Monday, January 29, 2007
The Best Stories Come From Real Life
Hollywood can't hold a candle to this one. I went to Wawa on Saturday to buy some Nantucket Nectar Apple Juice—my god, how I’m addicted to it right now. While I was there, I was scarred for life.
They looked fairly short-staffed. There was only one general cashier and one deli worker. When I got to the counter, the cashier was actually over at the deli helping to reduce some of the overflow. I waited patiently, as Matt was still selecting something and no one else was behind me, with one equally patient gentleman in front of me. As the line formed though, the cashier noticed and rushed back over to help.
As the cashier—we’ll call him Mike—was counting out change for the guy in front of me, this older woman rushed over demanding her coupon and money back as things were taking entirely too long. As Mike maintained eye contact with her, he finished giving the man in front of me his change. Before he could finish that, she demanded it again. Tending to her was the next thing he did.
Before she left, she was sure to state very audibly “I have never received such awful service than I did here. I write for the Philadelphia Inquirer and you’ll be in the Tuesday edition.” She then stormed off in a huff, but not without eyeing up everyone in the store first. I guess the communal chuckle didn’t help.
I had finished but was waiting for Matt to check out. As we left, the woman returned to the store with cell-phone camera in tow, taking snapshots of each person who had left. She must have been planning some hexes or something.
“You will all be featured in the Tuesday edition”, she proclaimed.
“Great! I love the Daily News. I can’t wait to see my picture up there”, said a man in the store in a very sarcastic tone.
“Not when you see what for” said crazy lady, as she continued to take more pictures.
As we left, Matt was now pouring his newly-purchased washer fluid into the car. The crazy woman was now being barraged by two women who demanded that she delete their pictures. Not only did she refuse, but she now took a picture of their license plate. As she then realized that their Escalade could trample her tiny Corolla, she backed down and backed out.
As her final departure from the madness, she got back out of her car one last time and screamed “Hey Baby”. I couldn’t see, as my line of sight was blocked by the hood of the car. But Matt surely got an eyeful. . . of one. . . fifty. . . year. . . old. . . breast.
There are no words. While, I’m fairly certain she doesn’t write for the Daily News, she should be in sales. You can be certain that I will be purchasing my copy tomorrow.
They looked fairly short-staffed. There was only one general cashier and one deli worker. When I got to the counter, the cashier was actually over at the deli helping to reduce some of the overflow. I waited patiently, as Matt was still selecting something and no one else was behind me, with one equally patient gentleman in front of me. As the line formed though, the cashier noticed and rushed back over to help.
As the cashier—we’ll call him Mike—was counting out change for the guy in front of me, this older woman rushed over demanding her coupon and money back as things were taking entirely too long. As Mike maintained eye contact with her, he finished giving the man in front of me his change. Before he could finish that, she demanded it again. Tending to her was the next thing he did.
Before she left, she was sure to state very audibly “I have never received such awful service than I did here. I write for the Philadelphia Inquirer and you’ll be in the Tuesday edition.” She then stormed off in a huff, but not without eyeing up everyone in the store first. I guess the communal chuckle didn’t help.
I had finished but was waiting for Matt to check out. As we left, the woman returned to the store with cell-phone camera in tow, taking snapshots of each person who had left. She must have been planning some hexes or something.
“You will all be featured in the Tuesday edition”, she proclaimed.
“Great! I love the Daily News. I can’t wait to see my picture up there”, said a man in the store in a very sarcastic tone.
“Not when you see what for” said crazy lady, as she continued to take more pictures.
As we left, Matt was now pouring his newly-purchased washer fluid into the car. The crazy woman was now being barraged by two women who demanded that she delete their pictures. Not only did she refuse, but she now took a picture of their license plate. As she then realized that their Escalade could trample her tiny Corolla, she backed down and backed out.
As her final departure from the madness, she got back out of her car one last time and screamed “Hey Baby”. I couldn’t see, as my line of sight was blocked by the hood of the car. But Matt surely got an eyeful. . . of one. . . fifty. . . year. . . old. . . breast.
