So, I just got a call from the eye doctor/optician's office. Apparently they think maybe they screwed something else up besides my prescription and they want me to re-take my eye exam. Which means yet another goddamn trip back and forth to Albuquerque on a day when I'd rather be doing something else, this time on my fucking birthday, because that's the day they had available when I'm not working. (I'm working a hideously extra-long week just before that, because of course I am.) And I still need to make an appointment with the endodontist, too. I tried to do that today, once I finally got my work schedule for the next month, but apparently they close early on Fridays. I probably won't be able to call them until after the holiday. And who knows when I'll even be able to schedule that appointment. I'm willing to bet it won't be the same day so I can only make one trip. Then, of course, I'm going to have to schedule the actual endodontal surgery, and god knows how that's going to work out with my schedule. I just really, really hope I'm allowed to drive myself home from that, because it's not like I've got anybody to bring with me, not on a weekday.
It's enough to make me want to smash my forehead into the keyboard.
nmj m, m,bynjhm
Hmm. No. Don't think that helped.
Showing posts with label annoyed ranting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label annoyed ranting. Show all posts
Friday, June 30, 2017
Thursday, October 06, 2016
What The Hell Does Somebody Have To Do To Get Some Goddamned Levothyroxin Around Here?
Anybody have any recommendations for doctors in Socorro or Albuquerque? (Or somewhere in-between?) I think I've just hit the absolute last straw with Socorro General Medical Group and their incompetent administrative staff. Which, admittedly, I should have done after the time my doctor told them three weeks in advance that she wanted to reschedule my surgery, and they didn't bother calling me until a few days beforehand. (At which point my boss already had every one on an altered work schedule to accommodate my absence, and my mother was packing to fly out to stay with me.) Then, of course, there was the time they submitted the wrong version of a fantastically expensive and time-sensitive drug and ignored my insurance company's repeated attempts to check whether that was what they really wanted. Or the multiple times they sent me repeat prescriptions for drugs I was only supposed to take once. Or the time they made me an appointment with a nurse after I insisted, several times, that I wanted to see an actual doctor. Or... Well, yeah, you get the idea.
Today's saga, just because I have to vent about it somewhere:
Over the weekend I noticed I was low on my thyroid pills and submitted a refill request to Wallmart (which is now the only pharmacy in town, something that comes with its own share of suck, but never mind that now). There's a note that they have to confirm the refill with my doctor, which might take an extra day. They're supposed to text me when it's ready, but for the next three days, I hear nothing. When I check, the automated phone menu and website say the refill order doesn't exist. I try putting it in again. Nothing. I call back today to check it again, and the computer tells me the pharmacy wants to speak with me. They tell me the refill has been refused by my doctor.
I call the doctors' office. The woman I talk to -- who sounds like she has no idea what she's doing, and ums and ers and reads things aloud to herself under her breath like she's trying hard to understand them and immediately has to go and "ask the nurse" about something -- tells me the refill was refused because it's been more than six months since I had my thyroid levels checked. It has been five and a half months, but OK, it's reasonable that they might not want to order the refill until it's been checked again. Now, the doctor whose name is on the prescription isn't there any more; she left a few months ago. This is all too familiar, as this practice has a constant revolving door of physicians (which is another strike against it). I'm told that one of the new doctors will have to see me before they can order blood tests or refill my pills. Which is also reasonable; doctors don't want to order tests or drugs for people they haven't seen in person. But the problem is that because they never bothered to inform me of this when they got the refill request four days ago, I am now out of pills. I just took my last one.
Now, when they do the blood test, what they're testing is whether the medication is working properly, or whether the dosage needs to be adjusted. If the levels are where they should be when I'm on the medication, it's fine. If they're off, we probably need to change it. But that only works if you do the test when I've been taking the pills. So, after the woman offers me an appointment on Monday so we can do the blood test sometime later, I explain to her why this is a problem, and ask her if the doctor is aware that I'm out of pills. She just repeats that she's going to make me an appointment for Monday and the policy is that I can't get a blood test or the pills until then. Yes, I say, but is a doctor aware that this is going to be a problem? Can she talk to them and see what they have to say about it? She can't talk to them, she says. They're all in rooms with patients. OK, can she talk to them when they have a free moment and maybe give me a call back? No, she's not going to do that. She will make me an appointment for Monday. Yes, I say, but the doctor really should be aware of this. Does the doctor know I'm out of medication? She assumes the doctors know, she says. They probably aren't going to do anything differently. (Although, in my experience, the doctors themselves are generally very good at being flexible and accommodating, and, in any case, they should be warned about the problem.) "Probably," I say. "You assume. That means you don't know. Can you check?" No, she's not going to do that. This is the policy. I sigh and ask if there is someone else I can speak to. "Yes," she says, "But they're just going to tell you the same thing."
