I called the company that publishes our accounting software to ask a technical question today. I told the receptionist that I would like to speak to someone in tech support. She said, "He is on another call right now. Can I take a message for you?"
He? HE? Your entire tech support department is one person and he is on another call?
Good grief.
Showing posts with label office. Show all posts
Showing posts with label office. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Anniversary, part 3
(continued from part 2)
We had several handbook revisions that year, including the aforementioned "gifting policy," so it seemed like a good idea to reprint the handbook in its entirety, give each employee a new copy and have them sign an acknowledgement of receipt. It was my job to distribute the new handbooks and collect signatures from the employees.
For convenience, a list of the major changes was attached to each employee's new handbook, so if they didn't feel like reading the whole thing and comparing to the previous version, they could easily reference the changes which had been made. Most employees were not interested. They signed the acknowledgement of receipt without batting an eye. A few people brought questions to me later for clarification. But not Carol...
Carol insisted on looking up and reading every single revised section while I was present. She provided a running commentary on why and how she either approved (rarely) or disapproved (overwhelmingly) of the changes that were made. She may just been venting or she may have thought I would make further revisions based on her valuable input. I'm not sure. But when she reached the gifting policy, her eyes narrowed, she pursed her lips and said in a tight voice:
"What is this all about?"
"It's a new policy. We are asking that employees who wish to show appreciation for their co-workers do so by treating them with professionalism and respect every day. If you want to recognize a special occasion, please keep it on a personal level with your co-worker, rather than attempt to involve the entire store."
"And what do you think of this policy, Andrea?"
"I think it's exceptionally well-crafted. Whoever wrote it must have a lot of experience writing handbooks in order to be able to address the underlying problem with such tact and clarity," I replied, knowing full-well that she knew I'd written it.
Since she couldn't tell if I agreed or disagreed with the policy, she shifted gears with a long sigh. "You know, this company has changed so much since the original owner died..." *sigh* She peeked out of the corner of her eye to see if I was going to urge her to continue. I didn't. She went on anyway.
*sigh* "We used to celebrate things around here. We used to recognize special occasions, and that made everyone feel special. I mean, is it really too much of a strain on the budget to buy someone a card for his birthday? I think..." she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "the managers now are just too cheap for their own good. And that's really sad. Don't you think? Too cheap to buy a card." She clucked her tongue.
I remained silent, hoping she'd take the hint and do the same. This was the wrong strategy. It encouraged her to continue airing her grievances.
"You know, it was my 25th year with the company a few years ago. And I can't believe how horribly I was treated. It was my special day. I came to work expecting the royal treatment. I don't think any other employee has ever been with the company for so long. And do you know what happened?"
"They did nothing? They forgot?"
"Noooooo.... even worse. They gave me a... a.... thing. Some kind of stereo thingy. You know, it hooks up to your TV, with speakers and other electronic things. It was HUGE."
"Like a surround-sound system?"
"Yes! One of those. I just went into my office and cried. What am I going to do with a bunch of stereo stuff? They should know I don't have room in my house. Well, I do have room, but I'm not going to clutter up my living room with speakers. There were at least five huge speakers. What would I have done with all that? I was just disgusted. It was so... so... insensitive. I don't even watch that much TV and I certainly don't want it blaring in my ears. They really should have known better. I would have preferred that they didn't recognize my special day at all rather than give me a gift that they obviously put so little thought into."
"Well, see with the new policy, there's no danger of that happening again... to you or anyone... We're really just setting the expectations so that people aren't disappoin..."
She blazed on with her story, though. "You know what I did then? I. Gave. It. Back. That's right. I just marched right on in there and told them that if they weren't going to get me something meaningful, I didn't want anything. Oooh boy, was I ever mad. But I think they got my point."
"I'll say. You sure showed them."
"I think they took that stupid thing and gave it to one of the other guys for a wedding present later in the year. He was thrilled to get it. He had to bring his truck to work that day just to cart that big old box home, though."
I couldn't tell what offended her more. 1) That someone couldn't read her mind well enough to know she wouldn't have use for a $500 surround-sound system or 2) That the box it came in was so HUGE. But she seemed to be making my point for me.
