If You've Ever Called For Technical Support

Readers Digest has a segment called "____ Things Your _______ Knows And Won't Tell You" How it works is they interview a bunch of people from a specific profession, such as Doctors, Pharmacists, Mechanics and Beauticians-and they ask them what they would tell their customer/patient, but can't….or sometimes they even come up with a secret that you should never know. 

I thought I would have a go at this and this is my findings:


"10 Things Your Tech Support Knows and Won't Tell You"

1. HAVE YOUR MODEL NUMBER READY BEFORE YOU CALL!!! The model number for your computer/TV/washing machine etc is almost always ON the unit. Do your homework. Look at the front cover of your owner's manual. Don't call from your car for "quick technical support" without your model number. We have sometimes HUNDREDS of very different models of our products. We're not mind readers and can't just tell you what to do to fix your problem if we don't know which one you have. If you don't have it, don't call! Period!


2. Use a cordless phone or a cell phone. More than likely, we're going to make you unplug things or try some troubleshooting techniques which are almost impossible to do efficiently if you have to keep putting the phone down to cross the room to do it. Worse yet…please don't call about your TV that is downstairs while you are upstairs on a corded phone. Quite often we have to walk you through a process and we can't do that if we can't talk to you.


3. If you have a real hard time getting around, (for example -a senior citizen or in a wheel chair) please wait to call us when you have a family member or friend to help you. This isn't meant to be mean, but we are probably going to have you crawl behind the equipment you are calling about. If you can't get up and down easily or move a big TV or a computer desk…please for your own safety, wait until you have help.


4. Most of our jobs depend on how long we are on the phone per call. So no, I don't have time to wait until you watch an entire DVD to make sure it's not skipping. I can't sit on the phone for 45 minutes while you wait until your laundry load completes. If we got your equipment back up and running, please let us go. You can always call us back if you continue having problems.


5. If your problem is involved, please expect to wait at least 24 hours before speaking with someone who is able to help you. If you request to speak with a supervisor, you will have a 50/50 chance of getting transferred to one. The other half should expect to get a call back…probably tomorrow or the next day. I'm sorry. It's not my fault. I was hired to handle customer service and simple Technical problems.


6. I didn't MAKE your TV/Computer…..I did not SELL you the unit. Yelling at me is just stupid! I'm here to HELP YOU!!! I DO understand your frustrations! You're not the only one that has paid good money and had it break down. I have…the person sitting next to me has…the person sitting next to YOU has. I don't feel sorry for you, but I am sorry this has happened to you. Don't take it out on me.


7. If you're hooking our product up to another manufacturers product (IE: My companies DVD Player to another company's TV) don't be upset if I'm not familiar with their product. I went through training for OUR products. I will do my best, but you may just have to make another phone call.


8. If you feel we should replace your TV/computer/Microwave because it's still under warranty, you have to realize that we have certain legal procedures to follow first, such as having the unit serviced or replacing the part that has gone bad. This takes time. (And yelling at me won't make that time go any faster-I promise)


9. Please don't call us for help if you're not willing to do what we suggest. There are reasons we have you do these things. I know you're frustrated, but you took the time to call me, so it doesn't make sense to not try what we're asking you to do.


10. 9 times out of 10, your problem can be located in your Owner's Manual. Also, those same 9 times out of 10, we are helping you by looking at a copy of the exact same Owner's Manual that you have.

Your Mama Is Sooooo Fat....

This is another import.  Please enjoy my humility!  Don't forget to comment and Follow me!  xoxoxoxo


All right. I've bitched and moaned about it for too long. I've gotten fat. (did too!) I'm sure it has NOTHING to do with the fact that I sit on the couch, my lap pink with heat from the laptop & drinking my SLUSHY PUNCH! Nah, sitting on the computer and drinking alcohol…totally unrelated. (is too!)