She transfers me. I explain the situation again, and about the other person's refusal to help. Oh, yes, says the new person, they can absolutely check with a doctor when one is free, and will give me call back before noon.
Someone calls me back before noon and says that, actually, one of the doctors has a free slot this afternoon, and I can come in at 2:45 so she can see me so I can get the blood test. Hooray!
An hour later, someone else calls me, and tells me that one of the doctors is putting in a 60-day refill order for me, and I just have to make sure to make an appointment before the pills run out. "Great! I say. Um, does that mean I shouldn't come to the appointment today?" The guy sounds befuddled. "They made you an appointment?" He checks. Turns out, the person they made the appointment with doesn't even take my insurance. So, yeah, let's cancel that. I should just make an appointment later, he says. I tell him, uh, I think I may actually want to see a different doctor, instead, and ask about what I need to do to transfer my medical records. So now, I guess, I need to find a new doctor in the next 60 days.
And, man, I really, really hope they actually send that prescription in. I won't be remotely surprised if they don't.
Today's saga, just because I have to vent about it somewhere:
Over the weekend I noticed I was low on my thyroid pills and submitted a refill request to Wallmart (which is now the only pharmacy in town, something that comes with its own share of suck, but never mind that now). There's a note that they have to confirm the refill with my doctor, which might take an extra day. They're supposed to text me when it's ready, but for the next three days, I hear nothing. When I check, the automated phone menu and website say the refill order doesn't exist. I try putting it in again. Nothing. I call back today to check it again, and the computer tells me the pharmacy wants to speak with me. They tell me the refill has been refused by my doctor.
I call the doctors' office. The woman I talk to -- who sounds like she has no idea what she's doing, and ums and ers and reads things aloud to herself under her breath like she's trying hard to understand them and immediately has to go and "ask the nurse" about something -- tells me the refill was refused because it's been more than six months since I had my thyroid levels checked. It has been five and a half months, but OK, it's reasonable that they might not want to order the refill until it's been checked again. Now, the doctor whose name is on the prescription isn't there any more; she left a few months ago. This is all too familiar, as this practice has a constant revolving door of physicians (which is another strike against it). I'm told that one of the new doctors will have to see me before they can order blood tests or refill my pills. Which is also reasonable; doctors don't want to order tests or drugs for people they haven't seen in person. But the problem is that because they never bothered to inform me of this when they got the refill request four days ago, I am now out of pills. I just took my last one.
Now, when they do the blood test, what they're testing is whether the medication is working properly, or whether the dosage needs to be adjusted. If the levels are where they should be when I'm on the medication, it's fine. If they're off, we probably need to change it. But that only works if you do the test when I've been taking the pills. So, after the woman offers me an appointment on Monday so we can do the blood test sometime later, I explain to her why this is a problem, and ask her if the doctor is aware that I'm out of pills. She just repeats that she's going to make me an appointment for Monday and the policy is that I can't get a blood test or the pills until then. Yes, I say, but is a doctor aware that this is going to be a problem? Can she talk to them and see what they have to say about it? She can't talk to them, she says. They're all in rooms with patients. OK, can she talk to them when they have a free moment and maybe give me a call back? No, she's not going to do that. She will make me an appointment for Monday. Yes, I say, but the doctor really should be aware of this. Does the doctor know I'm out of medication? She assumes the doctors know, she says. They probably aren't going to do anything differently. (Although, in my experience, the doctors themselves are generally very good at being flexible and accommodating, and, in any case, they should be warned about the problem.) "Probably," I say. "You assume. That means you don't know. Can you check?" No, she's not going to do that. This is the policy. I sigh and ask if there is someone else I can speak to. "Yes," she says, "But they're just going to tell you the same thing."
She transfers me. I explain the situation again, and about the other person's refusal to help. Oh, yes, says the new person, they can absolutely check with a doctor when one is free, and will give me call back before noon.
Someone calls me back before noon and says that, actually, one of the doctors has a free slot this afternoon, and I can come in at 2:45 so she can see me so I can get the blood test. Hooray!
