My greatest childhood fear might kill me yet.

Irony, that is the name of  my life's story.

When I was in kindergarten (through fourth grade, but this story takes place in kindergarten), I went to school in a two room school.  My classroom was home to 36 students in grades K-4.  (So you'll pardon me if I don't weep for educators now who talk about overcrowding in classrooms.  Mrs. Zimmerman, my teacher, juggled all subjects except gym for give grades and we all learned how to read, write, spell, do math, follow the rules, and be kind to each other.  It was crowded, but we all had a desk, most of them from the Flint School District after a school burned down...they smelled of smoke, but we didn't know any better.)  Anyway, as the youngest kids in the room, we got to listen to the classes the older kids were doing because when you're packed into a room with 35 other kids, you spend time coloring and listening.  And reading and listening.  And silently participating with a class at your desk...while you're listening.

I was mostly interested in what the first graders were doing because, frankly, I wasn't quite sure exactly what was going on with the way older kids, the fourth graders.  They were talking about things called fractions, which sounded strange, although there was a lot of talk about cutting pies, which was nice.  But first grade, I figured I'd listen to that and get ahead for the next year.

One of the things I just knew, I just KNEW was going to be a problem for me was something they called "fill in the blanks."

It would break your arm if you had to
crank out more than 5 copies...but
the smell was worth it!

See, it was the seventies, and there were 36 kids in five grades in the room.  Mrs. Z. relied on worksheets.  And one of the worksheets she used for first grade was the "fill in the blanks" worksheets.  It was part of their reading class and the deal was they had a sentence that had a missing word, a blank, in it.  Below the sentence were three words that looked alike and the student had to pick the correct word and write it in the blank.

At age 4/5  (I started school very young, another story for another day) I was convinced I wouldn't be able to read well enough to pick out the right word.  I watched some of those first graders crash and burn as they read their choices out loud. (As a side note, people wonder why I've never ever had a problem with public speaking...I give a lot of the credit to my young years in a multi grade classroom...you had to speak up and you had to do it in front of people.)

I snuck a peak at those sheets when Mrs. Z was busy with some other class.  All those blue letters on that white paper with the grainy blue dots from the mimeograph machine in the office.  I knew the 8th graders were the only ones allowed to crank copies out on that machine.  I loved the smell of freshly mimeoed pages...and I wasn't alone.  It was the first high most of us in the 70's enjoyed.  I looked at those sheets and I was convinced I'd never get out of the first grade because fill in the blank was going to kill me.

 

Anyway, I shared my fears with my mother and she told me I would be just fine.  

Flash forward some forty years.  Sitting at my desk I realized something yesterday:  I'm living my greatest childhood fear.  I spend my days sitting at my desk filling in the blank on paperwork, on plumbing forms, on computer credit card payments, on financing payments. All day long I fill in the blank.   

It might just kill me yet.

Okay, just a few fun things that happened this week because I love to share.  With PM gone now two weeks, we've learned to be a little self sufficient.  Well, okay, NGTJ and I have.  Captain Nubbin just runs around with his cell phone to his ear swearing.  And when he does sit down, it's to call an irate customer who's irate mostly because we're short installers  (they keep quitting.)  and in order to get our stuff installed, we have to get what I call "rent-a-mules" from the corporate office.  One would think the corporate guys would be super excellent at installing stuff.  

One would be wrong.

Anyway, so while I'm learning new skills and NGTJ is learning new skills some things don't change.  Last week I took a call from a little old lady who informed me that the shower doors we'd installed for her needed service.

"What's wrong with them?"   I ask.

"They aren't working properly."  says she.

"Are they not closing, or are they leaking?"  You would be amazed at just what can go wrong with shower doors.  You'd think it would be simple.  If it opens when you want it opened and closes when you want it closed, and kept the water in the shower when you were using the shower, that should be it, right?

Again, you'd be wrong.  People call me all day long with gripes about shower doors.  I want to tell them that shower doors get wet when the shower is on and when you open a pivot shower door after running the shower, a few drops of water are going to get on the floor.  See, because when you wave a wet thing over a dry thing a little wet is going to get on the dry. People believe because they bought a door it should keep the floor bone dry no matter what.

People are wrong.

But that wasn't this woman's problem.  "Well, see, they are too loud."

"What's too loud?"

"The shower doors."

I looked at her records. She had slide by shower doors, the kind you see in most tub/shower combinations.  When you slide the doors there's a bit of a rumble because the doors are mounted on wheels over head.  But it's not that loud.

"Ma'am, are you saying the doors are banging into each other?"

"No.  They make a loud noise when I close them."

"Like what kind of a noise?"

"A rumble."

Okay...."Are they hard to open and close?"

"Oh no. They move just fine."

At this point I just want to bang my head on my desk.  "Ma'am are you saying that when you move the doors you hear a rumbling noise and that's the only problem?"

"Yes.  They are just too loud."

I'm short handed right now and I'm just not sending a tech out to look at doors that are operating exactly the way they should be.  "Ma'am, I have to tell you, I believe the doors are fine.  There's going to be a certain amount of rumbling when you open and close them because they're mounted on wheels."

"But are they too loud?"  At this point she holds the phone up to the doors and moves them.  Ah...the elderly with cordless phones.

"No, Ma'am, I'm going to tell you, those doors are the exact amount of loudness for the type you bought."

"Really?  Oh, okay them.  We're quite happy in that case."

See, in order to be good at customer service, all you have to do is know how to communicate with the dimwitted.

One final note all.  It's October and I promised you a book by the end of December.  If that's going to happen, I have to get at it and really, really work.  So I'm starting my own NANOWRIMO a month early.  I'll be away from the blog for a while until I get a good grip on the new book.  But I promise you, it'll be worth it!

While I'm gone go ahead, read back blogs.  I know you all haven't read all of them!

