Yoda the Toyota and I have a new convert.
This morning Bus Driver, one of our bus drivers (duh), came blasting in here. (Which was a welcome change, since it's so stinkin quiet around here today.) Bus Driver is an older farmer who is retired, and two weeks ago he came in here in a big stink because he wanted to steal my car.
Serious.
He was gonna take the keys and take mine and leave me with his scary motorcycle, which looks like it shouldn't run at all. It's quite haphazard.
Bus Driver said he loved my car (which I'd just gotten) and that he wanted one super, super bad.
I told him he couldn't have mine, he'd have to get his own.
So Bus Driver comes in here, sun at his back so all I can see is a dark silhouette of a man flapping his arms, and says, "Look! I got me one too!"
I was a bit stymied as to who this guy was and what he was talking about, but I finally figured out that it was Bus Driver.
"Look out the window!" He was waving enthusiastically for me to come see what he was talking about.
I came over and saw a green Corolla parked two cars down from my silver one.
"I got it on Saturday," Bus Driver said proudly. "I just loved the way yours looked so much that I had to get one."
We talked cars for awhile (which was hard for me since I don't know anything about cars, I just made stuff up) and then he left in his new, shiny green car.
I could hear Yoda saying, from the parking lot, "Proud you have made me. A convert we have won!"
So all y'all go out and buy Corollas.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Let's Start a New Trend: Walmart Walking
My mind works in mysterious ways, I do not deny.
The other day when we were having a really huge storm out, I decided to go to Walmart to buy a weather radio, since we don't have a TV and it's kind of hard to know when it's safe to come out of the dungeon basement. (Poor Dad doesn't necesarily want to be checking the weather every 5 minutes for us, either.)
In any case, as soon as I got in Walmart (which, I might add, is my least favorite store of all) the storm got much, much worse. I began to wonder if the roof would blow off. I decided that since I was already inside, I might as well stay in there to die rather than to die by being blown off the road.
I began walking laps.
I know it is considered normal to be a mall walker, but as yet I haven't heard of Walmart walkers. Perhaps I'm the first one.
After my first lap, I began to be curious as to how many laps of the ginormous store it would take before I hit a mile. I figured somewhere around 10. Just to be sure, I called my dad. He thought 5.
One of us was probably wrong.
If I had been thinking, I'd have figured it out right then. But I didn't know how long my stride was, nor did I bother to count my steps in a lap.
This brings me to this evening.
I decided to go figure this out once and for all. I had my human calculator (Joey, of course) measure my stride. Turns out that it's only 2 feet, which is exceedingly disappointing. I thought normal people were supposed to have a 3 foot stride, but perhaps it's just because I'm short.
The total number of steps came out to be 360, which is roughly 720 feet. Dividing that into 5,280, we can, therefore, conclude that it's about 7.33 trips around Walmart to walk a mile.
I did all this math on my phone, just so you know, so if it's wrong I blame LG.
For those of you who are about to become Walmart walkers, I hope this information is helpful. I do wonder, though, how you intend to do a .33 lap of Walmart. That entails much more math than I'm willing to help you with...
The other day when we were having a really huge storm out, I decided to go to Walmart to buy a weather radio, since we don't have a TV and it's kind of hard to know when it's safe to come out of the dungeon basement. (Poor Dad doesn't necesarily want to be checking the weather every 5 minutes for us, either.)
In any case, as soon as I got in Walmart (which, I might add, is my least favorite store of all) the storm got much, much worse. I began to wonder if the roof would blow off. I decided that since I was already inside, I might as well stay in there to die rather than to die by being blown off the road.
I began walking laps.
I know it is considered normal to be a mall walker, but as yet I haven't heard of Walmart walkers. Perhaps I'm the first one.
After my first lap, I began to be curious as to how many laps of the ginormous store it would take before I hit a mile. I figured somewhere around 10. Just to be sure, I called my dad. He thought 5.
One of us was probably wrong.
If I had been thinking, I'd have figured it out right then. But I didn't know how long my stride was, nor did I bother to count my steps in a lap.
This brings me to this evening.
I decided to go figure this out once and for all. I had my human calculator (Joey, of course) measure my stride. Turns out that it's only 2 feet, which is exceedingly disappointing. I thought normal people were supposed to have a 3 foot stride, but perhaps it's just because I'm short.
The total number of steps came out to be 360, which is roughly 720 feet. Dividing that into 5,280, we can, therefore, conclude that it's about 7.33 trips around Walmart to walk a mile.
I did all this math on my phone, just so you know, so if it's wrong I blame LG.
For those of you who are about to become Walmart walkers, I hope this information is helpful. I do wonder, though, how you intend to do a .33 lap of Walmart. That entails much more math than I'm willing to help you with...
Monday, April 17, 2006
One Million Kisses
One day when Joey and I were driving to my parents' house, I got bored.
Generally I do not get bored, but sometimes in the car it does happen. So I decided I'd try to figure out something that had really, really been bothering me.
If someone was going to have a million kisses in their entire life, how many would they have to average every day?
Knowing, as some of you do, how bad I am at math I decided I needed to get out my calculator. So I turned to Joey and said, "Hey, how many kisses a day does it take to make a million in someone's life?"
Joey mumbled to himself for awhile.
"100," he said.
"HOLY COWS!!" I said, "100?! That's like....a LOT."
These figures are, of course, based on 25 years. If you intend to live for a really long time, you only have to get 55 a day in to hit your million.
By the way, all those parental kisses when you were little don't count. It only counts once you get married, so those of you little tricksy people who figure you'll go start tomorrow...think again.
I wonder if they'll make a kiss-o-meter (you know, like a pedometer?) to count them so people could know what they were up to. I dunno, it probably wouldn't sell.
Generally I do not get bored, but sometimes in the car it does happen. So I decided I'd try to figure out something that had really, really been bothering me.
If someone was going to have a million kisses in their entire life, how many would they have to average every day?
Knowing, as some of you do, how bad I am at math I decided I needed to get out my calculator. So I turned to Joey and said, "Hey, how many kisses a day does it take to make a million in someone's life?"
Joey mumbled to himself for awhile.
"100," he said.
"HOLY COWS!!" I said, "100?! That's like....a LOT."
These figures are, of course, based on 25 years. If you intend to live for a really long time, you only have to get 55 a day in to hit your million.
By the way, all those parental kisses when you were little don't count. It only counts once you get married, so those of you little tricksy people who figure you'll go start tomorrow...think again.
I wonder if they'll make a kiss-o-meter (you know, like a pedometer?) to count them so people could know what they were up to. I dunno, it probably wouldn't sell.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Acting like Adults is No Fun
For our 11 month anniversary we decided to do something cheaper than going on an actual date at a restautaunt or museum or something. So we went to Heritage Park and threw a Frisbee around (which, I might add, I'm not much better at than I was last year. The winter off didn't help much) and then went to take a walk.
We found that the bridge over the creek was flooded, so like the naughty little kids we are, we dragged a bunch of big rocks from the side of the creek bed and dammed up the water.
Since I was still wearing work clothes and had gotten them throughly soaked/grass stained/muddy from dragging said rocks hither and yon, we decided the best thing to do was to get our water shoes and come back and finish in the morning.
We did, of course.
I was so excited about playing beaver that I, much to Joey's chagrin, woke up at 7:30 the next morning which was, of course, Saturday.
He recovered from his sleepiness once he got his feet in the freezing water, and an hour later, we had successfully dragged enough rocks over to really tick off the guys in the Parks and Rec department, who eventually get to put t hem all back. We had also dammed up half of the water flowing over the bridge.
It was quite a proud moment. And yes, that is the bottom half of me in the background.I think it really ruins the ambience of the picture, don't you? 
We found that the bridge over the creek was flooded, so like the naughty little kids we are, we dragged a bunch of big rocks from the side of the creek bed and dammed up the water.
Since I was still wearing work clothes and had gotten them throughly soaked/grass stained/muddy from dragging said rocks hither and yon, we decided the best thing to do was to get our water shoes and come back and finish in the morning.
We did, of course.
I was so excited about playing beaver that I, much to Joey's chagrin, woke up at 7:30 the next morning which was, of course, Saturday.
He recovered from his sleepiness once he got his feet in the freezing water, and an hour later, we had successfully dragged enough rocks over to really tick off the guys in the Parks and Rec department, who eventually get to put t hem all back. We had also dammed up half of the water flowing over the bridge.
It was quite a proud moment. And yes, that is the bottom half of me in the background.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Parakeet Travels
Last night was CSI. I like CSI because I get to hang out with Jamie. Sometimes I take the kids because Jamie likes birds too. She asked me to bring them yesterday, so I happily acquiesed.
About 7:30 I stuffed the kids into their travel cage. They scuttled around and chee-cheed at each other; they hate being in small spaces like that. Hoping it wasn't too cold outside, I began my walk.
I shouldn't have worried, I think it was 80 degrees with about 75% humidity. It was quite warm and there was a nice breeze, which the birds tolerated very nicely.
We walked along at a nice pace, the birds having sensory overload at all the new sights, sounds, and smells. They particularly enjoyed the Robbins chirping in the trees, which I thought was very cute.
I suppose it's not considered "normal" to walk down 1st street carrying a cage with 2 parakeets in it, but then who said I was normal in the first place.
I got many strange looks from people in cars/motorcycles, and several people who really, really looked like they wanted to stop and figure out why the heck some girl was dragging a couple of tropical birds around.
Jamie's roommate, Brooke, is afraid of birds. Poor thing, I didn't know she was going to be there or I wouldn't have brought the kids along. She gets afraid when they fly--kind of reminds me of Mom.
Maybe next time I'll take them to Hy-Vee and see what happens. Naah, I'd probably get kicked out.
(Sorry guys, it's a slow news day. The birds will have to suffice!)
About 7:30 I stuffed the kids into their travel cage. They scuttled around and chee-cheed at each other; they hate being in small spaces like that. Hoping it wasn't too cold outside, I began my walk.
I shouldn't have worried, I think it was 80 degrees with about 75% humidity. It was quite warm and there was a nice breeze, which the birds tolerated very nicely.
We walked along at a nice pace, the birds having sensory overload at all the new sights, sounds, and smells. They particularly enjoyed the Robbins chirping in the trees, which I thought was very cute.
I suppose it's not considered "normal" to walk down 1st street carrying a cage with 2 parakeets in it, but then who said I was normal in the first place.
I got many strange looks from people in cars/motorcycles, and several people who really, really looked like they wanted to stop and figure out why the heck some girl was dragging a couple of tropical birds around.
Jamie's roommate, Brooke, is afraid of birds. Poor thing, I didn't know she was going to be there or I wouldn't have brought the kids along. She gets afraid when they fly--kind of reminds me of Mom.
Maybe next time I'll take them to Hy-Vee and see what happens. Naah, I'd probably get kicked out.
(Sorry guys, it's a slow news day. The birds will have to suffice!)
Thursday, April 13, 2006
I came home yesterday and Joey had the birds on the back porch. They were in their little travel cage, which is fine, but he said, "I'm going to go take them to run around on the grass!"