An hour later, someone else calls me, and tells me that one of the doctors is putting in a 60-day refill order for me, and I just have to make sure to make an appointment before the pills run out. "Great! I say. Um, does that mean I shouldn't come to the appointment today?" The guy sounds befuddled. "They made you an appointment?" He checks. Turns out, the person they made the appointment with doesn't even take my insurance. So, yeah, let's cancel that. I should just make an appointment later, he says. I tell him, uh, I think I may actually want to see a different doctor, instead, and ask about what I need to do to transfer my medical records. So now, I guess, I need to find a new doctor in the next 60 days.
And, man, I really, really hope they actually send that prescription in. I won't be remotely surprised if they don't.
Monday, September 30, 2013
I Don't Do This Often, But: A Political Rant
Dear Republicans: FUCK YOU WITH A PICKAXE. Seriously, if you care about jobs even a tenth of a percent as much as your hyper-inflated rhetoric claims, then stop endangering mine for the sake of a dick-measuring contest with the president or some delusional belief that providing poor people with access to health care is immoral and/or going to completely ruin the US economy. You know what will hurt the US economy? SHUTTING DOWN THE SOURCE OF MILLIONS OF JOBS, that's what. And you know what's immoral and indefensible? Using people's livelihoods as a political bargaining chip in a juvenile game of chicken.[*] Cut it the fuck out.
For the record, the NSF-funded organization I work for has stated that they expect to be able to keep paying us for a week or two, in the event. So I might well be able to ride through this with no problems. But I don't need the extra financial uncertainty in my life right now, and I'm sure there are a lot of potentially affected people out there who need it even less than I do.
I am getting so fed up with the crap that passes for politics in this country, I cannot tell you.
Aaargh. End of rant. Good luck, everybody.
(ETA: OK, I should correct that to "Dear some Republicans." More power to the saner voices in the party.)
[*] Yes, I am aware that this is a mixed metaphor. Shut up.
For the record, the NSF-funded organization I work for has stated that they expect to be able to keep paying us for a week or two, in the event. So I might well be able to ride through this with no problems. But I don't need the extra financial uncertainty in my life right now, and I'm sure there are a lot of potentially affected people out there who need it even less than I do.
I am getting so fed up with the crap that passes for politics in this country, I cannot tell you.
Aaargh. End of rant. Good luck, everybody.
(ETA: OK, I should correct that to "Dear some Republicans." More power to the saner voices in the party.)
[*] Yes, I am aware that this is a mixed metaphor. Shut up.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Come On, Gmail, Seriously?
Please excuse the language, but: Holy fucking Christ on a stick! So, OK, a while back, Gmail introduced their "new and improved" compose window. I tried it, I immediately hated it, quickly switched back to the old version, and blissfully forgot all about my brief, unpleasant experience with it. Well, apparently that is no longer an option, and we're all going to use the new thing, like it or not. And ye gods... I am not one of those folks who's quick to declare every change to a software or a service as a sign of the apocalypse just because it's different from what I'm used to. But this thing... Sweet zombie Jesus, is this a steaming pile of awful! All I can say is, well: what this guy said. In fact, every single thing that guy said. What in the name of every imaginary deity in the multiverse were they thinking?
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Also, Why Isn't It Spring Yet?
Dear Weather Channel Website,
Dammit, you said it would maybe rain around 1:00, not, "It'll start snowing like a son of a bitch at 10:30."
No love from me or my on-the-line laundry,
Me
Dammit, you said it would maybe rain around 1:00, not, "It'll start snowing like a son of a bitch at 10:30."
No love from me or my on-the-line laundry,
Me
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Sunday, November 06, 2011
Two Temporal Complaints
1. I do not want this "extra" hour. All it means is that we're calling the time I got up this morning "8 AM" instead of "9 AM." This will not be helpful tomorrow when I have to work until midnight (or, the hour formerly known as 1 AM). *insert usual anti-Daylight Savings rant here*
2. I liked Christmas a lot better when it didn't last for two fucking months. Gaah!
2. I liked Christmas a lot better when it didn't last for two fucking months. Gaah!
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Aaargh
A hard-earned piece of advice: if your computer-illiterate mother leaves a message on your answering machine saying her computer crashed and she needs help, DO NOT CALL HER BACK. At least, not unless you're prepared to kiss your entire goddamned Saturday, and possibly your entire weekend, goodbye.
Another piece of advice: People! BACK UP YOUR DATA. Also KEEP TRACK OF YOUR PASSWORDS.
Aaaaaaargh. *insert large quantities of profanity here*
[ETA: She's back up now, at least. I feel a bit better.]
