Tuesday, September 28, 2010

When a Firm Hand and a Hierarchy Are Required

I don't ask for a lot. And I don't ask for two reasons: 1. People will look at me like I'm stupid because I never ask for anything so who the hell do I think I am to not only ask for something but ask for the whole god damned world. and 2. I'm not likely to get it.

When I do manage to allow myself to ask for something, it's only because I can't do it myself. Like replace a non-working cellular phone. Well, I guess I could do it myself but then I'd pay for it and if I was intending to pay for it I wouldn't have put insurance on it. Ya know?

So, I called one of the nation's largest cell providers and they tell me that I have to call the insurance company. I think, "Hallelujah! I knew getting insurance was a good idea!"* and I call the insurance company as directed.

The technician there isn't really a technician at all. She's someone who answered a multi-choice questionnaire and has some semblance of technical ability and so was deemed able to press enough letters that would allow the computer to spit out a diagnosis. I know because I had a job like that once. She/the computer has decided that although I didn't cause the damage I have to pay my deductible. I tend to disagree.

I tell her that I don't intend to buy another phone when I've had this one for 35 days and it's not working. I had a phone for 4 years before this one ** and she's severely mistaken if she believes that I'll be forking over $100 a month to keep a phone in my purse! She gives me the same old song until I tell her I want to speak with her manager. Did you know that she works in the only call center that doesn't have a hierarchy?

I called her on it and told her that I would not be filing a claim. So, she transferred me... to claims. I lit the new girl up. If only because she wanted to quote me the technician's notes. I told her I was aware of the conversation since I had been the only other party in it and that what I had was not an issue with comprehension but rather one of an unanswered question. How can they deem that I should be financially responsible for damage I didn't cause? No one except for me had even laid eyes on this phone.

CSR #2 tried to tell me that they always send phones in tact. So I asked her a very simple question, "Did you recondition this phone?". She answered in the negative. I tactlessly told her that she should never tell anyone what was done unless she had completed the task herself. She could in no way attest to the quality workmanship of this phone because she had not performed it, however, she felt the need to try to pacify me and I didn't appreciate it. I asked to speak with a manager in any department so she transferred me to a CSR that was a negotiator but not a supervisor.

CSR #3 told me what I already knew. I had the option of taking it to a service center to have someone look at it and if they corroborated my claim the new phone would be free. But here's the thing, at this point, I'm so angry and have been on the phone for so long that I've decided that to go out of my way to do anything with this phone is outside my realm of responsibility. I'm just not doing it. I ask CSR# 3 how many times I have to ask to speak with a supervisor before one actually picks up the phone. And so, I get her supervisor.

He's a nice guy and tells me simply that what I want - a free phone - is more than he can offer. He understood my frustration and says that this isn't the first time a customer has been mislead by the service provider. They don't always know the intricacies of the system. I have the option of taking it to a service center but if I choose not to he is bound by his ability to do one thing - take a claim. I appreciate his honestly. I am glad to finally have heard something that comes close to answering the question I'd asked at least a dozen times.

I was being held responsible for the damage to the phone because that's just the way they do business. The only time you won't pay for a replacement is if software damage occurs within 7 days. Seven. Days. Seven days isn't even enough time to take it on a test drive. You spend the first seven days reloading apps, reinstalling your contact lists, trying to sync all of your email accounts and letting the important people know that you're back in business. In seven days, you haven't made a tweet, a status update, or a simple phone call. It's like living in California and finding our your homeowner's doesn't cover earthquakes. It's a fucking rip-off.

I was honest with him when I told him that's not good enough. I explained that they would have to do better than that. Because after being lied to***, condescended to****, given much negative attitude, misdirected, and practically hung up on, I wasn't going to call this conversation over until a FREE replacement phone was on the way. That's how I ended up at the service provider's corporate office.

She was sweet and her voice dripped with Souther sugar. I knew that she could tell me to fuck off in a corner and I'd obey. CSR #5 was so nice that by the time I recounted my 35 minute ordeal I was close to tears. I knew that I tattling on everyone else and I didn't really want to bother her with my troubles. But you know wha she did? She took down my complaint and put in an order for my free phone. All I had to do was send the broken one back.

