Subtitle: Ingrates of the World, Unite!
I have been informed by a faithful reader that the previous shout out that I provided was completely inadequate. As such, in an attempt to rectify that situation, I shall now provide my esteemed fellow blogger with the appropriate well-deserved kudos.
If you wish to be edified by a blog (as opposed to just wasting time on mine), please go to: http://sharedlunacy.blogspot.com/ In contrast to the random musings and Andy Rooney-esque complaints found on my blog, you will find well-written, thought-provoking, proof-read, and sometimes humorous postings on relevant issues including sports, politics, meteorology, history, and world cultures. And, all this coming from someone with a confirmed level of intelligence given his win on Jeopardy!
Run - don't walk, (or type with multiple fingers as opposed to your index finger) to this website. You will be forever thankful!!!
Friday, September 14, 2007
Special Shout Out
I have had a request from one of my faithful readers to mention him in a posting.
Big ups to Dominic.
That is all...
Big ups to Dominic.
That is all...
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Squeaky Wheels of the World Unite!
In the past year, I have become quite the expert at the art of getting free stuff through complaining. This development has come as a bit of a surprise to me, as in the past I was always the sort of person who let things roll off her back. My sense of empathy was so well-developed that I could excuse all sorts of behavior. Poor service? Oh well, they were probably having a bad day. Incompetent staff? Well, good help is so hard to find! Technical difficulties? Happens to the best of us.
While I am still in possession of inordinate amounts of compassion, I have come to recognize that sensitivity and free stuff are not necessarily mutually exclusive. I can feel for the person or understand that certain situations are unavoidable, but still complain and benefit nonetheless. I believe that the complaining trait was inherited from my mother and lying dormant, waiting to be expressed. I have one memory of her having a Boy Scout (who was extolling the good price of the apples he was selling) wait at our front step while she called the local IGA to confirm that his claims were indeed true. She and my sister, Alicia, are much more prone to complain than am I, and more prone to do so, in a shall-we-say "expressive" manner. However, this goes to show that I have come across this recent trait quite honestly.
So what led this dormant trait to suddenly be expressed? I believe that inspiration came as a result of seeing my boyfriend, James, talk the cable company into giving me 6 free months of HBO as a result of having me on hold for 45 minutes when I was trying to move my service. Two months later, when the cable was out during the "Dreamgirls" episode of Oprah I had been looking forward to all month, I asserted myself and got $15 taken off my bill!
Other recent coups? $25 gift card from Home Depot for getting transferred to wrong departments, disconnected, and put on hold for an inordinate amount of time. $100 Delta dollars for having an inoperable movie screen on my first-class seat on a 5-hour flight from Portland, Oregon. 7,500 points (3/4 of a free night's stay at a 5-star hotel) from the US Grant in compensation for incredibly slow and slightly rude service from their valet staff.
Now, before you get the impression that I complain just to get complimentary booty, let me be clear that is not the case. I always tip generously for good service, and sometimes commend people to management. I still do let some things go. For example, if I have a dirty fork and there is another silverware set on the table, I'll exchange it myself. It's not like I've become the equivalent of a litigious American. However, for those of you who are now inspired to get your fair share of redress for suboptimal service, I thought I would share a few tips I have found to be particularly useful to this end:
1. Try to complain via email as opposed to telephone. Email leaves a paper trail and also gives you a chance to really think about what you want to say and express it in full without getting sidetracked by the person on the other end of the phone. Plus, the person on the other end of the phone is trained to say things like, "I understand your frustration" which may only serve as irritation and cause you to lose your cool.
2. Keep your cool no matter what. Shouting matches never work. You want to convey that you are a highly reasonable person who has been wronged. You want them to feel for you enough so that they will want to help you.
3. Pull rank if you have it. I'm not one to call myself "Dr. Thompson," but I will make sure the PhD shows up by my name if I'm complaining. If you are a loyal customer, mention it. Even better if you have some sort of standing with the company (e.g. being platinum or something like that).
