THIS EVENING...
*RING*
ME-- Hello
SHITIBANK TELEMARKETER-- Hello, may I please speak to THE WIFE'S NAME?
ME-- I'm sorry, she's not here now. Can I take a message?
SHITIBANK TELEMARKETER-- No, that's okay. We can call back another time.
ME-- (SMELLING A CREDIT CARD TELEMARKETER) Can I ask what this is in regard to?
SHITIBANK TELEMARKETER-- I'm TELEMARKETER'S NAME with Shitibank and I'm just calling Shitibank Diamond Preferred Cardholders to thank them for being valued customers and--
ME-- (INTERRUPTING) Actually, we no longer have a Shitibank account. You guys dropped us a couple of weeks ago.
SHITIBANK TELEMARKETER-- Ohhhh, we dropped you? I'm so sorry. (PAUSE) Well, I can only speak with the primary account holder. I can give you a toll free phone number to call if you have any questions about this call?
ME-- No, thank you.
SHITIBANK TELEMARKETER-- You have a good evening.
ME-- You, too.
*CLICK*
And this is true. Two weeks back, we received a letter from Citibank alerting us that they were closing our account with them. This came as a bit of a shock to us, being as how there was no reason listed, beyond a general accusatory wording, as though we had somehow used our card in an unacceptable way that offended Citibank deeply. Of course, now that I think about it, I guess we had, since we carry no balance on the card and have not actually used it at all for a couple of years. They tend to favor indebtedness over at Citibank. Still, this was one of the wife's first credit cards of her life and she's had it for the better part of 20 years, with my name being on it for the past nine or so. We wondered if maybe they'd reconsider if we purchased a pack of gum with it and then forgot to pay the bill for a month or so. Nope, turned out there was fine print on our letter stating that no amount of purchasing on our part would change their minds.
That wasn't all our news from the Citi for that day, though. In that same pile of mail, we received a letter from CitiFinancial alerting us to the fact that they were raising our interest rate on a credit account we'd had with them back when we were paying for some furniture we'd purchased. Trouble is, that furniture has been paid off for nearly a year now, so as far as we were concerned we didn't HAVE any other Citi accounts beyond the credit card. Seemed odd that a credit organization would drop clients that weren't costing them any money, even if we weren't actively making them any money either. Weren't we still potential money?
I did a little research online and saw several articles about Citibank dropping customers, sometimes without bothering to inform them. Guess we were lucky, there.
TWO HOURS LATER...
*RING*
THE WIFE-- Hello?
DIFFERENT SHITIBANK TELEMARKETER-- May I speak to THE WIFE'S NAME?
THE WIFE-- This is she.
DIFFERENT SHITIBANK TELEMARKETER-- Good evening. I'm TELEMARKETER'S NAME and I'm calling Shitibank Diamond Preferred Cardholders to thank you for being a valued customer and--
THE WIFE-- (INTERRUPTING) No, I'm sorry, but you can't say we're valued customers when you dropped our account two weeks ago.
DIFFERENT SHITIBANK TELEMARKETER-- Ohhh, you canceled your account with us?
THE WIFE-- No. Shitibank canceled our account with you.
DIFFERENT SHITIBANK TELEMARKETER-- Ohhhh. (PAUSE) Well, I can give you a toll free phone number to call if you have any questions about this call?
THE WIFE-- No, that's all right.
*CLICK*
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Trudging through a Winter Wonderland
Don't know if you've seen the weather reports, lately, but much of our state has been buried under a foot and a half of snow. Started Friday afternoon for us and pretty much didn't stop until some time in the wee hours, at which point there was an impressive amount of snow on the ground.
Sadie and Moose have had a blast running through it, even after it had grown taller than Moose himself. I had a blast laughing at them. The wife and I ate takeout pizza and spent an evening by the fire.
After we arose this morning, I assumed we would probably eat breakfast here and settle in until the roads were plowed, but the wife announced she wanted to "get out in it." This is the sort of thing people who grew up in Alaska say whenever they haven't seen this amount of snowfall in a while. I don't think it's a matter of wanting to show off their ice-driving skills so much as the desire to be able to immerse themselves in a reminiscence about how things used to be when they drove around in several feet of ice back in Fairbanks. (This behavior is usually accompanied by long speeches about how the scraper trucks in Alaska are so much bigger than those here, how none of these pickup truck with a blade on the front models would be able to move even 5 feet in Alaska, and, eventually, ends a treatise on how Alaskan blueberries are so much better than any in the lower 48--or maybe that's just at my house.) Besides, we needed groceries and breakfast, she said, so we bundled up and out we went.
