How Hard is good customer service?

According to some companies it's really hard apparently. I recently purchased a Toshiba computer it was small and lightweight and had loads of power the perfect computer I thought. After having it home for 2 days the thing started giving me error messages that it was overheating and the fan wasn't working and it was now shutting down. Needless to say this was really upsetting me. I called customer service and was slowly connected with a dude named Abu from somewhere in the India,Pakistani region where goats outnumber people. He began by telling me that I had a software problem and should try to completely restore the computer, though I knew the fan wasn't turning and the computer was quite hot(apparently Toshiba's customer service gurus think that a Fan is somehow software). Anyway after spending 5 hours waiting for the thing to reload and having the same problems I quickly returned it to the store for a full refund before the 7 day refund period expired. Today I found out that Toshiba just recalled that piece of crap computer and 40,000 just like it. How many times did Abu make these poor unsuspecting customer reboot a computer that was no good??? Toshiba should be sued for wasting so much time if all 40000 were forced to reboot taking 5 hours that's 200,000 man hours!!!

Contrast that with the Company Apple. I now own almost entirely Apple Computing products, for a variety of reasons but seriously one of the biggest is I can call and talk to a fairly articulate English speaker from somewhere in Cupertino California and they understand me and I understand them. Now somebody out there may question my ability to understand Abu from India, maybe I don't speak English well myself.? and that could be but I do speak French and have conversed reasonably well with some bizarre french/English dialects, and frankly it's my customer service and I don't want to have to spend 30 minutes trying to help Abu spell my name properly ok!? (J-o-e, it's not hard).

Well I learned two valuable lessons from this little experience; Know who outsources their Customer Service, (in fact we should start a list of companies that do and do not outsource their customer service I can't find a list so I will create on here.) Secondly you definitely get what you pay for, insourcing costs more money but makes for happier customers. Even Wal-mart insources.

Greasy Blues

Behold a picture of a scratched CD. A scratched CD caused me severe heartache a few days ago.
My stupid iPod nano busted a couple months ago out of nowhere. This means I have to either engage in thoughtful reflection by my own accord or I have to be entertained some other way. Obviously thoughtful reflection is boring so I have to find some other way to keep my brain happy. So I have been keeping my old collection of CDs (compact discs for those of you born after 1998 ...) in my car. When I was coming home from work, I inserted an old favorite: Stevie Ray Vaughan. What, you didn't know I was a huge fan of Texas Blues? In high school I tried converting some of my friends to Stevie Ray Vaughan but they just laughed at me. Stupid idiots.

Anyway, it had been a very long time since I had last been enveloped in greasy blues music so I decided to revisit those good old days. I skipped to track 6 (from the "The Essential Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble Album", Disc 2), "Little Wing." Some of you will not have heard of Stevie Ray Vaughan (known as SRV), but I truly hope that you have heard of Jimi Hendrix. Jimi originally wrote "Little Wing" and this is SRV's version. So amazing.

Here is an embedded YouTube video of the song. Because most of you won't care to listen to it all, I at least ask you to listen from 3:00 - 5:00. I doubt anyone will feel engulfed in the music like I feel, but just give it a shot.

Back to being negative: the first few minutes of this song on my CD kept getting interrupted by annoying skips. I had to fast forward through much of it. About 3:00 in it stopped. I started getting really into it and pretty much forgot I was driving down the highway. I even forgot the CD was scratched. At 4:40 it starts getting really greasy and I started yelling in my car. I know that sounds weird - and it is. But then it started to freaking skip! I was so mad. I was kicked out of my musical bliss. The worst part is that I haven't taken the CD out of my case for who knows how long! How did it even get scratched? Almost all of my CDs are like that. I don't get it.

Maybe I should just go buy a new iPod or something. They seem to make everyone happy. I don't have the money though. Anybody looking to buy someone an iPod?

Stupid CDs.

Are you kidding me??!!

Yesterday, as I drove home from a long day of work, I started thinking about my goals to write something everyday. I thought, "What am I going to blog about today?" Although the day was long and hot, it was very productive and nothing really bothered me. I really didn't know what to vent about ... until I arrived at the following intersection:

This intersection seems to be the most confusing intersection for people in Rexburg. The only exception might be the new crosswalk installed on 2nd W. That will certainly be blogged about some other day. Anyway, back to this cursed intersection. Notice that the intersection has train tracks running alongside the the street that runs north and south. From the perspective here, there are (or should be) 3 lanes: two left-turn lanes and one through/right turn lane. What confused people here?? Well, looking at the picture - where would you most likely stop if you were waiting for a red light? Would you go past the railroad tracks or stay behind them? It is clear that most everyone stops on the other side of the tracks while waiting for a red light. Of course, it is pretty unclear in this picture where you should stop ... I don't see any thick white lines indicating where you should stop.