Oh boy.
So I went with him for crowd control. The birds actually enjoyed their experience, but were afraid of the grass. They don't like being poked in the face, I guess. The railroad tracks were their favorite. Aren't they cute?
Oh boy.
So I went with him for crowd control. The birds actually enjoyed their experience, but were afraid of the grass. They don't like being poked in the face, I guess. The railroad tracks were their favorite. Aren't they cute?
Monday, April 10, 2006
Poor, Poor Joey
What a day. It's is most definitely Monday.
I woke up at 5 and with the feeling that something wasn't right. It wasn't. First of all, I was awake at 5:00 and should have been sleeping, but second of all, only Bear and I were in my room. I thought, Hmm...I wonder what happened to Joey. I'll go try to find him and hopefully I won't scare him really bad like I did last time.
Last time I scared about 7 years off his life. I know now that it's a really bad idea to stand quietly directly outside the bathroom door, in the dark, at 3:45 in the morning "waiting my turn". It really scares Joey when he opens the door and sees a fuzzy something-or-other standing there.
But I digress.
This time I figured he was in the bathroom, so I stood off to the side over kinda by the kitchen so I couldn't be blamed for scaring another decade off his life.
I heard mysterious noises. It sounded like....teeth brushing. Oh no! I thought, That can only mean one thing.
Sure enough, the barf bug bit Joey sometime after 1am. Poor thing.
So I reset my alarm for 7, but wound up not sleeping for the next hour and a half. I felt too sorry for poor Joey, who had, by this time, worn a path in the carpet. So I grabbed a hoodie (with the hood most definitely up, to cover my bedhead) and headed off to HyVee.
I've never been to the grocery store before 7am, and I really don't care to do it again any time soon. Strange people in bright blue shirts are overly helpful and wind up coming across as overbearing and disturbing. I didn't care for the experience.
I was glad that I had a late meeting in Des Moines this morning, which got out early, so I could come back and check on poor Joey on the way up to work. Now I'm off in 8 minutes, so I should really stop writing.
I think Joey got the flu from our birds who, of course, have Bird Flu.
I woke up at 5 and with the feeling that something wasn't right. It wasn't. First of all, I was awake at 5:00 and should have been sleeping, but second of all, only Bear and I were in my room. I thought, Hmm...I wonder what happened to Joey. I'll go try to find him and hopefully I won't scare him really bad like I did last time.
Last time I scared about 7 years off his life. I know now that it's a really bad idea to stand quietly directly outside the bathroom door, in the dark, at 3:45 in the morning "waiting my turn". It really scares Joey when he opens the door and sees a fuzzy something-or-other standing there.
But I digress.
This time I figured he was in the bathroom, so I stood off to the side over kinda by the kitchen so I couldn't be blamed for scaring another decade off his life.
I heard mysterious noises. It sounded like....teeth brushing. Oh no! I thought, That can only mean one thing.
Sure enough, the barf bug bit Joey sometime after 1am. Poor thing.
So I reset my alarm for 7, but wound up not sleeping for the next hour and a half. I felt too sorry for poor Joey, who had, by this time, worn a path in the carpet. So I grabbed a hoodie (with the hood most definitely up, to cover my bedhead) and headed off to HyVee.
I've never been to the grocery store before 7am, and I really don't care to do it again any time soon. Strange people in bright blue shirts are overly helpful and wind up coming across as overbearing and disturbing. I didn't care for the experience.
I was glad that I had a late meeting in Des Moines this morning, which got out early, so I could come back and check on poor Joey on the way up to work. Now I'm off in 8 minutes, so I should really stop writing.
I think Joey got the flu from our birds who, of course, have Bird Flu.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Bird Flu!
I guess I'm on a birds theme.
I think our birds have the Bird Flu. Serious. Their white feathers on their heads are turning yellow, and I was reading on some site the symptons of Bird Flu. Here they are:
I think our birds have the Bird Flu. Serious. Their white feathers on their heads are turning yellow, and I was reading on some site the symptons of Bird Flu. Here they are:
- Irrational screaming at familiar objects
- Inability to eat seed without throwing most of it ground
- An insatiable appetite for Romaine lettuce, particularly that lettuce which has been thrown on the ground
- An unusual yellowing of the white-coloured features of the head
- Develops a propensity to try to escape captivity, particularly through screens
When I read those symptoms, my heart turned cold. Our Evil Birds have exhibited not simply ONE symptom, but ALL FIVE!!!
I feel I must explain.
We took out most of our Evil's toys so that they'd appreciate them more. We started putting them back in the cage several days later, but in different spots. Mr. Darcy cannot handle this. S/he runs up to the very familiar toy, screams at it while flapping her/his wings, and then runs away from it back to the "safe" perch.
Lately, the Evil Duo have been throwing seed on the ground by epic proportions. Then even go down there and EAT THE GOOD STUFF THROUGH THE BARS if it gets high enough! (The bottom of the cage is bars like the sides, and under the bars is a tray that's usually got newspaper in it...and that also fills up with seed that the Wasters throw down there.)
Every evening when I make our salads, I cut an extra piece of lettuce for the Tricksy Gnomes. They love baby Romaine lettuce best, but that's too expensive, so I just get regular Romaine. Anyway, that's not important. The Dingbats will immediately run down to the lettuce dish, fight over who gets to be closer, and then throw all the pieces of lettuce on the floor. Then they'll go down and eat them. They like it better if I get all the pieces they threw on the floor and put them back in the dish so they can throw them out again, but I rarely pamper them so.
Two days ago, Joey noticed that Whitebird's head was turning yellow. I scoffed at him. Yesterday, I noticed that not ONLY was Whitebird's head turning yellow, but so was Mr. Darcy's!!! This seems to be the most serious of all the symptoms, to me, and I think we'll have to report our birds to the place that takes Bird Flu information.
On Wednesday, we took the plastic off our windows because it was such a beautiful day. (Of course, it got back down to 30 two days later, but that's OK. We still had fresh air.) Whitebird, being the sinner that he is, decided that he wanted to escape from his loving parents. He flew, full speed ahead, to the open window, curtains fluttering in the breeze....and bonked into the screen. Whitebird was stunned, of course, and sat panting on the windowsill for a few moments. Then flew back to his cage where he proceeded to sulk for the rest of the evening.
So you see, I think our birds have Bird Flu.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Iowa Oddities
Seagulls, first of all, should not live in Iowa. There's no sea and I think that confuses the poor little things. Saylorville Lake does not qualify, in my mind, but for some reason, we have seagulls.
This morning, the poor things were really mixed up.
We've had quite a bit of rain lately and some of the fields have big wet patches in them. Now, granted, these wet spots can't be more than an inch or two deep, but they're definitely there.
As I'm driving to work this morning, I noticed something very, very odd.
I was driving past a nice, muddy field with several wet areas, and in the water stood about 25 seagulls. They were only in water up to the middle of their little bird-legs, but there they were, standing in it and thinking, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home". Who knows, maybe if they think hard enough, they'll get transported to an ocean somewhere.
I thought, Gosh, it's too bad those birds are so confused. I hope it's an isolated incident. Maybe they have Bird Flu?
As I came upon the next field, full of more, smaller water patches, I saw more confused gulls. As far as my eyes could see there was black dirt and small circles of white seagulls pretending an Iowa field pond was the sea.
Too bad they didn't remember they were about 5 miles from Saylorville Lake. I'd have told them, but I don't speak Bird too well.
At least my birds at home can't seem to understand me.
So anyway, I don't think it's Bird Flu, I think the seagulls just need therapy. Maybe we should invent a Seagull Therapy Buddy, what do you think Jamie? :)
This morning, the poor things were really mixed up.
We've had quite a bit of rain lately and some of the fields have big wet patches in them. Now, granted, these wet spots can't be more than an inch or two deep, but they're definitely there.
As I'm driving to work this morning, I noticed something very, very odd.
I was driving past a nice, muddy field with several wet areas, and in the water stood about 25 seagulls. They were only in water up to the middle of their little bird-legs, but there they were, standing in it and thinking, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home". Who knows, maybe if they think hard enough, they'll get transported to an ocean somewhere.
I thought, Gosh, it's too bad those birds are so confused. I hope it's an isolated incident. Maybe they have Bird Flu?
As I came upon the next field, full of more, smaller water patches, I saw more confused gulls. As far as my eyes could see there was black dirt and small circles of white seagulls pretending an Iowa field pond was the sea.
Too bad they didn't remember they were about 5 miles from Saylorville Lake. I'd have told them, but I don't speak Bird too well.
At least my birds at home can't seem to understand me.
So anyway, I don't think it's Bird Flu, I think the seagulls just need therapy. Maybe we should invent a Seagull Therapy Buddy, what do you think Jamie? :)
Monday, April 03, 2006
Nothing To Say
Happy Monday, everyone.
Today I typed competencies ALL DAY LONG. It's been really exciting. I'm almost done with Social Studies...except I have to transfer it all back over to another document because I hate stupid AutoFormat. Screws everything up.
The hightlight of my day was my TB test and "employment physical". I had to go to make sure that I'm alive and am, indeed, sane enough to hold a job in such a stressful environment. (Turns out I'm sane enough to work, isn't that grand?)
TB tests hurt. They burn and whatnot. I'd rather not ever have one again. If I really get TB from the amount they shot in me...I'm going to be hosed.
Well, an hour, a blood sample, 120 pills of an antibiotic, and who knows how much money later, I was on my merry way back to work. Turns out I have a "raging skin infection". Good thing I had to go to the doctor to make sure I was sane in order to find out about that!
Well, that's all. I have to get back to formatting.
Today I typed competencies ALL DAY LONG. It's been really exciting. I'm almost done with Social Studies...except I have to transfer it all back over to another document because I hate stupid AutoFormat. Screws everything up.
The hightlight of my day was my TB test and "employment physical". I had to go to make sure that I'm alive and am, indeed, sane enough to hold a job in such a stressful environment. (Turns out I'm sane enough to work, isn't that grand?)
TB tests hurt. They burn and whatnot. I'd rather not ever have one again. If I really get TB from the amount they shot in me...I'm going to be hosed.
Well, an hour, a blood sample, 120 pills of an antibiotic, and who knows how much money later, I was on my merry way back to work. Turns out I have a "raging skin infection". Good thing I had to go to the doctor to make sure I was sane in order to find out about that!
Well, that's all. I have to get back to formatting.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Always Think Before Speaking
I went on a walk after I finished cleaning my house. I saw several cool things, one weird thing, two disturbing things, and did one dumb thing.
The cool things were very cool. I saw a very plump robin and some guy that drove by and his licence plate had the last three letters of MEW. So, of course, I walked along saying, "mew, mew, mew" for awhile. Good thing no one was around to hear me.
The weird thing was that I saw an older lady (she was probably 70) wearing forest green gauchos, black nylons...and black ANKLE boots. She was really, really trying to be en vogue, but the nylons and ankle boots really tanked it for her.