 

Five for Friday: BBO needs to retract the scolding he gave me.

Good day!

So recently I exchanged emails with BBO  (Big, Bad Owner, for those of you who haven't read my two Elsie W. Books.)  and I made a comment that the reason I had to bother him about some issue was that our customers tended to be stupid when it came to the information they gave us and their expectations of the stuff we install.  (No, that new window we installed is not going to make your husband stop being a jackass.  And no, that sink we installed isn't going to make your kids be any more respectful.)  This was a private email between the two of us, not like any of the customers in question would ever read it.

BBO, who hasn't dealt with the endless deluge of customers I do in several years, informed me I was being uncharitable and that our customers were not stupid.

So this week's Five for Friday is dedicated to BBO because these are actual phone calls I got from actual people in the last three days.  Maybe I am being uncharitable.  But my days are filled with not stupid conversations like this and I think maybe BBO should retract the scolding he gave me.

5)  I didn't listen to the message so you clearly didn't leave one.

This is an issue that grinds the gears of everyone in the office.  Well, every one except Captain Nubbin, who simply thinks it's hilarious that PM, NGTJ and I spend our days leaving messages customers simply do not listen to and then the customers call, enraged that no one has passed on vital information to them. Seriously, every day I call people to tell them what time the installers are coming to install the stuff they paid us to install.  Generally I have to a leave a message.  Let me amend that:  If I dial the phone for the purpose of giving information to a customer, I ALWAYS leave a message.  

So on Wednesday I get a call from a gent.  "I see someone from this number called three times and I need to know what the emergency is."

Just like that. No, "Hi my name is," nothing like that.

I said, "Did the person who called leave a message?"

He said, "Maybe.  I didn't listen but my phone says someone called three times so it has to be an emergency."

After sorting out that yes, I called him, once, (his phone registered my extension number as X3)  I told him when his installers would arrive on Thursday.  I also informed him that yes, I had left that very same information on his phone.

On Thursday the same gent called and said, "I'm having installers come in today and no one has bothered to call me and tell me when the installers are coming today."

Nope, our customer are not stupid.

4)  See, the problem is, what you installed is working exactly the way it should be...so I'm not happy.

See if you slide the shower head down,
your hair won't get wet...

In my role as customer service dump site, I take a lot of calls from people who are having issues with the stuff we install.  The vast majority of the issues are small and can be fixed quite easily.  Some issues can even be handled quickly over the phone.  Every once in a while, however I get this:

Customer:  I'm very unhappy with the shower head.

Sarah:  What's wrong with it?"

Customer:  It's a hand held, one of those with a hose, you know?  And it's just too big.  Water gets on my hair and I never want water to get on my hair in the shower.

Sarah:  Well, it's a hand held, so maybe you can lower it on the slide bar and then it won't hit your hair?

Customer:  No, the shower head size is the problem. It's too big. I didn't want one that big, but the salesman said you didn't carry anything smaller so now I don't like it because it's getting my hair wet.

Sarah:  Well, ma'am, if we don't carry a smaller shower head, then I'm thinking the best way for you to keep your hair from getting wet in the shower is to just lower the shower head a little bit so it doesn't hit your hair.

Customer:  Look, the shower head is spraying water all over the shower stall and it's getting my hair wet and I know it's the smallest one you carry, but it's too big so I want a tech to come out and fix it.

Sarah:  Ma'am, you're telling me it's working exactly the way we said it would work.

Customer:  no, it's not because it's getting my hair wet!

Oh yeah, our customers have Vulcan logic.

3)  Only one man can tell me how to clean my shower, so little girl, go find him and put him on the phone.

PM is a really good guy and takes on a ton of calls that just about no one else in the building can or will handle.  However, PM was on vacation this week.  And that meant, since we all know Captain Nubbin isn't able to do much other than pass a phone call on to someone else, that I would be taking all of the installation and service calls.  Normally not a problem.  Until this frequently flier on the "pain in my neck customer" train called in.

Customer:  Yes, I've been dealing with PM.

Sarah:  PM is out of the office all week.  How can I help you?"

Customer;  I'm having trouble with my shower doors.

Sarah:  What's going on with them?

Customer:  No one has told me how to clean them.

Sarah:  (Biting the inside of her mouth because she just remembered who this guy is.)  Well, sir, I can tell you exactly how to clean your shower doors.

Customer: No, you can't.  PM can tell me how to clean my doors so their don't get smeared.

Sarah:  Sir, PM is on vacation all week, but I assure you, I can tell you exactly how to clear your shower doors.

Customer:  No, you won't know how to clean the shower doors.  I've been dealing with PM and I want him to tell me how to clean the doors.

Sarah:  Sir, all you have to do it...

Customer:  I do not want to hear anything you say.  You don't know how to clean my shower doors.  So you can either send someone out here to show me or you can have PM call me later today.

Sarah:  Sir, PM is out of the office until Monday.  And I cannot send a tech out to clean your shower doors because I can, indeed, tell you exactly what to do.

Customer:  You have been rude and have not helped me at all.  I will be calling your boss to complain.

Of course, he hung up on me before I could give him BBO's number.  Too bad, I would love to have seen what BBO would have done with him.

2)  I don't know what the terms "impasse" and "catch-22" mean.

What would you like installed?

Sometimes Stuff Installed meets potential customers at home shows, fairs, festivals, malls, all sorts of places where people who have stuff they need installing might gather.  At these places people I affectionately call "minions"  (I've been using that term since before "Despicable Me" thank you.) collect customer information on cards and give the cards to NGTJ and me.

On Tuesday I called a woman to ask her a few more questions about the card she filled out.  It seems she wanted a shower base installed in her home.  Problem was, she had no shower in the space she wanted the base installed.  This intrigued me.

I should know better.

Here's how it went:

Sarah:  We saw you at the fair over the weekend and I see  you're interested in having a shower base installed?