There are no words. While, I’m fairly certain she doesn’t write for the Daily News, she should be in sales. You can be certain that I will be purchasing my copy tomorrow.
Security
I just finished my tax return. I finally jumped into the computer age and used Turbo Tax. I never found taxes extremely difficult, and actually like the challenge. But I received a free trial of the software this year and was actually excited to learn just how many deductions were available that I never knew about. YAY!
I had finished up and was already dreaming of ways to spend this new found money; unfortunately, credit card bills kept getting in the way. Despite that, I was ready to click "send" and see how quickly I could receive my return. When I went to pay for the software so that it would send my new calculations to the IRS--that's the hook with the free trial--it said that my card was expired.
Sure enough, I have exactly three days until my card is expired, but the system defaulted to the beginning of the month rather than the end. In a panic, I telephoned American Express and asked what could have happened. Apparently, I received a new card in December. News to me! What worries me is that the same thing happened with MasterCard, a card I never use. Had I not needed to use it for my annual spend-to-keep-it-open ritual, it would have been months before I realized it was missing.
In both instances, the address was correct. My only assumption is that the cards came sheathed in the same overly decorative envelopes usually used for new credit offers. I am sure to rip them up and throw each half away into trash cans emptied at different intervals. This would prevent application without it being through me, as it is only possible to have one half of the paperwork at any time. If I ripped, and the card(s) were on one half of the envelope, I was never the wiser.
I was recently the victim of identity theft. My credit was not affected, but someone used my information to rack up over $875 in online gambling debt that I now have to defend against. While this amount is significant, it is small when considering what could have been.
I usually blog to gripe about the world's latest oddities and idiosyncrasies. Today, let this be a warning to me and to all of you to be more diligent in protecting your identity. Shred your documents. Check your finances regularly. Monitor your credit. When you buy Turbo Tax, you actually get a free yearly subscription of credit monitoring. I highly recommend it. For your free credit report, provided as a government mandate from the three major credit bureaus each year, visit www.freecreditreport.com. You'll be glad you did.
I had finished up and was already dreaming of ways to spend this new found money; unfortunately, credit card bills kept getting in the way. Despite that, I was ready to click "send" and see how quickly I could receive my return. When I went to pay for the software so that it would send my new calculations to the IRS--that's the hook with the free trial--it said that my card was expired.
Sure enough, I have exactly three days until my card is expired, but the system defaulted to the beginning of the month rather than the end. In a panic, I telephoned American Express and asked what could have happened. Apparently, I received a new card in December. News to me! What worries me is that the same thing happened with MasterCard, a card I never use. Had I not needed to use it for my annual spend-to-keep-it-open ritual, it would have been months before I realized it was missing.
In both instances, the address was correct. My only assumption is that the cards came sheathed in the same overly decorative envelopes usually used for new credit offers. I am sure to rip them up and throw each half away into trash cans emptied at different intervals. This would prevent application without it being through me, as it is only possible to have one half of the paperwork at any time. If I ripped, and the card(s) were on one half of the envelope, I was never the wiser.
I was recently the victim of identity theft. My credit was not affected, but someone used my information to rack up over $875 in online gambling debt that I now have to defend against. While this amount is significant, it is small when considering what could have been.
I usually blog to gripe about the world's latest oddities and idiosyncrasies. Today, let this be a warning to me and to all of you to be more diligent in protecting your identity. Shred your documents. Check your finances regularly. Monitor your credit. When you buy Turbo Tax, you actually get a free yearly subscription of credit monitoring. I highly recommend it. For your free credit report, provided as a government mandate from the three major credit bureaus each year, visit www.freecreditreport.com. You'll be glad you did.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Even DuBois would be Better
I was watching TV last night and saw two commercials back to back, and had to comment on both.
