In which I am indignant and affronted

I hereby swear that every keystroke that is written into this post just happened an hour ago. No embellishments, no jokes, just straight up fact.

For those of you who know me at all, you know that my choice in restaurants is diverse, but when I find a place I like, I patronize it often (and usually eat the same thing each time). One such restaurant has been my choice in Cajun/spicy food for the past year or so, and since Pearl's moved locations, I darken their doorstep at least three times a week. One of these times is at 9:00 p.m. each Monday night. Gentle Giant and I come from rehearsal, go eat, then part ways until the next weekly venture.

Tonight began like any other Monday, except I should have known that something was in the air—it’s a full moon, but rehearsals went well. We got to Pearl’s around 9:10 as usual, and asked for our favorite waiter. After being told that he was cut, we settled for a girl we’d never seen before, and asked for our usual-type appetizer/salad/drink/entrée combo. We received the drinks and pitcher of tea in short order, followed closely by our salads and crab dip (together, nonetheless). By 9:40 we were beginning to be curious as to why other patrons were eating and leaving but we still had not received our entrees…and at 9:50 the manager makes the rounds, and we ask where our meal is. She comes back eight minutes later with our meals in hand and apologized that the ticket had been lost. She let us know that since the wait was so long that our meals would be taken care of. We thanked her and set in to eat our meals.

Less than a minute later, our absentee waitress came to see if we need anything, and I asked for a side of garlic bread, as I usually do since my dish of choice could peel paint off the walls on a normal night. She was gone for less than a minute, and returned, saying, (and all the quotes that are in quotes are verbatim. Promise.)

“No you can’t have bread. The kitchen is closed. The manager agreed.”

I thought several things were curious about the statement; in no particular order:

1. I received my HOT meal less than a minute before I requested bread. How could the kitchen be closed?

2. If indeed the kitchen were closed, why did she ask if I needed anything else?

3. Not only did she not apologize (i.e. “I’m sorry, but the kitchen is closed. Could I get you anything else?”), she was quite rude in the delivery.

4. Why would she say the manager agreed before I was even upset about anything?

After learning that I couldn’t have any bread, I asked for a to-go box so that I could eat it with my bread at home. She brought back two boxes, and while I was scraping my dish (watching our favorite waiter mosey about the other side of the restaurant, no less), she asked,

“Would you like any dessert?”

I cocked my head and gave her the old hairy eyeball, and responded, “Are you kidding?!?” She looked confused, so I explained, “You just told me the kitchen was closed, and that I couldn’t even have the bread that I requested with my dinner, yet you ask if I would like dessert?”

At this point, Gentle Giant and I got up to leave. She was still standing by the table, and almost shouted, “Well, aren’t you going to pay for your crab dip and tea?”

We looked at each other, then looked at her, and GG said, “The manager comped our meals.”

The waitress shouted at us,

“No! She comped your entrée only. What?!? Isn’t it good enough that we gave you $35 worth of food? I know you come in here every Monday night, but you’re lousy tippers. I can’t believe you expect perfect service, so you should just quit your bitchin’.”

No kidding. Remember the pledge. She actually did use those exact words to us.

GG stood up (he’s a little over 7 feet tall—he’s called Gentle Giant for a reason, people.) and towered over the waitress. He just looked at her and said, “Go get your general manager. Now.” She stood there for a beat or two, and he looked down and said, “Now, or you’ll have me in your face!”

She walks off to get the manager, who returns and asks what is wrong.

GG points to the waitress and says,

“SHE should be fired.”

“What happened?”

We relayed what had transpired, followed with the following commentary:

“Not only do we come in here every Monday, whether we are poor tippers or not is NOT a determinant of service. No, attitude is gratitude. If we receive great service, you receive a great tip. We WILL tip poorly for poor service.”

The manager nodded her agreement, gestured to our meal, and said, “This is taken care of.”

She looked at the waitress and said, “This will be.”

Before I determine my future pattern of patronage, I must find out what happened with the waitress. Never in my life had I been talked to like that by ANYONE, let alone someone who claims to be in the customer service business. However, I must commend the manager. She did the best she could considering the situation her employee caused in about 2 minutes.

The jury is still out.

I wish I were more shocked than I am...

I found out at 5:02 this afternoon that the powers that be decided to CANCEL GRADUATION for those of us planning to graduate this semester because the weather forecast is calling for snow tomorrow night and Saturday.

An inch of snow.

Are you effing kidding me?!? If I can haul my ass through ice (after which most of the area STILL doesn't have electricity, Esteemed University notwithstanding) to get to where I need to go, I'm pretty sure that an inch of snow is NOT going to stop me from attending graduation if I desire. Good ole' Boren has now deprived my granny of pics of me getting my Master's degree. The news is making fun of him all over the place, and I for one, think it's in fairly poor taste to cancel graduation for everyone in order to keep a few people off the roads. Actually, I'm fairly certain that had those people decided not to come to the ceremony, they wouldn't have attended. Leave your bureaucracy crap out of it and let the show go on.