My mother in law took me shopping for a dress to wear to the brother in laws wedding. I shopped with mother in law and future sister in law. I literally tried on more dresses to GO to the wedding than wedding dresses the future sister in law tried on! I have gained approximately 40 lbs in the last 2 years-and most of that 40 lbs, I gained in a very short period. (I'm wondering if the weight gain is contributing to my illness or vise-versa. )

I started picking out dresses and it didn't take long for me to get depressed. We're grabbing dresses in sizes that were bigger than I wore just 2 years ago. THEN, to make matters worse, I am posing for my audience and they are saying things like "Not that dress….we can see your rolls" and "Not that dress…you look like a sausage." But the worst thing they said…and they said it over and over and over yesterday- "I like that dress, lets try it in a bigger size!" WHAT?!?!?! Excuse me! I AM in a bigger size! FOUR sizes bigger to be exact-I do NOT want to go FIVE sizes bigger.

Anyway, I was in the dressing room at a store in Woodfield Mall, and I am trying on dress after dress after dress. I'm wearing only a thong to try on dresses. Since each dress required different undergarments, I decided to go without a bra. We all do it. We girls do what we gotta do to
A) get the dress to look as good as you can with price tags, pins and anti-theft buttons or tags hanging off of necklines or armpits and
B) save time….when you are trying on lots of outfits, you want to streamline things to make the most of your time.
So-I tried on this dress-well, maybe not-so-much "TRIED ON" as I was TRYING to get into the fuggin' thing. I was getting irritated and hot and I was already depressed so this was really becoming a challenge. So I gave up. "F*ck This!" I muttered under my breath. I didn't pick out this dress so I was NOT going to bust my ass to get into this fugging thing. Then it happened. The thing that devastated me beyond belief. The thing that is gave me nightmares last night. The thing that really smacked me in the face and made me realize that I'm not going to get thinner and healthy by just wishing it to be. The thing that happened was this:

I got stuck.

In the dress.

I GOT FREAKING STUCK IN THE M'ER EFFING DRESS AND COULD NOT GET OUT!

It was over my head and my arms were all twisted-one was behind my head and the other was where my OTHER arm should have been. Now, I was already hot and irritated so you can only imagine how THIS was working out for me. Had this not been the most expensive dress I had tried on all day, I would have just ripped the fugger and moved on, but it cost more than MY wedding dress so I did the only thing I could do.

I cried for help.

So my mother in law and future sister in law came in to the dressing room and saw me there-my ass hanging out for all to see, black and wine colored dress twisted and tangled over my head, my boobs flopping there (which by the way-my "boobs" have gotten HUGE with the weight gain…in a cute top-they are fun to show off….but just hanging there like that-they are officially in the "jugs" category and neither one of the ladies in there with me have "boobs" let alone "jugs" so I kept getting shit all day for trying on dresses that showed of the "girls"…I CAN'T HELP IT!)

I was humiliated. I grabbed a dress that they approved of and announced that I was done being their Barbie Doll. We picked out accessories and called it a day.

I want to add that they never knew how irritated and humiliated I got during the day. I didn't want to appear ungrateful to my mother in law who was footing the bill for this shopping spree and I did not want to come off as some Diva throwing a temper tantrum because things weren't going my way.

I was not going to mention this to anyone, but I spill everything here so I figured "why not"

I'm going to start exercising more, cut back on my soda (I drink way too much Pepsi) and cut back on my SLUSHY PUNCH (That one is going to be hard!) I'm going to do it. I'm going to lose 20lbs for the wedding (in March) and I AM going to lose the entire 40lbs by summertime.

I will do it!

You Can't Handle The Truth!!!

While I put together Halloween Pics, I thought I would import another oldie but goodie...Have you ever been accused of something you didn't do?

It's funny. Not Ha, Ha funny. Just funny. Things that occur to you in the past that you carry with you over time. 

I was in the 1st grade. My teacher was Mrs. Shanks. 1st grade was fun. I felt so grown up! No more colored tables in the kindergarten class. We had real DESKS! We had lunch at school! This was a big deal for me! I loved it!

