Category Archives: Awesomesauce

It’s Me, Isn’t It?

I recently had cause to question the customer service skills of three separate companies in one week.

I think that’s a new personal best, but I’m not sure since I don’t normally keep track.

Anyway, the first was a pair of earrings I ordered from a site and it was not the only pair of earrings this site offered.  It was, in fact, a pair similar to a couple of others they offered…but waaaaay cuter.

When I received the earrings – clearly not as pictured on the site – my first thought was, “dumbass, you ordered the WRONG thing..again!”  Sigh…it’s not the first time it’s happened to me, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

I checked my order invoice, and sure enough I’d ordered the RIGHT earrings and they’d sent me the WRONG ones.

So, it wasn’t me? I guess?

I contacted customer service, via e-mail, and got an extremely effusive apology from a very perky (I imagined “Tina” as a 20-something college student about to embark on a personal quest to save all the whales, and unicorns, and garden gnomes in the world) “customer experience specialist” (really?) who promised to ship my correct earrings that day.

Me: Thank you, and please issue a return for these and I’ll send them back.

Tina: Already done, it’s attached in this e-mail.  Just print it out and put it on the envelope you got your earrings in and send them back.  Oh, and have a super day!

Me: Oh..okay, will do

And, I did, sending the wrong earrings back.

The VERY next day I received yet another package with what I assumed was the RIGHT earrings.

They were the same WRONG earrings I’d sent back.  I mean, not THE same earrings I’d sent, but another pair of the wrong thing.

Feck.

Me:  Hey, Tina, yeah I got the WRONG EARRINGS again.  Let me ask you, does your inventory match the SKU numbers on the site?  I mean, this isn’t rocket science.

Is it? Is it me? Do I not understand the intricacies of online retail? I wondered.

My cell phone rang about 3 seconds after I sent the e-mail.

“Hello”

“Hi, this is Tina, from (unnamed_retail_outlet)”…Sweet clothespin jeebus, she sounded exactly like I imagined she would… “and, I am SUPER sorry about the mix-up again!! Hold on a minute while I check something, okay?!”

“Okay”

She came back on the line after a minute or so, breathless, “Okay, I’ve got the RIGHT earrings in my hand now. I’m super-sure of it. I’m sending them out today, and you know what? Just keep those others for all your trouble!!”

“Oh..well…umm…thanks?”

The WRONG earrings are hideous people, like really, really ugly…but, they were free, so yay?

I did, in fact get the RIGHT earrings the next day.

I love them.

In episode 2, a popular online retail site for pet food and products screwed up an order for my cat’s special food.

Yes, I buy my cat stupidly expensive food because he’s diabetic and prone to puking if his system gets out of whack. And, you know what? Turns out I don’t like cleaning up cat puke.

I’ve been buying the same, exact-no-changes, food for three years now.  Every month, they send me the stuff and charge my credit card.

Until last month, and the automatic didn’t happen.  It was me, that time, as I’d forgotten to update my credit card after having to get a new one when someone in New York tried to buy $800 worth of parking on my stolen credit card information (high fives to my bank for catching that so quickly!).

When it came time for Bugsy, the Insane to get his food I got an e-mail telling me that my order wasn’t coming because of the payment issue.

I called immediately, explained the mix-up, and gave them the corrected information.

Fido: “So, we’ll just get that added to your account so it doesn’t happen again!!  And we are super-pleased you chose (unnamed_pet_outlet) for all your fur baby’s needs!!”

Me: “Uh..okay..thanks?”

I’m always confused and startled by the exuberance of most customer service people, and wish they’d all go work at the post office or the DMV…like, right now.

This month, I got an e-mail stating with sad puppy eyes that I wasn’t getting Bugsy’s-now-I-won’t-puke food…because my credit card was denied.

Huh?

I looked at the e-mail, it listed the last 4 digits of the card I’d canceled.

The one I’d replaced last month with Fido, over the phone, and he was super excited about it.

I called again, and explained again, about the credit card.  This time, Fido found the old notes and said he’d “definitely get this corrected right away”, and ship Bugsy’s food.

I got the food, but I have to wonder what next month will bring.

Is it me, or is it too much to ask that I give you information and you retain it somewhere?

It’s me, isn’t it?

And, lastly, my first order from another site (can you tell I shop online a LOT?) had two items in it.

I got one.

So, I sent an e-mail to my “bestfriend” @ (unnamed_vintage_site).com   Is it me, or is that presumptuous?

It’s me, isn’t it? I mean, who couldn’t use a BFF in online retail, right? Hello, discounts!