I should send her flowers.

* I never said that. What I actually said was, "I've had the same phone for 4 years! Why do I have to pay for insurance when Nat's the irresponsible one?"

** That phone was a soldier. In the end, it was totally being held together with hair ties and modeling clay.


**** When I asked for her name she said, "I'll spell it for you". I can hear and I can spell! What I won't do is let you talk to me any kind of way. Script or not.

Monday, September 27, 2010

"I'll Be Safe Once I Wake Up"

All I want is a leisurely day on the shore. Lakes were never my favorite, they aren't now, but I'll do anything to dip my toes in the cool, clear water. And I'll take whatever I can get. Lazily, I walk to the shore. I can see a man less than 15 feet away with his line carelessly cast. It seems that today will be a lazy day for everyone.

We exchange niceties and he laughs when I sigh at the water's warmth. I ask him what's with all of these strings. There are at least a dozen of them - white, green, and blue - all tied together in a knot and secured to a rock. He doesn't have a clue, "they've been there all day", he says. I tug on a white one and I can see that it stretches far into the water.

I know that having it tied to all of the other strings will make this harder but I don't really have an option; that knot is not coming out. I pull and pull. Finally, I can feel the object on the other end give way and start to slowly pull toward me. The pulling gets easier as the objects gets closer. My arms want me to stop but my curiosity has been peaked. There's no way I'm gonna stop now. Whatever I pull outta here is mine and it could be gold!

But it's not gold. As I'm heaving and tugging I see something dark pop up. It's way too late to turn back now so I continue pulling. I've got an audience now and I can hear them cheering me on. Then a head arises from the water. I can see the look of pure torment on this man's face, his hand is clutching the noose on which I pull. I panic. The cheering has stopped and everyone has fallen silent. I drop the rope. I can't even scream. The only thing I can think to do is run.

I run from the shore and when I finally stop I'm in the city. A huge metropolis is all around me and instinctually I know where to go. I am cold and shivering from the night air. My feet are sore but not bleeding. My body is dirty, my hair is mangy, and I am scared. I see him and hope that he doesn't see me but he does. He calls my name and inside I'm begging him to stop. Doesn't he know that they're still after me? Doesn't he know that I'm not safe?

He wraps his arm around me like he used to. It's still unwelcome. I tell him that I'm running away and he offers to help. I tell him that I just want to go home. "I'll help you", he says. He only wants me to get there safely. There's an alley that we walk through. The buildings are so tall. I see the air conditioners in the windows and women are hanging clothes on the line while talking on their phones. I know this isn't my home... it's his. I ask about his wife and he assures me that they were never married, it was just a hoax. We can still be together - he and I - and I could have all of this if I would just stay.

I look up at him and I see the sincerity in his eyes. But the same fear that made me leave back then is coursing through my veins. So, I make the decision to run... again. This time I make it to the ferry but I have no money. I jump as it begins to pull away from the dock and make it on undetected. Quickly, I leap behind the chair of an overweight woman hoping that her girth will hide me. I see him pacing the ferry slowly and deliberately. He's wearing a grey suit and he's holding so many gifts.

As he gets closer, I am able to make out his cargo. My heart sinks at the sight of the purple roses. He's looking for me. I know that he will find me. The African has always known me too well. I can't explain why he's carrying two more bouquets - red and yellow roses - and a balloon. Maybe he's unsure? I just hoped to never find out. The seconds pass like minutes until he gathers confidence in his step. He's coming toward me like a heat-seeking missle. Suddenly, he's standing before me and offers his hand.

I feel the tears pricking my eyes. I don't want to go. But still I extend my hand to him and turning away from him I say, "I'll be safe once I wake up".


Thursday, September 23, 2010

Thankful Thursday - Letters From Home

I got a letter in the mail and it went a little something like this...