Until….

If you were going to have hot lunch, you could either by a one-day lunch ticket or a 10-day punch card. You had to buy them between the before school recess and when class started. On this particular day, I was in line for my one-day ticket. I was behind Louis and in front of Jimmy Garcia. When it was Louis's turn, a little girl named *** came in a returned a ticket. Turned out she only paid for one, but had gotten 2. She took it back to the classroom where she wrote her name on the back of each ticket. I don't know if her conscious got the best of her or what, but she erased her name off one ticket and returned it. Louis bought a 10-day punch card and then I asked for a one-day ticket. The secretary gave me ***'s newly returned ticket. No big deal, right? Why rip off another ticket off the wheel o' tickets when there was one ticket pre-ripped?

I went to my class and wrote my name on the back-over where ***'s name had once been (all right…her name was still pretty much on there…if you have kids, or if you remember those big fat pencils and how they don't erase for crap!) I turned my ticket in to Mrs. Shanks. She saw my name over ***'s and asked me what happened. I told her EXACTLY what happened! *** and I were told to go sit in the hallway until someone could tell her what happened.

*** was pretty and blond and already destined to be the popular cheerleader that she became. Me? I was weird looking with brown hair. I was clumsy. I fell all the time and I cried when I was hurt. My feelings were very easily hurt, too-and when my feeling got hurt I cried. I was just that weird little girl that just wanted to fit in and I wanted
*** to be my friend.

But that day,*** was pissed at me for her inconvenience. "Just tell them that you took it so we can go back!" She ordered. "But I didn't!" I cried. So we were at an impasse. We stayed in that hallway until recess. Mrs. Shanks came out and informed me that I was to go to the principal's office. ***, on the other hand would be going out to play.

I had to go to the principal's office. In 1st grade. I was a "bad kid."

I told him my story. He called *** in. She didn't know "ANYTHING!" He called Louis and Jimmy in…. neither one of them paid any attention. (Boys are dumb!) He spoke with the secretary who said, "I never saw DeeBop come in at all today." WHAT?!?!? She was the one that told me it was okay to write my name over ***'s!!!!!

I spent the rest of the day in the office crying my ugly eyes out of my weird looking head.

MY MOM WAS PISSED when I got home and told her. We jumped right in her car and drove back to the school. FINALLY! Someone believes me. (Well, sorta. She did ask me a couple times-"are you SURE you bought the ticket?" And now as a parent, I understand. She was about to go bust some balls and would hate to look like a lunatic if in the end I confessed to stealing…)

Long story short…. My mom was a reporter for the newspaper and she had done a not-so-nice article on a certain public official. Turns out, this public official is NOT a good person. It also turns out that his mother is my schools secretary and she had a beef with my mom.

I received an apology from her, Mrs. Shanks and the principal that day.

About 13 years later, I got one from ***. She told me that she was afraid that she would get in trouble for ALMOST stealing the ticket. She understands now that she would not have, but at 6 years of age, she thought she would get the death chair.

It was not a good feeling knowing that you were accused of stealing and lying when you totally were not. 

Dirty Secret Sunday

I bite all the white tips off the candy corn and throw the rest away

Open Letter To My Body

*this is a repost. I was talking to one of my girls today and we were talking about this...* 

Dear Face…you do not need to have food shoved in you 24/7…you never used to require this and you survived then…you will survive now. Stop it!

Dear Tongue and Mouth…Stop watering at the mere MENTION of food. Seriously. Stop. You’re making the rest of us look “special” (and not the “special” kind of “special” that my mom used to say that I was!)

Dear Stomach…I swear to God that I will rip you out with my bare hands the next time you so much as purr. No purring, no growling, no bloop-bloop noises…NOTHING! They say your stomach shrinks when you don’t eat so much, well, stomach-my friend…you have surely grown in the past 5 months. I suspect you’re the size of a 2 year old since you require so much more food in order to shut you the hell up. Stop it.