I tried finding the first one online but could not. If I eventually find it, I'll update you all. It is for the Pennsylvania Lottery. It features Gus, "Pennsylvania's Second Most Famous Groundhog"--why any state needs more than one is beyond me, but heck it put Punxatawny on the map--as the main lottery spokes puppet. Gus, although cute, is about as technically sophsiticated as 1980's-era animatronics can get. Too bad its 2007. What really bothers me though, is that he plays a superhero watching over the people of a city as they prepare for the day by purchasing lottery tickets. The problem is that the city he is watching over is New York; you can see Times Square in the background. What ever happened to showing a Pennsylvania city in a Pennsylvania commercial? I hear Philadelphia and Pittsburgh both have tall buildings within urban landscapes. Heck, even Harrisburg, Allentown, Erie, or Scranton--now famous thanks to NBC's The Office--would be better. Can I get a cheer for Ephrata? Williamsport? Jim Thorpe?
This commercial was immediately followed by one for a local radio station. Wired 96.5 is one of the top 40 stations in the Philadelphia Market. A few months back, Chio (what the hell kind of name is that) was DJ for a different top 40 station. He was the annoying DJ I spoke of previously. Now that he has moved on, the marketing push to convert listeners has been begun. They feature him in a cheesy commercial where he does a show with sparklers, wears a dumb beret, and defaults to Beyonce every second. Its bad, but it is about par for local TV. What bothers me is him actually. He has a face truly made for radio. . .
Or made for a cartoon.
I tried finding the first one online but could not. If I eventually find it, I'll update you all. It is for the Pennsylvania Lottery. It features Gus, "Pennsylvania's Second Most Famous Groundhog"--why any state needs more than one is beyond me, but heck it put Punxatawny on the map--as the main lottery spokes puppet. Gus, although cute, is about as technically sophsiticated as 1980's-era animatronics can get. Too bad its 2007. What really bothers me though, is that he plays a superhero watching over the people of a city as they prepare for the day by purchasing lottery tickets. The problem is that the city he is watching over is New York; you can see Times Square in the background. What ever happened to showing a Pennsylvania city in a Pennsylvania commercial? I hear Philadelphia and Pittsburgh both have tall buildings within urban landscapes. Heck, even Harrisburg, Allentown, Erie, or Scranton--now famous thanks to NBC's The Office--would be better. Can I get a cheer for Ephrata? Williamsport? Jim Thorpe?
This commercial was immediately followed by one for a local radio station. Wired 96.5 is one of the top 40 stations in the Philadelphia Market. A few months back, Chio (what the hell kind of name is that) was DJ for a different top 40 station. He was the annoying DJ I spoke of previously. Now that he has moved on, the marketing push to convert listeners has been begun. They feature him in a cheesy commercial where he does a show with sparklers, wears a dumb beret, and defaults to Beyonce every second. Its bad, but it is about par for local TV. What bothers me is him actually. He has a face truly made for radio. . .
Or made for a cartoon.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Happy New Year!
I know. It has been. . . oh. . . 6 months since I've last posted. My apologies.
One of my new year's resolutions is to get back into it. It should hopefully work; it isn't painful like the gym or anything.
So to summarize the last few months. . .
July:
I stopped blogging around the same time I stopped commuting to the city. Coincidence? Totally. I went from a relaxing 40-minute train ride to a hellish 35-minute drive to my new workplace. . . 5 miles from home. No longer was it easy for me to think of good topics by reading the useless drivel that is the free Metro paper on SEPTA trains. Now I had annoying DJ's keeping me company each morning while I looked around at make-up artists, fine diners, entertainers, and other countless car-based professions on the parking lot that is main street.
I also joined a gym in July. Six months of mostly-religious attendance and I notice nothing. I'm still skinny and emaciated, but my boobies bounce now when I do steps. That's good for women, but what about men?
August:
I was pleasantly surprised by a new morning DJ with an annoyance factor only half of what there used to be.
I was now comfortably established at my 8-5 home too. For background, my new boss is /was actually my old boss from the previous gig. She jumped ship and I followed a year later.
I also began grad school in August. My first class was the deplorable, abhorable statistics--bane of my undergrad existence. By class #2 I knew I was a goner.