The disturbing things were very disturbing. Some dumb guys in a Toyota yelled at me and honked, and I had even thought, "Oh, they're driving a Toyota. How nice for them." I guess not so nice. The other one was that I saw a little Shih-Tzu almost get run over by a big, black Dodge Dakota. I don't like those trucks anyway, but seriously. Watch the cool dog, buster.
And...the one dumb thing I did...
I was walking past this house and there was a rabid Chihuahua tied up outside. He saw me and started barking like he was insane, and barring his teeth at me. I said to him, rather loudly, "Good thing you're chained up, varmint."
Just as the owner came out and told the dog to be quiet. His name was Fuego. (The dog, not the owner.) A rather fitting name.
Anyway, I was traumatized that I was calling the guy's dog a varmint in front of him, so I walked really fast and got out of there.
Now I have to go, the liberry is closing and we're going to have a storm.
The cool things were very cool. I saw a very plump robin and some guy that drove by and his licence plate had the last three letters of MEW. So, of course, I walked along saying, "mew, mew, mew" for awhile. Good thing no one was around to hear me.
The weird thing was that I saw an older lady (she was probably 70) wearing forest green gauchos, black nylons...and black ANKLE boots. She was really, really trying to be en vogue, but the nylons and ankle boots really tanked it for her.
The disturbing things were very disturbing. Some dumb guys in a Toyota yelled at me and honked, and I had even thought, "Oh, they're driving a Toyota. How nice for them." I guess not so nice. The other one was that I saw a little Shih-Tzu almost get run over by a big, black Dodge Dakota. I don't like those trucks anyway, but seriously. Watch the cool dog, buster.
And...the one dumb thing I did...
I was walking past this house and there was a rabid Chihuahua tied up outside. He saw me and started barking like he was insane, and barring his teeth at me. I said to him, rather loudly, "Good thing you're chained up, varmint."
Just as the owner came out and told the dog to be quiet. His name was Fuego. (The dog, not the owner.) A rather fitting name.
Anyway, I was traumatized that I was calling the guy's dog a varmint in front of him, so I walked really fast and got out of there.
Now I have to go, the liberry is closing and we're going to have a storm.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Friday, March 31, 2006
How Many Pieces of Paper Does One Tree Yield?
Good afternoon, everyone. Today we're going to talk about what Jenna did all morning. What did she do?
She killed trees.
Yep, it's true. I don't know how many pieces of paper come from one tree, but I was photocopying a bunch of employee evals that I'd edited, added a new checkbox to (ooh!) and then printed off. I copied SCADS of them.
I kept track of how many reams of paper I went through. Anybody wanna stab a guess at how much I used?
Drumroll, please.....
3,000 pieces of paper!!!
Yes, Jenna Woestman is now a tree killer. I had to copy off 10 sets of all the evals, and I probably edited 25 of them...and there were about an average of 15 pages per eval. Oy vey.
On the plus side, I was kept busy for the entire morning and I didn't get any paper cuts. The entire project took 6 hours from start to finish. (Although an hour of that was probably just trying to find the dumb file on the computer...Whoever was here before me sure didn't save things very clearly.)
And that's what I did today. I killed trees and you paid for it. How does that make you feel, taxpayers? :)
She killed trees.
Yep, it's true. I don't know how many pieces of paper come from one tree, but I was photocopying a bunch of employee evals that I'd edited, added a new checkbox to (ooh!) and then printed off. I copied SCADS of them.
I kept track of how many reams of paper I went through. Anybody wanna stab a guess at how much I used?
Drumroll, please.....
3,000 pieces of paper!!!
Yes, Jenna Woestman is now a tree killer. I had to copy off 10 sets of all the evals, and I probably edited 25 of them...and there were about an average of 15 pages per eval. Oy vey.
On the plus side, I was kept busy for the entire morning and I didn't get any paper cuts. The entire project took 6 hours from start to finish. (Although an hour of that was probably just trying to find the dumb file on the computer...Whoever was here before me sure didn't save things very clearly.)
And that's what I did today. I killed trees and you paid for it. How does that make you feel, taxpayers? :)
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Things That Are Extremely Cool About My New Job:
1.) I have a big desk. I had to sort 12 stacks of handouts and I had room on my desk to do all of them. It was great.
2.) I do not have a headset for my phone. Reason this is good--I won't be talking on the phone all day long!
3.) I can open my cell phone without fear of reprecussion.
4.) I can go to the bathroom whenever I want, as many times as I want. (And I don't have to worry about getting glared at.) This is truly freedom.
5.) I have a pet fish. His name is Comet and he's a red Betta. He comes with the job. I named him after the school mascot and I get to feed him every day.
6.) I can carry on conversations. It's great, the other secretary and I chatted for about 20 minutes about something that didn't really pertain to anything work-related, and nobody got mad at us! (We, of course, were still working while we talked.) There were no telemarketing beeps in our ears or anything.
Oh, the glory.
Jenna likes her new job!
2.) I do not have a headset for my phone. Reason this is good--I won't be talking on the phone all day long!
3.) I can open my cell phone without fear of reprecussion.
4.) I can go to the bathroom whenever I want, as many times as I want. (And I don't have to worry about getting glared at.) This is truly freedom.
5.) I have a pet fish. His name is Comet and he's a red Betta. He comes with the job. I named him after the school mascot and I get to feed him every day.
6.) I can carry on conversations. It's great, the other secretary and I chatted for about 20 minutes about something that didn't really pertain to anything work-related, and nobody got mad at us! (We, of course, were still working while we talked.) There were no telemarketing beeps in our ears or anything.
Oh, the glory.
Jenna likes her new job!
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
I Love Days Off
Today I made blueberry scones. Precious said that she had a good recipe, so I called her and got it. I haven't tried them yet, we'll see how they turn out. I used a bunch of soy flour and whole grain oat flour...they sort of had a greenish tinge to them from the soy flour. I'm sure I'd use soy flour a whole lot more if it didn't turn my food colors.
But I digress.
Who slept in until 8:15 this morning? It's me, it's me!
Who didn't make her bed until 11:00am? It's me, it's me!
Who hasn't even bothered to shower yet today? It's me, it's me!
Who likes driving her new car? It's me, it's me!
Yeah, so I know the last one doesn't really fit. But I do, I like driving my new car! I'd like it a lot more if it didn't smell like new car, but what's a girl to do? I got a scented oil car thingy to try to diffuse some of its new car goodness, but it's taking awhile.
I keep trying to think up place to go so that I can drive around. Then I remind myself that every time I fill my gas tank up it costs me two hours of work and I decide to stay home.
Who decided it was OK for gas prices to be so high, anyway? Hmm, maybe somebody needs to telemarket the gas people and they'll get so annoyed they'll lower prices.
That's not a bad idea...I may run with it.
I gotta go!
But I digress.
Who slept in until 8:15 this morning? It's me, it's me!
Who didn't make her bed until 11:00am? It's me, it's me!
Who hasn't even bothered to shower yet today? It's me, it's me!
Who likes driving her new car? It's me, it's me!
Yeah, so I know the last one doesn't really fit. But I do, I like driving my new car! I'd like it a lot more if it didn't smell like new car, but what's a girl to do? I got a scented oil car thingy to try to diffuse some of its new car goodness, but it's taking awhile.
I keep trying to think up place to go so that I can drive around. Then I remind myself that every time I fill my gas tank up it costs me two hours of work and I decide to stay home.
Who decided it was OK for gas prices to be so high, anyway? Hmm, maybe somebody needs to telemarket the gas people and they'll get so annoyed they'll lower prices.
That's not a bad idea...I may run with it.
I gotta go!
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Dear Kraft Foods,
Hi. My name is Jenna. I'm a pathetic little telemarketer (well, for another few hours) and I just wanted to thank you for the happiness you have brought into my miserable existence. Happiness? You ask yourselves, How in the world can a telemarketer have happiness?! They have the worst jobs in the world!
Well. Let me tell you.
I adore your mini marshmallows. I am, perhaps, their greatest fan. I eat them while I talk to people on the phone. (But only occasionally, since they don't any---er, much nutritional value.) The mini marshmallows are the greatest because, to quote my cool little brother, they are "full of marshmallowy goodness". It's like all the flavor of a big 'un but that is bite sized!!! Wow. Somebody's a genius.
But wait, there's more!
Yesterday while my dear husband and I were grocery shopping (at TARGET, not at Walmart. We rue the day we enter Walmart...sorry, Dad.) Joey spotted something amazing.
Bunny-mallows!!!
Seriously. These are little spring colored bunny shaped marshmallows. They're super, super cute. I like to squish them and bite their heads off. They were on sale, so we bought a bag. I munched a few on the way home, but I knew I had to take them telemarketing the next day. Since it's my last day (YAY!!) I figured my friends might enjoy a few bunny-mallows. Jamie and I made hot chocolate and put them on top. They look like a pastel swirl.
Whoever thought up bunny-mallows is a really smrt person. I salute them.
Very sincerely,
Jenna, loyal fan
Hi. My name is Jenna. I'm a pathetic little telemarketer (well, for another few hours) and I just wanted to thank you for the happiness you have brought into my miserable existence. Happiness? You ask yourselves, How in the world can a telemarketer have happiness?! They have the worst jobs in the world!
Well. Let me tell you.
I adore your mini marshmallows. I am, perhaps, their greatest fan. I eat them while I talk to people on the phone. (But only occasionally, since they don't any---er, much nutritional value.) The mini marshmallows are the greatest because, to quote my cool little brother, they are "full of marshmallowy goodness". It's like all the flavor of a big 'un but that is bite sized!!! Wow. Somebody's a genius.
But wait, there's more!
Yesterday while my dear husband and I were grocery shopping (at TARGET, not at Walmart. We rue the day we enter Walmart...sorry, Dad.) Joey spotted something amazing.
Bunny-mallows!!!
Seriously. These are little spring colored bunny shaped marshmallows. They're super, super cute. I like to squish them and bite their heads off. They were on sale, so we bought a bag. I munched a few on the way home, but I knew I had to take them telemarketing the next day. Since it's my last day (YAY!!) I figured my friends might enjoy a few bunny-mallows. Jamie and I made hot chocolate and put them on top. They look like a pastel swirl.
Whoever thought up bunny-mallows is a really smrt person. I salute them.
Very sincerely,
Jenna, loyal fan
Monday, March 27, 2006
Why I Am Nuts
I hear voices all day long. Seriously.
OK, fine, so I'm a telemarketer (until tomorrow) and so my job is talking to people on the phone. But I like to make things as dramatic as possible, of course.
Anyway, my current game is to try to figure out how fat (or not) people are just by talking to them. It's pretty amusing. You can't tell much from a person's voice except whether they smoke a lot.
So that's my game. It's pretty sad, isn't it? Statistics aren't in these people's favor, so I figure that most people are ginormously fat. At least I amuse myself by thinking that. If they're huffing and puffing, that's a definite giveaway (to my little mind, that is).
I really, really need to start my new job before I lose my mind completely.
OK, fine, so I'm a telemarketer (until tomorrow) and so my job is talking to people on the phone. But I like to make things as dramatic as possible, of course.