Dear Abs…I know and I’m sorry. The search and rescue has ended. I’m sorry. We cannot find you. You were there the last time I looked and then one day you were gone. It’s kind of like a “Deep End Of The Ocean” thing. Now I know how Michelle Pfeiffer felt. So sad. (Do I smell popcorn?)

Dear Boobs...Way to just HANG there. Come on! Up and at 'em! I'm so disappointed in you girls!

Dear Upper-Arms…I GET IT! I saw you waving the FIRST time!!! You don’t need to beat a dead horse. I get it! You can flap back and forth all you want…I’m not looking anymore and quite frankly, I refuse to show you off anymore. I’m going to always hide you under long sleeves. How do you like THEM apples?

Dear Feet…What the hell? Why have you turned on me? Is it because of the extra pressure? (No pun intended!) How do you think I feel? Is that any reason for you to suddenly and without warning start going all sweaty-all the time? And how do you manage keeping them COLD???? Cold AND sweaty…nice. NOT! Stop it!

Dear Eyes…Can you just wait 5 minutes? I promise I am going to go to the eye doctor VERY soon. And what the crap is up with those lines around you...are you squinting too much or are tiny little face elves digging trenches around you? Either way, make it stop!

Dear Liver…Just suck it up for a bit longer.

To the rest of my body,

I know you know that I am going through a lot right now seeing as how you’ve gone through all of it with me. That being said, I don’t understand why you have chosen this time to start going to hell on me. You just wait. As soon as my brain decides to side with me, I am kicking your ass! (By the way...Dear Ass…just because the chair is 20 inches wide does NOT mean you have to be! I don’t know where you have gotten your info, but it’s wrong!) I am going to piss off each and every one of you as soon as I get back in gear. Let this letter serve as your only warning because I won’t be telling you again. Just when you think we are going to McDonalds…we might be going to the “Y” and THEN you’ll know that the Sheriff is back in town. I will do it. So suck it.

My 1st Crush

I was 5. I was in Mrs. Wunch's Kindergarten class. There were four rectangular tables in the classroom and there were 6 kids at every table. Each table was a color. There was a Red table (which I wanted to sit at because red was MY favorite color, dang it!) a blue table, a green table and a yellow table. I sat at the yellow table. I hated yellow. Lisa from across the street from my house got to sit at the red table. Not fair! She always got the good stuff. The red table, the Barbie dream house…the big brother. (I was an "only" and was extremely jealous that she had someone to play with when I wasn't around.)

There was a red-headed boy at the blue table. He faced me and I got to stare at him all day-well, ½ a day because kindergartens back then was either morning or afternoon…not full days for us 5 year olds (which was fine with me! I got to go home and eat my lunch and watch BOZO!) I crushed HARD for that red-headed boy. I had never SEEN someone with such red hair. I have ugly brown hair. Lisa was a pretty blond. My grandma had red hair-but it came out of a bottle and faded quickly back to light brown. I'm pretty sure this boy didn't get his color out of a bottle. His name was Jason. He had freckles-like me. We were soul mates. We had to be, right?How could we not have been meant to meet, be boyfriend/girlfriend forever and get married and have tons of freckled face babies?

So one day, during free time, where we could do anything-color, draw on the chalkboard, play with clay…I decided it was time to make my move. I saw Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyson (such a dreamy name!) put on one of his dads old shirts on over his clothes-backwards. I totally knew what that meant! PAINTING! Red Hair, freckles, a name that whenever I said it would bring a giggle out of my mouth and now I see that he's artistic. Sigh. I go and grab MY dads shirt and ask him if he could button it up the back.

{crickets chirp}

I asked again.

{maybe he's just staring at me because he is just now realizing how beautiful I am! My mom tells me all the time so maybe, JUST MAYBE, he's falling in love with me right this second!}

Before I get a chance to tell him that he IS my boyfriend, and as such he has certain responsibilities -Mrs. Wunch comes up and spins me around so SHE can button me up the back. Sigh.

