Dialing "1" under pressure

To dial one, or not to dial one, that is the question. At least it’s kind of the question I asked myself yesterday. There are two different area codes for the city of Portland, one of them is 503, the other one is something I can never remember. In part, because I just don’t run across it very often, and considering the number people I talk to every month, tells me that there really aren’t that many people with this other area code. So, I’m in the process of calling someone back who has left me a voice mail. I dial “9” to get the outside line, then the area code (not 503) and the number. Well, of course this area code is not that other area code I can never remember. It’s for someplace other than Portland, even though the caller is calling about a their home address here in Portland.

So, you know what happened, I got that annoying recording telling if I need to dial “1” when calling this number. Usually I just hang up and dial again using the “1” as directed. I’m such a mindless drone! For some reason yesterday, this recording really irked me. For one thing aren’t area codes unique? So if you’ve dialed an area code doesn’t the system know where to send the call? How does dialing “1” add anything to the process? The system obviously knew it needed a “1” so why didn’t it just send the call one. Why to I have to put in something you already know is part of it? And, why does the “1” on a long distance call still even exist?

Why can I make the same call, without the “1”, on my cell phone and there’s no annoying recording. It goes through, no problemo lameo! Why are land lines not keeping up with cell technology? I have a theory, of course. They want to piss up all off so we will all move over to cell phone service. Which we are as individuals, but at work we still have land lines to deal with.

My co-work, the ever sane Stephen, watching me have my mini meltdown over the issue of the “1”, just smiled and said, “Rhetta, I hope you’re not going to lose sleep of this.” He is now my meditation master. The one to call me down from the ledge. The one who will gently take the gun and unload it, while speaking in a calm and steady voice.

After my run in with the “1” I heard about the flight attendant who had the meltdown, gave a piece of his mind to an ill behaved passenger and then lowered the escape ramp and left with a couple of beers. You know I can really sympathize with this guy, and there have been many times over the past 15 years that I’ve worked with the public, that would have loved to do something very similar. Hell, I wanted to do it yesterday with phone company! You’ve read my blog on municipal black ops hit squad. But, so far I’ve managed to walk away without losing it. I’m just hoping that trend will continue.

It’s only a matter of time before there is a really nasty issue in the air, not involving a terrorist. It will however, involve a customer who has reached the absolute end of their rope. Flying used to be a civilized activity, people dressed nicely, and were treated very well. Now some passengers don’t even bath before getting on planes, and we’re all treated like cattle being transported to the slaughter house. Hell, cattle are probably treated better.

You have to have the patience of Job to fly commercial today. You wait in line to be checked in, unless you’re paid an extra fee so you can pass through the express line. Then you have to pay if you actually want to take luggage with you on your trip. Airlines used to want you to check your luggage and NOT carry it onboard with you. Now they have devised a system that has everyone carrying their luggage onboard. Next, you wait in line to pass through security, unless you’ve paid extra to pass through the express line.

Once through security, you’re alone and lugging all the stuff, you used to check, with you down the long hall looking for your gate. Along the way you want to pick up a bottle of water, since you had to leave your’s at security. You even think about getting a magazine to read while you wait to board the plane. After paying five dollars for a small bottle of water, you decide you can’t really afford to look at magazines and continue your three mile trudge to the gate, to wait some more.

Because you didn’t buy a first class ticket, an obviously indictment against your worth to society, you have to wait while the “special” people board first. Of course, as you board, somewhere in the middle of the pack, it’s impossible to get down the aisle because everyone is trying to stow their luggage. Once you find your seat, you have to try to find a place to stow your luggage. It worse than fighting off a pack of wild wolves to get your stuff put away before some else grabs the spot, usually some tall, oblivious 20 year old.

You’re finally seated and now you have to start worrying about who will be setting next to you, and in front of you, and behind you. These people will, to a great extent, be determining the level of your comfort for the next several hours. You get the mom with the screaming baby, of the child that likes to kick the back of your seat, or the guy in front who thinks it acceptable to lean his seat all the way back. Who is there a reclining function on an airline seat? Who thought that was a good idea? There are also the people with stinky feet who take their shoes off, the ones who pass gas and the ones who smoked a pack of cigarettes just before boarding. And, the heavy drinkers!