Customer:  No.

Sarah:  Oh, I'm sorry, I just got this card and that's what it says.

Customer:  No, I want a price for what it would cost to get a shower base installed.

Sarah:  (We aren't supposed to give pricing over the phone. That's the job of the sales guys.)  Well, I will be happy to schedule a time for one of our consultants to come out and take a look at the space and give you a price.  But it doesn't look like there's a shower in the space right now.

Customer:  No, we're converting a closet into a shower.

Sarah:  So there's no drain or shower walls?

Customer:  no. they told me at the fair I needed to get that put in first.

Sarah:  Yes, that's correct.  We aren't able to price out a job if we know we aren't going to be able to do the job.  So I tell you what, once you get the drain put in  and the walls roughed in for a shower, I'll be happy to schedule that appointment for you, okay?

Customer:  No.  I want a price for what it would cost to get a shower pan put it.  So send someone out now.

Sarah:  Ma'am, I'm not able to send anyone out if there's nothing for us to look at.

Customer:  Yes, they told me that at the fair.  But I want a price.  You tell me a price.

Sarah:  In this case, ma'am, any number I give you would be wrong.  It would be a guess.  I have no idea what something like this would cost.

Customer: That's fine. I won't hold you to the price.  I just want to know what it would cost.  $2000?  $5000?  $10000?

Sarah:  It might cost any one of those.  There's no way we can even guess at a price for this job until we see the shower space and there's no point in sending someone out to see the shower space until there's a shower space to see.

Customer:  Well I'm not getting the closet torn out or the drain put in until you come out and give me a price.

Sarah:  Then I guess we have a catch-22 here.  I can't send someone out until you do that preliminary work and you won't do the preliminary work until we come out.

Customer:  Right.  So just tell me a price.

Sarah:  Ma'am, In  all honesty I haven't a clue  (this is actually true in this case)  what something like this is going to cost and I'm going to send a consultant to your home to take up your time  (because it's always about taking up the customer's time) when there's nothing there for him to look at to decide what the price will be.  Until you put in a drain and rough in shower walls, we are at an impasse.  There's nothing there for my consultant to give you a price on.

Customer:  You are not being very helpful.  All I want is a price.

Sarah:  Okay, ma'am, any one of our jobs can be anywhere from $1000-$15000 depending on what you want installed.  That's the honestly best answer I can give you.  

Customer:  Well, then send someone out here to give me a better price.

Sarah:  MA'AM...we do not do the kind of work you need done in your space.

Customer:  Yes, they told me that at the fair.

Sarah:  So until you have a space in your home where we are able to install something, there's no way I can send someone out there to give you any better pricing for your project than what I've already said.

Customer:  But you won't give me any kind of price.

Sarah:  (am I losing my mind?)  Look, I can have my production manager talk to you.  He's on vacation this week, but I'll have him give you a call.

Customer:  He'll be able to give me a price?

Sarah:  Ma'am, PM will probably tell you exactly what I've told you, but he manages all the installations and he may have more information I'm not aware of.

Customer:  Good, because I'm not doing any of this work until I know what you're going to charge me.

Yes, all of our customers have solid listening skills.

And finally:

1)  Oh, never mind then.

Most of the time when I get a call to schedule a repair, it's easy and takes one phone call, maybe six or seven minutes.  I'm pretty good at what I do, in spite of what you might think reading this blog.  But Tuesday I had big fun with a couple who clearly aren't smart enough to communicate with each other much less people outside their house.

It started with a sales guy telling me a I needed to call someone.  I hate this.  The sales guys are constantly calling me because they've talked to a customer and whatever the customer says, the sales guys aren't equipped to answer so they come to me...the customer service dump site.  Tuesdays are the worst because the Sales Guys come in for a meeting and surround my desk like the Undead either waiting for me to print something for them, look up their sales numbers, or call their customers.  It's one reason I loathe Tuesdays.

So this Tuesday a Sales guy says, "You need to call...um...I think his name is Kevin.  And he lives in Northtown on Highway 7."

Sarah:  Why?

Sales Guy:  I was having a beer with him and he said something was wrong with the thing we installed.

Sarah:  Do you have a phone number?

Sales Guy:  Just Kevin on Highway 7.  I think that's his name.

Oh good.  After doing a bit of a search I found someone whose name and general address matched that crack description and I made two phones calls:  One to each number. I left messages at both.

An hour before I was to leave for the day I dialed the first number again.  I got Kevin!

Kevin:  Yeah?

Sarah:  Hi Kevin, this is Sarah from Stuff Installed.  I understand you saw Don last night and you told him you needed some service on the sink we installed.

Kevin:  Yeah.  Hey, call my wife, okay?  Because she's home and just call her.

Sarah:  You want me to call your wife instead of answering your questions?

Kevin:  Yeah.

At this point I'm a little grieved.  I mean, I left a message on his phone at 8 AM.  He not only couldn't return a message in seven hours, he wouldn't even talk to me after I called him again?

So I call the wife.  Let's call her Deena.

Deena:  (Sounding quite...stoned)  yeah?

Sarah: Hi Deena, it's Sarah from Stuff, Installed.  Kevin told me to call you because you talked to Don last night about the sink?

Deena:  I don't know a Don.

Sarah:  Okay, well, then Kevin talked to Don.  Don told me to call you because something's wrong with your sink?

Deena:  I didn't call anyone.

Sarah:  Yes, I know.  Kevin told me to call you about the problem you're having with the sink.

Deena:  I didn't call anyone about the sink.

(Remember, it's three in the afternoon.)

Sarah:  So your faucet isn't loose?

Deena:  (long pause)  Oh, well a long time ago the thing where the water comes out was loose.  But I talked to someone a really long time ago about that.

(I checked their account.  They've had that sink for less than two months.)

Sarah:  So your faucet is loose?

Deena:  No, the thing where the water comes out is loose, but someone said it was okay.