We dug the wife's Element out, which had been stuck in the driveway all night, having been unable to reach the top of the hill due to my car being in the way. Sadie, in fact, couldn't recognize the wife's car as even being a car, as its boxy shape just looked like a big white cube, and she barked and barked at it until we were able to dig it out. Once we were on the road, we discovered that with 18 inches of snow, driving was more like piloting a boat than a car, but out we went. It's mostly down hill to get out of my neighborhood, but then pretty much uphill all the way to the highway. Didn't matter. The wife was in great form and we had hardly any problems all the way to our first destination: our favorite local breakfast buffet.
There were hardly any cars at the buffet, and we had already half-expected them to be closed due to their staff being snowed in, but the Open sign was lit so we parked. Inside, we waited to pay, but there was no cashier. Beyond the glass-fronted windows of the cooking area we saw a manager lady we're familiar with and a male manager. As we were to learn soon enough, we nearly outnumbered the employees ourselves, as there were only the two managers, plus a guy who looked like a bus boy or maintenance man and another lady who I think was a baker. There was no wait staff and the managers were pretty much running the show, with the other two employees cooking what they could in back. Besides us, there were maybe 8 other customers.
After waiting for a couple of minutes, the female manager came over and invited us in, saying we could pay later and that they didn't have the full buffet out, but were taking orders for custom cooked eggs or omelets. Sounded fine to me. She then directed us to the servers' station where we could get our own coffee. Still sounded cool to me.
What proceeded was a meal of understanding and cooperation between the customers and the four staff members of the restaurant. For instance, we understood that they didn't have the staff to put out the full buffet spread, so we overlooked the items such as green beans and baked chicken that were present on the bar, and instead ate from the bacon and sausage which were there. (The bacon was deep fried for added speed and was, therefore, really good.) We did our own serving and refilling and tried not to be huge hassles for the overextended staff. Meanwhile, the female manager did custom eggs for us, which we ate over Texas toast, and they were great.
Two of our fellow nearby customers had been traveling through the state on their way from Florida to parts further north and had been stranded in our town, spending the night in their car. They seemed very grateful to have a place to stay and certainly weren't going to complain about anything. The whole meal just felt like people pulling together to make a bad situation work out for the best, and I have to say it was one of the more enjoyable meals I've had in a while as a result.
After breakfast, we headed down the road a bit to see one of the wife's patients. She doesn't do a lot of house calls, but is not opposed to them and has a small list of people she has visited in their homes, usually among the elderly. Unfortunately, the patient she'd promised to come see lived at the very end of a very hilly neighborhood. We couldn't even start at the bottom of the hill, though, because there was already a guy in an SUV firmly stuck, blocking the road. We tried to help push him get out, but conceded the battle to a fellow in a pickup who had a tow rope. That didn't work, either, but we'd brought our shovel and snow shovel so we helped dig him out and then pushed while the truck pulled and were finally successful. Less successful was our journey up the hill. The fellow in the pickup was on the same journey, so we let him go first. However, he stalled out mid way up the hill and we lost our momentum and had to start over. We still only made it about mid-way up, before just parking the car and walking in the rest of the way. The wife's patient was amazed to see us, as she'd assumed we'd never be able to make it out of our own house, let alone to hers.
Following a couple more errands and a trip to Wally World for groceries and beer, we headed home. We had hoped that our neighborhood would have been scraped by the time we returned, but not even the road leading to our neighborhood had seen a plow, so we figured it was highly unlikely. Still, we made it past the entrance to our neighborhood and about mid way up the first major hill, before stalling out. We gave it a few more college tries, of course, but wound up having to park the car at the bottom and haul most of our groceries up the hills and, eventually, up our gravity driveway. It's basically half of one of the two routes I walk with the dog every day, so it wasn't so bad on me, but the wife isn't used to such hills when laden with the ingredients for mulled cider. Once we got back and dried off, the wife indeed fired up the cider and we spent the afternoon camped out on the couch, drinking cups of it while warming ourselves with the wood stove.
Sometimes it's nice to be snowed in.
Sadie and Moose have had a blast running through it, even after it had grown taller than Moose himself. I had a blast laughing at them. The wife and I ate takeout pizza and spent an evening by the fire.