Then, just because this experience isn’t as awful as it could be, let’s just throw in a machincal difficulty that delays takeoff for, oh I don’t know, two hours!

It’s true that planes should have a warning, like aerosol cans, “Caution: Contents under pressure.” In fact, this warning could be spray painted across most public buildings as well.

Phones, secret admirers and flashers

I’ve had five hang-up calls at work today. This is very unusual and it has me wondering if it’s the same person trying the same wrong number over and over again, or is it five different people calling and then hanging up on me? If it’s one caller they’re either a slow learner or an eternal optimist. If it’s five different people that’s quite a coincidence. Either way it’s strange.

I remember when I was a teenager calling a guy’s house to hear his voice when he answered. How lame is that? And yet we’ve all done it. Maybe I have a secret admirer!! Lets see, who could it be? That cute hunky guy from IKEA? No, I never talked to him and he’s young enough to be my son, and you all know how I feel about that. (see What the hell were you thinking?) Toby Keith? One of the best things about him is his voice so if he’s not talking that’s a real loss. Adrian Paul? (TV Highlander) He’s all eye candy so maybe I need a video phone. Wow, having a secret admire, that would be……….just wrong. A secret admirer is something that sounds cool and romantic until you really think about it, and then it feels creepy.

In my old crime prevention days something like this might have worried me. There were times when the bad guys or the crazies would make threats. I’ve been threaten, chased and followed at different times. So if this is the same person and they are trying to intimidate me then it’s not working. Heck, they aren’t even breathing into the phone. I never really understood why breathing feels so threatening to people. I think it’s the sign of a person too stupid to come up with something to say, or it’s someone having an asthma attach.

Thinking back to my crime prevention days and the things that freak people out. I remember there was a time when we had a flasher hanging out (hahaha) in a local park. He liked to jump out in front of women on the trails and expose himself. The women would freak, and most of the time call the cops crying. I always wondered how bad his equipment had to be to make them cry. I always thought that the best way to defeat a flasher was to point and laugh. If you really want to aggressive, carry a can of neon spray paint and whip it out and give his a shot. That way when you called the cops you can tell them to look for the guy spray painted bright orange. I bet he’d keep his zipper up after that, at least until the paint wore off.

I never understood why people would be afraid of a flasher, they’re really pathetic when you think about it. Here’s a guy that gets all excited about doing something that most little boys grow out of at around 3 or 4 years old. I remember a long time ago seeing a cartoon of a little boy showing his stuff to a little girl and saying, “See what I got, you don’t have one of these.” The little girl pulls up her dress and show him her stuff and says, “With one of these I can all of those I want.” So basically guys just need to stop thinking Fraud was right about that penis envy thing. Can you believe the western world of psychology takes this guy seriously? Talk about something being wrong!

I’m turning my phone off for the day and going out in the sun and ignoring everyone. Have a nice day!

Busy days

Today was a flex day and I had a lot of errands to attend to: clean the house, mail off soldier boxes, pay my AT&T bill with the rebate cards I got in the mail yesterday, wrestle with Sprint to get my account paid off, buy some new books, grab lunch, a quick stop at the grocery store, finish my book, eat dinner with my son, and meet up with friends. I’m relieved to say that the friends thing fell though. It’s not that I didn’t want to see them and hang out, but I was ready to be done for the day.

By far the most daunting item on my list was wrestling with Sprint. I spent an hour on the phone yesterday trying to figure out why they were charging a penalty for ending my service early, since I was pretty sure I was past my contract date. I was told I had to go the store where I bought my last phone. I ended up visiting two different Sprint stores to discover that the error had occurred a year and half ago when I contacted them, by phone, to correct an over billing problem on my account. After almost 3 hours at two different stores they finally dropped the penalty and agreed they had billed me wrongly. I felt about 50 lbs lighter when I left knowing I was done with them forever. Well, “forever” may be a little too hopeful, since I’m fairly sure they’ll have it all screwed up again by next month and I’ll see another bill in the mail. The one totally consistent thing you can depend on with Sprint is that once they’ve tortured you as much as they possibly can, they’ll come back and do it some more. Sprint customer service, and Sprint account services, are total oxymorons.

I loved the trip to the book store!! I picked up new releases from Kim Harrison and Christopher Moore, as well as three other books. If you’ve never read Christopher Moore, treat yourself big time and pick up one of his books. He’s writing is imaginative, odd ball, and totally entertaining!! Check out his blog at http://blog.chrismoore.com/ you’ll love it.