Envelope Flap: God Blesses the hands of the person opening this letter.

Hi J-Bird!

This is something I think you might like (I hope so). Of course I liked it! She has impeccable taste. As I read this you popped up in front of me. I told you we are a superstitious bunch. I feel this is meant for you as you are a wonderful, serious, confident, strong, compassionate, understanding woman who knows what she desires and will get in life and God is there with you all the way. So many adjectives but they all fit me so well.  You will overcome any distractions appearing to hinder your desires. God, I hope so. Silent prayers are as effective as voicing openly (believe me, I know how awesome God is though his son, Jesus). Prayers are answered at the right time (not always when we want or expect). Call me when you have time to talk. This part made me sad. I obviosuly don't call her enough. I'm always talkative at any time. I love you and don't want you thinking I'm interfering in your life but - what the heck! - I want the best life can offer for you. She totally meant to interfere; it's what she does best. My fingers are aching so I must stop writing (aren't you glad? /smile). Sad and funny. She's getting so old and it makes me want to weep. But when did Grammy learn HTML?!? I hope to see you soon As soon as I can, I promise and do continue talking to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ as He listens and answers.

Love you Turkey!
Told you she calls us turkeys.


Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Money Madness

For the first time in a long time, I have money in the bank. Not just little monies sitting there looking pitiful because they are too small to be withdrawn by ATM, but big solid monies that could replace a blown tire if I needed it to. This is a good and a bad thing.

The good part to it is that all of my planning, focus, and determination are working. I have all of my bills paid and I still have money in the bank. There's a certain feeling of security? comfort? unadulterated elation? Yes, UNADULTERATED ELATION that comes with knowing that there's money in the bank that is not allocated for some purpose.

The bad part is that I wonder if it should be allocated for some purpose. Should I move it directly to my savings? Should I let it sit there and earn no interest? Is it really allocated and I've simply forgotten a bill? Should I take this opportunity to buy the birthday presents I couldn't buy in past years, support the school fundraisers, buy name brand food (I can't tell you the last time I had Quaker Oats, Pop Tarts, or Cheerios)?

I recently paid $25 for an Entertainment book that I know I won't use just because it will help my sister get a full day out of school and in the local ice rink. I haven't bought one of these in years because I never use them. I wholeheartedly believe that they are a waste of my hard earned money. But I had the cash and she asked for my help. I paid another $9 as a sponsor for my youngest sister's walkathon.

I love the feeling that I was able to help them but I wonder if I'm hurting myself by putting their needs/wants before my own.

Recently, I returned $40 worth of unused products to the store. They were impulse purchases that I allowed myself to be talked into by none other than my mother. I know she meant no harm, but seriously, I quote, "So, you're just not going to treat yourself for the next two years? This $20 won't break you".

She’s right. It didn’t break me. But there wasn’t anything I couldn’t live without. And what’s worst is that I didn’t need them and after sitting in my house for a full week, I realized that I didn’t want them. If I had truly wanted them, they wouldn’t have been sitting there unopened in the store bags.

The plans I have for my life are HUGE and there’s a very good chance that I might be doing all of these things alone. My financial discipline has gotten much better over the last year and particularly in the last 90 days. I’m so proud of the strides I’m making. No, I don’t track every penny just yet but I do actually keep a valid bank register on paper (I tried keeping it in my head and bad things kept happening).

I know that I have stopped getting in my own way. If only I had the strength to move other people as well…


Monday, September 20, 2010

This Is What I Think Of Your Trumped Up Charges

Dear Asshole Direct Cable SalesMAN,

Let me start by apologizing for not telling you upfront that I too am in sales. But let me deduce that you don't like to make sales. Or maybe you think that you have a captive audience. Perhaps you've never met anyone who had done their market research before approaching you. But you, Sir, have met your match in me.

Not only am I sure of what I am and am not willing to accept but I will not allow myself to be bullied by the likes of you. As someone who has gone without cable for over a year, let me assure you that there is nothing that you can say or do that will cause me to believe that paying $85 a month for moderate speed cable and 82 channels is something that I will put in my virtual wallet.

