You want me to take a survey? How about you say "pretty please?"

Hello all!

Well, I'm getting ready for the Oscars, how about you?  I'm going to my very first Oscar party with my critique partner, Linda, and I can't wait!

I don't know if you've noticed, but it seems like everyone we come in contact with needs us to do a survey.  Now, I'm an American, I'm used to getting surveyed for political issues.  (Okay, I'm not.  I've never ONCE been polled for anything.  Seriously, I'm right here.  My number is listed.  Everyone seems to be able to find me when they want me to vote, how about asking me my opinion on something...anything?)

Wait, I'm getting off track.

I think I really started noticing this survey mania when Kohl's  employees held up my receipt and said, "On the bottom is a web site where there's a survey.  Please let us know how we did today."

I smile, and say, "Sure!"

I never do the surveys, of course.  Who has the time?  Okay, reality, who keeps the receipt long enough to have the website at hand when you are at the computer to do the survey.  Taking this one step further...it's Kohl's.  Why do they even bother printing a receipt?  They'll take anything back, as long as you will accept store credit, so why bother?

Again, I'm getting off topic.

Fast food places started doing it, and they were offering free stuff.  I actually took an on the spot survey at Culvers  (If you don't live in a place that has a Culvers, you need to move.)  I won a free drink!  Whoo hoo!

That awakened me to just how many times a day I'm asked to take a survey.  The big capper came yesterday.  Hubby and I were at Sam's Club  (Think Costco...only more like Walmart.)  and the woman at the door  (you know, the person who has to make sure than in the ten feet from the register to the door you didn't lift something and put it in your cart) circled a web address at the bottom of the reciept and said, "take the survey."

Wait.  "Take the survey?"  No "please?"  No, "Win a free lunch?"  Just "Take the survey?"

I was so insulted, I wanted to go home and take everyone else's survey just to make the Sam's Club survey feel bad!

On the way home I looked over my work life and recalled the times I've had to beg people to take a survey.  I briefly worked for a car dealership who had me calling warranty customers and asking them if they were "mostly satisfied, fully satisfied, or completely satisfied."

I lasted about two weeks in that job.

In my current position I call customers we've installed and asked them to take a two question email survey that coporate may, or may not have, put in their email in boxes.  I beg, plead, appeal to their better nature, implore them to help us evaluate that ever so nice young man who came and installed the item.

I rock at getting people to take the survey.  I know I rock because I have a 96% positive response to corporate surveys.  Before I took over, that number was 14%.  (But Elsie is the one getting the bonuses.)

Wait, I'm off track again.

Anyway, I realize that that businesses need feedback from their customers and apparently just having us continue to shop in the store isn't enough.  So, we must do the surveys.  I get it.

But maybe use a magic word...you'd be surprised just how well "please" and "Thank you" work.

Grandma, there's a big fat blogger in the toilet!

Hey everyone!

Since we've been having such magnificent weather here in Wisconsin the last several weeks and since, let's face it, I'm just not getting over to Gold's  (sorry KRAM...I'm still adjusting to my life.)  I've been taking walks at lunch time.  Granted, it's not a sweaty run on a treadmill, but at least I'm getting out of the building and moving my fanny.

One of the things I like doing is walking over to the Culver's, which winds up being almost a mile an a half round trip.  Now, before you get all up in arms about my destination, no, I do NOT eat at Culver's all the time.  But I have about 40 minutes for a walk, and this is a good stop and turn around point.

And, truth be told, I really like using their bathroom.

Those of you who know me know that I have issues using public restrooms.  I'm very particular about where I will and won't go.  Porta potties are right out...unless it is an absolute necessity.  I also don't do gas stations, unless they are Kwik Trip.  Highway rest stops?  Maybe, but not in Indiana (sorry, too many bad experiences there.)  And as for restaurants, I generally do use those...with the exception that I refuse to use a McDonald's restaurant if it's just off the interstate.



This sort of thing isn't
my problem at Culver's.



But the Culver's near my work has a nice enough rest room.  It's generally tidy, there isn't a ton of water on the counter  (seriously...why can people NOT wipe up after themselves?  I'm not buying for one second that bathroom counters sweat so much there are puddles.)  and there is almost always paper towel.  (I haven't quite made the jump to hand driers.  I need the confidence paper products give me.)  Also, unlike at work, I am not the only person capable of changing the toilet roll.

Anyway, so the other day I was on my walk, and I stopped at the restroom for a break.  While I was in there, a grandmother, I'm guessing since she sounded like a grandma, and her young grandson came in.  From the sound of things, they used the handicapped stall because grandson needed a bit of help and let's face it, all other bathroom stalls are far too narrow.  (This isn't my fat imagination either...bathroom stalls, like airplane seats, are getting more narrow.  I'd never stop going to an eatery that had stalls I didn't have to back into because they were too narrow for me to turn around.)



Only one of these is human sized...



The point of all this is that the conversation between these two made me laugh, and I'll share it with you because I hope it does the same:

"Oooh grandma, this is a nice bathroom."

"Yes, it is."



"But I don't have to go potty grandma."

"Well, let's just try anyway."

"Grandma, what does that sign say?"

"Please do not flush down any...paper.  Use the box instead."

(I'm guessing grandma didn't want to have to explain "feminine products" to her grandson.)

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're not supposed to flush down stuff that doesnt' belong in the toilet."

"But toilet paper is paper."

"Right, but it's toilet paper."

"So it goes in the toilet."

"Right."

"And poop.  Poop goes in the toilet."

"Right."

"So grandma...what's in the box?"

(AT this point I hear the soft squeak of a sani box lid being opened, and then a quicker squeak of it being slammed shut.)

"Oh nothing, nothing you need to see."



"But what is it?"

"Are you about done?"

"I said I don't have to go."

"But you haven't gone in a long time and you just ate.  Try to go."

(I hear the exaggerated sounds of of newly potty trained child pushing.  Then a I hear a surprised giggle.)

"Grandma...you don't know...I have a big poop coming!"



"I thought you might."

"A great big giant poop!"

"Yes, that's nice."

"I think this poop is bigger than I am!"

(What's a grandmother going to say to that?)

"So I wanna see it?"

I hear little feet hitting the floor and a flushing.  Then I hear this:

"Grandma...is that all there was?"

"Yes."

"That wasn't a very big poop.  I thought it was going to be bigger."

(Hey kid, remember this moment because someday your wife is going to put on 50 pounds in a pregnancy and push out an 8 pound baby...Yeah, I thought my kids were going to be bigger, too.)

They washed hands and left.  I waited a moment so that they wouldn't know Id been listening. 

Well, that and I had to stop laughing.

So my friends, remember this:  No matter where you are, no matter what you're doing...you're probably being observed by someone who writes a blog.  And if you're really unlucky...that someone might just be me!