Just announced, from the makers of Caribou Barbie…it’s Betsy Regretsy!
She comes with pantsuits in three exciting colors: royal blue, midnight blue, and cerulean.
Pull her string to hear her say, “I support accountability!” “Look at all this money I have!” and “School is hard. Let’s go shopping!”
Batteries not included because she lacks any current knowledge.
Only 36 more weeks to shop for Christmas.
I ranted last week about actual customer service representatives, but dealing with them is like picking flowers after dealing with the hell that is the automated customer service representative.
One hour, thirty-eight minutes and two Filipina technicians later, I have wireless internet in my apartment.
Talk about an ordeal.
More of the story as my sanity reappears.
Finally an update…five days later…
So, I purchased a LinkSys wi-fi router at Best Buy, and I knew it was trouble when the salesman tried to explain exactly what it would do. All I needed it to do was maintain a wireless internet connection.
I get home, and follow the three “easy” steps. Plug in power, plug in internet cable, go to a website and voila, hello internet.
Of course, I do all these things and nothing happens. I put the manual CD thing in, and all it is is the same thing in the packet, only in PDF form with useless hotlinks that don’t work BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE INTERNET.
So, I do the next best thing (okay, the SECOND next best thing, getting drunk would have been the first) and call the hotline. After only about 20 minutes of waiting, I say mabuhay to a Filipina named Dianne. She puts forth her best efforts, but one hour and several options later, I’m no better off than where I was. Dianne suggests I return the item to the store, and I ask to speak to a manager. Supervisor Michelle comes on the line, with a much better command of the English language and fortunately, a big heart. She does the override thing that usually solves everything, which they say is only for warranty-registered customers but she’s doing it for me for free because it’s now been an hour and a half. Of course, it’s one setting that’s wrong, and my device is not defective, as previously thought. Thanks, Dianne. But sincere thanks to Michelle, who after two excruciating hours delivered and helped me get on the Internet.
This is the first time I’ve set a connection up by myself, so I got to name the network. What do I pick?
“I Love The Wi-Fi I Got To Boogie.”
Thanks, Alicia Bridges!
See the inspiration for this post’s title here:
That would be today. Thursday. My classes this semester are Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and Friday, I have Shabbat, and on the weekends, I do weekend-type things like shopping and sometimes being social. So that leaves Thursday. Most people would enjoy the fact that they have one day a week with absolutely no regularly scheduled commitments, but I am not one of them. From Sunday to Wednesday, I pull out all the stops, reading like a fiend, writing responses, taking notes and taking names. By the time Wednesday night rolls around, I am exhausted but relieved that another academic week is done. I make a promise to myself that I’ll get a jump on next week’s reading this week by starting first thing Thursday morning…and then it doesn’t happen. What does happen?
And that’s how I spend my Thursdays, including today. My sad life is sad. And even though I got nine hours of sleep last night, I’m still exhausted. Get it together, Jacob, because your palm is going to have a date with your face come Sunday night.
Last week, I got an email from my bank, saying that I had a new debit card on the way, and yesterday, it arrived.
The only problem?
I didn’t order a new debit card, and I sure didn’t change my middle initial either.
You know what that means…
Yep. Identity theft.
And it isn’t even the first time it’s happened.
Identity theft sucks. So much. And it can happen anywhere, anytime, even at an airport. One time, I was flying from Houston to Baltimore, and my card stopped working as soon as I got home. The reason? Apparently, I had purchased $200 worth of stuff from a Wal-Mart in Pensacola, Florida. WHILE I WAS IN THE AIR. What I’m convinced happened was, someone probably saw my credit card number when I took out my license to go through security.
But back to today. I went to the bank branch located on the west side of town, where a banker broke the news: apparently someone posing as me submitted a name change request form at a branch in Baltimore last week.
I assured her that I was here in Madison last week, and I wouldn’t change my middle initial, even taking out my driver’s license for proof. She called the bank branch, and apparently, today was the teller’s day off or something, so we couldn’t get the full story, but she did acquire the name change request form that was submitted with my information. Incredibly useful, not just to verify that it happened, but it even had the teller’s name on it. Like a mafia boss, she called the Wisconsin investigative offices to get on it. At this point, I’m picturing a bunch of men in black flying from Madison to Baltimore, holding up the bank, and demanding the truth from the bank teller. Which would probably be the opposite of what would actually happen, but hey, having imagination helps in times like this.
Anyway, I did another name change request form – and this time, I’m pretty sure it was me changing my name back – and had the card cancelled.
And on Monday, I’m flying to Florida for a week, with a temporary debit card.
Guess I better start practicing signing things Wells Fargo Customer.
…Ohio, where I am spending the night on my way back to Madison. Today was too stressful for words. Except these twenty:
Bye Baltimore! Wait, what…car dead after thirty miles? For real? RIP. Backtrack, new (used) car, nighttime mountain drive, hotel.
That’s So Jacob 