When I tell you to do better with pricing, I fully expect you to do better. If you cannot do better, then I expect you to say so. However, what I will not secede to is your offer for one free month of service. How can I pass up such a great deal? Because next month you will still be charging me EIGHTY FIVE DOLLARS!

And when I finally am willing to give in and pay $30 for Internet, I don't want your ridiculous bribe of free Showtime. Why the hell do I want Showtime! I don't want the 82 channels you're trying to force on me so why would I give you the key to Pandora's box of charges?

I know that its beyond you that someone with common fiscal sense would feel a need to call you. I know that you probably joined the cable industry because its such an easy sell. I mean, who doesn't need ESPN, Disney, Bravo or Lifetime? That's right. We all do. But , Mr. Asshole Direct Cable Salesman, let me assure you that I WILL have cable. I will have ESPN, Disney, Bravo, and Lifetime. It may take 2 weeks, 2 months, or 2 years but I'm willing to wait until another provider puts down roots in this one horse town.

And you should watch your back. Because when they come around I just might be willing to pay $90.
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Thursday, September 16, 2010

Thankful Thursday

Today, I want to go back to something that I lost several weeks back - Thankful Thursday.

Today, I am thankful...

  • for thoughtfulness - yesterday, I received a package of small gifts from a customer. Actually, it was from his daughter. The package was completely unexpected and I was so touched by the whole thing that I got misty-eyed and trembly-chinned.
  • for friends - mine are pretty awesome.
  • for dreams fulfilled - I'm inspired by all of the people around me who continue to persevere and strive for the things they really want. It keeps me on the right track.
  • for homemade breads and muffins - there's really nothing better than the satisfying taste of a home-made baked good.
  • for vegetarian cookbooks - I can feel the changes in my body already.
  • for long walks with the pup - she loves the quality time and it is bringing up closer.
  • for Michael's - sure they get approximately 20% of my net pay but I'd rather have this addiction than some other more dangerous ones.
Well, that's all for today. Wait until you see some of the stuff I'm making! And if you craft, check out the Barnat breast cancer yarns at Michael's, it's for a great cause.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Doesn't Every Post Deserve a Title

Scene: I'm driving the "Mom Van" to my local grocery store. I debate whether I should detour and get carry-out chicken wings instead. I know I shouldn't because my pantry and freezer and quite literally spilling over with food. But still...

Cilantro. Tomatoes. Chips.
Cilantro. Tomatoes. Chips.
That's all we're gonna buy because that's all we need for guacamole.
Ooooh! B-Dubs! Today is wing Tuesday...
No! No, J-Bird! Cilantro. Tomatoes. Chips.

Damn this traffic!
"Hey, Asshole!" *honks horn for 10 solid seconds before realizing she looks like a murderous stepmother*

*gas light comes on* Cheese and Rice! I'm definitely getting chicken now.

Scene: In the grocery store produce section.

Cilantro. Avocado? No, I have those. I should get another one though. Mmm, jalapenos. I'll get one of those too; make it spicy.

Where are the tomatoes? I should have totally scoped this place out before I was hungry.

What was that last thing?

Me: Huh?
Grocery Store Produce Guy: Are you finding everything OK?
Me: Oh, yup. Except tomatoes. Do you only have these super expensive because you cut them from the plant but left the vine intact and then squished them into an ill-fitting plastic container tomatoes? Or can I get some regular ones?
GSPG: The other ones are over here.
Me: Cool beans.

As you can see, my grocery trip was pretty mundane. It's the standard food acquisition attempt. I continued to walk around aimlessly, feigning interest in the store's displays while looking for the perfect tortilla chip with which to consume my planned dinner.

No way! Tostitos on sale!?! Bust a move! *begins to dance foolishly in the snack aisle*

I walk toward the registers to see him. My Ex. The African.