For a number of months, however, there has been a very thick white line painted a few feet to the west of the rails (just about where the shadow is projected from the railroad caution lights). Does that line indicate you should stop? Yes. To top it off - there is a large sign on the righthand side of the road that says "Stop here on red" with an arrow pointing at the thick white line. Any confusion? Hopefully not.

When I come to this intersection about 20 bagillion times a week, I always stop at the white line. Some people do the same. Most do not. Let us now return to my voyage home yesterday. I approached the intersection in the far left lane and stopped at the white line and noticed a minivan close behind me. He didn't really like that I stopped there I guess. What he did made my blood boil. It was ironically at this moment that I thought, "I don't have anything to blog about today ..." A manly minivan driver swerved to the right, drove across the tracks and past me, then swerved to the left in front of me on the opposite side of the tracks. My jaw seriously dropped. I couldn't believe it! It made me so mad. I almost honked and waved my fist ... but didn't. To make it worse, the next intersection we came to, he blatantly ran a red light.

If you are wondering what state he was from ... it was Washington. Oh, and he had a BYU "Y" sticker on the bumper. If you find him, tell him I want a word with him.

BBQ Misfortunes

On Thursday (or was it Friday?) my beautiful wife had the awesome idea to go to a local park and eat our dinner. My dad got me a portable butane grill for Father's day and we wanted to try it out. So she had pre-made all the hamburger patties and we got the condiments and everything ready to go. It was a beautiful evening.

About halfway there, we realized that we didn't bring a spatula. So we had to turn around and go get one. If you don't drive around Rexburg much, you will need to understand what it is like to drive there. It isn't crazy traffic or anything. In fact it is worse. There are a million stop lights and stop signs that impede your progress from Point A to Point B. It takes way to long to get anywhere because you are always stopping and waiting. It is extremely frustrating. So we made our way to the park and thought we were on our way to an enjoyable evening (which we were).

After we got the blanket on the ground, the food out, and the grill set up, I turned the propane on. It was then that I realized we forgot matches. Sooooooo I stayed by the blanket and grill and Lindsey drove back to the aparment. It was a long wait. but she was safe. And the burgers were good.

Ventable material: Don't forget stuff and don't build a city with an overabundance of stoplights.

Methinks Blog Is Hard

Props go to those who blog on a daily basis. I am in a lecture right now for communication majors. A speaker gave a bunch of tips to make sure we are successful and one of them was to write every day. I love to write and would love to be a hardcore blogger ... but c'mon, what am I going to blog about? I thought I would find something to vent about all the time, but as it turns out - I don't. Additionally, what if one day a company wants to promote me from pencil sharpenerer to CEO and they do a little research and find this blog that talks about why I hate what people do? Won't that hurt my chances?

Oh well. Here is something that happened to me the other day that really bothered me.

Class was about to start and there was an empty desk next to me. The class is in a miniature lecture hall and the desks are pretty close to each other. A student walked in late and sat next to me. It didn't take long for me to find out he was very sick. I felt bad for the poor kid because he kept putting his head on the desk and moaning quietly to himself. It was easy to see that he was miserable. My problem was that I didn't particularly want to get sick. I can't really afford to get sick right now - there is too much going on. I found myself putting my hand up to my face and shielding it from any deadly toxins that might be floating in the air.

As class progressed, he was obviously struggling to even stay awake. He would fall asleep either just by doing head-bobs or by putting his head on his desk. I don't really know how to explain this but .... he was really sick and you could tell by the way he breathed in from his nose. Get it? Understand? Like when he sniffed it sounded gooey. You know? Like sticky. You know? All slurpy and stuff. Anyway, when he was sleeping .... it was ..... dripping .... out .... of his nose.

I don't want to go into too much detail or anything (one because it is gross and two because I feel kind of bad doing so).

Why this is vent material: If you are sick, just stay home. Please.

Fantasy Baseball Blues

Fantasy baseball rules. My problem is that I don't rule at fantasy baseball. Last season, I spent almost every week in last place. This season I have been in second-to-last for too long. I started this week winning big time and once again my opponent came back to beat me. I ended the week losing 4-5. Boo.

Skewer

Have you ever turned over a big rock or rotting piece of wood and found tons of spiders, earwigs, rock chucks, termites, and treasure maps? I've never found a treasure map or a rock chuck.

At work today I was assessing a sprinkler "situation." There was some sprinkler valves leaking and I was trying to find them. For those of you who don't know, (who am I kidding by saying "those of you ..." I'm the only one who reads this and I already "know" ...) sprinkler valves are generally found buried inside green boxes in the yard or flower bed. So I was going through this man's yard opening all the valve boxes I could. The homeowner was following me, which bugs me. Even worse, he couldn't hear worth a darn but I felt the need to explain what I was doing anyway. So I would say something and he would say, "heh?" and I would repeat it louder and slower. After a while I got tired and just pretended he wasn't there. That's when I started being efficient.

