Snake Oil

Back in the day, merchants used to set up their carts and peddle the cure all that cures all ailments. This practice has not stopped. Add scientific language to it and the following sounds both healthy and delectable:


Buy Copernicum. Known to aid with everything, particularly popsiculitis. From the makers of BS Inc.

Outsourced

Just as I thought I was "winning", they keep calling me back...

Local time: 9:30 pm

"Jennifer": May I speak to Racnaroth Cryptopeles?
Me: Who?
Jennifer: *giggles* Am I pronouncing that correctly?
Me: Sure, if you're looking for Racnaroth Cryptopeles.
Jennifer: We need a moderate payment of 1.50.
Me: If I pay a "moderate" one dollar fifty you'll stop calling me?
Jennifer: *GIGGLES HYSTERICALLY* Noooooooooou!!! A payment of $150 is needed.
Me: You realize that I cancelled your services 3 months ago?
Jennifer: *typing*
Me: Where are you calling from?
Jennifer: St. Louis, Ohio.
Me: They moved St. Louis to Ohio? No wonder...
Jennifer: *click*

Sigh.

In Case Of Emergency: Find Your Blanket

An unexpected gift arrived. Someone out there had sent me a random act of kindness. I looked at the unassuming cardboard box, but did not recognize the sender. A company that was likely used to package and ship exotic chocolates, coffee or biscuits. Perhaps a technological gadget?

With childlike abandon and exuberance, I unboxed the contents. I dug through environmentally (un)friendly Styrofoam peanuts to discover....

A BLANKET! A blanket?!!?

Not just any blanket. A gender-neutral plaid fleece blanket, rolled up in its very own space-saving bag. Who would send me such a thoughtful gift of warmth?

There was a generic card extending its gratitude for my patronage sent by my insurance company, The Profiteers.

The subliminal message was clear:

Dear customer,
in appreciation for your loyalty please accept our gift made out of plastic, a byproduct of the oil industry. Speaking of the oil industry, while we no longer cover any acts of Man, we are pleased to inform you that in the event of flooding, loss of electricity or flying debris, you are fully covered. With a blanket.

This multipurpose blanket, when spread out, will likely attract your loved ones and your pets. In case of emergency, simply roll up your cats and sprint for your nearest door or window.

Always thinking of you and your loved ones during these climate challenged times. Please remember that as long as you have your blanket, you are not on your own.

With utmost indifference,
The Profiteers

The Truth In Fiction: Titans

By R. Leinweber

Tragedy befalls us all. No one escapes loss or death. Thankfully, over the course of a lifetime, tragedy does not occur on a regular basis. That is not what this post is about. This post is about the losses we have all experienced, some more than others. The losses that have slowly turned the majority of the world's population back into Davids. David's Goliath might have been no more than an unfortunate person with acromegaly; possibly being described as "larger than life". Metaphorically speaking, today's Goliaths are closer to the ancient Titans.

This is not the world I grew up in.  This is the world we have been warned about, particularly through fiction, one of the methods used to circumvent suppression of opinion and truth. It is sometimes difficult to separate fact from fiction, especially when the media employs the latter so readily.

I was too young when I read the prohibitive future envisioned by George Orwell in his novel 1984.  Too inexperienced to appreciate its meaning or understand the context.  The current list of "something is wrong" is long: mergers, dividends, recession, collapse, climate change, globalization, overpopulation, dumbification, newsspeak, technology that permits control, the illusion of freedom and choices, the future cost of cutting funding to sciences and the arts, profit margins and call centers.

Even George Orwell did not foresee the unimaginable evil of call centers.  Call centers that pay employees a dollar per day to accomplish one thing; keep your money, while wasting your time so that profit margins for lemons increase.

This is Kratos:

Kratos, for the uninitiated non-gamer, is the protagonist in the series God of War. The plot is very brief, the gratuitous violence is not. Kratos has been wronged by the Gods of Olympus and seeks revenge. On his journey to destroy Olympus, Kratos eliminates a number of monstrous nobodies and mythological creatures until he encounters the Titans.

This is Kratos fighting the Titan Cronos:

Right there. Between Cronos' fingernails is Kratos.

Actually, there is not much or any fighting when it comes to the Titans. Kratos spends most of his time with the Titans avoiding being blown away or squished. Orwell's Winston failed where Kratos succeeded:

1. YOU DO NOT TAKE ON THE TITANS.
2. You figure out the puzzle on how to get around them.
3. There is a metaphor here.

Fun With HQ At Ickyeah.