After we arose this morning, I assumed we would probably eat breakfast here and settle in until the roads were plowed, but the wife announced she wanted to "get out in it." This is the sort of thing people who grew up in Alaska say whenever they haven't seen this amount of snowfall in a while. I don't think it's a matter of wanting to show off their ice-driving skills so much as the desire to be able to immerse themselves in a reminiscence about how things used to be when they drove around in several feet of ice back in Fairbanks. (This behavior is usually accompanied by long speeches about how the scraper trucks in Alaska are so much bigger than those here, how none of these pickup truck with a blade on the front models would be able to move even 5 feet in Alaska, and, eventually, ends a treatise on how Alaskan blueberries are so much better than any in the lower 48--or maybe that's just at my house.) Besides, we needed groceries and breakfast, she said, so we bundled up and out we went.
We dug the wife's Element out, which had been stuck in the driveway all night, having been unable to reach the top of the hill due to my car being in the way. Sadie, in fact, couldn't recognize the wife's car as even being a car, as its boxy shape just looked like a big white cube, and she barked and barked at it until we were able to dig it out. Once we were on the road, we discovered that with 18 inches of snow, driving was more like piloting a boat than a car, but out we went. It's mostly down hill to get out of my neighborhood, but then pretty much uphill all the way to the highway. Didn't matter. The wife was in great form and we had hardly any problems all the way to our first destination: our favorite local breakfast buffet.
There were hardly any cars at the buffet, and we had already half-expected them to be closed due to their staff being snowed in, but the Open sign was lit so we parked. Inside, we waited to pay, but there was no cashier. Beyond the glass-fronted windows of the cooking area we saw a manager lady we're familiar with and a male manager. As we were to learn soon enough, we nearly outnumbered the employees ourselves, as there were only the two managers, plus a guy who looked like a bus boy or maintenance man and another lady who I think was a baker. There was no wait staff and the managers were pretty much running the show, with the other two employees cooking what they could in back. Besides us, there were maybe 8 other customers.
After waiting for a couple of minutes, the female manager came over and invited us in, saying we could pay later and that they didn't have the full buffet out, but were taking orders for custom cooked eggs or omelets. Sounded fine to me. She then directed us to the servers' station where we could get our own coffee. Still sounded cool to me.
What proceeded was a meal of understanding and cooperation between the customers and the four staff members of the restaurant. For instance, we understood that they didn't have the staff to put out the full buffet spread, so we overlooked the items such as green beans and baked chicken that were present on the bar, and instead ate from the bacon and sausage which were there. (The bacon was deep fried for added speed and was, therefore, really good.) We did our own serving and refilling and tried not to be huge hassles for the overextended staff. Meanwhile, the female manager did custom eggs for us, which we ate over Texas toast, and they were great.
Two of our fellow nearby customers had been traveling through the state on their way from Florida to parts further north and had been stranded in our town, spending the night in their car. They seemed very grateful to have a place to stay and certainly weren't going to complain about anything. The whole meal just felt like people pulling together to make a bad situation work out for the best, and I have to say it was one of the more enjoyable meals I've had in a while as a result.
After breakfast, we headed down the road a bit to see one of the wife's patients. She doesn't do a lot of house calls, but is not opposed to them and has a small list of people she has visited in their homes, usually among the elderly. Unfortunately, the patient she'd promised to come see lived at the very end of a very hilly neighborhood. We couldn't even start at the bottom of the hill, though, because there was already a guy in an SUV firmly stuck, blocking the road. We tried to help push him get out, but conceded the battle to a fellow in a pickup who had a tow rope. That didn't work, either, but we'd brought our shovel and snow shovel so we helped dig him out and then pushed while the truck pulled and were finally successful. Less successful was our journey up the hill. The fellow in the pickup was on the same journey, so we let him go first. However, he stalled out mid way up the hill and we lost our momentum and had to start over. We still only made it about mid-way up, before just parking the car and walking in the rest of the way. The wife's patient was amazed to see us, as she'd assumed we'd never be able to make it out of our own house, let alone to hers.
Following a couple more errands and a trip to Wally World for groceries and beer, we headed home. We had hoped that our neighborhood would have been scraped by the time we returned, but not even the road leading to our neighborhood had seen a plow, so we figured it was highly unlikely. Still, we made it past the entrance to our neighborhood and about mid way up the first major hill, before stalling out. We gave it a few more college tries, of course, but wound up having to park the car at the bottom and haul most of our groceries up the hills and, eventually, up our gravity driveway. It's basically half of one of the two routes I walk with the dog every day, so it wasn't so bad on me, but the wife isn't used to such hills when laden with the ingredients for mulled cider. Once we got back and dried off, the wife indeed fired up the cider and we spent the afternoon camped out on the couch, drinking cups of it while warming ourselves with the wood stove.
