proportional to the size of the accident five miles ahead.”

I had the pleasure of driving behind a darling little couple from the University of Virginia yesterday on Route 28. I assumed one of them attended UVA only because of the bumper stickers, the vanity plates, and the team mascot plastered on the back window. Maybe she borrowed her sister’s car. I dunno.

I do know that the fella in the passenger seat was feeling a bit libidinous as he kept leaning over and giving her little pecks on her ear. And on her cheek. And on her neck. And on her shoulder. Not hard to guess what he was pecking as he leaned into the steering wheel.

Our blonde female driver reveled in the attention. In fact, each time our cars were forced to come to a halt due to the traffic, there was a sudden leaning in toward the middle of the front seat and feverish clinging-to of lips and arms and flailing.

And there was a four car pile up ahead.

Part of me rejoiced in young love. Part of me sniggered at it. Somewhere something unbidden said, “If they lived in Hussein’s Iraq, she’d get stoned in public.”

I’m a bitter bitter woman.

Vacuum Man

Two years ago, I bought an inexpensive vacuum cleaner. I think it cost me $76 at Walmart and as vacuum cleaners go, it lives up to its' office. It sucks up dirt. It is bagless - a personal preference. It is easy to replace a belt and to clean the filters. Not a big deal. I've been happy.

Not too long ago, could have been me, could have been my daughter, we vacuumed up something that must have been damp. My inexpensive vacuum cleaner didn't like that and started to smell bad. Icky damp rug dirt yucky. Ewwwwww.

Rather than going to buy a new cleaner, I thought I'd take it to a local repair shop in Leesburg, VA. How much could it really cost? Maybe get some new filters in it, get it nice and clean. I had the day off, so I took it in.

Vacuum Man (not his real name, but his superhero, possibly his Bizzaro, alter-ego) was in the back room. Doubtless repairing the thousands and thousands of broken cleaners that keep him fiscally solvent. I explained my need; just want it cleaned, thanks a bunch, new filters, etc. He went out to the car to carry the smelly beast in.

Vacuum Man unwound the cord and plugged it in. "Do you know how to turn it on?"

Of course, that should have been my first clue. "Uhm, that big red button in the back that says "power", I think." "Oh, yeah. Now I see it." He turned it on, and sure enough, it smelled yucky.

"Yep, you're right. You probably aren't going to want to hear this, but," as he moved toward the floor models. Hmmmm. Wasn't just nasty vacuum cleaner I was smelling. "You'd be just better off buying a new machine. I got one here for $119. Got good suction, does a great job." He took the time to unwind the cord, plug it in. I noted he had no problem finding the power button on that machine.

"Thanks, but I don't like bags." As a reason not to buy, it was weak, but if this guy wanted to throw me a deal, I'd talk. That's when he turned on his particular brand of Paleolithic-like charm. "Uh, why?" I didn't hesitate. "Let's say I'm home and I run out of bags, I can't vacuum until I buy a bag. I don't like the inconvenience."

"Snort." Nice. A man who worships at the altar of Jack-asserie. Not a newbie either. Most likely, a daily communicant. Vacuum Man's disdain for the foolishness of women started to trickle out of his nose. Surprising, since I'm willing to bet that 98% of his business comes from the fairer sex. "Yeah, like that's a big inconvenience. So keep some on hand, is it that hard?"

You kidding me?

Not my point, Vacuum Man and my hackles are rising. He clearly just wanted to sell me one of his cleaners. "Hold up, girl," my inner Catholic said, "Don't overreact. Was this just a poor attempt at lightheartedness?" I rolled the theory around in my brain testing it for quality. His remarks had an acidic feel. I was pretty sure he was not trying to be playful. "OK, so I got this one over here, blah blah blah blah blah for $150."

Tired of the game, I said, "To tell you the truth, I don't want to spend that much on a vacuum cleaner today." The people pleaser in me started to consider the $119 model, but I really didn't like the bag and I really didn't like the price. "Especially when I can buy the same one at Walmart for $76."

Your move Vacuum Man.

He moved alright. On the defensive he said, "Can Walmart give you the same service I can give you, cleaning it up for you and servicing it for life like I can?" All the while treating me like a stupid eff-stick, isn't that right, Vacuum Man? I added that last little bit for him in my head. Don't kid yourselves, this guy dropped arrogance and nastiness by the hot steamy pantload.

Instead, I parried, "Are you open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week like Walmart, where, let me say again I can buy my vacuum cleaner for a lot less?"

I'm the first to admit that I have an inner little person, who comes right from my Dad's side of the family, that isn't going to take much crap from people when it comes to my money or treating me like an idiot. Mr. Brilliant here was two for two. I'm happy to give the a person my business and send business that way if I am treated right and fair. This guy lost me a while back.

Maybe you like roughing up the girls Vacuum Man, maybe it works on some hapless female and she backs down and buys your stupid machines without shopping around. I don't play that way.

Attempting to shame me in good therapeutic community fashion, Vacuum Man retorted, "I'm open 6 days out of 7. Are you so incapable of managing your BAG needs, that you can't handle that? It's not ENOUGH for you? The independent guy really likes your kind of business lady. Whatever." In a somewhat dismissive manner, he takes out a paper to take my order to clean the machine.

"What are you going to charge me to clean it?" I'd still give him my business if it were less than $20.

"About $90," looking me in the eye as if to justify his pathetic position, he saw my eyebrows shoot up. "I gotta take it all apart, and clean it up and put it back together." His eyes said, "And you are too stupid to understand that it will cost me $3 to do that and I'm still going to charge you $90, beyotch."

I was done. "No thanks. I'm not going to spend $90 on a cleaning. And let me tell you something else, I probably would have bought the $119 vacuum cleaner if you hadn't been so aggressive with me. AND," as I started to wind up the cord of my sad smelly cleaner, "I don't appreciate being made to feel like I have to apologize to you, when you have treated me as poorly as you have!"

Vacuum Man bravely walked into the back room. I started out toward the door. Our exchange was finished. Or so I thought.

"Would you take it for $110?" he cried from his position of strength.

No longer able to stomach the sweet fragrance of desperation, I kept walking. The man must have thought I had no brains and little back bone if he actually thought that I would do business with him again in my lifetime.

An elderly woman passed me on the way out. I heard Vacuum Man bleat, "Have a nice life! Look out lady," he jeered to the poor elderly woman who had no part in our repartee, "I guess I'm in A BAD MOOD!" He shouted this at the end to make sure I could hear him.

I went to Walmart, found my same vacuum cleaner for $49.95, bought 2 fans, some Brita water filters, and a 12 pack of paper towels for less than $119, thank you very much Vacuum Man. I will be sure to tell all my friends about your issue-laden sales-pitch, fella.

Good day sir.