**Confidently, I walk past him with my basket swinging off my arm. He doesn't notice me so I begin to scan my loyalty card secretly hoping that the loud hussy will say my full name in a tone that he can hear at his register. She lets me down. I need help finding the produce code on an item. Fortunately, the cashier assistant is in close proximity.

Me (voice tinkling like a tiny bell): Excuse me, miss? My tomatoes don't have a produce number and I don't see them on this screen. Are you able to help me?
Miss: Sure. This button here and voila! You're all set.
Me: Why thank you so kindly.
The African: J-Bird!?! Is that you?
Me: The African? *smiles gently and extends hand for cordial shake* I barely noticed you. How have you been?
The African: Oh my god! You look great! Are you losing weight?
Me: You noticed? Thank you for noticing. ***Nolan says that he can't tell a difference what with seeing me everyday and all.
The African: Nolan? You're married.
Me: No, you know I don't believe in it. But we did just have our first baby, Storey. They're around here somewhere.
The African: Uh huh. *gives me skeptical look*
*Up walks my super sexy baby machine. Tall like Brady Quinn, face like Freddie Prinze Jr, hair like John Krasinski, and super dedicated with our baby strapped to his chest. Think that one time that Carrie saw Aiden being all happily married with his baby strapped to his chest, only I'm Aiden and being super snarkily bitchy about it.*
Me: Yup.
*Nolan grabs our groceries and I grab his hand as our super adorable baby who obviously just got picked up for a Gerber commercial coos gently.*

Or maybe...

OH. MY. GAWD. Did he see me? Stand still, J-Bird, stand still. No, he doesn't see me. OK. OK. He's on the phone. We can do this. Just back up slowly and silently.

*runs two aisles over*

Oh! Perrier! With lemon! Well, we're gonna get two of those. Yay, us!

*tip toes sneakily to the Self Checkout behind The African*

We can do this. We can get out of here and he'll never have to know we were this close. Dammit! Come on you bastard jalapeno, scan!

Dammit! Oh! She'll help me.

Me: Excuse me.

*woman continues to walk away*

Me: Excuse me.

She's gonna make me chase her?

Me: Excuse me, miss!

Oh, I know this bitch can here me!

Me: Hey! Excuse! Me!
Her: Oh! I didn't even see you! lolololololol
Mmmhmmm. You gonna make me get all...

The African: J-Bird! Hey!

Me: Ack!

Her: You made her just about jump out her skin. lololololol (she is quite the cackle-y bitch, isn't she?)

The African: How are you?

Me: Um, well, I'm good. I've started eating again. heh.

What the hell is wrong with you? He can look at your fat ass and tell that you've been eating! You're in a grocery store! Get it together, Bird! Get your head in the game!

The African: What have you been up to?

Me (ferociously bagging groceries): OK. Bye. ****

He looked so sad. It's quite obvious that I'm avoiding him like the plague. What's worst is that I wanted to say was, "How am I? I'm trying to figure out why you get to stand here looking all GQ with your dark jeans, purple striped button down and fantastic leather wing tips while I'm here in shorts that say '*    S    T    A    R' and breaking out like a 16-year-old, Halo-playing virgin". But I didn't because I couldn't find my tongue. There's something about his dark, bespectacled, statuesque body that makes me absolutely stupid.

And then? When I went to get wings? The Trainer was in B-Dubs. I cannot believe that I went through all of that to change my phone number and still managed to come into contact with both of these fools.

You wouldn't happen to have a plane ticket I could borrow?

** Events recorded here may or may not be based on actual occurrences or delusions of grandeur.

*** Is that not the perfect man name?

**** If I'm a punk, you're mom's a bowling ball. Yeah, deal with that.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

The Pain! The Agony!

I love shoes.

This may or may not be something that you already know about me. Also, I love expensive shoes. I've always had champagne tastes and once upon a time, I worked two jobs to keep myself in all the latest and greatest of everything. And then I still couldn't make rent so I subbed it for the mall version of the latest and geratest of everything. Which is how I live today.

See this shoe?

 It's from Bakers. Oh, how I love Bakers! It's maybe 3 years old. I even have the box that it came in because that's how I keep my shoes. So someone please explain why I discovered this today.