Sarah:  So you don't need anyone to come out and look at it?

Deena:  Well, yeah, I mean if you want to, but that guy a long time ago said it was normal because the thing is in a bigger thing and so the thing is loose.

(Go ahead and digest that for a minute.)

Sarah:  Is the faucet looser than it was the first time you called?

Deena:  No. It's about the same.

Sarah:  Okay, so here's what we're going to do:  Keep an eye on it for the next week.  If it gets looser, call me.

Deena:  Okay.

Personally, I'm waiting for the call from her next week when she tells me she had to use her vacation time at work because she had to watch her sink.

And there you go.  Frankly, yes, I think BBO owes me a retraction.

Five for Friday: Sarah goes to Summer Fest and makes friends...and also gets annoyed.

Good morning!

Well, yesterday was the saddest day of the year.

Why?  Because, June 26th is the day I have to stop yelling at people to take down their Christmas lights.  They are no longer lazy slackers.  Now, as of yesterday, they are over organized and ahead of the rush.

But, that aside, on Wednesday I got to go to Summerfest, the world's largest music festival.   I love Summerfest, which I know surprises most people.  It's a lot of lines...a lot of noise...a lot of people who probably haven't taken down their Christmas lights, all stuff I hate.  But I LOVE Summerfest.  The music, the food, the people watching all makes up for it.

Oh, and Rick Springfield was playing.  So, yeah, I was getting there.

I know those of you who read this blog must picture me as a grumpy old woman who yells at random strangers, and most of the time you'd be right.  But today, I wanted to share a GOOD Five for Friday.

5)  I wonder if she made it out alive.

I always take the bus down to Summerfest.  Since my car accident I don't like driving, and I've never loved driving in a downtown setting.  I'm from the suburbs. I want wide streets, short buildings, and free and ample parking.  So I take the bus.  Since I was going with Peaches and one of her friends, I wound up sitting next to a woman who looked like a deer in the headlights.  I asked if the seat was taken and she said no.  So I sat down.  She opened with, "I'm so glad you're not a kid."

Turns out Becky was going to Summerfest for the first time.  She wasn't from the area but she was taking four young teen girls down to the opening day of the biggest music festival in the world.  And she was going really early for a show that started at 10 Pm.

She was probably going to die.

I spent the twenty minute bus ride giving her tips and pointers on how to manage Summerfest.  She asked about lines (long) and food prices (high) and liquor availability (ridiculous). She asked about the return buses at night.  I gave her as much knowledge as I had, but some things you just have to experience...and she was NOT dressed warm enough for a cool, gray, Lake Michigan day.

A success for her, would be if she managed to return with the same number of children as she left with.  Not the same kids...we can't hope for miracles.


4)  Lord of the Dance he is not, but gold star for effort!

After getting ditched at the gate by Peaches and her friend, I was on my own.  That's fine.  I love wandering and watching people.  It was a lovely, breezy, chilly day, so I wasn't sweating like I normally do.  I had eight hours to kill before Rick hit the stage, and I was on my own.

Like all children of the 80's, the sound of any 80's music is an irresistible siren song to us.  So, when I caught the intoxicating notes of "Don't stop Belivin'" on the wind, I followed it to one of the many stages.  There was an 80's revival band.  They were pretty good so I stopped to take in the show.  Like others, I was enjoying the music, tapping my feet to the beat.  But there was one guy who was really enjoying things.

Tie-dyed shirt, high waisted jeans (WITH A BELT) this guy was ten shades of uncool...but he did NOT care.  He was dancing, and dancing HARD.  I would describe his moves as a cross between disco, River Dance, and some twisted polka/fox trot.  He travelled up and down the aisles, dancing continuously through song after song.  By the time the band started a sixth song, (Kashmir by Led Zepplin, not exactly a dance hit), the dancing dude's energy sort of felt like a guy at the end of a dance marathon.  he was still moving, but had lost much of his zip and was looking at the band as if praying for them to finish.  the band was good.  Lord of the Dance was great.

3) I'm a FAN (but not of bad behavior.)

I always come away from Summerfest loving a new band and this time around was no different.  I got to take in three bands that caught my attention:  Skinny Lister, a delightful sort of folk band from England, a sort of family friend Pogues-esque band rocked the crowd, especially the 7 year old girl next to me who clearly was familiar with their work.  Then there was Dehli to Dublin, a techno/drum jam/love mother earth band that completely had the crowd going.  (Which is saying something because the Rick Springfield fans had marked their territory and were camped out so to be NOT RICK and still get the crowd going was really something.)  as a former percussionist, I gotta say, I loved that their drummer seemed to be the happiest guy ever.  Never stopped smiling.  (Oh, and the lead singer...super HOT!)

While waiting between bands, I got into a conversation with two gents who were NOT there for Rick, but instead were friends of the band right before Rick:  The Trews.  They explained to me why The Trews were awesome and I explained to them why the front seven rows of the venue were packed with older women who knew nothing about The Trews.  After listening to The Trews, I am a FAN!

What I wasn't a fan of, however, was the behavior of some of the Rick fans...or rather, the Rick fans' husbands.  After sitting on hard metal benches for six hours or more, it was clear that a couple of the husbands were losing their patience with the experience.  It was cold, it was damp, it was Wednesday and it was getting late.  (Not going to lie:  Rick starting a concert at 10 PM is sort of getting late for many of his fans...and I'm including myself in that.)  By the time The Trews were doing their sound check, one of the gents had lost his patience, and his mind, and started yelling "we don't care what you sound like...just start playing!"  (Oh, like if they got going and got done sooner, Rick would maybe get on the stage BEFORE 10 Pm and we'd all get out early?  Sorry, dude, Summerfest doesn't work like that.)  And then there was the guy who got into some sort of argument with the guitarist.  (I'm guessing the dude said "You suck."  That's not something you want to yell at a man with a microphone.)  The guitarist suggested the gent come up and play better, but then wondered aloud if perhaps the gent wouldn't because he was clearly trying to cover for the fact that he had a small manhood.  So, the guitarist gently suggested that the gent either come up and play or perhaps remove himself and then perform an act of pleasure on himself.