Anyway, my current game is to try to figure out how fat (or not) people are just by talking to them. It's pretty amusing. You can't tell much from a person's voice except whether they smoke a lot.
So that's my game. It's pretty sad, isn't it? Statistics aren't in these people's favor, so I figure that most people are ginormously fat. At least I amuse myself by thinking that. If they're huffing and puffing, that's a definite giveaway (to my little mind, that is).
I really, really need to start my new job before I lose my mind completely.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Well, I am taking PTO today. I went in to get all the heavy junk out of my desk and that took, like, three hours by the time I got back home. I was only in the office for about 15 minutes, too. (Good thing I didn't get a ticket. I had 15 minutes on my meter and the time ran out!)
I don't have anything funny to say today, I haven't eaten anything yet and it's 1:00. I'm starved. I can't even think straight. So see, no chance of being even remotely funny.
So...that's all, folks!
Only 4 days to go...
I don't have anything funny to say today, I haven't eaten anything yet and it's 1:00. I'm starved. I can't even think straight. So see, no chance of being even remotely funny.
So...that's all, folks!
Only 4 days to go...
Thursday, March 23, 2006
TRUE STORY
I wander into the bathroom this morning with a huge stack of towels that I'd just folded. (The stack was way too high, by the way, I almost dropped them in the trash can.) Joey was in there putting gel in his hair.
"Good morning," says me.
"I had a really weird dream last night," says he.
"Oh really? So did I, but you go first." I started stuffing the towels in the cupboard. It was a tight squeeze.
Joey washed the gel off his hands. "I dreamed that I was down getting the mail and started flipping through it. You had a subscription to Better Homes and Gardens in there and on the cover it said 'Is Your Husband Annoying? Trade Him in for a Million Dollars Worth of Used Action Figures!' and I thought, 'Wow, that's not a very good trade.'"
"Not only that," I said, "But it's not quite a Better Homes and Gardens specialty. Not only do they not generally trade in husbands, I bet they don't really have a million dollars worth of used action figures just lying around. What do you think they'd do with all the husbands that got traded in?" I smashed in the last towel.
"Who knows. Wanna trade me in?" Asked my slightly sleep-foggy husband.
"No way!" I said. "Not only are you a whole lot less annoying than I am, but I have no idea what I'd ever do with a million dollars of used action figures. I don't even know what I'd do with a million dollars worth of new action figures! I'll take you over action figures any day."
Three things:
1. I do not actually get a subscription to Better Homes and Gardens
2. No, I probably won't tell you what my dream was. (Unless you email me, and unless you're a girl.)
3. I have no mini marshmallows to eat while telemarketing today.
I wander into the bathroom this morning with a huge stack of towels that I'd just folded. (The stack was way too high, by the way, I almost dropped them in the trash can.) Joey was in there putting gel in his hair.
"Good morning," says me.
"I had a really weird dream last night," says he.
"Oh really? So did I, but you go first." I started stuffing the towels in the cupboard. It was a tight squeeze.
Joey washed the gel off his hands. "I dreamed that I was down getting the mail and started flipping through it. You had a subscription to Better Homes and Gardens in there and on the cover it said 'Is Your Husband Annoying? Trade Him in for a Million Dollars Worth of Used Action Figures!' and I thought, 'Wow, that's not a very good trade.'"
"Not only that," I said, "But it's not quite a Better Homes and Gardens specialty. Not only do they not generally trade in husbands, I bet they don't really have a million dollars worth of used action figures just lying around. What do you think they'd do with all the husbands that got traded in?" I smashed in the last towel.
"Who knows. Wanna trade me in?" Asked my slightly sleep-foggy husband.
"No way!" I said. "Not only are you a whole lot less annoying than I am, but I have no idea what I'd ever do with a million dollars of used action figures. I don't even know what I'd do with a million dollars worth of new action figures! I'll take you over action figures any day."
Three things:
1. I do not actually get a subscription to Better Homes and Gardens
2. No, I probably won't tell you what my dream was. (Unless you email me, and unless you're a girl.)
3. I have no mini marshmallows to eat while telemarketing today.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Confession: I have an obsession with mini marshmallows. And it's bad.
I'm not really sure when it started, I think it was a month ago. But I brought some marshmallows to put in my hot chocolate at work. (It was a ginormous treat--I never bring that to work, just tea.) I decided to save the marshmallows and just munch on them.
Oh boy.
I was hooked. They were small, cute, squishy and super easy to eat while I was telemarketing.
I began to think about mini marshmallows constantly. I dreamed about them at night. I craved them the entire time I was telemarketing. I stopped and ogled them in the grocery store (they make really big bags of them, you know). I considered writing fan mail to Kraft.
I know they're next to horrible for me, but if I only eat a few once or twice a week, I figure I won't die. I probably won't even get very fat. Right now I have a little baggie with some mini marshmallows in it. I've been saving it until after 10:30. Joey surprised me by sticking it in my lunch. I was super excited.
Mmmmm. I just ate one. Yummy marshmallow.
I'm not really sure when it started, I think it was a month ago. But I brought some marshmallows to put in my hot chocolate at work. (It was a ginormous treat--I never bring that to work, just tea.) I decided to save the marshmallows and just munch on them.
Oh boy.
I was hooked. They were small, cute, squishy and super easy to eat while I was telemarketing.
I began to think about mini marshmallows constantly. I dreamed about them at night. I craved them the entire time I was telemarketing. I stopped and ogled them in the grocery store (they make really big bags of them, you know). I considered writing fan mail to Kraft.
I know they're next to horrible for me, but if I only eat a few once or twice a week, I figure I won't die. I probably won't even get very fat. Right now I have a little baggie with some mini marshmallows in it. I've been saving it until after 10:30. Joey surprised me by sticking it in my lunch. I was super excited.
Mmmmm. I just ate one. Yummy marshmallow.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
What do telemarketers, cows and gummy worms have in common? Easy. I just cut the cows out (of paper, of course) and I'm eating gummy worms right now--all of this while I telemarket.
Jamie has a bunch of Sunday School stuff she needed cut out, so Tiffany and I were helping her. I got the cows, tombs and a verse. I really liked cutting out the cows because I cut out each individual leg. Jamie said not to bother, but I didn't listen to her.
Everyone knows that I love cows way too much. That is, of course, why I make up songs about them on the way to church. Joey always enjoys being serenaded. (It's not fair, though, becuase when he tries to make up a song, his actually rhyme. And they're not as long.)
Jamie rewarded my cow cutting labors with four gummy worms. I big them in half and ate them. All of them.
They were super great.
Jamie has a bunch of Sunday School stuff she needed cut out, so Tiffany and I were helping her. I got the cows, tombs and a verse. I really liked cutting out the cows because I cut out each individual leg. Jamie said not to bother, but I didn't listen to her.
Everyone knows that I love cows way too much. That is, of course, why I make up songs about them on the way to church. Joey always enjoys being serenaded. (It's not fair, though, becuase when he tries to make up a song, his actually rhyme. And they're not as long.)
Jamie rewarded my cow cutting labors with four gummy worms. I big them in half and ate them. All of them.
They were super great.
This morning, on the way to go telemarket, I had three near death experiences.
I was driving down 1st Street to pick the girls up, and slowed down to make my turn. It's always a bad patch right there, and I hit some ice and, instead of turning, went straight for the curb. At, probably 15 miles an hour. I pumped the brakes, I tried turning my wheel (no luck, I went toward the curb regardless) then finally just LAID on the brakes. Amazingly, the car stopped a few inches from the curb.
No airbags were yet deployed.
I was very thankful that nobody was sitting at that stop sign, for I'd have surely hit them. Anyway, I almost died.
I got the girls and we poked down the road to telemarket. Some ginormous SUV decided to hit their brakes. I'd been following at what NORMALLY would be a safe distance, but when there's ice under the snow...I don't think there is such a thing as a safe distance. Anyhey, I started pumping my brakes.
Nothing. I didn't even slow down.
Stinkin, I thought, Now I'm going to crash my car into the back of an SUV.
Mr. SUV suddenly veered off the road to turn into White Birch. I've never been so happy to see somebody turn at "the last minute" before. I wish he'd have bothered to use a turn signal. Oh well.
At any rate, no air bags were deployed.
So now we're heading down 2nd Avenue at about 40 miles an hour. I was meticulously trying to stay in the tracks of those who had gone before me, when I slid off the road. Of course at that spot, there's a real steep drop off, so I fought and fought with my steering wheel to get the car BACK on the road, not wobbling between the cement edge and gravel.
After a few harrowing seconds, I got car got back on the road, swerved over into the left lane (overcompensating!) which was thankfully empty, and then back into the right lane where I belonged.
And yet, no airbags were deployed! Whew.
Maybe I can just spend the night here at work...I don't wanna go back out there! I might die, or wreck my poor Saturn!
I was driving down 1st Street to pick the girls up, and slowed down to make my turn. It's always a bad patch right there, and I hit some ice and, instead of turning, went straight for the curb. At, probably 15 miles an hour. I pumped the brakes, I tried turning my wheel (no luck, I went toward the curb regardless) then finally just LAID on the brakes. Amazingly, the car stopped a few inches from the curb.
No airbags were yet deployed.
I was very thankful that nobody was sitting at that stop sign, for I'd have surely hit them. Anyway, I almost died.
I got the girls and we poked down the road to telemarket. Some ginormous SUV decided to hit their brakes. I'd been following at what NORMALLY would be a safe distance, but when there's ice under the snow...I don't think there is such a thing as a safe distance. Anyhey, I started pumping my brakes.
Nothing. I didn't even slow down.
Stinkin, I thought, Now I'm going to crash my car into the back of an SUV.
Mr. SUV suddenly veered off the road to turn into White Birch. I've never been so happy to see somebody turn at "the last minute" before. I wish he'd have bothered to use a turn signal. Oh well.
At any rate, no air bags were deployed.
So now we're heading down 2nd Avenue at about 40 miles an hour. I was meticulously trying to stay in the tracks of those who had gone before me, when I slid off the road. Of course at that spot, there's a real steep drop off, so I fought and fought with my steering wheel to get the car BACK on the road, not wobbling between the cement edge and gravel.
After a few harrowing seconds, I got car got back on the road, swerved over into the left lane (overcompensating!) which was thankfully empty, and then back into the right lane where I belonged.
And yet, no airbags were deployed! Whew.
Maybe I can just spend the night here at work...I don't wanna go back out there! I might die, or wreck my poor Saturn!
Monday, March 20, 2006
Newsflash---JENNA HAS A NEW JOB!
Glory, glory, hallelujah.
This morning around 9:45, I was offered the position of assistant to the Boss of the Employer. I am so excited that I have been unable to concentrate all day long, and my hands keep shaking. Thankfully, the dialer is slow and I haven't had a lot of contacts.
Thus begins the countdown.
11 days to go!
Glory, glory, hallelujah.
This morning around 9:45, I was offered the position of assistant to the Boss of the Employer. I am so excited that I have been unable to concentrate all day long, and my hands keep shaking. Thankfully, the dialer is slow and I haven't had a lot of contacts.
Thus begins the countdown.