Sometimes it's nice to be snowed in.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Our New Family Member, the Third
A wise man once said: when a puppy piddles on the carpet, whose fault is it, the puppy's or its owner's? Answer: the owner's, because he's the one not paying attention to his puppy. That's paraphrasing, but we read something very similar on a puppy potty-training website, back when we were first trying to train Sadie. It's as irritating a statement as you're likely to find, but it's also true. Potty training a dog to "go" exclusively outside is a long and uric-acid soaked process that can drive you nigh onto insanity. Complicating the process further is that we refused to go the half-step route of first training to "go" on paper or floor diaper, opting for the whole hog "yer goin' outside or ye'd better get used to holdin' it" avenue.It's the same process we used on Sadie, starting a year and a half back. We must have done a good job of it, too, because Sadie is completely awesome when it comes to whizzing exclusively outside. Point of fact, she's a pretty awesome dog all around, which we can see now that we have Moose (or Piddles McGillicuddy, as he's come to be known) as contrast. Whenever Sadie has to go "potty," she literally asks to go out; she comes and finds us wherever we are, and gives us an urgent-toned series of grunts and growls. That's our cue to say, "You need to go potty?" at which point she steps up the urgency of the growls. In the early days of this, we used to also have episodes of what we called "potty lying" in which the dog really just wanted to go outside to sniff or investigate the possibility of deer lurking in the yard and would use pottying as her ticket to be let out. This was annoying because at the time we didn't have our nifty wifi shock collar system in place and would have to accompany her into the cold using a leash to prevent her from tearing off into the night after said lurking deer. These days, though, she's so well-trained by her shock collar that she doesn't even have to wear the collar anymore and we completely trust her to stay in the yard and let her out whenever the mood strikes her.
As well trained as Sadie now is, we can't for the life of us remember what exactly we did to reach that level of perfection with her. How was it, for instance, that we were able to get her to verbalize her potty needs? We'd really like to know, because it seems silly to punish Moose for piddling in the house and yell at him to only go outside when he seemingly doesn't have any recourse for letting us know that he needs to go outside. So for the past few weeks, we've tried to remain vigilant for any signs that he needs to go and immediately let him out. Trouble is, he's a stealth-pisser and covert-crapper, capable of squeezing out some waste in seconds, usually choosing to do so in a room other than the one we're in and dashing back before we know he was even gone. Until about three days ago, we had not had even one single day without an accident in all the weeks he's been here. And I'm not convinced he even achieved that record feat, because I found and cold, old link in the guest bedroom two days ago, and who knows when he deposited that?
Fortunately, I think we're finally seeing the light at the end of Poop & Piddle Tunnel. While we have had some excretory indiscretions in recent days, they've all been of a solid variety, so he's either getting the message that the yard is where he needs to wee, or he's developing better bladder control. Maybe both. He's even begun to go to the back door when he needs to go, which makes us extremely happy. Now if we can only work on his verbalizing, we'll be good. As shiny and perfect as Sadie appears in this regard, in actuality it took her several months to achieve this state.
Meanwhile, Moose has been easier to train in other regards. He's actually sitting and waiting on command--at least most of the time--and is already shaking hands with enough regularity that it's nearing on-command level, too. He also fetches far better than Sadie, (who is perfectly willing to go get any item you throw, but will then only play keepaway with it); Moose actually brings things back, provided you don't tell him he's a good dog until he returns with them, otherwise he drops whatever it is and runs to be praised.
As much as we've hated having to be back in cleanup mode again, we're really digging Moose as a pup. He's a far less high-maintenance dog than Sadie was at that age and it's been a fun guessing game as to what sort of dog he really is. We keep telling him he'd better not be a damn little chow chow, but we'll probably survive okay, even if he is.
He and Sadie are great friends--except before she's had her coffee in the morning, when she tends to growl at him. Same goes for Avie kitty, who has wisely chosen to make friends with him while he's still tiny. They have lots of fun chasing one another around the house, with Avie running only until Moose gives up the chase, at which point she turns and slinks back in his vicinity to get his attention and start the game anew.
The other thing I'm trying to do with him is to take more pictures. We took lots of Sadie as a puppy, then a few more as an adolescent dog, but very few in between those stages and then adult. Got to get more in the bank before he loses his puppy cuteness. Everyone who sees him falls in love with him, even down to our vet. I've taken him in three times now for initial checkup and shots and each time the vet and her staff have trouble giving him back to me. This past visit, they even apologized that I had to wait around the waiting room for so long, because they didn't want to let him go. He's a charmer.
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