Which brings me to the MOTHER of the young girls sitting next to me who started complaining about the language.

Sweetie, it's Summerfest.  There's a ton of drinking, a lot of smoking, (and not all of it tobacco and e-cigarettes) and a lot of bands, although none of them, the last time I checked, were Christian bands.  Yes, there's a kids area at Summerfest.  This stage was not the kids area.  And if you're going to insist on dragging your two precious princesses to a ROCK CONCERT that is going to take place AFTER THEIR BEDTIME just so you can hear JESSIE'S GIRL LIVE, then you can expect this sort of thing to happen.  I'm not one to cuss in public...but I mentally cursed her out while giving her the death stare.  And she paid me back by dragging the princesses past me a dozen times to get food/drink/bathroom.  And then the princesses decided that the balloons and beach ball that were being bounced around the crowd were theirs.  (Again, if your kids don't know how to behave according to the rules of the venue...don't BRING THEM.)

But I enjoyed chatting with the two guys and I loved the bands.

2)  Yes, Rick is on stage...is that extra 12 inches really going to be worth the pain you'll have in your hips tomorrow?

Seating at Summerfest is all benches.  Metal benches about a foot off the ground and about eight inches wide.  For reasons I'll never understand, everyone stands on those benches during a show.  We all stand there, balanced on those metal benches, because hey, being 12 inches higher is going to make it possible for Rick to see us, to love us, to take us home with him and make us his queen and rule in his universe.

Right.

I got it when we saw Shinedown...I mean, Shinedown's fan base at the time was young white guys who were going to stand on the benches and be cool.

But Rick fans are a bit older, a bit more frail, and a bit smarter, right?

I told the guys behind me that NO WAY would this crowd risk HIP DAMAGE by standing on the benches.

If only you would stand on the benches...then I will see you
and single you out...and take you home with me.

And I was wrong.  The opening chords sounded and everyone got up on those stupid benches.

"Ya know, if we all stood on the ground, we'd all have exactly the same view of the stage as we have now," I said aloud.  Princess' Mom nodded with exasperation.  But I couldn't help thinking...the people who were REALLY exasperated were the people who had to stand behind Princess' Dad...who was about 9 feet tall and standing on the bench.

I'm a fairly fluffy girl in my mid forties and I'd been on my feet for ten hours.  Standing on a bench was killing my knees and my lower back.  So I decided, about two thirds into the concert  (which was great, by the way) that I couldn't deal with it anymore.  Gingerly, I stepped down, which made me eye level with butts and genital regions as I made my way to the outer edge of the venue where there was bleacher seating.  I climbed to the top of the bleachers and sat down.  I had a better view, better sound, and was sitting.  Sure, I was surround by Rick's more ELDERLY fans, the ones not willing to sit in one spot for six hours...mostly because their oxygen tanks had to be recharged...but I had a blast.  So...next time...row seven will not be for me. You'll find me sitting comfortably on the bleachers, singing in key, and pretending I'm really Ramona from my novel "Dream in Color."

1)  The funniest thing I heard all night.

Summerfest is a large gathering of people...so bathrooms are well, or not so well, used.  And those of you who read this blog know I have an issue with public bathrooms.  But, at the end of the park where I was, there was a delightfully huge bathroom that wasn't horrible.  So, at the end of the evening, before getting herded onto a bus, I hit the restroom one last time.

Am I glad I did.

As I was using a stall, the young woman in the stall next to me was experiencing some issues. her friends were outside the stall yelling, "hurry up!"  She, however, was going to be there a while.

"All of my shit fell out of my purse and into to the toilet which is full of shit!"

(Apologies to my younger readers for the language.)

Yep, somehow this young lady had managed to unload the contents of her purse into a toilet after she'd used it but before she'd flushed.  (NGTJ and I spent most of yesterday trying to figure out how that could happen, but we failed.) I wanted to stay long enough to hear how that problem got resolved, but I had a bus to catch...so I had to leave poor Precious there, with images of a pooh covered iPhone dancing in my head.

So, see?  I can go places where there are people and I can have a lovely day and not get into a huge rage.  Summerfest runs through July 6, so maybe check it out!

Of course, today I have to go to the Sam's Club Pharmacy...

BTW, if you live in SE Wisconsin, I'm doing a book signing TONIGHT at Martha Merrill's Books from 6-9.  Come on down and see me!  All books are discounted!

Well, I've gone and done it this time.

Good evening!

I honestly didn't believe I was going to do it.  In fact, I spent quite a bit of time telling people I wasn't going to do it.

And then, one day, PM and I were talking and NGTJ was laughing her head off  (I love it when she laughs her head off at my stories.) and I decided I had to do it.

I have to write the Noelle C book.

For those of you who are new or have forgotten, Noelle C was the woman who took Elsie W's job at Stuff, Installed after Elsie was...told she no longer needed to keep showing up late for work.  And Noelle C was just as big a disaster as Elsie, but not quite as easy to explain. Noelle was sort of like Rachel's one boyfriend in Friends, you know, the one who goes mental when only Ross is around?  

That pretty well sums up Noelle C.  She was, for much of the time she worked at Stuff, Installed, wildly disasterous, but only in front of me.

However, in relaying my stories about Noelle C, I discovered PM had his own stories and, as we shared them, NGTJ pretty much sealed the deal by laughing her head off.  

So, this summer, in addition to starting a new inspirational mystery series...I'm going to give you all one more Stuff, Installed book.  I can't promise it'll be the last...not if Captain Nubbin keeps up his antics.

