UGHHH!

At work, I use a certain version (7) of a certain software to create e-learning for all of the happy employees at my company (really).

On the box, in the manual, and on the website, this software claims to have “one-step publishing for the web.” Except that it doesn’t. Publish to the web. In one step or many. Following is my exchange with said company.

Conversation #1

Me: I’m having a problem with the “publish to the web” feature. It just doesn’t work. Is there someone in technical support that could help me?

Him: Well, I’m looking at your file here, and see that you’re still using Version 7. Version 8 is available.

Me: I really don’t want Version 8. I want some help with what Version 7 claims to do.

Him: Well, in order for technical support to even consider your question, you’ll have to upgrade to Version 8 ($299) and buy a one year service maintenance agreement ($450).

Me: (incredulous) You’re saying that no one will even *listen* to my question until I pay you $749?

Him: Correct.

Me: Let me think about this.

Conversation #2

Me: Okay, it says right here in my Version 7 manual that every software purchase comes with a period of free technical support for 60 days. So, theoretically, if I upgrade to Version 8, I should get 60 days of free technical support. Right?

Him: Well, no. You see, that’s an old policy. We recently merged with another company, and that policy is no longer valid. In order for someone to address your question, you’ll have to upgrade to Version 8 and buy the one year service maintenance agreement.

Me: But this isn’t service maintenance. This is your product won’t do what it says it will do.

Him: I have no idea what else you’ve installed on your computer. Maybe you’ve done something to make it not work.

Me: Whatever.

Conversation #3

Me: So the *only* way I can get someone to listen to my question is to upgrade to Version 8 *and* purchase the one-year service maintenance agreement?

Him: Yes.

Me: There aren’t any support groups, or 1-800 numbers, or anything.

Him: No.

Me: That’s just wrong. I can go out and buy a bag of potato chips and there’s a 1-800 number on the back that I can call if the product doesn’t provide what’s promised.

Conversation #4

Me: Okay. I don’t like this, but I’ll buy the stupid upgrade and service agreement. BUT, if Version 8 doesn’t publish to the web (as it advertises it will), I want my money back.

Him: Of course. Our software comes with the standard 30 day net return policy.

Me: I want that in writing.

Him: (silence)

Me: Is there a problem?

Him: Well, I, uh, I don’t know if I can put that in writing. I mean, that would require the Vice President’s approval.

Me: Fine, get it.

Him: I can’t. He’s left the building.

So now I get to deal with this again *tomorrow* at work.

Tour de Marin

I love my best friend Emily. I really do. But sometimes she scares me.

Last night she returned from a two week trip to Europe. Today we were discussing our weekend plans by email. She mentioned wanting to rest up (as jet lag would probably kick in), but also wanting to go for a quick bike ride on Sunday since the weather was supposed to be nice. Thinking this would be a good way for us to spend some quality time together, I mentioned I would like to join her.

I received the following message:

“I thought we could bike out to my brother’s house in San Anselmo, hang out there for a little, then bike back to the city. It’s a beautiful ride, and it’s only 25 miles each way.”

I was so stunned I couldn’t even reply. I mean, I know she’s a super athlete, constantly competing in triathlons and adventure races. But, really, how can a 50 mile bike ride be considered quick?

The boy behind us in line couldn’t have been more than 4 years old. I tried to ignore the first 10 or 15 minutes of whining. “I’m boooooooooooooooored. This is so booooooooooooooooring. Dad, why are we in this booooooooooooooooring line?” I surreptitiously glanced over my shoulder to see who could be so bored while standing in line for the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad roller coaster.

He barely fulfilled the 35″ height requirement. Fairly nondescript little fellow. Brown hair, brown eyes. Grating voice. His father, on the other hand, was a giant. At least 6’5″, Grizzly Adams beard, wife-beater t-shirt advertising the merits of Monster Truck racing. At the same time I glanced over my shoulder, the father bellowed, “YOU ARE NOT BORED! YOU ARE AT DISNEYLAND! YOU WILL LIKE THIS RIDE! YOU WILL HAVE FUN!”

This continued until 30 minutes later when we were strapped into our roller coaster seats. The ride lasted all of 2 minutes, and, just as the father promised, it was fun. As we jerked to a stop then exited, I heard the little fellow screaming, “Dad! Dad! That was so much fun! Let’s do it again!” The father, with the hint of an “I told you so” on his face, animatedly replied, “We’re off to the Matterhorn! Another fun ride!”

At which point the little one began anew, “That’s boooooooooooooooring. I don’t wanna ride the Matterhorn. Disneyland is booooooooooooooooring….”

Signs – Only in LA

Brothers Collateral Loans – Pawnbrokers to the Stars. Guess even stars get strapped for cash.

Spearmint Rhinoceros Gentleman’s Club. Don’t even want to go there.

A homeless man on a street corner in Beverly Hills, holding a worn cardboard sign reading “Can you spare $100 for food and shelter? God bless.” I knew LA was expensive, but please…

Don’t Do That!

I’ve discovered pet peeves I never realized I had.

1. Passengers who insist they want to take the scenic route then sleep the entire 13 freaking hours to Los Angeles on windy Highway 1.

2. Traffic jams. I can handle about 1 1/2 hours of slow, imperceptibly moving traffic, then I turn into a raving bitch.

3. People who grunt when asked a yes/no question, the grunt not clearly an affirmative nor a negative.

That’s all for now. More as they are discovered.

We’re going to Disneyland! Back soon!

A New Perspective

My friend Young is visiting from Korea. I’m seeing America in a way I’ve never seen before. The first day he was here I had to explain what parking meters are. The second, laundromats. The third, redwoods and why they grow so big. The fourth, gay pride.

I may have bitten off more than I can chew. Tonight we’re going to the Marin County Fair, in part because I want him to expose him to the whole “fair” experience – the exhibits, the rides, the carnival games. But also because KC and The Sunshine Band is playing. Take me back to 3rd grade. How can I explain that?

Sale?

As I passed the fortune cookie shop, the sign caught my eye: Special Sale Today. Misfortunes, 50% off.

I’m sad. My only uncle, my favorite relative, has died. I don’t ponder questions that usually come with such occurrences, such as, “Why him?” “Why now?” “What did he do to deserve such an early death?” because such questions really don’t matter. Death happens.

I’m sad because I won’t hear his Florida twang in his scruffy voice ever again. Sad because I won’t feel the prickly stubble of his graying 5 o’clock shadow as I hug him. Sad because I won’t experience that special feeling when I sit talking to him at family gatherings, knowing I’m his favorite, too, not because of any words that have been said, but knowing nonetheless. Sad because I’m 3000 miles away from any family and during times like these it would be so comforting to drive across town just to be with others who loved him too.

I’m sad just because.

Moving, Moving, Moving

Once again, I’m packing up my belongings and moving. Hopefully this will be the last time for a while, but for some reason I suspect not. This time it’s just across town, to a larger apartment, one more conveniently located for my commute.

In some ways, I marvel that I own so little for having been in the workforce for almost 15 years. Then, on nights like tonight, when I begin packing those seemingly so few possessions into boxes becoming stacked higher and higher, I wonder how I’ve accumulated so much. And why I need it.

I was making excellent progress until I began to pull a packed box (one never unpacked from the last move) off a closet shelf. I began to lose my balance, the next thing I knew I was showered with cascading high school and college yearbooks. Not sure those were the best times of my life, but they certainly were the heaviest.