HQ and I made a decision that we had both been avoiding; a trip to the blue and yellow prison that asks its inmates to give back to society by assembling furniture. Storage items were needed, a list was drafted, maps and layouts were studied and an escape plan was hatched.

Ickyeah is doing well despite the economic situation, probably because it successfully traps customers for hours in its one-directional "you must walk through all sections before you are permitted to exit the premises" policy. Quite brilliant actually, because what they are selling is ugly and cheap.

HQ: Okay. We split up. I look for decorative laminated particleboard, while you look for functional laminated particleboard.

Me: Got it.

30 minutes after HQ's clever plan, I am wandering aimlessly in the children section pondering whether I can fit on the sculptural plastic rocking horse. HQ calls me.

HQ: Where are you?

Me: I am playing with a toy rabbit named Fijorgensnorf and am surrounded by freakishly tiny people. Get me out of here. Pleeeeaase.

HQ: Follow the yellow brick road blue arrows, get to the home organization area. I'll meet you there.

After an Ickyeah associate prevents me from going the "wrong way", [Seriously? I cannot go back the way I just came?], I finally get to where I am supposed to meet HQ, but cannot find her.  I try calling her, but Ickyeah is blocking my signal. Oxygen-deprived, I notice that I am pushing someone else's cart and left mine somewhere in the Ickyeah labyrinth. I am beginning to worry that I may never see HQ again, when I hear the following store-wide announcement:

"Antares, please come to the play area, your mom is looking for you."

Oh. No. She didn't!

"Antares, please come to the play area, your mom is looking for you."

Oh. Yes. She did!

After I trek through kitchens, bathrooms, the "restaurant", the Sahara and Sweden, I show up in the play area where parents get to abandon their children in a pool of colorful balls. I can see HQ cracking up when she sees what I am holding. Clutched tightly to my chest is a stuffed toy that looks like a broccoli mated successfully with an icecream cone.

*Childish grin*: "MOM! This is Smorjebijork, can I have him?"

The associate, who is standing next to her, is looking at me with a mix of confusion and horrified pity, HQ is doing her bathroom dance and I finally get to go home. After we scan our own purchases, we escape with candles (not on the list), pillows (also not on the list!) and crap items with more Umlauts than they produce in Sweden.

To be assembled...

Just When I Thought That Customer Service Could Not Get Any Worse, I Realize That I Was Naive.

We have all dealt with those mind-numbing situations that require the assistance of someone who is very courteous, yet spectacularly obtuse, because the thing [and it is a thing, one can insert anything into this space] we are paying for or have paid for is not in compliance with its purpose, ceased to function, kicked the bucket or simply put is broken.

Not only can it no longer be repaired, but as a valued customer you are expected to repair it yourself or haul the thing into the Distribution Deposit Decomposition Center, conveniently located in a different country. Alternatively, one is expected to pay for the replacement of the thing, because the repair person who has recently attempted aforementioned repair managed to destroy it beyond all recognition.

One is then asked to abandon reason, dignity and hope by contacting "customer service":

"Hello, someone was here to repair the thing and it is not working."

"The report from the tech says that the repair was completed."

"Unfortunately, it was not. The thing is not working. Could you send someone else?"

"The report says that the repair has been completed. Did you turn it on?"

You want me to do what? Turn it on? 
At this point I realize that persistence is futile. Time for escalation.
"Can I speak to your manager?"

"There is no manager here."

"You do not have a manager? Could you transfer me to the office?"

"There is no office."

Uummmm...

While waiting for the disclosure that I am an involuntary participant of a new reality show called "punk your customer" or a test subject, I re-examine the purpose of my existence, the passage of time and my life and ultimately decide that this is not the hill I want to die on.

"Ms. Wasteoftime, this was most enlightening, but I have to go since my cat Spawn is performing his annual poetry recital. He bites those who are late."

For 10 minutes of sheer wish fulfillment, I highly recommend that you watch the most elaborate prank pulled on a call center here 

Giga Bites You

Internet consumption has increased exponentially in the last couple of years.  We flocked to the interweb seeking entertainment and found a sliding scale of addiction. With a healthy dose of concern and indifference, I have been watching the industry giants acquiring and attempting to acquire each other. I wonder....

Google + Facebook = Glazed Look

Google + Twitter + Facebook = Gt Fcd

Microsoft + Nokia = Mocking Ya'

Skype + Microsoft Kinect = Skyne(c)t. Ha! I knew it!

Microsoft + Google + Facebook = ?