Another piece of advice: People! BACK UP YOUR DATA. Also KEEP TRACK OF YOUR PASSWORDS.
Aaaaaaargh. *insert large quantities of profanity here*
[ETA: She's back up now, at least. I feel a bit better.]
Thursday, June 16, 2011
I Know! Let's Make All The DVD Covers As Close To Actual Size As Possible!
What the holy hell did Netflix do to their website?! And how do I make it stop?
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Still Trying To Watch House...
Note to self: never, ever try to legally download a video again. I don't mind paying money -- well, OK, maybe I mind a little, when it's the cable company's fault in the first place -- but the effort it takes just to watch the damned thing when and where you want to watch it is way, way, way more trouble than it's worth.
Nice job shooting yourself in the foot, Hollywood and/or iTunes. Nice job.
[ETA: Well, at least after all that crap it turned out to be a pretty good episode.]
Nice job shooting yourself in the foot, Hollywood and/or iTunes. Nice job.
[ETA: Well, at least after all that crap it turned out to be a pretty good episode.]
Monday, January 17, 2011
More Aaargh
So, this morning I somehow managed to accidentally splooge out Mickey's entire tube of eye ointment, which was supposed to last a full week. And not into Mickey's eye, either. So now he's without his medicine until I can get back to the vet to get some more. Which I can't right now, because I'm stuck at work. Again. Which might not matter, anyway, because it's entirely possible the vet isn't open today.
And, thus, I find myself full of vague, annoying resentments. I resent having to work 32+ hours in the the space of less than three days. I resent people who have holidays off when I don't. I resent people who have other people at home to help them with crap like this. I resent my own overblown sense of responsibility which makes me do things like take in sick, stray kittens who have no one else and then freak out irrationally when I can't take care of them perfectly.
All of which is stupid, I know, because the kitten will almost certainly be fine, anyway, and because I'm still better off than 99.99% of the people in human history, and I really have no right to bitch. Still...
[ETA: Just called the vet. They are open. So I can go and get some more when I get off work. Well, that's something, anyway. Actually quite a relief, in fact.]
[ETA again: And, you see? There are so many reasons why it's a good thing I never had kids. The cats are more than stressful enough!]
And, thus, I find myself full of vague, annoying resentments. I resent having to work 32+ hours in the the space of less than three days. I resent people who have holidays off when I don't. I resent people who have other people at home to help them with crap like this. I resent my own overblown sense of responsibility which makes me do things like take in sick, stray kittens who have no one else and then freak out irrationally when I can't take care of them perfectly.
All of which is stupid, I know, because the kitten will almost certainly be fine, anyway, and because I'm still better off than 99.99% of the people in human history, and I really have no right to bitch. Still...
[ETA: Just called the vet. They are open. So I can go and get some more when I get off work. Well, that's something, anyway. Actually quite a relief, in fact.]
[ETA again: And, you see? There are so many reasons why it's a good thing I never had kids. The cats are more than stressful enough!]
Friday, August 06, 2010
More Grrrrr
And while I'm ranting, here's a list of things I wish the neighbors would keep the hell out of my yard: fireworks, garbage, abandoned grocery carts, and yappy dogs.
At least that dog hasn't been loose for a few days, which is a very good thing. I normally don't find it difficult to deal with free-range dogs. They're just being territorial, and all you really need to do is to project the correct air of "I'm not here to fight you, but if you start something, I will finish it" until you're off of what he thinks of as his patch of ground. The thing is, this new, over-ambitious little beast has apparently decided that his territory extends to halfway up my driveway, and that will not stand. I'm capable of being pretty damned territorial, myself, and if they let that bastard animal out again, I may have to fight him.
At least that dog hasn't been loose for a few days, which is a very good thing. I normally don't find it difficult to deal with free-range dogs. They're just being territorial, and all you really need to do is to project the correct air of "I'm not here to fight you, but if you start something, I will finish it" until you're off of what he thinks of as his patch of ground. The thing is, this new, over-ambitious little beast has apparently decided that his territory extends to halfway up my driveway, and that will not stand. I'm capable of being pretty damned territorial, myself, and if they let that bastard animal out again, I may have to fight him.
Grrrr
God damn, but I'm sick and tired of every single post here getting Chinese spam. Often multiple times per post, if I don't update for a while. Why the fuck doesn't Blogger allow you to ban specific commenters?
垃圾郵件發送者必須死！
Sunday, May 23, 2010
I KILL YOU LIKE KEAMY!