I've outlined it.  I've even done a rough cover.  Wanna see?

It's rough, I know.  But I like it.  

What I don't like is the title.  I'm pretty bad at titles.  

So hey, how about a little help!

FREE COPY OF THIS BOOK (when it's finished) to the person who comes up with a title I use.  

Want to find out a bit more about Noelle c and her antics BEFORE you title the book?  Check out any of the blog posts that involve Noelle C.  

And I will tell you this:  What I've written in this blog is only a tiny bit of what will actually be in the book.  My goal is late summer, just in time for everyone to pack the kids into a school bus for another year.  Keep me to my goals everyone, and let's get this book written!

And if you'd like to read my other two disaster coworker books, both about Elsie W., just CLICK HERE!

Five for Friday: Adventures of Captain NUBBIN!

Good morning!

Most of you remember that I've renamed my Boss.  We no longer call him NBM  (New Boss Man) here.  I mean, he's been my boss for almost three years.  He's not exactly rocking that new boss smell anymore.

Now we call him Captain Nubbin!  Why Captain Nubbin?  Fans of "Friends" will recognize the term as the word they used to describe Chandler's third nipple.  Connecting the dots, you'll realize that yes, I work for a man who is as useful to the business as a third nipple.

This week was especially super Nubbin-y and I knew, by Wednesday, what my Five for Friday was going to be.  

So, without further explanation, here we have it:  Five for Friday:  The Adventures of Captain Nubbin!

5)  Stop trying to use economics and logic, no one goes home early for any reason!

So Captain Nubbin decided, after those of us who live and die by the jacked up/semi illegal phone and  internet in our office, to change phone and internet services.  But, CN being CN, he was not as interested in good service as he was in "best deal."  (This is a guy who locks up the pens in a cabinet.  NGTJ and I bring our pens from home.)  Since he's really only interested in the bottom line, things like...quick, efficient, CORRECT installation becomes less of a priority.

Thusly, installation of our new internet/phone service, something that takes ten minutes for most people, is now, as we speak, entering it's third week.  

At some point last Friday, during the second attempt at installation, the Mensa Member doing the installation from "Joe's SUPER LEGAL INTERNET" disconnected the phones and the Internet.  And he disconnected them so completely that, according to NGTJ, it was HOURS of dead air, dead phone, dead internet.

In case you've forgotten, her job and mine are 99% making calls and entering information on the company database on the internet.  In short... she was sitting at her desk, doing NOTHING.  She thought, hey, it's Friday.  It's in the afternoon.  We close at 5 anyway, maybe I can go home.  So she tried to locate CN, who was sitting in PM's office, chatting.  (Yes, CN does not have to obey his own rule about chatting in the office. He can do it all day if he wants. He's Captain Nubbin!)  She made a request to leave a couple hours early since it had been a couple hours, there was no indication that Joe's Super Legal was going to get things rolling before five.  Nubbin said no.  Because, you know, why would anyone be allowed to leave early? No, instead, she had to sit at her desk...not doing anything since she couldn't go online, she couldn't make calls, she couldn't do anything other than stare at the wall.  For which she was paid.

He probably paid her out of all the money he saves by not giving us pens.

4) Better yet, how about if you just stay home and we handle things?

This week has been one of those rare weeks when it's actually nice weather here.  Not too hot, not too cold, a bit of rain, sure, but more sun than rain.  And Captain Nubbin has spent quite of a bit of time finding reasons to leave the office for short spans of time.  Yesterday was probably the worst.  He went to the bank and the grocery store.  Then, having put in a torturous half hour in the office, he realized he had to go to the post office.  For those of us who have to pay for our own gas in our cars, we might consider making one trip for all these errands, saving gas.  But, see, CN drives the Nubbin-mobile, a vehicle provided by the company and all gas is paid for by the company.  So, while he's keeping overhead low by locking up the pens and post it notes  (something else NGTJ and I have started just bringing on our own, paper for phone messages and what not) he's making multiple short little jaunts out and about.  By the time he heads out for his last errand of the day, one that ALWAYS has to be done a mile from his house...convenient...he's started up the Nubbin mobile a minimum of four times.  

3)  Do not try using your logic, or facts, or Jedi mind tricks on me. This is still your fault!

A big part of the way we generate business is through a booth at festivals and home shows. Our Events Girl  (EG) is great at getting people to fill out cards with personal info so NGTJ and I can schedule appointments for our Crack Sales Staff to go out and sell stuff to be installed.  (Notice what's not involved in that line?  Yeah, Captain Nubbin isn't what you'd call an active participator in the process.  He doesn't go to the shows, he doesn't gather information, he doesn't make phone calls, he doesn't sell anything, he doesn't schedule anything, and he certainly doesn't install anything, service anything, or follow up on anything.  CAPTAIN NUBBIN!)  Anyway, on Tuesday there was an appointment, scheduled at a festival over the weekend, set up for a sales guy. Now, probably number one was the appointment scheduled to happen during the weekly sales staff meeting.  CN knew the appointment was on the schedule.  On Monday I told him to look at the schedule.  He saw the appointment.  In fact, he moved the appointment from one guy to another.  No comment on the time. Check number one.

Tuesday dawned, the sales guy left the meeting early.  Okay, it wasn't all that early. The meeting is scheduled to end at 9:30, but for the last several weeks, it's been done by 8:30.  So, check number two,  a 9 AM appointment shouldn't have been an issue based on the meeting length of the past several weeks.  This week, however, CN decided the Crack Sales Staff had made a few too many mistakes measuring stuff to be installed, so he was going to CRACK DOWN and MAKE THESE GUYS SEE THE ERROR OF THEIR WAYS. That meant that PM was going to have to spend two hours with the guys teaching them how to measure things...again, CN wasn't actually doing anything because, well, that's not his deal.