I digress, anyway I was asking about Thing 2, having received Thing 1 that day.

BFF: Wow, that was super fast!! And, typically our orders don’t come all from the same place so they arrive in different packages.  But, we know you’ll be super happy with it!

Me: Oh, okay. I was in no rush. It’s my first time ordering from you, so I was just wondering. I do love Thing 1, though.

BFF: We’re super happy about that!! Thank you!!

Me: …

I didn’t answer back. I was super tired from reading.

Is it me, or are these exchanges just a tad over-wrought with faked sentiment and the overuse of the word “super”?

It’s me, isn’t it?

Isn’t it? I’d be super happy if you agree!!!

Halloween

There are two kinds of people in the world, those who love ALL THE HALLOWEEN THINGS, and those who listen to One Direction.

I’m of the former.

This year All Hallows E’en falls on a Saturday.  This is like being told you just won the lottery and your check will be delivered by a half-naked Jensen Ackels.

Preparations for this year’s festivities have been going on in the family for weeks.  Make-up effects have been tested, costumes have been purchased, tried on, altered, and provided the correct accoutrement – be it badassery or cute – to enhance the experience.

I usually dress as either a witch or vampiress.  The makeup is the same for both, as is the hair, just the dress changes and the hat. What’s a witch without a hat, I ask you?

This year, in his grandfather-ly exuberance, the hubby has told ALL THE KIDS that we will attend their festivities.  These kids do not all live together in a big commune.  They’re separated by miles and miles.

Sometimes, he doesn’t think things through.

So, I’m forgoing a costume this year, given the fact that I’ll be in and out of cars and houses and running up and down streets with mass quantities of urchins following me.

Except, I have a Black Widow t-shirt so if I can find my black sweat pants I’ll be going as Natasha Romanoff, post workout.  I’ll even pull my hair back, add a bandana and scrub the make up off. I may even add my weighlifting gloves just so it looks legit. If I can find them.  Not that I don’t weighlift, I’m just so much a badass I don’t wear gloves, bitches.

And WordPress insists that Halloween, accoutrements, Ackels, and badassery are all a) not words and b) incorrectly spelled not-words.

I’ll give them all the above, so long as I can keep the Ackels.  Eff you WordPress, he’s mine.

#ThingsWeTakeForGranted

Okay, I’m a nerd.

I’m a space nerd.

From the moment I laid eyes on Capt. Kirk, I’ve been hooked.

So, when  a friend sent me this video I squeed with delight, and then I realized what I was watching.

Outer space? No big deal.

And isn’t that wonderful?

Then, This Happened….

I’m working on a long, whiny, right-now-incomprehensible, post on my stepfather’s recent illness and death, and my mother’s insanity.

But, while I’m doing that I just wanted to take a moment and mention something awesome that happened at Pensacola Beach last week.

I was standing in barely-ankle deep water when one of these came swimming up to me…

shark

………only it was much smaller..I’d say 2-3 ft..a juvenile lemon shark.

Swimming in front of the shark, at a much faster and more frantic pace, was a smaller fish so I knew right away that the shark wasn’t interested in my toes.

At least I hoped he wasn’t.

I watched him swim right towards me, then move off to my left at the last second, missing his target as my wiggling toes distracted him.

Hubby came over by me and Bruce (that’s his name, now and really I think it’s fitting we’re on a first-name basis as he and I are practically BFFs even if I did interrupt his lunch) again swam towards me, this time he wasn’t chasing anything and as he broke off at the last moment we made eye contact.

It was weird, scary, fascinating, and I loved it.  Later, I realized that if he’d bitten me not only would Bruce be off the Christmas card list forever, but it would’ve hurt.  A. Lot.

But, he didn’t and we shared a moment and now I’m pretty much an expert on juvenile lemon sharks so ask me anything.

Just don’t ask me to go swimming at night off Pensacola Beach.  I think Bruce may hold a grudge.

I Need Bats

Every mosquito in the state of Texas has bitten me, at one time or another.  I’m certain of it.

Every. Single. One.

Bastards.

I cannot go outside, for even one second, during mosquito season (Jan-Dec here in these parts) without getting eaten up.

So, I have a Ritual of Preparation for doing things like taking the dog out or, you know, getting the paper.

The night/day before I eat garlic.  I don’t know why, but I think someone, somewhere one time (at band camp, probably) told me it was good for keeping mosquitos away.

Or was that vampires?