11 days to go!
Reflections on Being a Bird-Mom Who, Upon Discovering One of Her "Children" Wasn't Fitting In, Returned Said Bird To The Store. For a Full Refund.
Our birds-children had been asking for a sibling. Or so we thought. We said, "If you want a sibling, chirp once. If you don't want one, chirp twice." Chirp, the birdies would say. Just one chirp.
So two Fridays ago Joey and I headed to Petsmart with a singular purpose--to find the perfect sibling for our babies.
After 20 arduous minutes, we finally selected a green birdy with a blue tail and yellow head. He was perky and pesky in the cage, and he seemed to be a swinging bird. He was constantly on the swing in the store cage. New Bird was clipped, boxed and wrapped in Joey's coat. We headed home to introduce him to our other two children.
We named him Wickham, wanting to carry on the theme of Pride and Prejudice with our birdies. It was an ill-fated name. Perhaps if we'd have picked something like Mr. Bennet things would have turned out differently.
Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley/Whitebird positively detested Wickham from the moment he first entered the apartment. Wickham was so terrified of our other two children that he refused to leave my finger when I tried to put him in the cage.
Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley/Whitebird froze. Wickham froze. Finally, the other two ventured over to the newcomer and cheed at him. Then they pecked at him. I wailed. Joey said, "He'll be OK, let's give him time."
After a week of three silent, stock-still birds, we decided we couldn't take it any longer. We knew we had to do it.
"Well," Joey said, "I think we'd better take him back." He got me the receipt and the guarantee and we decided I'd do it in the morning.
And so that's how I became a "return the kid if it doesn't work out" bird-mom. I'm a terrible person. I can't hardly live with myself. Maybe I need counseling.
At any rate, the other birds are super happy now. They hated Wickham.
Our birds-children had been asking for a sibling. Or so we thought. We said, "If you want a sibling, chirp once. If you don't want one, chirp twice." Chirp, the birdies would say. Just one chirp.
So two Fridays ago Joey and I headed to Petsmart with a singular purpose--to find the perfect sibling for our babies.
After 20 arduous minutes, we finally selected a green birdy with a blue tail and yellow head. He was perky and pesky in the cage, and he seemed to be a swinging bird. He was constantly on the swing in the store cage. New Bird was clipped, boxed and wrapped in Joey's coat. We headed home to introduce him to our other two children.
We named him Wickham, wanting to carry on the theme of Pride and Prejudice with our birdies. It was an ill-fated name. Perhaps if we'd have picked something like Mr. Bennet things would have turned out differently.
Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley/Whitebird positively detested Wickham from the moment he first entered the apartment. Wickham was so terrified of our other two children that he refused to leave my finger when I tried to put him in the cage.
Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley/Whitebird froze. Wickham froze. Finally, the other two ventured over to the newcomer and cheed at him. Then they pecked at him. I wailed. Joey said, "He'll be OK, let's give him time."
After a week of three silent, stock-still birds, we decided we couldn't take it any longer. We knew we had to do it.
"Well," Joey said, "I think we'd better take him back." He got me the receipt and the guarantee and we decided I'd do it in the morning.
And so that's how I became a "return the kid if it doesn't work out" bird-mom. I'm a terrible person. I can't hardly live with myself. Maybe I need counseling.
At any rate, the other birds are super happy now. They hated Wickham.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Well, we're now a two-bird family.
That's right, I just returned Wickham to Petsmart. Poor little birdy wasn't getting along with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley/Whitebird AT ALL. He'd just sit in one place all day long (with the occasional food and water break) and stare at the cage wall.
Evil Mr. Darcy and Whitebird would chee at him and peck at him quite often. I assume this was mostly to let Wickham know that he was not welcome.
I suppose our birds are not much different from the actual charachters of Pride and Prejudice, but I sincerely doubt that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley would have cheed and pecked at Wickham, however much they disliked him. They'd have done something more refined.
At any rate, as soon as I took Wickham out of the cage and stashed him in the travel cage, Mr. Darcy and Whitebird began singing my praises. Seriously. They were. Wickham sat and trembled in his new environment (but there really isn't anything new about that) and the other two skittered around their cage again in a way I haven't seen them since last Friday when we purchased Wickham.
Oh well, so much for having 3 birds.
I left the cage door open and when I came home from returning Wicky, the other two Evils were sitting atop their cage looking quite pleased with themselves.
Evil birdies.
That's right, I just returned Wickham to Petsmart. Poor little birdy wasn't getting along with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley/Whitebird AT ALL. He'd just sit in one place all day long (with the occasional food and water break) and stare at the cage wall.
Evil Mr. Darcy and Whitebird would chee at him and peck at him quite often. I assume this was mostly to let Wickham know that he was not welcome.
I suppose our birds are not much different from the actual charachters of Pride and Prejudice, but I sincerely doubt that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley would have cheed and pecked at Wickham, however much they disliked him. They'd have done something more refined.
At any rate, as soon as I took Wickham out of the cage and stashed him in the travel cage, Mr. Darcy and Whitebird began singing my praises. Seriously. They were. Wickham sat and trembled in his new environment (but there really isn't anything new about that) and the other two skittered around their cage again in a way I haven't seen them since last Friday when we purchased Wickham.
Oh well, so much for having 3 birds.
I left the cage door open and when I came home from returning Wicky, the other two Evils were sitting atop their cage looking quite pleased with themselves.
Evil birdies.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
We telemarketers have had a pretty sugary holiday so far. When we got in to the "office" there were green balloons hanging from the ceiling, and we had a little pot o' candy at our desks. There was also a green balloon which I promptly blew up, drew a couple of creepy faces on, and hung from the ceiling above my desk.
We also have lots of yummy treats. I made Blarney Stone Kissed Cookies last night in preperation for the holiday, and Jamie made green Rice Krispy treats. (I didn't know what a Blarney Stone was until yesterday, aparrently you're supposed to kiss it for good luck.)
But the BEST thing, is that at noon there was a PARADE! We thought we were going to miss the whole thing since we didn't get off for lunch until 1:00, but it was still going. Whew. I've never seen a St. Patrick's Day parade before, so it was pretty exciting. We heard the parade for an entire hour, all the sirens and music.
By the time we finished up our lunches and got down there, the parade was starting to wind down. We were just in time, however, for the "Irish" belly dancers.
Holy stink. They were....extremely plump. Well, maybe they weren't as plump as they looked, but their belly-baring shirts really made them look a whole stinkin' lot jigglier than they really were. One lady even painted her stomach green. It looked like flubber, from the Absentminded Professor. You know, green and jiggly? Really disturbing.
I waved at the Irish Republicans, simply because they were Republicans, and the gentleman in the car threw a whole ton of Tootsie Rolls at me.
We really had a hard time getting candy because nobody threw it at the "adults". I had to nearly sacrifice my entire life getting this piece of Dubble Bubble from beneath the wheels of a big trailer pulled by an big truck. Jamie thought it was a shame that the gum might get squished, so I snatched it real quick like.
Good thing the driver didn't decide to drive off, he'd have taken my arm with him. (Well, maybe not quite that bad.)
The absolute highlight was the truck that threw...SALT WATER TAFFY!!!! And they threw it right at me! It's like they know it's my favorite or something. There was even a piece of cinnamon.
Yummy to my tummy.
On the way back in, Jamie tried to piggyback on Tiffany's part of the spinny door. Tiffany smashed her a good one. Spinny doors make me nervous. Jamie survived to telemarket another day, though.
And that's how telemarketers celebrate St. Patrick's Day.
We telemarketers have had a pretty sugary holiday so far. When we got in to the "office" there were green balloons hanging from the ceiling, and we had a little pot o' candy at our desks. There was also a green balloon which I promptly blew up, drew a couple of creepy faces on, and hung from the ceiling above my desk.
We also have lots of yummy treats. I made Blarney Stone Kissed Cookies last night in preperation for the holiday, and Jamie made green Rice Krispy treats. (I didn't know what a Blarney Stone was until yesterday, aparrently you're supposed to kiss it for good luck.)
But the BEST thing, is that at noon there was a PARADE! We thought we were going to miss the whole thing since we didn't get off for lunch until 1:00, but it was still going. Whew. I've never seen a St. Patrick's Day parade before, so it was pretty exciting. We heard the parade for an entire hour, all the sirens and music.
By the time we finished up our lunches and got down there, the parade was starting to wind down. We were just in time, however, for the "Irish" belly dancers.
Holy stink. They were....extremely plump. Well, maybe they weren't as plump as they looked, but their belly-baring shirts really made them look a whole stinkin' lot jigglier than they really were. One lady even painted her stomach green. It looked like flubber, from the Absentminded Professor. You know, green and jiggly? Really disturbing.
I waved at the Irish Republicans, simply because they were Republicans, and the gentleman in the car threw a whole ton of Tootsie Rolls at me.
We really had a hard time getting candy because nobody threw it at the "adults". I had to nearly sacrifice my entire life getting this piece of Dubble Bubble from beneath the wheels of a big trailer pulled by an big truck. Jamie thought it was a shame that the gum might get squished, so I snatched it real quick like.
Good thing the driver didn't decide to drive off, he'd have taken my arm with him. (Well, maybe not quite that bad.)
The absolute highlight was the truck that threw...SALT WATER TAFFY!!!! And they threw it right at me! It's like they know it's my favorite or something. There was even a piece of cinnamon.
Yummy to my tummy.
On the way back in, Jamie tried to piggyback on Tiffany's part of the spinny door. Tiffany smashed her a good one. Spinny doors make me nervous. Jamie survived to telemarket another day, though.
And that's how telemarketers celebrate St. Patrick's Day.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Weird Stuff I've Heard Lately As A Telemarketer
1.) "Ilene left in the car and Martha is at work." I called asking for Ilene and the guy, very seriously, replied with that statement. I wasn't sure if he was insinuating that Ilene had died while she was in the car, or if she really did just leave in the car. (She hadn't died.)
2.) "I got a new Social Security Number. The one I verified with you is wrong, I was just trying to trick you." Yeah, right. You don't just get a new Social Security Number. The guy was lying and it was so, so hard to not be all sassy to him. If you're going to lie to a telemarketer, don't lie about getting a new Social. They'll be on to you like white on rice.
3.) I said to the loan officer, "This guy wants the $20,000 to substitute his payroll for his business." And the loan officer actually laughed. (Loan officers don't usually laugh, no matter how ridiculous the customer's request sounds.)
4.) "Yeah, it doesn't have many miles at all, just 120,000." Said a customer to me, regarding his 4 year old truck. He was serious. (How do you put 120,000 miles on a truck in four years?!)
5.) My loan officer said regarding credit scores, "Oh, a 550 isn't bad at all." We'd had a rash of really, really low credit scores and at the time, 550 must have been lookin' pretty good to him. (It's not. It's pretty horrible since 450 is the lowest.)
6.) "Oh, I don't want a loan. I want to refinance my vehicle/get a line of credit." Usually the ones who say this are girls who are probably blonde, but I had an older man say this to me this morning. What, do they think the money they're going to borrow is free and they don't have to pay it back? (I hastily inform them that yes, this IS a loan.)
