Why I hate buying crap...

Last week, I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond. I needed a couple of things for the apartment and they were easier to get to than Target. All I needed was an absorbent rug for the bathroom, because I was sick of the puddles of water after I got out of the shower and a laundry bag with a strap for the long cold walk to the laundromat. I ended up also buying an electric kettle to make hot tea, because I like tea and hate microwaving the whole damned cup to make a hot cup.

The rug worked perfectly. It lays on the floor, it sucks up water, and it even hangs nicely and dries. I can't say enough good things about it. Of course, I'm not sure how the hell they could have screwed it up. And considering how well everything else worked, I'm sure they tried.

The rest of it all has to be returned. I used the laundry bag for the first time this morning and when I closed it up to keep my socks and underwear from making a run for it, while I was running to wash them, the whole thing split along the seam. The split only got worse, when I repacked the damned thing after washing my clothes.

So I ran to Bed, Bath and Beyond so I could return it. Replaced the nylon one with a canvas one, hoping against hope that it might be more robust. And then before settling in to my computer to try to get more done, I decided that a cup of tea would be in order to help me relax. No luck, the kettle doesn't actually heat the damned water. So now that's going to have to be returned some time this week, too.

How is it so difficult to sell people things that actually work as advertised? Didn't there used to be pride in production? Writing an angry letter to Krups and then back to trying to get some crap done.

Angry, Disappointed, Apathy

Work has been crazy for the last couple of weeks.

I'm unsure if I'll have a job pretty much day to day, everything is falling apart and I think what I need to do is to just slow down a bit, take care of me and try to relax. Gym in the afternoon, in and out at specific times.

And with my free time, figure out my Plan B.

Technology and Customer Service...

We got a new flat screen tv for the office. It's supposed to be used for watching client logs, etc...

We rush ordered the TV from Philips, paying extra to get it there right away. Unfortunately, they sent it to the CEO's home rather than the office. We had to jump through four days of hoops to get UPS to send to the right address.

When we finally got it, we opened the box to find a beautiful TV, but no screws, mounting brackets, remote or power cable. We called the manufacturer. The remotes were back ordered, so we can't get that any time soon. They did have the rest. But they can't rush order it to us, because of company policy. We've already paid for that, but that doesn't matter. The power cord is different than the TV, I guess.

We complained and they said they could put it in expedited, which will get it up to 3-5 days. Of course, that would assume that they wrote our name right on the box. UPS couldn't deliver it (but somehow the post office was able to deliver the post card telling us that UPS couldn't deliver to us, even though the postcard had the same information on it). A quick phone call. They now had our company name and they're ready to go.

Three more days later, the problem is that there was no suite number. There's no suite in our address only a floor. Sure, the company name is listed in the lobby and by the elevators on our floor, but that's enough reason not to deliver our package.

Today, we finally got our package. Power cord, but still no remote. (Still on back order, I assume.)  Unfortunately, powering up the TV, we can't get past the initial set-up screen without a remote. Wouldn't it be nice if the idiot on support that we talked to initially let us know that at the same time she was arguing that we didn't need a power cord for the expensive TV that we just bought?)

So today's recommendations are not buying Philips or using UPS if you need something.

Schadenfreude Moving

Dear God,

Could today have gone any worse?

It starts at the UHaul place. My father had arrived 20 minutes early and was freaking out because there was no truck under my name. I got there and got it sorted, they had a truck, but my name was mistyped. They gave me a truck with three-quarters of a tank, rather than the full tank that I had initialed the contract about.

We get to the storage place and get to my unit. The lock was frozen. Happily, my father had a screwdriver and a hammer in his car. With some judicious smacking, we got the lock rotating. Unfortunately, we couldn't get the damned thing to open. Dad had a hacksaw. (I do hope he's also got a jack otherwise, he's going to have some troubles with a flat.)

While they worked on that, I went to the office to see if I could get a bolt cutter to snap the lock. They promised to send someone out. My father and my brother had sawed almost through it, when the lock popped open.

Now the storage unit door wouldn't open. (There was ice covering it.) My brother and my father were chipping away at the ice, but it didn't do much good. The maintenance guy came by with the bolt cutters. That wasn't useful, but he went and got some ice chippers. That worked much better to get the door opened.

Then the drive to Boston began. We got to the place and I went to the front door and remembered something. Before we left, I had printed off directions, so that we'd be covered in case we got separated. Unfortunately, I left my USB thumb drive in the computer - with the key ring it was attached to. That was about 150 miles back and almost 90 minutes ago.

While I was freaking out about that, my brother and my father showed up. My good news/bad news attempt at humor didn't go over well.

I checked with my landlord - no one was home - called my roommate - away from his desk - and figured we couldn't do anything until they called, so we went to grab some lunch.

Once I got the landlord's key, moving in was short, simple and easy.

I drive to the UHaul to drop off the truck - and promptly get lost. I call UHaul, who tells me that they don't have a UHaul location at the address I was given. They give me a different address. I drive to it and find it's the same place that I was going to. My address is their side street, the address I had just gotten was the main street it was on.

As expected, there was nothing that I could do about the gas. I had initialized it. But they also wouldn't accept the truck because there was some crap in the back that was in there when I got it. So I had to clean all of that out, before they'd take the damned truck. I shoved it all into a trash can at the place.

And as an added bonus, when I got home, I found out that tickets for a friend to visit were wrong and I need to go to Orbitz tomorrow and try to change them. AIGH!

At least the day is almost over.

Rituals

Everyone has rituals in their lives. Whether it's your morning shower and shave or trying each item on your plate before eating in earnest, there are things that you do in a certain way. I was thinking about that today.

I have a silly ritual that I do. I can see where it came from, but when you look at out of context it seems more than a little nuts.

When I find money on the street and I don't need it. I'll take it, but give it to the first person that asks me for money, whether street person, busker or co-worker. This came from when I was younger and there were a few times when I really needed money and I found a $5 or $10 by my feet as I walked around Boston.

So on some level, it's magical thinking to imagine that my need was connected to finding the money, but I guess that's not stopping me from I guess redistributing wealth in my own way.

eclecticism: March of the Sinister Ducks

eclecticism: March of the Sinister Ducks

Oops, I realized that I never put this up last year. Here it is for the people that asked for it.

Idiot in Motion

Now, if you've done better on your SATs than the average rutabaga, then, you'll probably see the problem earlier than I did.

I've had problems with carpal tunnel in the past, though luckily not bad enough to need surgery. Just bad enough that sometimes I have to wear a brace and sleep with a different brace.

On Sunday, I played volleyball. And served the ball, as I had been taught in High School—which is to hit it with force, underhanded on the heel of my hand. We practiced for three hours or so, so I served the ball repeatedly.

Monday, surprise surprise, my wrist felt like someone had hammered a spike into it. The sad part was that it took me nine, ten hours to put the cause and effect together. I figured it out just before bed and dug my night brace out before going to bed and followed that with some ibuprofen. I don't know if it was one or the other or both, but in the morning, I could probably even have juggled without needing an EMT on standby.

More stupidity is surely to follow...