What is that?!?
My shoe. My poor, poor shoe. And the saddest part is that these are my only black closed-toe pumps. So, as much as I hate to say it, I have to go shopping.

*Giggle* I. have. to. go. shopping.


Especially, since I live *this close* to our area's Town Center. There are 100s of stores that I'll get to browse and meander through. We have a Nordstroms. A Nordstroms!! Did you know that the Nordstroms in New York City has its own ZIP CODE! 

Oh! I'm bouncing like a puppy for treats. I haven't bought new shoes since my dad was in town and I treated myself to these beauties. That's serious restraint, people. Heath Ledger's Joker Serious.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

It's About Time!

This past weekend I finally moved. Finally! I live 22 miles from work but it only takes an extra 12 minutes to get there. Probably because I was confined to driving 35 mph before and I'm breezing along the highway now. The good news is that I live so close to my mom that I can see her 3, 4 sometimes even 7 days a week! That's me being an ass, in case you weren't sure. She is ecstatic. Even my little sisters who are no longer little at ages 9 and 12 are completely stoked and have spent the night twice. I had lived here for 3 days.

There's not much I don't love about my little place. It saves me money, is well lit, and suits me and my dog just fine. The neighborhood is extremely quiet and there's a nice mix amongst the residents. There are the elderly, the newly emancipated, the low-income, and the I-work-two-blocks-away-and-this-place-is-super-cheap crowds. There's also several very attractive men living amongst me. One I saw while picking up dog poop and the other I saw this morning. I looked a damned, hot mess. My hair was uncombed, my clothes disheveled and my breath was rank. It was 6:22 in the morning! But of course he was all gelled and pressed in his black polo, creased jeans and loafers. Puuuuuurrrrrrrrrr!!!!!! Yes, I was staring that hard. He probably thinks I'm the creepy cat lady. Or dog lady. Whatever.

I've decided that once I get the apartment in order, I'll restart the P90X regimen. Not because I want to but because I'm wearing a $100 pair of jeans that I can't bend forward in. Plus, there's a pair of $110 jeans that I've never put my butt in and that's unacceptable. And I shouldn't tell you that the two pairs of jeans that kinda, almost fit are worn in the thigh area and soon I'll begin chafing. I would go to Old Navy but my booty has felt the luxurious fit of expensive jeans. I don't care what you say about wasted money, my ass looks fabulous even when it's fat. There's no gaping, slouching, bunching, or unfortunate pocket placement. I can't go back to that. Well, I could but I won't.

This is what we call a crossroads boys and girls. And no, it's not the unfortunate kind where you find out that Kim Cattrall is your mother but this is the kind that you can actually do something about. And that's where the fitness regimen comes in. Plus there's that whole thing about being healthy and shit.

Oh! So, why does Big Poppa think he can come and visit me because I live off a bus line?!? This is why I never did city living before. People wanna drop in on you and all other sorts of craziness. Even CBS111 gave the *fool, please* look. You know that look. It's the one you give your kids when they act out at a birthday party or ask you for something that's 3 parts corn syrup, 2 parts cane sugar, and rolled in sprinkles. It's the same look I gave the phone when my dad said he couldn't come through with the money he promised.

I'm frustrated with him for sure but this is nothing short of what I expected. So I penned this short note.

Dear Daddy that doesn't pay rent and lives with my Aunt,

How are you? I'm well. Listen. I know that we're in a recession. Money is tight and times are hard. That's why I want you to buy my new furniture. Or at least half. I don't really care how you come up with the money and if it's illegal would prefer never to know. But what I'm trying to say is... I will love you less if you don't buy my couch.

Love you! (Maybe)

J Hyphen Bird

P.S. - Don't let me forget to print of pictures for the FIFTEEN frames that I own. I mean, the classy people that the factory put in them are rather attractive but I'm over making up stories about how I know them.

