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.

ECON SUCKS

Just in case anyone was wondering, economics sucks. Took 10 pages to solve this problem numerically and in prose, and this is the goal...GRR. (Click on it to enlarge)

Happy Pre-Christmas.

In the spirit of commercialism, crappy advertising, and overwhelming need to consume, start your holiday season out right. At least if you listen to this before you go shopping, you'll be smiling, and I won't have to deal with you ramming me with a shopping cart. I do my Christmas shopping during Advent. Duh. (Not in July, not on Halloween Eve, and surely not the day after Turkey Day.)

Eat a lot, enjoy the family, and have a Happy Thanksgiving.

Cox anytime

I now officially have my very own personal Cox phone directory. Anytime, anywhere, I have the personal direct line of the state-wide tech manager. Sunday night at 4 am? Angel's got me covered. Wednesday at 11 am? Brian's there for me. Just go across the day and down the time, and a phone number is at my fingertips. Woot. Brian/Becky/Angel/Your Mother is sending out the "holy crap, it's still not fixed" team tomorrow morning.

We'll see if they fall into their own category.


...if you found this post because you thought it was "Cocks anytime," shame on you. You have to call (405) 600-8282 for that.

Pet Peeve #28H

...or, Think Before You Speak.

Those of you who know me know that the way today's people communicate in a professional setting has a great tendency to piss me off. Though there are several grammatical faux pas that come to mind, I am currently sitting behind the #28H pet peevert, and I'm trying VERY HARD to not kick him every time he says "you know" ... no, I don't know. If I knew you wouldn't have to tell me, now would you?

Well, you know, the you know manager decided to you know even out the you know playing field, so he looked into the you know overseas market and you know brought you know another expatriate into the you know company.

Holy Mother of Jesus. Are you kidding?!? (This is not exaggerated. I copied it straight from the voice recorder I had used in class...) This was a 10-second clip from a 45-second response containing 24 uses of the phrase "you know." No shit.

Without the filler words, the 45-second response could have been clipped to a mere 15 seconds. Considering that this guy responds approximately five times per class, he spends around 1 minute and 15 seconds filling his speech while he thinks about what to say next. Extrapolating to the whole semester, he has permanently stolen 18.75 minutes of my life. Assuming that I had never been in class with him before, that's the equivalent of eating lunch. Grr.

Scientists have long known that using filler words is a worldwide linguistic anomaly. Each language has its own vocalization syllables, but in English most people say um, er, or uh (or most commonly these days: LIKE). My professor for my undergraduate Music History classes (five semesters of him...) was nicknamed Captain Um. On average, we'd fill a letter-sized sheet of paper with tick marks in the span of a single lecture.

So why do people use filler words? Scientists believe it is to keep the listener listening instead of attempting to speak. The second reason is to let your brain think about what you want to say next.

This comes straight from the White House (no commentary on the monkey in office, please) by the leader of the free world:

Discussing Social Security at a March 21, 2006, White House news conference, the leader of the free world used these words to describe a recent crisis: “The system,” the president declared, “was about to, like, fall into the abyss.” Later in the news conference, Bush gave his take on the current situation in Iraq: “There are other voices coming out of Iraq, by the way, other than Mr. Allawi--who I know, by the way, like, he's a good fellow.”

Geez, people. Listen to yourselves. And use the top half of your head to ward off the idiocy the bottom half spews.

...or, Think Before You Speak.

Dusting off the old soapbox

My soapbox was getting lonely, and I had a little time on my hands. I decided to peruse the internet, giver of wonderful things, and found THIS. From this article, we get the following important information:
1. I think that the fact that a group of their peers decided that it was not okay to wave signs at someone's funeral decrying their life is spectacular. Let the judgment of life come from your creator, not your neighbor.
2. The fact that the ruling will be appealed is a no-brainer. The restitution is over three times the value of the church's assets. Duh. Such a pity that it is.

The fact of the matter is that a man died while in service to the United States of America. What does the pastor of the church that led the rally have to say about the whole thing? "[The ruling is] going to be reversed in five minutes," he said. This case, he added, "will elevate me to something important," as it draws more publicity to his cause.

Because this case is clearly about you, Herr Crazy Church Founder.

...and now for the liturgical portion of this afternoon's message...

Take this in the context that it's offered: my church does this, other churches do this, and apparently Herr Crazy Church Founder does this too, by his above message.

Let me begin by giving two definitions, taken from the Random House Dictionary...
1. Liturgy: n. a particular arrangement of services; or a collection of formularies for public worship
2. Worship: n. reverent honor and homage paid to God or a sacred personage, or to any object regarded as sacred; v. to render religious reverence

Nowadays, when one attends church, it is with an expectation of entertainment. My assistant pastor is one of the worst about this; he is always catching the worship committee with questions like, "Why do we sing so much slow music?" or "I want to sing faster stuff."