Dear local ABC affiliate,
I am trying to watch the beginning of the final episode of Lost. You know, the big, important, landmark-event show that you have been hyping like crazy? It appears to start out with a rather lovely series of images. I say "appears to," because it is difficult to make them out. You see, I do not have an extremely large television, and you have seen fit to shrink the show into a tiny little box so that you can show me pictures of a fire. Now, a fire is certainly important news, and I do not begrudge the text you have scrolling at the bottom of the screen, distracting as it is, because it contains an important public service announcement. BUT I DO NOT NEED TO SEE THE PICTURES! I KNOW WHAT SMOKE LOOKS LIKE, AND THE ONLY SMOKE I WANT TO SEE RIGHT NOW IS THE SMOKE MONSTER!
AAARGH! I BURN YOU IN A FIRE NOW! BURN! BURN! BURN YOU ALL!
Ahem.
Much lack of love,
Me
[ETA: OK, they eventually stopped doing it. Mostly. And the finale was... interesting. I'm not at all sure how I feel about some of it, but I did enjoy watching it, despite the station's best efforts.]
I am trying to watch the beginning of the final episode of Lost. You know, the big, important, landmark-event show that you have been hyping like crazy? It appears to start out with a rather lovely series of images. I say "appears to," because it is difficult to make them out. You see, I do not have an extremely large television, and you have seen fit to shrink the show into a tiny little box so that you can show me pictures of a fire. Now, a fire is certainly important news, and I do not begrudge the text you have scrolling at the bottom of the screen, distracting as it is, because it contains an important public service announcement. BUT I DO NOT NEED TO SEE THE PICTURES! I KNOW WHAT SMOKE LOOKS LIKE, AND THE ONLY SMOKE I WANT TO SEE RIGHT NOW IS THE SMOKE MONSTER!
AAARGH! I BURN YOU IN A FIRE NOW! BURN! BURN! BURN YOU ALL!
Ahem.
Much lack of love,
Me
[ETA: OK, they eventually stopped doing it. Mostly. And the finale was... interesting. I'm not at all sure how I feel about some of it, but I did enjoy watching it, despite the station's best efforts.]
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Pet Peeve #6,057
Pet Peeve #6,057: Charity-solicitation junk mail that comes with a coin in the envelope. Ostensibly, this is some kind of promotional gimmick, but I think the real intent is to punish anybody who tries to feed the envelope through a shredder without opening it. Thank you so fucking much, unnamed charity I was never going to donate to anyway because you're partly about promoting a religion I don't believe in.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Yet Another Reason Why I Sometimes Long To Be The Last Person On Earth
Dear person who apparently walked up my driveway, found my already-nearly-full trash bin parked out of sight between a shed and a length of fence and dumped your giant-ass bags of yard debris into it two days after trash-pickup day,
WHAT THE FUCKING HELL, DUDE?!
Bewildered annoyance,
Me
[ETA: Except that, on further reflection and investigation, I think those giant bags may instead have come from the guys I had out here working on my swamp cooler yesterday. Damn it. There's a great head of righteous indignation, wasted.]
WHAT THE FUCKING HELL, DUDE?!
Bewildered annoyance,
Me
[ETA: Except that, on further reflection and investigation, I think those giant bags may instead have come from the guys I had out here working on my swamp cooler yesterday. Damn it. There's a great head of righteous indignation, wasted.]
Friday, July 25, 2008
Dear Telemarketers: May You Go Blind, And May Your Seeing Eye Dog Get Rabies And Bite You.
Wow, there is nothing -- nothing -- like telemarketers to instantly raise my blood pressure, piss me off so much I actually get shaky, and bring the raging inner bitch out from behind my naturally placid exterior.
For the record, should you get any phone calls from a company called Protel (phone number 708-418-7486), for gods' sakes do not buy anything from them. They've been accused of various kinds of phone scam, including attempting to sell Wells Fargo customers identity theft protection that they already have, without Wells Fargo's knowledge. They also do not respect the National Do Not Call Registry, which in my opinion puts them about on the moral level of people who rape kittens.
I think they must have some problem with their computers, because every time I'd try to answer so I could call them colorful four-letter names, I'd hear some clicks and get hung up on. And then they'd call again a few hours later. URGE TO KILL RISING!
Fortunately, though, I have googling skills, so I can inform you that should this happen to you, you can call the company up at 708-418-7412 to call them colorful names in person and demand that they stop harassing you. Also, if you happen to be on the Do Not Call Registry -- and if you live in the US, there is no reason not to be -- and this or any other telemarketer calls you up anyway, you can file complaint with the FTC here.