So, since, for the first time in many weeks, the sales meeting was going to actually last until 9:30, CN felt the need to reprimand SOMEONE for the 9 Am sales appointment.  And that someone, since I was the only woman in the office at the time, was me.  He sent me an email  (yep, and email)  REMINDING me to NOT schedule appointments during the sales meeting.  I was not interested in taking the heat for something I didn't book.  I fired back an email  (because we sit eight feet apart) apart, that I didn't book the appointment and that the time to raise this question was YESTERDAY when he looked at the schedule.

The sales guy called from his appointment telling me that what the customer wanted installed we don't install.  That prompted email number two:  You need to tell the customer what we install because this was a waste of time.

Hey, I called the customer, I dropped him an email telling him to call me so we could do just that.  I can't force people to call me.  And I haven't quite perfected ESP with strangers.  Again, I relayed this information to CN.

That meant nothing.  I had clearly conspired to break up his perfect training time with the sales guys (which he didn't actually attend the whole time) and scheduled (nope) and appointment for something I clearly knew was not something we install.  And when I refused to be apologetic via email, he stood in front of my desk and informed me that I need to do my job more carefully.

Bite me.

2)  But apparently I'm the only one who can spell or read.


When she started at Stuff, Installed back in August, NGTJ noted that our official company phone list was a hot mess.  She wasn't wrong.  But it's easier for me to just cross out names and phone numbers and write them in than to actually sit down with an EXCEL sheet and correct everything.  A couple months ago, however, I decided it was time to do a really good job of making a new phone list.  So I took an hour, double checked phone numbers with everyone, and got everyone's names on a shiny new phone list.  I then put a copy of the list on everyone's desk.

On Wednesday one of the installers decided he no longer wanted to install the stuff we install.  So he sort of just...quit.  And, in quitting, started a sequence of paperwork that CN actually had to fill out.  (which mean he had to take time from checking up on the US OPEN gold scores to actually fill a couple blanks on a piece of paper.)  At one point, and I'm not making this up, he shouts of out of his office:  "HOW DO WE SPELL SHANE'S LAST NAME?"

"Just a minute, " says I, "I'll check the PHONE LIST I PUT ON EVERYONE's DESK."

Instead of realizing I was telling him to look up his own darn phone list...he waited.  (Knowing how to spell his employee's last names would be way too much to expect, of course.  There are, you know, 15 of us and keeping the spellings of 15 last names, one of which his OWN, is too much.)

I don't have to look it up.  I spelled it for him.

"Are you sure?"

"THAT'S WHAT IT SAYS ON THE PHONE LIST!"

He's silent. It's at this point I'm starting to wonder if he's illiterate and just doesn't want to share the sad fact with me.

1)  And finally.

We've been having a TON of street construction on the road in front of our office.  So much so that the construction guys moved our mailbox to a spot a couple blocks away from our building.  It's not a big deal, but it does take a little more time for me to take out the mail and go get the mail and, since I can't walk on the street and there is no sidewalk, I have to cut through a couple parking lots. Not a big deal, but there's a certain amount of grass and gravel and dirt I have to traverse. 

Wednesday it rained.  Hard.  All day.

While running the mail to our box in front of the building would have been little issue in the weather, the walk to the new mailbox in a downpour wasn't exactly something I was excited about doing.  And, since most of the road in front of our building is torn up and full of construction men and vehicles, it's not wise to try and drive it during the day.  So, I told CN that since I didn't have anything pressing that needed to go out, I would see if the rain was better in the afternoon and I'd walk to get the mail.

It didn't stop raining. Not all day.  It was wet, it was soggy, and everything was muddy.

Captain Nubbin took and opportunity to go do something silly in the afternoon.  So he got in the Nubbin Mobile, drove past the mail box going out of the office park.   Then he did the errand, and drove past the mailbox coming back into the office park.  And it rained HARD the whole time.

But, Sarah, you say, surely he picked up the mail for you...right?  Surely he didn't make you walk to the mail box in the pouring rain to get the mail when he'd driven past the box twice!

Surely, you'd be wrong.  Nope, he waltzed back into the office, made a comment about how hard it was raining and then asked me if I could get he mail because he really, REALLY need to get all the bills into the daily mailier for our home office.  (Which yes, meant he'd be taking another trip past the mailbox to go to the post office.)

So I put on my raincoat and walked out into the downpour.

And thus, this week's Five for Friday was born.

ALL HAIL CAPTAIN NUBBIN!

Five for Friday: 5 reasons Michael Scott would be an upgrade.

Good morning!

My issues with coworkers at Stuff, Installed is well documented both in this blog and in my two books, "Not While I'm Chewing" and Unsafe at Any Speed..

  We all know the workplace is a tremendous gold mine for humor.  Just look at movies like, "Office Space" or the wonderful TV comedy, "The Office."  There have been many boss-directed jokes in movies like "Horrible Bosses" or in TV shows like "Rules of Engagement."  (Timmy, I feel your pain.)

We all work at jobs and the vast majority of us are working in jobs we don't particularly adore, but hey it fits our schedules and it pays the bills...sort of.  Besides, if we really think about it, the people we work with are pretty cool, most of the time, and at the end of the day, it's not a terrible way to live.

Well, I thought that about my job until this week.  With Elsie W. and Noelle C. a distant memory, I've been pretty happy at work.  

And then I realized something:

My boss might be a horrible boss. He might be a child unable to do any job other than management...because that's where he can do the least amount of damage to the day to day work at Stuff, Installed.

I was thinking this yesterday, when, reviewing my week, I realized that TV disaster boss Michael Scott might just be an upgrade from NBM.

Don't believe me?

Here are five things NBM did this week that proves Michael Scott would be, at worst, a sideways moves.  And I maintain he would be an upgrade.

5)  Keeps the knife he licks after every use on top of the office jar of peanut butter.