I paint a big heart and the words JASON *hearts* DEEBOP and I show it to him. What he does next will live with me in my heart of hearts forever. He walks up to me, puts his hands on my shoulders and KICKS ME in the shins before going to the sink to wash the paint off his hands.

I cried. It hurt. And my shin hurt too. I went home that day and cried in my mothers lap. (Years later she tells me that it was cute and funny and she laughed about it to all of her friends! Can you believe it?!? So rude! By the way…did I tell you about the dance my son went to a couple of months ago? Lol)

The next day I went to school and instructed Lisa to not leave my side all day. I didn't want to see Jason. He broke my heart. I loved him. We were supposed to get married and have babies!!! Recess before school started was good-Lisa played 2 square with me. (Can it really be called "recess" if it's BEFORE anything starts?) We go to our classroom and take our pencil cases out of our cubbies. I open mine and-hello? What's this? There is the most BEAUTIFUL bracelet in my case. (It was ugly!) It was PURE GOLD! (It cost 10 cents from a gumball machine) I looked at Jason and he smiled. My broken heart was mended and the wedding is back on! I think I swooned all day.

At recess he told me that the bracelet belonged to his mom and he wanted me to have it. I was in LOVE!!!! I ran into the house to show my mom as soon as I got home. I explained that it was "an hair-loomb" (yeah, kids are dumb) and she told me it was beautiful and we wrote in my school scrapbook that I officially had a boyfriend!Finally! I'm almost SIX, by now-for crying out loud!

I don't know if it was weeks, or months…it could have been DAYS for all I know-Jason broke up with me. He gave "an hair-loomb" to Selena from the green table. A ring this time.

The wedding is off and I am crushed.

Update:

Did you ever see that Jerry Springer episode where the 1,000 pound man had to be CUT OUT of his home so he could go to hospital? I'm not saying it was Jason…. but wouldn't that have been nice? They say Selena moved away, but I like to believe that Jason smothered her with BBQ sauce and ate her-ala Jaba The Hut!

Oh, and by the way...Yellow is my favorite color and has been for years! :)

It’s going to end soon and then she’ll start rubbing and kneading like all the other girls

So I got a free chair massage today at my local Wal*Mart.  Don't ask me WHY they were rubbing down everyone  in town for free...I heard FREE MASSAGE and I forgot everything I was supposed to get.  Sure, they could have  been college students working on some clinical time...Or perhaps they were lonely and wanted to make friends.   Maybe, just maybe, they realized what I've known for a long time...People in my town are knotted up SOB's and  need to relax a bit! Anyhoo...I'm waiting my turn watching them Massage therapists rub down the people before me.  I'm looking at  them like (I would imagine) "FAT BASTARD" (from Austin Powers) would look at Vern Troyer covered in chocolate  cake batter.  I'm feeling better already-just in anticipation of my massage.  It looked wonderful, relaxing and just  plain awesome. Yeah, not so much. My lady beat the CRAP out of me!  Holy hell!  Friggin' OW!  She beat me like she was trying to tenderize a pot  roast!  Nothing felt better than when she STOPPED touching me! Now, you're probably asking yourself "Why didn't you stop her?"  Yeah, that's a good question-you know, what  with hindsight being 20/20 (or some crap like that)  I didn't stop her, because I kept thinking "It's going to end  soon and then she'll start rubbing and kneading like all the other girls." But no.  She beat me up, gave me the international sign for "your massage is done"  (you know, the THREE back  pats that you give someone when you've gotten tired of rubbing and now you're finished) and sent me on my way  with a tear in my eye and a weird mark on my face from the massage chair. So now its 7 hours later and I'm propped up on my sofa, with pillows and a heating pad.  Pain pills are not too  far behind. In other news...I'm out of wine.