4. Sound as learned as possible. I find it is helpful to channel the Queen in this regard. Instead of saying "I couldn't believe this #$%^&#!," say "I was most displeased by the lapse in service at your establishment." You want to convey surprise and outrage, but in a controlled fashion. Use words like "unacceptable" "shocking" and "disappointing." Point out good service that you experienced at their establishment so that you sound balanced. Also, this acts as a contrast to the poor service, and provides further evidence for the shock you must have felt by the uncharacteristically poor treatment. Make sure to indicate that you expect some recompense. (e.g. "I would hope than an appropriate remedy will be forthcoming, and look forward to same") Keep it Elizabethan, if possible.
6. Finally, elevate if necessary. If they don't offer you anything in return, ask again or make an appropriate comment to shame them into it. For example, to get my airline dollars, I had to point out that I could understand why the airline was having financial difficulties if that was how they were treating their most valuable customers. Try to sound haughty without being condescending (this may take some practice).
Well, those are my tips. Now get out there and start complaining!!!
While I am still in possession of inordinate amounts of compassion, I have come to recognize that sensitivity and free stuff are not necessarily mutually exclusive. I can feel for the person or understand that certain situations are unavoidable, but still complain and benefit nonetheless. I believe that the complaining trait was inherited from my mother and lying dormant, waiting to be expressed. I have one memory of her having a Boy Scout (who was extolling the good price of the apples he was selling) wait at our front step while she called the local IGA to confirm that his claims were indeed true. She and my sister, Alicia, are much more prone to complain than am I, and more prone to do so, in a shall-we-say "expressive" manner. However, this goes to show that I have come across this recent trait quite honestly.
So what led this dormant trait to suddenly be expressed? I believe that inspiration came as a result of seeing my boyfriend, James, talk the cable company into giving me 6 free months of HBO as a result of having me on hold for 45 minutes when I was trying to move my service. Two months later, when the cable was out during the "Dreamgirls" episode of Oprah I had been looking forward to all month, I asserted myself and got $15 taken off my bill!
Other recent coups? $25 gift card from Home Depot for getting transferred to wrong departments, disconnected, and put on hold for an inordinate amount of time. $100 Delta dollars for having an inoperable movie screen on my first-class seat on a 5-hour flight from Portland, Oregon. 7,500 points (3/4 of a free night's stay at a 5-star hotel) from the US Grant in compensation for incredibly slow and slightly rude service from their valet staff.
Now, before you get the impression that I complain just to get complimentary booty, let me be clear that is not the case. I always tip generously for good service, and sometimes commend people to management. I still do let some things go. For example, if I have a dirty fork and there is another silverware set on the table, I'll exchange it myself. It's not like I've become the equivalent of a litigious American. However, for those of you who are now inspired to get your fair share of redress for suboptimal service, I thought I would share a few tips I have found to be particularly useful to this end:
1. Try to complain via email as opposed to telephone. Email leaves a paper trail and also gives you a chance to really think about what you want to say and express it in full without getting sidetracked by the person on the other end of the phone. Plus, the person on the other end of the phone is trained to say things like, "I understand your frustration" which may only serve as irritation and cause you to lose your cool.
2. Keep your cool no matter what. Shouting matches never work. You want to convey that you are a highly reasonable person who has been wronged. You want them to feel for you enough so that they will want to help you.
3. Pull rank if you have it. I'm not one to call myself "Dr. Thompson," but I will make sure the PhD shows up by my name if I'm complaining. If you are a loyal customer, mention it. Even better if you have some sort of standing with the company (e.g. being platinum or something like that).
4. Sound as learned as possible. I find it is helpful to channel the Queen in this regard. Instead of saying "I couldn't believe this #$%^&#!," say "I was most displeased by the lapse in service at your establishment." You want to convey surprise and outrage, but in a controlled fashion. Use words like "unacceptable" "shocking" and "disappointing." Point out good service that you experienced at their establishment so that you sound balanced. Also, this acts as a contrast to the poor service, and provides further evidence for the shock you must have felt by the uncharacteristically poor treatment. Make sure to indicate that you expect some recompense. (e.g. "I would hope than an appropriate remedy will be forthcoming, and look forward to same") Keep it Elizabethan, if possible.