7.) "I want $1,800 to pay my bills." Oh, if only it really were that easy.
1.) "Ilene left in the car and Martha is at work." I called asking for Ilene and the guy, very seriously, replied with that statement. I wasn't sure if he was insinuating that Ilene had died while she was in the car, or if she really did just leave in the car. (She hadn't died.)
2.) "I got a new Social Security Number. The one I verified with you is wrong, I was just trying to trick you." Yeah, right. You don't just get a new Social Security Number. The guy was lying and it was so, so hard to not be all sassy to him. If you're going to lie to a telemarketer, don't lie about getting a new Social. They'll be on to you like white on rice.
3.) I said to the loan officer, "This guy wants the $20,000 to substitute his payroll for his business." And the loan officer actually laughed. (Loan officers don't usually laugh, no matter how ridiculous the customer's request sounds.)
4.) "Yeah, it doesn't have many miles at all, just 120,000." Said a customer to me, regarding his 4 year old truck. He was serious. (How do you put 120,000 miles on a truck in four years?!)
5.) My loan officer said regarding credit scores, "Oh, a 550 isn't bad at all." We'd had a rash of really, really low credit scores and at the time, 550 must have been lookin' pretty good to him. (It's not. It's pretty horrible since 450 is the lowest.)
6.) "Oh, I don't want a loan. I want to refinance my vehicle/get a line of credit." Usually the ones who say this are girls who are probably blonde, but I had an older man say this to me this morning. What, do they think the money they're going to borrow is free and they don't have to pay it back? (I hastily inform them that yes, this IS a loan.)
7.) "I want $1,800 to pay my bills." Oh, if only it really were that easy.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
For a telemarketer, I have an awful lot of trouble with the United States Postal Service.
First, they lost my Social Security card with my new last name on it. Arg. Riles me up just thinking about it. Some dingbat out there better not have it. I hope it just got stuck in the machine.
Second, they lost the title to my car! Hosers. We should have had it back in December, but half of that is the bank's fault. I called and asked them to expedite the payoff papers, but the lady proceeded to forget. A month and a half later, I called again and the lady felt real bad. It all worked out OK, though, because I got the payoff papers in the mail from the bank.
And yet all was not well.
Two more months later I still haven't received the title. Hmm, I think to myself, Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. So today I called down to the Polk County Administrator's Building. Sure 'nuff, they mailed that thing on February 15.
It's lost. Poor little thing. I hope it isn't scared.
So I ran (mostly just walked really fast) the 3/4 mile to the Polk County building, waited for 15 minutes while the lady printed me a new title, and then I ran back to work. Fortunately it was a pretty nice day out, sunny and brisk, or it would have been a pretty miserable hike.
I wonder if all telemarketers don't get their important mail, or if it's just me. Hmm. Who knows!
First, they lost my Social Security card with my new last name on it. Arg. Riles me up just thinking about it. Some dingbat out there better not have it. I hope it just got stuck in the machine.
Second, they lost the title to my car! Hosers. We should have had it back in December, but half of that is the bank's fault. I called and asked them to expedite the payoff papers, but the lady proceeded to forget. A month and a half later, I called again and the lady felt real bad. It all worked out OK, though, because I got the payoff papers in the mail from the bank.
And yet all was not well.
Two more months later I still haven't received the title. Hmm, I think to myself, Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. So today I called down to the Polk County Administrator's Building. Sure 'nuff, they mailed that thing on February 15.
It's lost. Poor little thing. I hope it isn't scared.
So I ran (mostly just walked really fast) the 3/4 mile to the Polk County building, waited for 15 minutes while the lady printed me a new title, and then I ran back to work. Fortunately it was a pretty nice day out, sunny and brisk, or it would have been a pretty miserable hike.
I wonder if all telemarketers don't get their important mail, or if it's just me. Hmm. Who knows!
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Here's my advice for the day. DON'T ANSWER YOUR PHONE.
When it rings, don't answer it. Get Caller ID or something so that you never, ever answer when a poor telemarketer calls you. This way the telemarketer can do other, more fun things like read books, sew finger puppets, color pictures, throw stuff, or jump around while still wearing their headset.
When people answer their phones, it prohibits us from doing things like that.
We got a new campaign today. We're trying to convince people to take cash out on the vehicles they just paid off, and doing consolidating or going on vacation or something. Nobody's wanting to take stuff from me. (Surprise, surprise. I wouldn't want to go back in debt on the car I just paid off, either!) We're also trying to get them to refi with us, but I haven't been getting very many of those.
So here's the advice for the day: Leave the phone on the hook. Either that or just get cell phones so that the evil telemarketers can't get to you.
When it rings, don't answer it. Get Caller ID or something so that you never, ever answer when a poor telemarketer calls you. This way the telemarketer can do other, more fun things like read books, sew finger puppets, color pictures, throw stuff, or jump around while still wearing their headset.
When people answer their phones, it prohibits us from doing things like that.
We got a new campaign today. We're trying to convince people to take cash out on the vehicles they just paid off, and doing consolidating or going on vacation or something. Nobody's wanting to take stuff from me. (Surprise, surprise. I wouldn't want to go back in debt on the car I just paid off, either!) We're also trying to get them to refi with us, but I haven't been getting very many of those.
So here's the advice for the day: Leave the phone on the hook. Either that or just get cell phones so that the evil telemarketers can't get to you.
Monday, March 13, 2006
On Saturday I brought Joey down to see how stinkin' far it is from my office to the parking lot. (It's 3/4 of a mile, for those of you who care to feel sorry for me.) I also wanted to show him the floor in one of the buildings down here. They've been redoing it for months and it's the oddest process. I thought he'd think it was cool. He probably did.
On Friday, though, I saw a mouse. (It was on the 3/4 mile walk from the car to the desk.) Tiffany and I were walking up the steps outside the telemarketing parking garage (we don't even get to park in the parking garage yet--just the overflow lot) and there, lying on one of the steps, was a very cute little mouse.
He was very, very dead.
I don't really know how he got there because he was about 9-10 feet off the ground and he was in the middle of the staircase; maybe he fell from one of the garage levels, maybe he just had a little heart attack, maybe a cat dropped him.
I almost touched him because he was SO cute. Then I thought, "OK, Jenna, that's nasty, not to mention that you're old enough to know better than to go touching dead animals in public. You can't do an autopsy on this one." (I did that once when I was a kid. I used a couple of sticks. It was really...gross.) Anyway, I decided to scoot poor mousey off the steps lest some unwitting soul crunched him on their way down the stairs.
Now THAT would be gross. (But it would be kind of funny if it was some prissy, stilletoed woman...)
So I slid him, with my foot, over to the edge of the stairs. Thunk. He was extremely hard, musta been dead for awhile. He was cute, though.
On Friday, though, I saw a mouse. (It was on the 3/4 mile walk from the car to the desk.) Tiffany and I were walking up the steps outside the telemarketing parking garage (we don't even get to park in the parking garage yet--just the overflow lot) and there, lying on one of the steps, was a very cute little mouse.
He was very, very dead.
I don't really know how he got there because he was about 9-10 feet off the ground and he was in the middle of the staircase; maybe he fell from one of the garage levels, maybe he just had a little heart attack, maybe a cat dropped him.
I almost touched him because he was SO cute. Then I thought, "OK, Jenna, that's nasty, not to mention that you're old enough to know better than to go touching dead animals in public. You can't do an autopsy on this one." (I did that once when I was a kid. I used a couple of sticks. It was really...gross.) Anyway, I decided to scoot poor mousey off the steps lest some unwitting soul crunched him on their way down the stairs.
Now THAT would be gross. (But it would be kind of funny if it was some prissy, stilletoed woman...)
So I slid him, with my foot, over to the edge of the stairs. Thunk. He was extremely hard, musta been dead for awhile. He was cute, though.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
I'm telemarketing today.
I just have to tell you all about this really...dense lady I talked to a bit ago. She's a homemaker so she herself doesn't have any income. That's fine, no problem. BUT, she went to the bank and filled out a loan application for $5,000, stuck her name on it and put her husband's employer and income down as if it was hers.
And she wonders why they denied it.
People like her make telemarketing a lot, lot, lot more confusing. I had to rack my little brain just to figure out how to term that crazy thing! Should I term it "doesn't need money"? Was it a "crazy wife" one? Wait, we don't have a term code for that one. (We could really use one, though.) Or was it more of an "unidentified"? I finally settled on "doesn't need money".
On to brighter topics.
Joey says that if you smashed all the molecules in the entire universe down and took all the air out from in between them, they could smash down to about 2 square inches. That's pretty small. This leaves me with two important questions, perhaps some of you will know the answer and if you do I'd like to hear it.
1.) If there's air inbetween the molecules now, why can't we poke our fingers through things? It makes sense to me...
2.) If you really could smash all the molecules down into a square, what color would it be?
Joey says I missed the point. Did I miss the point? He also says that nobody would be able to know what color the square would be, because everybody would be IN the square.
I just have to tell you all about this really...dense lady I talked to a bit ago. She's a homemaker so she herself doesn't have any income. That's fine, no problem. BUT, she went to the bank and filled out a loan application for $5,000, stuck her name on it and put her husband's employer and income down as if it was hers.
And she wonders why they denied it.
People like her make telemarketing a lot, lot, lot more confusing. I had to rack my little brain just to figure out how to term that crazy thing! Should I term it "doesn't need money"? Was it a "crazy wife" one? Wait, we don't have a term code for that one. (We could really use one, though.) Or was it more of an "unidentified"? I finally settled on "doesn't need money".
On to brighter topics.
Joey says that if you smashed all the molecules in the entire universe down and took all the air out from in between them, they could smash down to about 2 square inches. That's pretty small. This leaves me with two important questions, perhaps some of you will know the answer and if you do I'd like to hear it.
1.) If there's air inbetween the molecules now, why can't we poke our fingers through things? It makes sense to me...
2.) If you really could smash all the molecules down into a square, what color would it be?
Joey says I missed the point. Did I miss the point? He also says that nobody would be able to know what color the square would be, because everybody would be IN the square.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Wednesday on the way home from church I was reminded just how much I hate gondolas. I don't really remember what brought them to my mind, but I totally hate them. Oh, I don't mean the boat gondolas like in Venice, I mean the stupid ski-lift type ones that go up the sides of steep mountains.
So we're in China. Let me preface this with saying that up to that point, we weren't too impressed with the quality of construction over there. (For instance, when we tried to buy a fan for our bedroom the sales lady had to test all the fans to make that the one we bought actually worked.)
Anyway, we're at Snow-Cap Mountain. We went there with a bunch of our students for the weekend and right before we were going to head home, we were scheduled to take gondolas up the mountain to the top.
Yay. I just love heights.
We had already spent 45 minutes in an 8-person gondola the day before to get halfway up the mountain. It really stunk because people kept moving and shaking the gondola. Then I'd get really scared. It wasn't pretty.