I've chronicled NBM's inability to wash the spoon and bowl he uses for his breakfast every morning.  (Reminder:  He licks the spoon, rinses the bowl, and puts them in the cabinet where we keep food.)

The knife thing is new.  His lunch of late has consisted of an English muffin  (which he always burns, which means we get to work in an atmosphere of burnt English muffin all afternoon) topped with peanut butter.  And every day, once he's done using the knife, he licks it and sets it on top of the jar of peanut butter which we keep, again, other food.

I understand marking your territory, but could you maybe pee all over one of the cabinet shelves?  It would be more sanitary.

4)  Asked me what poking on Face Book meant...and then didn't like my answer.

I'm not saying NBM doesn't have enough to do in his day.  But earlier this week he was truly troubled about what, exactly, it meant when someone poked him on Face Book.  Face Book has been a favorite of his.  Every couple of weeks he'll ask me how to do something on Face Book.  I try to explain it to him, but giving him verbal directions is like telling a five year old how to put together a vacuum cleaner.  Most of these conversations end with me saying, "Well, NBM, I could show you, but company rules say I can be fired to going on Face Book during the work day."

So this week he discovered the "poke."  I explained to him that it was like someone waving at him or saying hello.  I told him he could poke back or ignore it.

He didn't like that.  So he walked down the Tunnel of Sound to PM (who has all the time in the world for topics like this) and they discussed it.  

Gee, glad no one actually needed his attention for work things.  Of course, this is the type of time you have in a work day when you never take a phone call and when you are always "out" if someone comes in to see you.  Unless, of course, it's a TV rep who is coming to take you to lunch.

3) Started golfing on his "lunch."

NBM is a salaried guy.  He pretty much comes in when he wants to and leaves when he wants to.  I can't fault him for showing up in the AM, he's always there early.  And I will give him this:  When he leaves before 4 PM, he's always got a legitimate reason to leave.  (The fact that he picked a car repair place a block from his house is just a coincidence...all of our company vans need service all the time, especially when we have very nice golfing weather.)

As a salaried guy, he doesn't so much have a "lunch" as he has time

Something we would love to ask him...but
he's out golfing/having lunch/checking/basketball scores.

when he eats at his desk.  And his pay doesn't vary regardless of when or for how long he takes lunch, unlike us hourly wagers.  This much just have occurred to him recently because this week his golf bag moved into the office.  And now,  after he's burned his English muffin and licked his knife, he heads out to some indoor golf place where he hits balls for 30-45 minutes.  I shouldn't complain because life is just better when he's not in the office (because when he's not disrupting my day with nonsense, he's asking me why I'm not accomplishing enough in my day.) but since the golf clubs live in the office, he now feels the need to discuss golf WAY more than before.  And that's saying something.  (I could be thankful, he talks about golf so much now, he's backed off a little bit of his political ranting...but only a little.)

2)  Completed the computer install...as far as he was concerned.

Computer issues have been a major sore spot in the office for the past couple months.  I wound up getting a new computer because, like most of the computers in the office, mine was woefully outdated and loaded with who knows how many viruses and gremlins.  Well, this week NBM pulled some money out of the owner's wallet  (replacing anything cuts into our bottom line, and NBM's whole deal is he shows a profit more than any other branch...of course, we all have to bring in our own pens and he locks up copier paper so I have to ask him for paper when the copier is empty and I have to tell him why I need it.) and got new computers for himself, NGTJ and PM.  Yesterday was the day of installation.  PM managed to get his installed all by himself because PM knows a thing or two about computers.  PM then showed NBM how to install his.  Four seconds after PM left NBM's office, I was summoned to show him how to transfer his files.  I told him how I would do it.  He said, "That's now how PM showed me."  I said, "well, then do it the way PM told you."  He said, "I don't remember what he said."

But the biggest SNAFU happened when he took what little he could remember and he tried to install NGTJ's computer.  I don't know what he did, but it wasn't what he was supposed to.  I know this because when she tried to use it, it not only didn't work, it scolded her and insulted her wardrobe.  She tried to ask NBM what he'd done.  He said, "Mine works just fine."  And then he went to the golf place leaving NGTJ unable to use her computer and therefore do her job.

And OF COURSE his worked just fine.  He rarely, if ever, USES his computer.  He's on his smart phone all day, checking golf and basketball scores, and political stuff.  For the record, his computer was not working because we looked at it while he was golfing. Whatever he'd done to NGTJ's, he'd done to his own.

His question to her, upon returning from golf, was, "Why aren't you at your desk working?"

1) Needed me to help him see his bracket.

I didn't say much when, a couple weeks ago, he had me fill out an Oscar's score sheet so he could enter a contest sponsored by a local TV station.

Tuesday of this week he called me into his office.  He had just filled out his March Madness bracket so he could win a contest sponsored by another local TV station and he was unable to print the bracket from his computer.  (This was one of the reasons we got new computers.  Mine was the only one in the office that played nicely with the printer.)

I gave him several tips, but, like a parent dealing with a whiny child, I finally said, "Email it to me, I'll print it."

He emailed me, not a file to print, but a LINK to a WEBSITE (one of those I would be fired for being on during working hours). I opened the link and realized I would need his account password.  I asked him for it and he gave me three passwords, none of which worked.  

Not the worst thing I was asked to do this week.

He then stomped around the office, swinging his putter, asking the air what his password was.

Meanwhile, I did the whole "forgotten password" thing and told him to check his email, that he now had a temporary password.  But that was not good enough for him.  Nope, he then decided he would reset his password and give it to me.

Except in the time it took him to speak the actual password to me, he forgot how he spelled it.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

At least Michael Scott never complained
that their outgoing call totals were too low.

This took about 45 minutes of my day.  And he asked me at the end of the day why my outgoing call total was so low.

So, yeah, I'm pretty sure Michael Scott, a guy who burned his foot on a George Foreman grill, would be an upgrade.