I also enjoyed my son’s cooking and finishing my book, Danielle Steele’s Echoes. Talk about tortured characters, no one love to tortures their characters like she does. Still it was a good book and as usual I ended up caring about her characters deeply.
Matt made Creole gumbo which was fantastic!

Tomorrow is scheduled out as well: funeral for a friend’s mother, deliver neighborhood newsletters, shopping for solider boxes, baking a cake for another friend’s birthday. Strange, I will celebrate the end of one life and when another began. Strange how things work out!

Hello Cpt. Kirk

My day started off answering calls completely unrelated to my job. Contractors were calling wanting to get a city business license and they had been given my number in error. It was an interesting morning.

I was having a laugh with a co-worker telling her about it and we got into this whole crazy discussion about phones, and how it was in the olden days. (Who the hell invented that descriptor?) Back then we had the rotary dial phones. I haven’t seen a real one in use for years. The last time I had to use one it was like a torture. You pull that dial up and over with your finger, release it, and then wait for it to roll back and do it all over again six more times. I’d forget the number I just dialed, it took so long. That was for a 7 number call, now we make 10 number calls, plus “9” to get an outside line, but we do it so much faster, especially when we have the number in our speed dial.

I used to have tons of numbers memorized; now I only have a few. Numbers I call on a regular basis I would never be about to recite, they’re all programmed into the phone. Back in the day, we had little spring loaded, pop-up directories that sat next to the phone with everyone’s phone numbers and addresses written in. I loved moving the little indicator to the correct alphabet letter and then pushing down on the catch and watching the cover pop up. There was something very satisfying about that.

Years ago call waiting is what happened after you got a busy single and then had to wait to try again. You spent the time hoping they would be off the phone but still there to pick up..

Being put on hold meant the receiver was left hanging by the cord, or sitting on the corner of a table or desk. You got to hear everything going on in the room, no music usually. Although sometimes you got to hear things you weren’t suppose to hear. Things you wished later you hadn’t heard, but mostly just really boring stuff.

Voice mail was pretty spotty, we all had to rely on who every answered the phone to take a message and get it right. (Remember the old game Telephone? You got in a circle and the first person whispered something into the second person’s ear and then the second one whispered what they heard to the third and so on down the line. The last person never ended up with what was started.) We also had to hope they remembered to give us the message.

Call forwarding was especially difficult because you couldn’t leave a message on your phone. You would have to call everyone and let them know what number you would be at. It wasn’t like this was easy for the person receiving the info either, we didn’t have post-its back then. Keeping track involved bits of paper and old styled scotch tape.

A mobile phone was one with a 25 foot cord. And as for wireless, forget about it, that was just crazy talk.

What I find really amazing is that growing up on of our favorite TV shows was Star Trek, and one of the things I loved about is were the communicators. The way they pulled them out of their pockets and flip them open and began to talk. Holy crap Cpt. Kirk, we have met our future, and it is you!

Little Green Men with Phones

I’ve hated my phone company for years. I hated them when they were my phone company years ago. I fired them, and paid for the privilege. Got a new phone company, and low and behold several years down the road they were “merged” with the hated first phone company. Well it turns out they were really taken over by the first company and all the crappy customer service came right back. Yeah, yeah I know, we all hate our phone companies, it’s a universal condition. I’m sure that when we finally meet up with those little green men from outer space, they will also hate their phone companies, and probably for all the same reasons: dropped calls, spotty coverage, and customer service personnel that are trained in only for sales. God help them if they show up here looking for better service!

Now I have a new phone company, which for the moment I’m happy with. I’ve got a new phone with a ton of bells and whistles. It’s a……..Blackberry, or as they are sometimes referred to…….. a Crackberry. I’ve got to tell you, I’m really beginning to see the Crackberry side of this thing. I’m already totally addicted. I get why Obama fought so hard to keep his. Of course, I still haven’t figured out how to retrieve my voice mail. But I know how to take a picture and email it from the phone. I’ve actually sent a successful text message, and entered my complete phone book!

But the very best thing about my new phone is, and this is something that only an older person will appreciate…I can read the screen without my glasses!! My phone is a snazzy red, too!