September:
BBQ season may have been nearing its end by this point, but for me and my new grill, it was still going strong. You'll be happy to know that it is now stored for the winter--despite the fact that this is the most-awesomely warm winter yet.
October:
I vacationed to San Francisco (with side trips to Reno and Napa Valley) with Matt. He used to live there and knows all the cool haunts. I loved it and have many great pictures that will some day be shared somewhere other than in my camera's memory stick (are we sensing a theme when it comes to my stick-to-it-iveness?).
I took my first business trip with the new company. There is nothing like going to Miami and being woken up by the sun as it pours in through the 19th-story window of your water-front hotel. Unless of course you are woken up at 6:30 AM after having gone to bed at 2:00 (from working-alas not partying) and suffering a California-Florida red eye the night prior. But I survived.
I was so inspired by the beauty and culture of San Francisco. I loved it. In homage, I became a lesbian later that month. But only for a day--the 31st. Most people loved the joke, except for this one really drunk guy who actually thought I was a 6'-tall amazonian woman. Dude. . . Seriously? But the best quote of the night was some girl on 2nd Street who said to her friends, "Dude, they're lesbians. . . that's awesome". I actually think she may have been one too, in which case my reason for life is fulfilled. For those curious. . . I'm the red-head.
November:
Nothing exciting happened this month at all. . . Unless you count the painful finger crunch of Thanksgiving. I blame Ford for manufacturing a stupid sliding door mechanism. I blame myself for getting defeated by said sliding door mechanism. I blame my father for almost driving off with me still attached to the car. I thank and simultaneously apologize to the woman in the car next to us who helped stop my father, rescue me, and tolerate my falsetto screams. God, I am such a girl!
December:
It was cold. . . for like 3 days. . . and then it wasn't cold anymore. I rejoiced. Then it all happened again. Now it is warm again, and I am rejoicing.
I decorated for Christmas--really early. I finally have a tree that looks like a tree. My former roommate recalls the year that I won a plethora of Bud-Light / NHL-themed key chains and used those on our tree. I'm glad I've progressed since then. Now if only I could convince my family that one dozen penguin ornaments are sufficient and 5 dozen is scary, I'd be set.
I finished my statistics class. I rejoiced. I learned of my B+ and REALLY rejoiced.
I also had a party: The 2nd-Annual Krazy Kookie Time (don't ask about the spelling. . . a moment of pure insanity during the planning of the 1st-Annual Krazy Kookie Time--who am I to mess with tradition?). Everyone brings a few dozen cookies of one type and everyone goes home with several dozen in an assortment. We had wine. . . lots of wine. We'll just say that I started the night with 5 bottles, threw out 7 empties, and now own 10. That sounds like Enron Math to me, but its fun.
I had quality time with the family, as do most this time of year. I know I'm exactly like both of my parents. I have my mom's creativity, independence, and wit. I have my dad's stubbornness, fear of decision-making, and penny-pinching miserly-ness. Perhaps my parents' divorce was based on the fact that these traits do not get along overly well, possibly illustrating why I am so conflicted. But we'll go into the family stuff later. I have SO much on just that alone. I'll just say--we're never going to Cold Stone Creamery ever again.
Lastly, New Years Eve. None of it will go into print for fear of the waves of repercussions that could go on forever.
January:
Its January 2nd. Be patient! I'm hoping to add a few of these. Thanks for coming back though to read!
One of my new year's resolutions is to get back into it. It should hopefully work; it isn't painful like the gym or anything.
So to summarize the last few months. . .
July:
I stopped blogging around the same time I stopped commuting to the city. Coincidence? Totally. I went from a relaxing 40-minute train ride to a hellish 35-minute drive to my new workplace. . . 5 miles from home. No longer was it easy for me to think of good topics by reading the useless drivel that is the free Metro paper on SEPTA trains. Now I had annoying DJ's keeping me company each morning while I looked around at make-up artists, fine diners, entertainers, and other countless car-based professions on the parking lot that is main street.