6. Finally, elevate if necessary. If they don't offer you anything in return, ask again or make an appropriate comment to shame them into it. For example, to get my airline dollars, I had to point out that I could understand why the airline was having financial difficulties if that was how they were treating their most valuable customers. Try to sound haughty without being condescending (this may take some practice).
Well, those are my tips. Now get out there and start complaining!!!
Congeniality School for U.S. Border Guards
Question: Has any non-American ever crossed the border into the United States and been greeted by an immigration official who was actually pleasant? I am trying to figure out if I just happen to be blessed with a countenance that inspires brusque treatment, or if they are equally enchanting with everyone.
Case in point: this past Sunday, I was returning to the United States after a 3-hour sojourn in Tijuana. (Note to travellers: if you go to Tijuana, make sure to bring plenty of money with you, as I challenge anyone to be able to resist the enthusiastic salespeople there. Prices get slashed with each hem or haw that you may inadvertently emit, and eventually, you will feel obligated to buy something just to be able to escape from the store. Further, because of the desperation that clearly must be the motivation behind such aggressive selling, anyone with a conscience will feel compelled to spend money to support the Mexican economy.) Anyhow, I arrived at the border with my bus of fellow visitors. Although I am (was) in the midst of getting my green card, I had all the appropriate documentation with me: Canadian passport, travel authorization, and even the letter saying that I was approved for my green card and it would be forthcoming within 30 days). I reach the front of the line, expecting a routine (although curt) interaction with the border guard, and instead I am informed that I have to go to another building to get something stamped. He tells me I won't need to wait in line, and that I can come right back. Inconvenient, yes, but hey that's crossing the border, right?
So, I walk past the line of about 200 people, outside, and to another building. This one has a line of approximately 8 people, but I follow instructions and walk up to a fellow at the desk who isn't helping anyone. I show him my documents. He asks why I don't have multiple copies of my travel authorization. I tell him I didn't know I needed multiple copies, will that be a problem? I show him the letter that I am approved for permanent residency. His reply? "Well you don't have the card yet, now do you?" He directs me to the back of the line.
Now, one might think that a line of 8 people should move relatively quickly; however, that would assume that (1) the people in the line had legitimate documentation, and (2) the people working at the counter were working at a human speed. Instead, the line had several people with questionable documentation who were trying to make their case for getting into the country (although the interactions were taking place in Spanish, I'm pretty sure I am reaching the correct conclusion on that one). As for #2, well, I can only conclude that, like many bureaucrats, the Border Guard bible must be "The Tortoise and the Hare."
So, after 80 minutes of waiting in-line (and tempting fate by surreptitiously text messaging my sister despite the "No cell phone" sign positioned beside George W's smiling face and Cheney's smirking one), I finally get to meet with Mr. Personality yet again. Choice comments from him? "You're a long way from home aren't you?" (make sure to read with condescending inflection) Despite the fact that my house address didn't have a suite number, I had to tell him three times that I didn't live in an apartment. "Next time, you'll need multiple copies of this." Multiple copies of what? What next times? I had just given him the letter saying I would have my green card within the month! And, he photocopied the darned thing, so clearly it wasn't an issue. Maybe they are trying to save on the paper and toner costs...He stamps the paper, makes a copy, loses track of the copy he made 5 seconds prior, can't find his stapler, finds a stapler, randomly starts looking for rubber gloves for one of his colleagues, goes to help one of his colleagues with someone else's petition, struggles to take a staple out of my passport, looks in vain for a staple remover, removes it with his grimy fingernail, then FINALLY gives me my stamped piece of paper.
Relieved, I leave the building, walk past the line of 200 people to the side where I was instructed to return. I try unsuccessfully to get the attention of the previous border guard who told me to come back to the front of the line. Thankfully, a disgruntled "gentleman" in the next line yells out, "Get to the back of the line, sister!" which gets the guard's attention. I go to him, show my documentation, and am allowed through. No one even asks what I am declaring or what I purchased while there. No wonder the pharmacies do well over there and there are Cuban cigars galore for sale! I meet up with my sister and nephew who had been hanging out at the McDonald's for the past hour and a half (of course, the minute you cross the border the Golden Arches greet you. Can you imagine anything different?) And we take a taxi back to our car. Back at last!