For the record, should you get any phone calls from a company called Protel (phone number 708-418-7486), for gods' sakes do not buy anything from them. They've been accused of various kinds of phone scam, including attempting to sell Wells Fargo customers identity theft protection that they already have, without Wells Fargo's knowledge. They also do not respect the National Do Not Call Registry, which in my opinion puts them about on the moral level of people who rape kittens.
I think they must have some problem with their computers, because every time I'd try to answer so I could call them colorful four-letter names, I'd hear some clicks and get hung up on. And then they'd call again a few hours later. URGE TO KILL RISING!
Fortunately, though, I have googling skills, so I can inform you that should this happen to you, you can call the company up at 708-418-7412 to call them colorful names in person and demand that they stop harassing you. Also, if you happen to be on the Do Not Call Registry -- and if you live in the US, there is no reason not to be -- and this or any other telemarketer calls you up anyway, you can file complaint with the FTC here.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Your Rant For The Day
I somehow doubt that I'm going to get all the stuff I intended to get done today finished, but I did at least manage to get to the store to buy a card for my Dad's upcoming birthday, and Mother's Day cards for the various motherly types in my life.
And, man... You know, I love all these people and don't in the slightest begrudge them a lousy greeting card (or even a present if I'm feeling inspired, although this year I simply haven't had the time). But I nevertheless always find perusing the greeting card aisle or shopping for Mother's/Father's Day a distasteful process, just because the whole thing is basically one big exercise in gender stereotyping.
No, really, think about it. What kinds of themes do you see on cards aimed at men and boys? Sports, cars, hunting and fishing, tools... Father's Day cards that don't use one of those themes inevitably portray Dad as the protector, teacher, and gentle disciplinarian, or poke fun at his lack of domestic skills, or offer to let him have the TV remote for the day. Girls and women, of course, get flowers and cuddly animals, or jokes about shopping, dating, or losing one's looks, and Mother's Day cards inevitably portray Mom as a self-sacrificing nurturer and domestic goddess. What I want to know is, where are the cards for women who play golf or men who like gardening? My Mom's a NASCAR fan, but I'm sure as hell never going to find a card with the word "Mom" and a picture of a race car on it. Where are the cards praising Dad for kissing boo-boos and being a good cook, or Mom for putting her foot down in ways that come to be appreciated later in life and teaching her kids home repair skills? Why are these people -- and they do exist -- invisible on Mother's Day and Father's Day? Why do all little kids, from the time they're old enough to watch ads on TV, "know" perfectly well that a kitchen appliance is a good gift for Mom and a power tool is a great gift for Dad, whether that's true of their own particular Mom and Dad or not?
Aargh. And people wonder why I usually just opt for cards with stupid puns.
And, man... You know, I love all these people and don't in the slightest begrudge them a lousy greeting card (or even a present if I'm feeling inspired, although this year I simply haven't had the time). But I nevertheless always find perusing the greeting card aisle or shopping for Mother's/Father's Day a distasteful process, just because the whole thing is basically one big exercise in gender stereotyping.
No, really, think about it. What kinds of themes do you see on cards aimed at men and boys? Sports, cars, hunting and fishing, tools... Father's Day cards that don't use one of those themes inevitably portray Dad as the protector, teacher, and gentle disciplinarian, or poke fun at his lack of domestic skills, or offer to let him have the TV remote for the day. Girls and women, of course, get flowers and cuddly animals, or jokes about shopping, dating, or losing one's looks, and Mother's Day cards inevitably portray Mom as a self-sacrificing nurturer and domestic goddess. What I want to know is, where are the cards for women who play golf or men who like gardening? My Mom's a NASCAR fan, but I'm sure as hell never going to find a card with the word "Mom" and a picture of a race car on it. Where are the cards praising Dad for kissing boo-boos and being a good cook, or Mom for putting her foot down in ways that come to be appreciated later in life and teaching her kids home repair skills? Why are these people -- and they do exist -- invisible on Mother's Day and Father's Day? Why do all little kids, from the time they're old enough to watch ads on TV, "know" perfectly well that a kitchen appliance is a good gift for Mom and a power tool is a great gift for Dad, whether that's true of their own particular Mom and Dad or not?
Aargh. And people wonder why I usually just opt for cards with stupid puns.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Today Is Ranty Letter-Writing Day!