This would be moderately acceptable coming from a parishioner, but from staff? Nay. In becoming staff at a church, one understands the difference between "going to church" and "attending worship" -- there is a reason we call what we do "WORSHIP." Namely, it is because we focus on revering God and reflecting our obedience to Him in ALL that we do. When the body of Christ comes together to worship, not everyone will have his or her way each Sunday. I'll be the first to tell you that every song that comes out of my piano is NOT one of my favorites. I hate "Victory in Jesus," but I suck it up and play it for the sake of those in the congregation who aren't as averse to it as I.

The comment from the preacher in the article just riles me up. Mister, you are a pastor. This presumably means that you have some kind of education, even if it is only from the Online Seminary. You, of all people in the world, should understand that worship is about God, not about you. Anything you do that brings your church into the limelight for acting from whims of man is NOT God's intention. Waving anti-gay signs at a worship service of respect for the dead is NOT a method by which to ingratiate yourself to God. A wedding, just as a funeral, is a WORSHIP service, honoring members of God's holy church in special times of their lives. Scripture is read, His name is invoked, and people are, in this case, comforted by knowing that their son is in a better place. It is not your right to judge that person (whom you never knew as a living soul) by condemning his lifestyle at the worship service commemorating his life.

And doing so and expecting to get public support for your church is a whole new level of depravity that I don't even want to touch.

Sir, as a Christian and a fellow church staff member, I am ashamed to call you my brother in Christ. I won't judge you, but just remember that Jesus told his followers that the most important concept of any is to love each other as yourself, and do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

If this is your conception of brotherly love, don't bother.

A Whole New Life

With this new job, it's like a whole new me. I actually enjoy going to work (so far) and like what I've been doing...it's great! Now my snark is reserved for those who desperately need to be on the receiving end of it. Like the crazy woman who tried to run over my car on the interstate yesterday. She was driving a Tahoe and ended up running over the car in front of her (a Tercel) instead...then, after she mauled that car, she started backing up! Uh, no?!? I started yelling and honking and making a general ruckus about this time, and she landed about a half inch from my front bumper. Had she hit me and I gotten a ticket because I'm in Oklatucky and we have a no-fault law, I'd have come out swinging.

In other news, my Sooners have an off week this week. Woot! Now I can get some serious stuff done around the old homestead. Except for the meeting all day Saturday to wrap up my old job...and the all day Sunday music extravaganza... Alas. Friday will be a veritable marathon of activity preparing for next week (aka WEEK FROM HELL) due to school issues...so strap on, we're going into high gear.

Stick with me. Back to regularly scheduled snark soon.

Cox Watch, Day 4

Well, my internet was fixed on Wednesday, broke again on Friday, was fixed on Saturday, broke Monday night, and was fixed yesterday afternoon. Let the countdown roll to zero and begin again. We're working on 12 hours so far, as it was still up and running when I left this morning...

I'm spending all my vacation hours and phone minutes on Cox. Maybe I should start billing them.

(But the guy who came out yesterday was HYSTERICAL...made it almost bearable.)

Cost-Benefit Analysis for Dummies

As I sit in my ::yawn:: class, my mind once again turns to things that piss me off. A long-term rant that I have held near and dear is one of required college classroom attendance. Although I am in my last semester of graduate school, this concept, and the pervasive lack of cognizant thought that has been put into the reasoning behind it, has been driven home more than any other semester.

So what is the basis of this rant? In universities worldwide, professors of undergraduate programs have some type of attendance policy for their classes. In the case of the lower-division coursework (classes taken freshman and sophomore years of school), I think that this is justified by the professor feeling the obligation to force the students to *appear* responsible. By the time the 18-year-olds are twenty or so and in upper-division classes, attendance should be working its way toward optional in many courses.

The system really falls apart in graduate school. As graduates, we are all at least partially educated and purportedly lead semi-autonomous lives. A large majority of students are paying their own tuition, and are generally self-reliant. Why is it then, that about 95% of the graduate professors have the following attendance policy:

“You are allowed two absences during the semester for any reason, including family and job-related issues. Each additional absence will result in dropping your final grade by one letter. There will be ABSOLUTELY NO exceptions.” (emphasis original)

Excuse me, but am I a responsible adult? With a(t least one) full-time job? Am I not paying my own tuition?

Given the answers to the above questions, I should feel obligated to attend class. I should not be required to attend. If I feel that my continued attendance is positively correlated with my goal(s) for the class (whether they be "get the hell out" or "make an A"), I shall plant my happy ass in the desk at every available opportunity and participate in the discussion with almost religious fervor. If, however, I believe that my time and energies are better served by taking my person elsewhere during regular class time, the choice to attend or not should be mine to make.

An example of the (lack of) effectiveness of required attendance is demonstrated by my classes this semester. My first class is taught by an international professor (see prior posts about my Engrish prof), and attendance is mandated by the above-quoted policy. He teaches about three slides per night, and goes over and over and over them...My second class is taught by an adjunct professor whose teaching tools include his brain and a piece of chalk. He never uses power point, doesn't teach from notes, nothing. His attendance policy is stated as, "I don't give a flying rat's ass whether you come late, leave early, or skip and don't come at all."

Boys and girls, guess the attendance patterns of my classes. ... You'd be right. No one misses the second class. We're all invested in learning. If I had the option, my seat in the first class would never be warmed by my body.

Grr.

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.