"So, Carol, what I hear you saying is that you would rather have let the anniversary pass completely unnoticed, than get a gift you didn't feel was meaningful? Is that right?"
"Absolutely! It was just such a slap in the face to put in a quarter-century of devoted work to the company and get something they should have known I wouldn't use. But they did make it right eventually..."
"Make it right?"
"Well, I was so angry for weeks afterward that I could barely even come to work. The store manager was out of town, but when he got back I marched right into his office and told him how I felt. He wasn't going to do anything about it though. I told him he owed it to me and because I was still so mad, eventually he made it right. I was remodeling my kitchen at the time and he finally agreed to buy a new stove for me. He even came out and installed it for me. That's a meaningful gift. Something I needed and could use. Something with thought and feeling behind it. Not just a big box of speakers."
When I talked to the store manager later about my conversation with Carol, he confirmed that things had gone down essentially as she had related. He was able to fill in some details, though, details Carol might not even have been aware of at the time.
The surround-sound system that they ended up gifting to Carol had not been purchased specifically for her. One of our vendors had sent it to us as a thank-you-for-your-business present. It was highly coveted among some of the employees and the store managers had been wrestling with how to fairly decide which employee would get to take it home. When Carol had arrived that day and announced that she was expecting special treatment for her anniversary, the managers felt obligated to do something for her. To them, it seemed like a win-win situation.
So, yes, Carol did have a point. It was a thoughtless gift. It was, essentially, something they just had laying around. Five-hundred dollars worth of something they just had laying around.
"I remember she was so angry that she didn't really talk to anyone for a couple of weeks. You could tell she was just seething inside every day," the store manager recalled. "So, I tried to explain the situation. but she wasn't interested. I finally had to buy her a replacement gift so she would lighten up. If I remember right, I had to spend several hundred dollars on a new stove for her kitchen. And... I had to deliver it and hook it up for her, because she didn't want to pay someone to do it for her. Her reasoning was that she shouldn't have to shell out money, just because I got her a gift. Even though it was the gift she specifically wanted and the only one that would make her happy. I ended up spending hundreds of dollars and several hours of time, just to recognize that she'd been getting paid to come to work all these years. It was a... weird situation."
Weird. And the weird part really is that, after all these years, Carol still feels like the got the short end of the stick. And she's still bitter.
I never did get to ask if her stove came in a big box, and if so, was it bigger than the box of speakers?
We had several handbook revisions that year, including the aforementioned "gifting policy," so it seemed like a good idea to reprint the handbook in its entirety, give each employee a new copy and have them sign an acknowledgement of receipt. It was my job to distribute the new handbooks and collect signatures from the employees.
For convenience, a list of the major changes was attached to each employee's new handbook, so if they didn't feel like reading the whole thing and comparing to the previous version, they could easily reference the changes which had been made. Most employees were not interested. They signed the acknowledgement of receipt without batting an eye. A few people brought questions to me later for clarification. But not Carol...
Carol insisted on looking up and reading every single revised section while I was present. She provided a running commentary on why and how she either approved (rarely) or disapproved (overwhelmingly) of the changes that were made. She may just been venting or she may have thought I would make further revisions based on her valuable input. I'm not sure. But when she reached the gifting policy, her eyes narrowed, she pursed her lips and said in a tight voice:
"What is this all about?"
"It's a new policy. We are asking that employees who wish to show appreciation for their co-workers do so by treating them with professionalism and respect every day. If you want to recognize a special occasion, please keep it on a personal level with your co-worker, rather than attempt to involve the entire store."
"And what do you think of this policy, Andrea?"
"I think it's exceptionally well-crafted. Whoever wrote it must have a lot of experience writing handbooks in order to be able to address the underlying problem with such tact and clarity," I replied, knowing full-well that she knew I'd written it.
Since she couldn't tell if I agreed or disagreed with the policy, she shifted gears with a long sigh. "You know, this company has changed so much since the original owner died..." *sigh* She peeked out of the corner of her eye to see if I was going to urge her to continue. I didn't. She went on anyway.