Dear writers of all shapes, sizes, and descriptions,
I'm happy to indulge you in your stylistic quirks when they actually, y'know, make sense and work, rather than coming across as amateurish unfamiliarity with the English language. But for the love of grammar, pick a fucking tense and stay there. Any tense. Honestly, I don't care. Write the whole thing in future progressive, if you think that's somehow appropriate. But don't randomly change tenses for no reason for two or three sentences every page and a half. No, not even when your character is being introspective, unless you're actually reporting the exact thoughts she's thinking in the words she's thinking them.
I mean it. Failing to obey this simple, easy to follow rule will result in my enjoyment of your novel falling by at least 25%, and, if it goes on long enough, will instill in me a desire to hunt you down and pelt you with copies of your own books until you cry uncle.
Aaargh,
Me
(This particular version of this rant is brought to you by a certain fantasy tetralogy which, while not without its good points, is making me absolutely crazy by forcing me to endure 1,600+ pages of randomly shifting tenses.)
I'm happy to indulge you in your stylistic quirks when they actually, y'know, make sense and work, rather than coming across as amateurish unfamiliarity with the English language. But for the love of grammar, pick a fucking tense and stay there. Any tense. Honestly, I don't care. Write the whole thing in future progressive, if you think that's somehow appropriate. But don't randomly change tenses for no reason for two or three sentences every page and a half. No, not even when your character is being introspective, unless you're actually reporting the exact thoughts she's thinking in the words she's thinking them.
I mean it. Failing to obey this simple, easy to follow rule will result in my enjoyment of your novel falling by at least 25%, and, if it goes on long enough, will instill in me a desire to hunt you down and pelt you with copies of your own books until you cry uncle.
Aaargh,
Me
(This particular version of this rant is brought to you by a certain fantasy tetralogy which, while not without its good points, is making me absolutely crazy by forcing me to endure 1,600+ pages of randomly shifting tenses.)
Monday, September 24, 2007
Show Me The Money!
Well, I think I've gotten the stupid bank thing straightened out, or at least on its way to being straightened out, but, aargh, was it annoying.
I called the bank's customer service number, navigated their labyrinthine phone menu system, and, after giving my account number (twice), social security number, name, date of birth, street address, blood type and shoe size, I was finally permitted to discuss my problem with a human being. (OK, I made up the last two. But, honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd asked.) Said human being listened to my tale of woe, pulled up my records, went, "Gosh, yes, that's clearly a mistake!" and cheerfully informed me that it was no problem, they could get the double-deduction and the overdraft fees removed for me right away, you betcha! "Hooray!" I thought. "Good bank!" And then she said she'd have to transfer me to the "check department," so they could deal with it.
So, OK, I get the "check department" -- which turns out to be the check fraud department -- and give them my name, rank, serial number, six-thousand-digit account number, etc., etc. all over again, and once again launch into the Tale of Woe. Another person pulls up my records and, while I am in the process of explaining about the overdrafts, interrupts to inform me that I have the wrong department. My mortgage company submits their checks electronically, so I need the department that deals with electronic transactions.
So, I am transferred again, and again give six pages worth of identifying info, all the while thinking, Jesus Christ, how many departments does this bank have, and are none of them capable of communicating?! I recite the Tale a third time, whereupon I am informed that, why, no, the bank cannot and will not help me, as the mistake was made on the mortgage company's end, and is their responsibility, overdrafts and all. Indeed, as far as they are concerned, the overdrafts are perfectly legitimate, because my account was negative, end of story. All of which was explained to me politely enough, but I'm afraid I got pretty snippy at this point, leading the person I was talking to to explain how those first-tier phone-answering people like to tell you things even when they don't know what they're talking about. Which just made me snippier. I feel kind of bad about it now. I imagine the electronic-department person is as annoyed about this kind of thing as I am, and it wasn't her fault person #1 was a lying idiot. But from a customer-service standpoint, that kind of shit is just plain unacceptable. Telling me that the problem is on the other party's end and that they're responsible for refunding my money is reasonable (and, in this case, perfectly true). Promising me it'll all get cleared up right away, making me play phone tag for fifteen minutes and then telling me I'm S.O.L. as far as you're concerned? Bullshit. I'm still annoyed about it, and even more annoyed that I took it out on somebody who was only trying to do her job.
Fortunately, when I called the mortgage company, I immediately got somebody who seemed to both know what he was talking about and to have the authority to do something about it. He instantly agreed that it was all their fault, was friendly and sympathetic, and assured me that they'd credit me for the whole thing ASAP, overdrafts and all, and that if I faxed them a copy of my bank statement (or even the online records, since I hadn't gotten a paper statement for the month yet), they'd have it taken care of in a couple of days, maximum. (This as opposed to my bank who told me that I'd have to sign an affidavit saying the debit was wrongly applied, warned me that if I didn't mail it back promptly it would be ignored, and then told me it would take them ten days to do anything about it once they got it.)