Of course, I'm not going to send it. I've decided to cry on the phone instead. And if Christmas rolls around and I've bought my own furniture, then I will shun him... Amish style.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Random Draw, Random Draw

J-Bird likes to play the numbers. It's another crazy thing that I picked up from my Grammy. She didn't always play; only when the mood struck. And usually she won. Sometimes, it would be $1 or $5. I remember once she hit triple digits and you would have thought we found black gold because there was dancing and singing and ice cream for everyone! Good times, indeed.

The point is: J-Bird likes to play the numbers. I do it once a week. Sometimes, it's just $1. When I'm feeling rich it's $5. And now, my mom has the fever. She's decided that she's going to play but with a strategy, of course. She grabbed a number picking paper and took it home so she could mull it over and really think about what she wants to play.

I'd be just as excited as she is if I hadn't had to explain the rules to her 5 times over the last week.

Anyhow, today she picked her numbers and sent them to me for approval. It must have been hard remembering all of our birthdays and laying them out in numerical order. And its even funnier that Plays 4 & 5 read : Random Draw. I love my mommy. And if she wins, y'all will know because I'll be posting from Fiji.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Yard Sale Time

Look at all this stuff! So much stuff. And you wouldn't know it, but I gave 3 trash bags of clothes to Goodwill AND threw away a half dumpster worth of broken, out-of-date, never-used stuff. Oh. My. A-gawd.

All I can say is: if I'm gonna make room for seating, a good portion of these items have to migrate out of here. I see a fall yard sale in my future.
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Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Haters Gonna Hate

Today, my friend and fellow saleswoman, CBS111 won. *pause for raucous applause* She blogged about it so you should go and check it out from her perspective even though I'm going to tell you about it here.

The best part is that she dusted the old bitty, Charlotte. I've written nary a negative word about her on here, but trust that she is a first class bitch. All the fat cats think the sun shines from her ass. They always ask, "How does she do it?". Well, she starts by stealing your shirts. Then, she'll undercut her field reps and take their orders. Follow it up with hyperbole about her sales and straight theft of a CSR's efforts and you too could be number one.

Two years ago, we had a 30 day contest to sell this one brand of parts. Simple task, really. Call and call and call and sell until you beat everyone else. They even throw in mini prizes like $10 for every 300 and a weekly $20 winner. Then finally when it's all said and done there's one big MEGA WINNER WINNER Winner winner. CBS111 won last time too even though the old bitty called foul.

See, I was put in the blessed position of being offered half, win or lose. I was already losing albeit not by much. But the prospect of a win-win caused me to take CBS111 up on her offer. I threw a couple orders her way and she we won!

That is until the ethical aspect of our winning was brought into question. Some people really have nothing better to do than re-open every order that was placed and match the "seller" to the territory. For two years we've put up with her pouty bullshit. Two years she's given us the silent treatment. Two years our victory has been tainted by her inability to get over herself and the cats refusal to accept that her shit does stink.

You can only put up with it for so long before you decide that they can all go someplace special *gives you knowing glance with eyebrow raise*

This year they ran the same spiff and extended it to 60 days. Only completely out of season thus making it twice as hard. Let me say that Charlotte knew that she would win. By week 4 she hit her stride and was dusting the rest of us regularly. Week after week she would lose the inevitable coin toss that would cost her the weekly prize. Daily she would announce how many parts she had keyed. Every afternoon, she and our boss would talk about how she was going to win. She would sneer at me and he would laugh. It still makes me angry.

I? Well, I gave up on winning. I just don't care as much as people think. I brought in a respectable amount of business, made a decent amount of money on the program and decided that I had other goals to focus on. CBS111 wasn't about to go out like that. He focus, her passion, and her desire to burn Charlotte caused her to come up from behind. And this time it was all of her own accord. 1500 is what she sold in 2 days to come from behind. 1500 is more than what she had sold in the 58 days previous. And you know what she got?

She got her prize tossed haphazardly onto her desk and her accomplishments unacknowledged.

Haters gonna hate. And that's why we move on to the next one. Which pays $20 a piece up in here! It's so on.

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