I get those two confused.  I mean, after all, they’re both blood-sucking fiends and never sparkle in the sunlight.  It’s an easy thing to mix up.

After I’m garlic-infused I then cover myself with this wonderful product called “Bite Free”.  It’s a citronella cream that smells like..well, citronella…going on and then in about 15 minutes’ time the scent goes away.  Every part of my body, not covered by clothing, gets the cream.

I’m not done yet.

THEN I spray “Deep Woods OFF” on my clothes, shoes, and as a second layer of protection I spritz some on the exposed skin.

THEN I clip on one of those battery-operated “OFF” thingys…can’t remember what they are called…that’s supposed to create a “mosquito-free zone” around me and anyone within a five foot radius.

After all this, I’m ready to go outside and be….alone.  NO ONE wants to get too close when you’re doused in “OFF”.  I don’t care what scent they add, or want to call it, you still smell like you bathed with a badger in kerosene.

So I sit a little ways removed and enjoy the outdoors…until I start to itch.

There, and there, and there..and dammit…there again!

Going inside I invariably find a cluster of mosquito bites, usually about the size of a quarter, on the ONE SPOT on my body I may, or may not, have missed in the creaming/spraying/zoning ritual.

I currently have just such a spot on the bottom of my left foot.

The bottom. Of. My. Foot.

I have no idea how that happened since I wear shoes outside…and if I wear sandals, the bottoms of my feet get the Ritual.

The only time I’ve not been bothered by mosquitos was when we visited Bull Shoals Lake in northern Arkansas.

When I first noticed, I asked if we could buy the lake and just live there forever.

Hubby thought that might be extreme, but clearly he doesn’t have to deal with what I deal with.

Then I asked a local where all the mosquitos were.

He told me it was because they have bats, lots and lots of bats, living around the lake.

Bats eat mosquitos.

Bats are my new favorite animal ever.

They gave us Batman (hubba, hubba) and dammit they are cute.

I told hubby we needed to get bats and turn them loose in the yard.  He says that won’t work because there are no caves in our backyard.

I told him I thought the bat cave was a made-up thing from television, but he insists it’s not and bats need caves to roost and since I can’t just make a bat cave (because I’m not a millionaire) I’ll have to give up on my dream of a mosquito-free life.

He sure knows how to crush a girl’s dreams.

Welp, My Christmas List is Complete

Pure, awesomesauce and artistic genius, all rolled into one.

I want one of each, kthxbai!

Easter Egg Hunt, Hunger Games Edition

My family is, shall we say…competitive.

And by competitive I mean, cut throat, winner take all, Hunger Games competitive.

So it was with fear and trembling that I watched my seven grandchildren scour my sodden and muddy yard for the 108 eggs we’d carefully hidden.

Some eggs were real, but most were shiny colors with shiny coins or camo colors with candy inside.

Before the back door even opened, my oldest daughter laid down the rules:

NO pushing.

NO crying.

NO cutting in on the little ones (youngest is 3, and so cute it hurts..no one will mess with her).

NO cussing (which was met with looks of confusion, and one “I won’t” from her 7 -yr. old son).

The door opened and I was reminded of the beginning of a Hunger Games competition.  The looks of sheer determination were…intense. And that was just the parents.

Then I looked at the kids.

They looked determined to get ALL THE EGGS for themselves.

It was muddy, it was sloppy, it was chaos, and it was hilarious as egg after egg was discovered hiding under bushes, in trees, in wasp-filled BBQ pits.

They ran, like a flock of birds, first this way and that in a tight little group.  The bigger kids not letting the little ones branch out on their own, all the while remembering where they saw eggs missed by the group and quietly circling back to pick them up.

In the end, we don’t know if all the eggs were found but there was no crying, minimal cussing, and lots of mud.

We got a couple of group pictures and traipsed back inside.

All was quiet until I heard a whispered, “So, what does the winner get?”

I couldn’t resist.  I just couldn’t.  I had to say it, I did.

“You shall receive income from the Capitol for life!”

Not one of the grandkids got it…but their parents did.

D’awwww

cute-animals-hokkaido-ezo-japan-11

C’mon, I double-dog dare you not to emit at least one oooh…or ahhh..over this cutey-pie – a red fox native to Japan.

Also, you’re welcome.

Sheridan Makes an Excellent and Profound Observation

This is from BuzzFeed, and Sheridan’s quote about airbrushing is perfectly eloquent and spot on.

Who are these women?

I’m Pretty Sure, Sir David Attenborough Is Not a Liar

………but damn…..

This bird, I swear…I just…wha…..holy shit