So there we are, getting ready to get in the gondola. It's cold and raining outside, I think the sky is just as sad about me having to get in the rickey gondola as I am. Joey and I stand there, in our bright red plastic ponchos, and I'm trying to be brave. I can't let our students know just how badly I do NOT want to do this. The gondola swings around on its axis and we hop in.
I watch the nice, safe muddy ground slip away as we're dragged up into the air on a bouncy cable. The enclosed gondola doesn't do much to keep out the rain. It's cold, wet and bouncy. Some idiot up the cable thinks it's funny to bounce the car. I'm sitting there, stiff as a board. Joey is trying to come up with ways to distract me. None of them are working.
An hour later, we finally see an enclosure up ahead. I know that this only means we have to switch gondolas, but at least it's terra firma! Five minutes later, we're in a colder, wetter, shakier gondola, going up a steeper part of the mountain.
It's so misty outside that we can't see any further than 100 feet or so. Joey's dreadfully disappointed, but I'm pleased as punch. I don't want to know how high up we are.
After 45 more minutes, we're at the top. We have to hoof it 1/2 a mile or so up some wooden stairs (extremely slippery because of the rain and fog) to get to the top. It was entirely anticlimactic, too, becuase of the fog. We couldn't see anything.
And then...we went back down.
That's why I hate gondolas. I told Joey I was never, ever in my entire life getting on another gondola, even if it meant missing out on something really cool. Never again. Oh, I forgot to say the word "telemarketer"; so now I've said it. (I gotta say it every time, you know.)
So we're in China. Let me preface this with saying that up to that point, we weren't too impressed with the quality of construction over there. (For instance, when we tried to buy a fan for our bedroom the sales lady had to test all the fans to make that the one we bought actually worked.)
Anyway, we're at Snow-Cap Mountain. We went there with a bunch of our students for the weekend and right before we were going to head home, we were scheduled to take gondolas up the mountain to the top.
Yay. I just love heights.
We had already spent 45 minutes in an 8-person gondola the day before to get halfway up the mountain. It really stunk because people kept moving and shaking the gondola. Then I'd get really scared. It wasn't pretty.
So there we are, getting ready to get in the gondola. It's cold and raining outside, I think the sky is just as sad about me having to get in the rickey gondola as I am. Joey and I stand there, in our bright red plastic ponchos, and I'm trying to be brave. I can't let our students know just how badly I do NOT want to do this. The gondola swings around on its axis and we hop in.
I watch the nice, safe muddy ground slip away as we're dragged up into the air on a bouncy cable. The enclosed gondola doesn't do much to keep out the rain. It's cold, wet and bouncy. Some idiot up the cable thinks it's funny to bounce the car. I'm sitting there, stiff as a board. Joey is trying to come up with ways to distract me. None of them are working.
An hour later, we finally see an enclosure up ahead. I know that this only means we have to switch gondolas, but at least it's terra firma! Five minutes later, we're in a colder, wetter, shakier gondola, going up a steeper part of the mountain.
It's so misty outside that we can't see any further than 100 feet or so. Joey's dreadfully disappointed, but I'm pleased as punch. I don't want to know how high up we are.
After 45 more minutes, we're at the top. We have to hoof it 1/2 a mile or so up some wooden stairs (extremely slippery because of the rain and fog) to get to the top. It was entirely anticlimactic, too, becuase of the fog. We couldn't see anything.
And then...we went back down.
That's why I hate gondolas. I told Joey I was never, ever in my entire life getting on another gondola, even if it meant missing out on something really cool. Never again. Oh, I forgot to say the word "telemarketer"; so now I've said it. (I gotta say it every time, you know.)
Thursday, March 09, 2006
I don't understand it.
I called a guy this morning, we'll call him Bob Hearnot, and said, "Hi, may I speak with Bob?" I get silence on the other end. Someone's scuffling about.
"Who?" Says the man.
Ohhh, I think to myself, another one of these.
"I'm looking for Bob. Bob Hearnot," I say. More scuffling.
"Bob who--Who you say you lookin' for?" Growls the gruff-voiced man.
I sigh. "Bob Hearnot. Is this the wrong number?"
Reluctantly he says, "Uhhh, no....this is Bob."
Seriously. Either Bob is deaf or he thinks I'm a bill collector. This happens ALL DAY LONG. People play seriously dumb when you ask for someone, but if you persist then they eventually come out with "Oh, that's me."
Do they just not know their own names?
Last I checked, my English was pretty good so I'm pretty sure it's not because they just can't understand me. A lot more people must need hearing aids. Either that or they need to quit running up debts and then going delinquent on them. Either or.
I called a guy this morning, we'll call him Bob Hearnot, and said, "Hi, may I speak with Bob?" I get silence on the other end. Someone's scuffling about.
"Who?" Says the man.
Ohhh, I think to myself, another one of these.
"I'm looking for Bob. Bob Hearnot," I say. More scuffling.
"Bob who--Who you say you lookin' for?" Growls the gruff-voiced man.
I sigh. "Bob Hearnot. Is this the wrong number?"
Reluctantly he says, "Uhhh, no....this is Bob."
Seriously. Either Bob is deaf or he thinks I'm a bill collector. This happens ALL DAY LONG. People play seriously dumb when you ask for someone, but if you persist then they eventually come out with "Oh, that's me."
Do they just not know their own names?
Last I checked, my English was pretty good so I'm pretty sure it's not because they just can't understand me. A lot more people must need hearing aids. Either that or they need to quit running up debts and then going delinquent on them. Either or.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Dear fans, loyal readers, and really bored people,
Today it's really busy around here. I've suckered 28 people into taking applications (three of them were real arm-twisters, too. I'm such a bad person) and it's not looking to slow down anytime soon. I really shouldn't even be blogging right now, I haven't got the time.
I just had to mention some really unusual last names I saw today. Telemarketers see all sorts of silly things, you know. My favorite one so far has been "Beaubeof" and that is, of course, French for "Pretty cow". I wonder if that lady knows that's what her name means.
I also talked to a Lesicko (that also sounds French for "The sicko") and then some guy whose last name was Nalchadzyan. He was from Armenia, though, so I guess that explains it. I can't even figure out how to pronounce it!
Well, like I said friends, I need to not be doing this anymore. Telemarketing awaits.
Love,
Jenna
Today it's really busy around here. I've suckered 28 people into taking applications (three of them were real arm-twisters, too. I'm such a bad person) and it's not looking to slow down anytime soon. I really shouldn't even be blogging right now, I haven't got the time.
I just had to mention some really unusual last names I saw today. Telemarketers see all sorts of silly things, you know. My favorite one so far has been "Beaubeof" and that is, of course, French for "Pretty cow". I wonder if that lady knows that's what her name means.
I also talked to a Lesicko (that also sounds French for "The sicko") and then some guy whose last name was Nalchadzyan. He was from Armenia, though, so I guess that explains it. I can't even figure out how to pronounce it!
Well, like I said friends, I need to not be doing this anymore. Telemarketing awaits.
Love,
Jenna
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
I think today's isn't going to have much to do with telemarketing. (But I did just get some guy's answering machine...and he was singing on it! For shame.) This one's going to be about.... STAGE FRIGHT!
So I'm in Kohl's a couple weeks ago looking for something for Joey's birthday. They had a ton of stuff on sale, so I was browsing through the clearance on the hunt for a track jacket that was priced just right. Suddenly, I saw someone that I worked with for a couple of weeks when I worked for the bank.
I got stage fright.
What do I do? Do I hide or do I say hi? What do I say if I do go over and talk to her? She always scared me when we worked together because she was cranky and mean. Hmm...Did she see me? I couldn't tell. Well, I was a chicken. I opted for "hide behind a really tall clothing rack and pretend I never saw her in the first place".
It worked. Good thing I'm short.
This happens to me all the time. I see somebody I sort of know, think I should go over and say hi but then I get stage fright and go hide somewhere for 5 minutes until I figure they're gone.
I did this at work the other day. I saw some guy that used to work on my team (for a couple months) coming through the doors at the same time as me. I thought, "Hmm, should I say hi or should I just pretend I didn't see him. Maybe he didn't recognize me". Besides, I'd hate for him to think I was, like....flirting or something nasty like that. I hear behind me, "Well, hello, Jenna."
Stink. Foiled again.
I turned around and tried to dig myself out of my hole. It was hard, too, because the hole was super deep. Stage fright is a bad thing to have at this job. Sometimes when mean and nasty people get on the phone I just think, "Oh cool, they can't even see me. I can just pretend I'm not here."
Life's hard for telemarketer.
So I'm in Kohl's a couple weeks ago looking for something for Joey's birthday. They had a ton of stuff on sale, so I was browsing through the clearance on the hunt for a track jacket that was priced just right. Suddenly, I saw someone that I worked with for a couple of weeks when I worked for the bank.
I got stage fright.
What do I do? Do I hide or do I say hi? What do I say if I do go over and talk to her? She always scared me when we worked together because she was cranky and mean. Hmm...Did she see me? I couldn't tell. Well, I was a chicken. I opted for "hide behind a really tall clothing rack and pretend I never saw her in the first place".
It worked. Good thing I'm short.
This happens to me all the time. I see somebody I sort of know, think I should go over and say hi but then I get stage fright and go hide somewhere for 5 minutes until I figure they're gone.
I did this at work the other day. I saw some guy that used to work on my team (for a couple months) coming through the doors at the same time as me. I thought, "Hmm, should I say hi or should I just pretend I didn't see him. Maybe he didn't recognize me". Besides, I'd hate for him to think I was, like....flirting or something nasty like that. I hear behind me, "Well, hello, Jenna."
Stink. Foiled again.
I turned around and tried to dig myself out of my hole. It was hard, too, because the hole was super deep. Stage fright is a bad thing to have at this job. Sometimes when mean and nasty people get on the phone I just think, "Oh cool, they can't even see me. I can just pretend I'm not here."
Life's hard for telemarketer.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Good morning, class. Today we will be discussing a very important topic: answering machines. Now get out those pens and notebooks to take notes. If I ever hear of any of you violating any of the Seven Deadly Answering Machine Sins...what I do to you won't be pretty. (And I'm not responsible because you've all been warned.) Telemarketers hate, hate, hate corny answering machines. Trust me, this is for your own good!
So, without any further ado, the Seven Deadly Answering Machine Sins.
1.) Singing Like You Can
Holy cow. Why do people think it's cool to write songs and then sing them into their answering machines? It really kills me when people try to sound like rock stars and are doing the Beyonce thing when they really just can't. (I wonder if nobody's ever told them that it makes them sound really, really bad.) Even if you have a decent voice, never sing on your answering machine. It will ruin any talent you may have.
2.) Coaching Young Children To Say The Greeting
Oh my, my. If you have a two year old and they're really good at repeating what you say, don't start thinking it would be cute to have them do your answering machine. It's cute the first time, but it really loses it's luster quite fast. Consider the fact that no one but you can probably understand what your kid is saying anyway, and if you want people to leave messages they should probably know who they're calling. And besides, it's not that cute to hear an adult whispering in the background "Hi, this is" and then the kid saying "Ga, ga ga" into the microphone. Oy.