I also joined a gym in July. Six months of mostly-religious attendance and I notice nothing. I'm still skinny and emaciated, but my boobies bounce now when I do steps. That's good for women, but what about men?
August:
I was pleasantly surprised by a new morning DJ with an annoyance factor only half of what there used to be.
I was now comfortably established at my 8-5 home too. For background, my new boss is /was actually my old boss from the previous gig. She jumped ship and I followed a year later.
I also began grad school in August. My first class was the deplorable, abhorable statistics--bane of my undergrad existence. By class #2 I knew I was a goner.
September:
BBQ season may have been nearing its end by this point, but for me and my new grill, it was still going strong. You'll be happy to know that it is now stored for the winter--despite the fact that this is the most-awesomely warm winter yet.
October:
I vacationed to San Francisco (with side trips to Reno and Napa Valley) with Matt. He used to live there and knows all the cool haunts. I loved it and have many great pictures that will some day be shared somewhere other than in my camera's memory stick (are we sensing a theme when it comes to my stick-to-it-iveness?).
I took my first business trip with the new company. There is nothing like going to Miami and being woken up by the sun as it pours in through the 19th-story window of your water-front hotel. Unless of course you are woken up at 6:30 AM after having gone to bed at 2:00 (from working-alas not partying) and suffering a California-Florida red eye the night prior. But I survived.
I was so inspired by the beauty and culture of San Francisco. I loved it. In homage, I became a lesbian later that month. But only for a day--the 31st. Most people loved the joke, except for this one really drunk guy who actually thought I was a 6'-tall amazonian woman. Dude. . . Seriously? But the best quote of the night was some girl on 2nd Street who said to her friends, "Dude, they're lesbians. . . that's awesome". I actually think she may have been one too, in which case my reason for life is fulfilled. For those curious. . . I'm the red-head.
November:
Nothing exciting happened this month at all. . . Unless you count the painful finger crunch of Thanksgiving. I blame Ford for manufacturing a stupid sliding door mechanism. I blame myself for getting defeated by said sliding door mechanism. I blame my father for almost driving off with me still attached to the car. I thank and simultaneously apologize to the woman in the car next to us who helped stop my father, rescue me, and tolerate my falsetto screams. God, I am such a girl!
December:
It was cold. . . for like 3 days. . . and then it wasn't cold anymore. I rejoiced. Then it all happened again. Now it is warm again, and I am rejoicing.
I decorated for Christmas--really early. I finally have a tree that looks like a tree. My former roommate recalls the year that I won a plethora of Bud-Light / NHL-themed key chains and used those on our tree. I'm glad I've progressed since then. Now if only I could convince my family that one dozen penguin ornaments are sufficient and 5 dozen is scary, I'd be set.
I finished my statistics class. I rejoiced. I learned of my B+ and REALLY rejoiced.
I also had a party: The 2nd-Annual Krazy Kookie Time (don't ask about the spelling. . . a moment of pure insanity during the planning of the 1st-Annual Krazy Kookie Time--who am I to mess with tradition?). Everyone brings a few dozen cookies of one type and everyone goes home with several dozen in an assortment. We had wine. . . lots of wine. We'll just say that I started the night with 5 bottles, threw out 7 empties, and now own 10. That sounds like Enron Math to me, but its fun.
I had quality time with the family, as do most this time of year. I know I'm exactly like both of my parents. I have my mom's creativity, independence, and wit. I have my dad's stubbornness, fear of decision-making, and penny-pinching miserly-ness. Perhaps my parents' divorce was based on the fact that these traits do not get along overly well, possibly illustrating why I am so conflicted. But we'll go into the family stuff later. I have SO much on just that alone. I'll just say--we're never going to Cold Stone Creamery ever again.
Lastly, New Years Eve. None of it will go into print for fear of the waves of repercussions that could go on forever.
January:
Its January 2nd. Be patient! I'm hoping to add a few of these. Thanks for coming back though to read!