To attempt to balance out my bad-customer karma or something, I gave that guy praise and a high customer-survey rating. I just really hope he doesn't fall down on the follow-through. In the meantime, I've transferred some money over from my savings account to make sure nothing that clears in the next couple of days sends me into the negative again. Man, I'm just really glad this happened now, when I've got an actual financial cushion, and not back in my starving-college-student days. Because, in that case, I actually would have starved. (Erm, not that I had a mortgage then, of course.)
Oh, and the craptacular icing on the craptastic cake? Today I get a whole slew of overdraft notices in the mail. Thanks, bank. It's real helpful to be informed of that after I've been bouncing stuff for over a week. *rolls eyes*
I called the bank's customer service number, navigated their labyrinthine phone menu system, and, after giving my account number (twice), social security number, name, date of birth, street address, blood type and shoe size, I was finally permitted to discuss my problem with a human being. (OK, I made up the last two. But, honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd asked.) Said human being listened to my tale of woe, pulled up my records, went, "Gosh, yes, that's clearly a mistake!" and cheerfully informed me that it was no problem, they could get the double-deduction and the overdraft fees removed for me right away, you betcha! "Hooray!" I thought. "Good bank!" And then she said she'd have to transfer me to the "check department," so they could deal with it.
So, OK, I get the "check department" -- which turns out to be the check fraud department -- and give them my name, rank, serial number, six-thousand-digit account number, etc., etc. all over again, and once again launch into the Tale of Woe. Another person pulls up my records and, while I am in the process of explaining about the overdrafts, interrupts to inform me that I have the wrong department. My mortgage company submits their checks electronically, so I need the department that deals with electronic transactions.
So, I am transferred again, and again give six pages worth of identifying info, all the while thinking, Jesus Christ, how many departments does this bank have, and are none of them capable of communicating?! I recite the Tale a third time, whereupon I am informed that, why, no, the bank cannot and will not help me, as the mistake was made on the mortgage company's end, and is their responsibility, overdrafts and all. Indeed, as far as they are concerned, the overdrafts are perfectly legitimate, because my account was negative, end of story. All of which was explained to me politely enough, but I'm afraid I got pretty snippy at this point, leading the person I was talking to to explain how those first-tier phone-answering people like to tell you things even when they don't know what they're talking about. Which just made me snippier. I feel kind of bad about it now. I imagine the electronic-department person is as annoyed about this kind of thing as I am, and it wasn't her fault person #1 was a lying idiot. But from a customer-service standpoint, that kind of shit is just plain unacceptable. Telling me that the problem is on the other party's end and that they're responsible for refunding my money is reasonable (and, in this case, perfectly true). Promising me it'll all get cleared up right away, making me play phone tag for fifteen minutes and then telling me I'm S.O.L. as far as you're concerned? Bullshit. I'm still annoyed about it, and even more annoyed that I took it out on somebody who was only trying to do her job.
Fortunately, when I called the mortgage company, I immediately got somebody who seemed to both know what he was talking about and to have the authority to do something about it. He instantly agreed that it was all their fault, was friendly and sympathetic, and assured me that they'd credit me for the whole thing ASAP, overdrafts and all, and that if I faxed them a copy of my bank statement (or even the online records, since I hadn't gotten a paper statement for the month yet), they'd have it taken care of in a couple of days, maximum. (This as opposed to my bank who told me that I'd have to sign an affidavit saying the debit was wrongly applied, warned me that if I didn't mail it back promptly it would be ignored, and then told me it would take them ten days to do anything about it once they got it.)
To attempt to balance out my bad-customer karma or something, I gave that guy praise and a high customer-survey rating. I just really hope he doesn't fall down on the follow-through. In the meantime, I've transferred some money over from my savings account to make sure nothing that clears in the next couple of days sends me into the negative again. Man, I'm just really glad this happened now, when I've got an actual financial cushion, and not back in my starving-college-student days. Because, in that case, I actually would have starved. (Erm, not that I had a mortgage then, of course.)
Oh, and the craptacular icing on the craptastic cake? Today I get a whole slew of overdraft notices in the mail. Thanks, bank. It's real helpful to be informed of that after I've been bouncing stuff for over a week. *rolls eyes*
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