And of course as luck would have it, what was awaiting me in my mailbox upon my return? My green card. Like I had said to the border guard, "There won't be a next time!"
Case in point: this past Sunday, I was returning to the United States after a 3-hour sojourn in Tijuana. (Note to travellers: if you go to Tijuana, make sure to bring plenty of money with you, as I challenge anyone to be able to resist the enthusiastic salespeople there. Prices get slashed with each hem or haw that you may inadvertently emit, and eventually, you will feel obligated to buy something just to be able to escape from the store. Further, because of the desperation that clearly must be the motivation behind such aggressive selling, anyone with a conscience will feel compelled to spend money to support the Mexican economy.) Anyhow, I arrived at the border with my bus of fellow visitors. Although I am (was) in the midst of getting my green card, I had all the appropriate documentation with me: Canadian passport, travel authorization, and even the letter saying that I was approved for my green card and it would be forthcoming within 30 days). I reach the front of the line, expecting a routine (although curt) interaction with the border guard, and instead I am informed that I have to go to another building to get something stamped. He tells me I won't need to wait in line, and that I can come right back. Inconvenient, yes, but hey that's crossing the border, right?
So, I walk past the line of about 200 people, outside, and to another building. This one has a line of approximately 8 people, but I follow instructions and walk up to a fellow at the desk who isn't helping anyone. I show him my documents. He asks why I don't have multiple copies of my travel authorization. I tell him I didn't know I needed multiple copies, will that be a problem? I show him the letter that I am approved for permanent residency. His reply? "Well you don't have the card yet, now do you?" He directs me to the back of the line.
Now, one might think that a line of 8 people should move relatively quickly; however, that would assume that (1) the people in the line had legitimate documentation, and (2) the people working at the counter were working at a human speed. Instead, the line had several people with questionable documentation who were trying to make their case for getting into the country (although the interactions were taking place in Spanish, I'm pretty sure I am reaching the correct conclusion on that one). As for #2, well, I can only conclude that, like many bureaucrats, the Border Guard bible must be "The Tortoise and the Hare."
So, after 80 minutes of waiting in-line (and tempting fate by surreptitiously text messaging my sister despite the "No cell phone" sign positioned beside George W's smiling face and Cheney's smirking one), I finally get to meet with Mr. Personality yet again. Choice comments from him? "You're a long way from home aren't you?" (make sure to read with condescending inflection) Despite the fact that my house address didn't have a suite number, I had to tell him three times that I didn't live in an apartment. "Next time, you'll need multiple copies of this." Multiple copies of what? What next times? I had just given him the letter saying I would have my green card within the month! And, he photocopied the darned thing, so clearly it wasn't an issue. Maybe they are trying to save on the paper and toner costs...He stamps the paper, makes a copy, loses track of the copy he made 5 seconds prior, can't find his stapler, finds a stapler, randomly starts looking for rubber gloves for one of his colleagues, goes to help one of his colleagues with someone else's petition, struggles to take a staple out of my passport, looks in vain for a staple remover, removes it with his grimy fingernail, then FINALLY gives me my stamped piece of paper.
Relieved, I leave the building, walk past the line of 200 people to the side where I was instructed to return. I try unsuccessfully to get the attention of the previous border guard who told me to come back to the front of the line. Thankfully, a disgruntled "gentleman" in the next line yells out, "Get to the back of the line, sister!" which gets the guard's attention. I go to him, show my documentation, and am allowed through. No one even asks what I am declaring or what I purchased while there. No wonder the pharmacies do well over there and there are Cuban cigars galore for sale! I meet up with my sister and nephew who had been hanging out at the McDonald's for the past hour and a half (of course, the minute you cross the border the Golden Arches greet you. Can you imagine anything different?) And we take a taxi back to our car. Back at last!
And of course as luck would have it, what was awaiting me in my mailbox upon my return? My green card. Like I had said to the border guard, "There won't be a next time!"
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