Anyway, that isn't the story. This is: I opened a valve box and found a mouse nest. It had two adult mice hiding inside. Coincidentally, that was the box with the problems. He asked if he should get rid of them and I said yes. He left while I went and found other valve boxes (at that time I still wasn't sure where the problem was). I saw him heading for the mouse box and went to meet him, expecting to see him with moth balls, poison, or a plastic bag and rubber gloves. Nope. He had a hammer and another tool I would best describe as a "poker."

The old man got down on his knees and nonchalantly began to stab at the mice. I was pretty stunned that he was attempting to stab them with a hand tool. I honestly didn't think he would be quick enough. Well, I was wrong. I stood with my mouth gaping as he landed one right in the belly. Sick.

Did you know that I generally don't even kill bugs I find in my house? Lindsey gets upset with me because I usually just put them outside. I don't know what it is about me, but I don't usually smash them. Don't think I'm weird or anything. I'm not trying to make a statement about killing bugs. I don't think it is wrong to do so, especially if those bugs have trespassed into your living quarters. If Lindsey requests, I will smash whatever she wants without hesitation, but left to my own decisions ... I usually just put them outside or don't even do anything to them. Anyway, the point is: I don't usually kill things, not because I think there is something morally wrong with it. I just feel uncomfortable. I especially don't stab mice with pokers. Imagine how uncomfortable I was watching this man stab mice with a poker!

So after the first mouse was skewered and thrown to the side, he started jabbing at the other one. It was running back and forth inside the box trying to evade death. I, on the other hand, was standing a few feet away, hypnotized. The old man finally got the mouse right in the head. He pushed hard against the head and pinned it between the poker and the ground. I heard bones crunch and that was that. Oh except that afterwards the man stumbled to his feet and tried to fling the mouse into the trees to our right. It didn't come off the way he hoped and it flew right in front of my face, missing me by just a little. I swear, if it would have hit my face I would ruined his sprinkler system. Probably because that is the only leverage I had against the man.

Am I wrong to feel uncomfortable watching this man try and stab mice with a poker? I'm lucky he didn't try and smash them with a hammer. I probably would have thrown up in his hair. Either that or shed tears of sadness in his hair. Maybe both.

Comm 350

In my Communications 350 (Group Dynamics) class, we were given the assignment to read a scholarly article and write an annotated bibliography. This assignment is worth one point. If you turn it in, you get the credit. That sounds insignificant (which it kind of is), but all the assignments are given low score totals. The highest assignment score total is 10, for example.

We are supposed to post this final bibliography on a class wiki so all our classmates can read our work. The point of this is because one month from now, we will use these articles from our classmates to write a large lit review. We will need to use at least 8 of our classmates' articles.

So here is the problem: there is a two week timeframe where we can edit our classmates' articles on the wiki. Any error (grammatical, spelling, stylistic, etc.) we find in someone's article results in a bonus point for us, and a one point deduction from them. Because the assignment is only worth one point, if an error is found in your paper, your grade turns into a 0 - but the professor has promised that you cannot be deducted more than that. So, for example, if there are three errors found in your paper, you will only lose one total point. However, there is no limit on how many errors and subsequent points you can gain from finding errors. So if I found a total of 10 errors in my peers' papers, I would get 10 extra points.

Shortly into class today, my professor said, "I'm just going to step out of the classroom and let you all discuss this whole editing thing. Just so you know, the other class has agreed not to edit each others' papers." He left, and one classmate stood in front of the class, before anyone could say anything, and proposed that we all ban together so no one edits anyone's papers and thus no one loses their one point. Most of the class agreed. I however, vehemently disagreed.

There is an underlying principle being attacked at this idea. Agreeing to this course of action means that anyone who hands in anything, regardless of its quality, will "earn" the one point. Rallying together as a class and agreeing not to edit anyone's paper because of fear that errors will be found shows that you are not confident in the quality of work you hand in. If you deserve the point - you will earn the point through drafting, re-writing, etc. You will work hard to be sure that there are no errors.

The principle of "earning" something you don't deserve is rampant today. In fact, it reminds me of the plan we rejected long, long ago. Consent not to judge, so that none will be judged and all will be saved. Bologna. That is not why I am in college. That is not why I pursue an education. I am paying money to be here and I am going to provide quality work so I deserve the grade given to me. I won't ban together with mediocrity. If I deserve it, I will have earned it. If I haven't earned it, I don't deserve it.

So what happened? Me and 4 others signed a paper agreeing not to edit anyone's paper other than those who signed the paper. So there is a pool of 5 of us who will be sure that our work has no errors. The others cannot edit anyone's. They will all get their one point - no questions asked.

Dumb.

Tell All: I Will Vent

Every once in a while I feel the need to vent at the world. I have a feeling that no one will read this blog but my wife and a few other people. That will probably turn out to be a good thing. I'm going to use this blog as a tool for me to express my strong feelings of ... whatever. I am going to vent to no one. Just to get it out of my system so I don't vent at someone. I wonder how long this will last ...