3.) Playing Music In the Background
OK, Muzak has its place and it's definitely not on your answering machine. Every time I get some big tough guy's answering machine and he's got cheesy jazz in the background, I cringe. Can you say "Ladies' Man" any more clearly? Besides, the ladies he's trying to snag are smart enough to know that it's a red flag for "player". Foiled again.
4.) Having An Automated Greeting
Nothing says "I'm running from the cops" more than an automated answering machine, especially one that just says the phone number and not your name. Maybe it's just me, but seriously, if you have your greeting set up to say "We are not home right now. Please leave a message" in a computer voice, you're probably hiding. (Either from cops or creditors, it doesn't matter much.) Or if you just can't figure out how to record a greeting, I suggest you get out the manual. Otherwise telemarketers are going to think you're running from the cops.
5.) Sounding Like You're a Bad, Tough Guy
This one goes along with playing cheesy music in the background, but not always. I got an answering machine once that was something like, "Yo, yo, representin'. If you be coo, show some love and leave a message at the tone." And so on. Can you say "Wannabe" with me? That's what he sounded like to me...
6.) Leaving Your Cell Number
Alright, kids, this one's pretty basic. Don't put your cell number on your answering machine unless you want to get prank calls frmo telemarketers. Seriously, I'm so tempted to write those numbers down and then start calling them and saying, "Your refrigerator is running" or something dumb like that.
7.) Thinking You're Original and Playing the "Hello" Game
Newsflash--You're not. About 3 million people in America also have answering machines that say "Hello........OH HI! How ARE you?.... I'm sorry, speak up, I can't hear you.....GOTCHA, this is an answering machine. You fell for it." Yeah, it's really not funny. Not after you get them 10 or 20 times a day. There should be a Constitutional Amendment about it or something.
OK, right now I'm talking to a guy in Wisconsin who sounds exactly like Red from the Red Green Show. It's weird.
So, without any further ado, the Seven Deadly Answering Machine Sins.
1.) Singing Like You Can
Holy cow. Why do people think it's cool to write songs and then sing them into their answering machines? It really kills me when people try to sound like rock stars and are doing the Beyonce thing when they really just can't. (I wonder if nobody's ever told them that it makes them sound really, really bad.) Even if you have a decent voice, never sing on your answering machine. It will ruin any talent you may have.
2.) Coaching Young Children To Say The Greeting
Oh my, my. If you have a two year old and they're really good at repeating what you say, don't start thinking it would be cute to have them do your answering machine. It's cute the first time, but it really loses it's luster quite fast. Consider the fact that no one but you can probably understand what your kid is saying anyway, and if you want people to leave messages they should probably know who they're calling. And besides, it's not that cute to hear an adult whispering in the background "Hi, this is" and then the kid saying "Ga, ga ga" into the microphone. Oy.
3.) Playing Music In the Background
OK, Muzak has its place and it's definitely not on your answering machine. Every time I get some big tough guy's answering machine and he's got cheesy jazz in the background, I cringe. Can you say "Ladies' Man" any more clearly? Besides, the ladies he's trying to snag are smart enough to know that it's a red flag for "player". Foiled again.
4.) Having An Automated Greeting
Nothing says "I'm running from the cops" more than an automated answering machine, especially one that just says the phone number and not your name. Maybe it's just me, but seriously, if you have your greeting set up to say "We are not home right now. Please leave a message" in a computer voice, you're probably hiding. (Either from cops or creditors, it doesn't matter much.) Or if you just can't figure out how to record a greeting, I suggest you get out the manual. Otherwise telemarketers are going to think you're running from the cops.
5.) Sounding Like You're a Bad, Tough Guy
This one goes along with playing cheesy music in the background, but not always. I got an answering machine once that was something like, "Yo, yo, representin'. If you be coo, show some love and leave a message at the tone." And so on. Can you say "Wannabe" with me? That's what he sounded like to me...
6.) Leaving Your Cell Number
Alright, kids, this one's pretty basic. Don't put your cell number on your answering machine unless you want to get prank calls frmo telemarketers. Seriously, I'm so tempted to write those numbers down and then start calling them and saying, "Your refrigerator is running" or something dumb like that.
7.) Thinking You're Original and Playing the "Hello" Game
Newsflash--You're not. About 3 million people in America also have answering machines that say "Hello........OH HI! How ARE you?.... I'm sorry, speak up, I can't hear you.....GOTCHA, this is an answering machine. You fell for it." Yeah, it's really not funny. Not after you get them 10 or 20 times a day. There should be a Constitutional Amendment about it or something.
OK, right now I'm talking to a guy in Wisconsin who sounds exactly like Red from the Red Green Show. It's weird.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Saturdays are great for one major reason--NO TELEMARKETING!! (Well, every other Saturday that is.)
Today I've been really productive. I cleaned the whole house within an inch of its life, did 45 minutes of Pilates (I'm so, so sore) and been twice to Walmart. I hate Walmart. Sorry, Dad, but it's true.
I'm on my way to grocery shop now becuase I'm going to pre-make some dishes for this next week. It'll be really nice to have a few things in the freezer, especially if I wind up having any interviews. Wow, wouldn't it be great to not be a telemarketer anymore? But I must be thankful for the job I've got, right? I try...
I can't think of anything funny to say, so I'm going to quit now.
Today I've been really productive. I cleaned the whole house within an inch of its life, did 45 minutes of Pilates (I'm so, so sore) and been twice to Walmart. I hate Walmart. Sorry, Dad, but it's true.
I'm on my way to grocery shop now becuase I'm going to pre-make some dishes for this next week. It'll be really nice to have a few things in the freezer, especially if I wind up having any interviews. Wow, wouldn't it be great to not be a telemarketer anymore? But I must be thankful for the job I've got, right? I try...
I can't think of anything funny to say, so I'm going to quit now.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Yay! It's Friday! (Good thing, too, because around here by Friday, all telemarketers are fried.)
We're working on finger puppets right now. We're making one for each of the members on our team. This way when it gets really slow and boring around here we can do little plays. I've got one dress finished and I'm working on another one. It's almost done. I forgot how slow hand stitching is, good thing some guy invented a sewing machine. On the upside, my stitches are really improving. They're much smaller and straighter.
~*~*~
Some guy named Pedro called me yesterday. He's from the East Coast, like Maryland or something, and he was "following up on my application". I'm confused. I didn't apply in Maryland, or the East Coast, for any position. Particularly not with a mortgage company. I want nothing more to do with money places. I keep trying to get ahold of our pal Pedro...but he's not in.
All I can figure out is that somehow when I took that online class to get certified to do mortgages in Maryland (yes, they seriously had us do it "just in case") my phone number got given to Pedro.
Poor guy. With the name Pedro, all I can think of is the guy from Napoleon Dynamite. He even sort of talks like him, too, so it's really hard to take him seriously! I wonder if he looks like the guy from the movie, too. I guess I'll never know because I'm NOT moving to Maryland to do mortgages for Pedro.
"You should build her a cake or something"
We're working on finger puppets right now. We're making one for each of the members on our team. This way when it gets really slow and boring around here we can do little plays. I've got one dress finished and I'm working on another one. It's almost done. I forgot how slow hand stitching is, good thing some guy invented a sewing machine. On the upside, my stitches are really improving. They're much smaller and straighter.
~*~*~
Some guy named Pedro called me yesterday. He's from the East Coast, like Maryland or something, and he was "following up on my application". I'm confused. I didn't apply in Maryland, or the East Coast, for any position. Particularly not with a mortgage company. I want nothing more to do with money places. I keep trying to get ahold of our pal Pedro...but he's not in.
All I can figure out is that somehow when I took that online class to get certified to do mortgages in Maryland (yes, they seriously had us do it "just in case") my phone number got given to Pedro.
Poor guy. With the name Pedro, all I can think of is the guy from Napoleon Dynamite. He even sort of talks like him, too, so it's really hard to take him seriously! I wonder if he looks like the guy from the movie, too. I guess I'll never know because I'm NOT moving to Maryland to do mortgages for Pedro.
"You should build her a cake or something"
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
My poor husband. I really did him over this time.
On his birthday last Saturday we decided to take a break from watching LOTR movies (our eyes were going buggy) and run by Kohl's before dinner. They were having a ginormous sale, so we got him a couple of sweaters for $5 and suchlike. (I also got a really cozy hoodie toreplace my brown one that's got holes. If I can bear to part with it, that is.) Anyway, Joey saw a rack of khakis for $10 and, since he only has one "official" pair I thought I'd find him his size and we'd get them. Who can beat a nice pair of khakis for only $10?
I have a real hard time with guys' sizes. I can never remember if poor Joey is 30x32, 32x30 or 32x32. Fortunately, Joey was there to tell me that he is, in fact, a 32x30. They had one in his size, so I grabbed it and we were off.
Later, when Joey was trying on his khakis, I noticed that they looked really....tight. Uncomfortably tight. I thought, "Man, how did he gain so much weight so fast? We've really got to put him on some sort of diet. Like now!" Poor Joey, I'm not very good at keeping my thoughts in my head, so I told him that he was probably getting fat. Since his pants were so tight, he thought I was probably right.
Well this morning Joey decided to wear those khakis to work. For some reason, he glanced at the tag and, to his great surprise, noticed that they weren't 32x30s, like I thought I grabbed, but a 30x32!
POOR JOEY!!!
And here I thought he was getting pudgy when it was really just a case of me not being able to read. I should be extremely ashamed of myself. (And I am.) Poor thing, now I feel really bad and I want to go try to find him a pair of pants that fits.
So, do you think it's ethical to return something after it's already been washed and worn, if the wife made a mistake and still can't read men's sizes? I think it's because my eyes are ruined from being a telemarketer.
On his birthday last Saturday we decided to take a break from watching LOTR movies (our eyes were going buggy) and run by Kohl's before dinner. They were having a ginormous sale, so we got him a couple of sweaters for $5 and suchlike. (I also got a really cozy hoodie to
I have a real hard time with guys' sizes. I can never remember if poor Joey is 30x32, 32x30 or 32x32. Fortunately, Joey was there to tell me that he is, in fact, a 32x30. They had one in his size, so I grabbed it and we were off.
Later, when Joey was trying on his khakis, I noticed that they looked really....tight. Uncomfortably tight. I thought, "Man, how did he gain so much weight so fast? We've really got to put him on some sort of diet. Like now!" Poor Joey, I'm not very good at keeping my thoughts in my head, so I told him that he was probably getting fat. Since his pants were so tight, he thought I was probably right.
Well this morning Joey decided to wear those khakis to work. For some reason, he glanced at the tag and, to his great surprise, noticed that they weren't 32x30s, like I thought I grabbed, but a 30x32!
POOR JOEY!!!
And here I thought he was getting pudgy when it was really just a case of me not being able to read. I should be extremely ashamed of myself. (And I am.) Poor thing, now I feel really bad and I want to go try to find him a pair of pants that fits.
So, do you think it's ethical to return something after it's already been washed and worn, if the wife made a mistake and still can't read men's sizes? I think it's because my eyes are ruined from being a telemarketer.
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