And the timing of the missive from the old alma mater? Priceless. Just late enough that the news gets it on the air, and no one has opportunity to complain in person because the offices are closed for the day.

Nothing like the university coming to bite me in the ass one last time. Yesterday I paid $50 for my cap, gown, and hood. Cox, meet OU. OU, Cox. The goat is my personalized gift to you, free of charge.

Cox can nibble my 'taint.

or "Asshats at Large"
or "Pwned"
or "Girl Hammered by Cox"

This post is rated for language, nudity, violence, and sex with animals.


I moved into my new apartment on September 15 (and those of you who live within driving distance who still haven't seen it, shame on you). As of September 16, I have not had 24 consecutive hours of internet service (and sometimes no TV either). The techie has been here so many times he raps a pattern on the door and comes on in. Then he waves at my magic elf box, and all is healed. Pisses me off.

Additionally, they screwed up the account from whence I came so that mom's TV and mine were having wild monkey sex instead of actually tuning in to regularly scheduled programming. My former home phone number that was to remain at mom's disappeared into the wild blue yonder, and my internet service has been solely on my Palm, compliments of the asshat who lives next door with an unsecured wireless.

After coming home from DB on Tuesday evening chagrined to learn that my internet was (again) broken, I called Cox to have it fixed. They told me that they could fix it today (Saturday for those who don't have a calendar handy). I (in quite colorful terms, I assure you) told them that my life didn't work that way and they would fix it on Wednesday morning. First thing. After talking to the manager and getting nowhere, I talked to his manager. This one seemed to be less of an fucktard than the rest, so I immediately pressed my advantage.

Me: "Sir, would you please do me a favor?"
Cox Tool: "What can I do?"
Me: "Look up this account and my prior account (that is still linked to this one since it's still active), and tell me how long the account I'm calling about has been active."
CT: "It looks like you've been active since September 14."
Me: "That sounds about right. Could you please look up how many incoming complaint calls you've had on those two accounts since that date?"
CT: "It looks like there have been close to 20."
Me: "Understanding that I've been out of state for the past six days, do you see a problem here?"
CT: "Yes, miss, I do. We'll have someone out between 10 and 12 on Wednesday."
Me: "Thanks."

Techie comes to visit...it's all better. Until last night. I get home from a long day at work (where I actually WORKED, wonder of wonders), and lo and behold, my internet is broken. I make my nightly Cox phone call, and the lady who answered the phone didn't even have a chance:

Cox Tool #2: "Thank you for choosing Cox, my name is Sherita, how can I help you?"
Me: "Could I speak to your manager?"
CT2: "Miss, I have to go through your problem before I can forward the call."
Me: "Sherita, I am here to tell you that you don't want to do that. This is my 17th call in 15 days, and I'm rather hacked, and it's not your fault, so put me through to your manager."
CT2: "Right away, miss."
::crickets::
::crickets::
::crickets::
Manager Tool: "You're having a problem?"
Me: "Why, yes, I am. AGAIN."
MT: "Could you describe it to me?"
Me: "Of course. It all started when I decided to use Cox as my service provider."
... ... same ole convo ensued.
MT: "Well, miss, we can come out tomorrow morning (would have been this morning) between noon and two to rectify the situation."
Me: "Two things, Bucky. (1) Noon-2 is NOT morning. I want someone here at 8:00 am. (2) The dictionary definition of rectify is to permanently fix. So far, the only "rect" that I have seen in your service and technical support is the one that is holding up your ass. I want a guarantee that this problem will be solved PERMANENTLY by 8:00a.m.
MT: "I'm sorry you feel that way, miss, but we can't do that. The first available time is noon."
Me: "Since my internet is broken, my TV doesn't work, and you're hanging on the other end of my phone, would you do me a favor?"
MT: "Sure, miss."
Me: "Could I have the phone number for SBC?"
MT: "I'm sorry, I don't have that number available."
Me: "Pity. You'll waste a service call for nothing. I'll call you back at 2 tomorrow to let you know what that number is. Do you happen to have the number for your manager?"
MT: "He'll have to call you back. I have to fill out paperwork to have him call you."
Me: "Excellent. Have him call me this evening."
MT: "He will call you within two hours."
Me: "Perfect."

Exactly 15 minutes later, the manager calls. By this time, I've cooled down a bit. We get my internet up and running again, and he gives me his name, the hours he works, and his personal direct phone number. I love you, Angel. In a world full of asshats, I'll tip my hat to you. Thanks.



Thank you for choosing Cox. We're the most aptly named business in the industry. Looking for a good time? Call (405) 600-8282.