*sigh* "We used to celebrate things around here. We used to recognize special occasions, and that made everyone feel special. I mean, is it really too much of a strain on the budget to buy someone a card for his birthday? I think..." she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "the managers now are just too cheap for their own good. And that's really sad. Don't you think? Too cheap to buy a card." She clucked her tongue.
I remained silent, hoping she'd take the hint and do the same. This was the wrong strategy. It encouraged her to continue airing her grievances.
"You know, it was my 25th year with the company a few years ago. And I can't believe how horribly I was treated. It was my special day. I came to work expecting the royal treatment. I don't think any other employee has ever been with the company for so long. And do you know what happened?"
"They did nothing? They forgot?"
"Noooooo.... even worse. They gave me a... a.... thing. Some kind of stereo thingy. You know, it hooks up to your TV, with speakers and other electronic things. It was HUGE."
"Like a surround-sound system?"
"Yes! One of those. I just went into my office and cried. What am I going to do with a bunch of stereo stuff? They should know I don't have room in my house. Well, I do have room, but I'm not going to clutter up my living room with speakers. There were at least five huge speakers. What would I have done with all that? I was just disgusted. It was so... so... insensitive. I don't even watch that much TV and I certainly don't want it blaring in my ears. They really should have known better. I would have preferred that they didn't recognize my special day at all rather than give me a gift that they obviously put so little thought into."
"Well, see with the new policy, there's no danger of that happening again... to you or anyone... We're really just setting the expectations so that people aren't disappoin..."
She blazed on with her story, though. "You know what I did then? I. Gave. It. Back. That's right. I just marched right on in there and told them that if they weren't going to get me something meaningful, I didn't want anything. Oooh boy, was I ever mad. But I think they got my point."
"I'll say. You sure showed them."
"I think they took that stupid thing and gave it to one of the other guys for a wedding present later in the year. He was thrilled to get it. He had to bring his truck to work that day just to cart that big old box home, though."
I couldn't tell what offended her more. 1) That someone couldn't read her mind well enough to know she wouldn't have use for a $500 surround-sound system or 2) That the box it came in was so HUGE. But she seemed to be making my point for me.
"So, Carol, what I hear you saying is that you would rather have let the anniversary pass completely unnoticed, than get a gift you didn't feel was meaningful? Is that right?"
"Absolutely! It was just such a slap in the face to put in a quarter-century of devoted work to the company and get something they should have known I wouldn't use. But they did make it right eventually..."
"Make it right?"
"Well, I was so angry for weeks afterward that I could barely even come to work. The store manager was out of town, but when he got back I marched right into his office and told him how I felt. He wasn't going to do anything about it though. I told him he owed it to me and because I was still so mad, eventually he made it right. I was remodeling my kitchen at the time and he finally agreed to buy a new stove for me. He even came out and installed it for me. That's a meaningful gift. Something I needed and could use. Something with thought and feeling behind it. Not just a big box of speakers."
When I talked to the store manager later about my conversation with Carol, he confirmed that things had gone down essentially as she had related. He was able to fill in some details, though, details Carol might not even have been aware of at the time.
The surround-sound system that they ended up gifting to Carol had not been purchased specifically for her. One of our vendors had sent it to us as a thank-you-for-your-business present. It was highly coveted among some of the employees and the store managers had been wrestling with how to fairly decide which employee would get to take it home. When Carol had arrived that day and announced that she was expecting special treatment for her anniversary, the managers felt obligated to do something for her. To them, it seemed like a win-win situation.
So, yes, Carol did have a point. It was a thoughtless gift. It was, essentially, something they just had laying around. Five-hundred dollars worth of something they just had laying around.
"I remember she was so angry that she didn't really talk to anyone for a couple of weeks. You could tell she was just seething inside every day," the store manager recalled. "So, I tried to explain the situation. but she wasn't interested. I finally had to buy her a replacement gift so she would lighten up. If I remember right, I had to spend several hundred dollars on a new stove for her kitchen. And... I had to deliver it and hook it up for her, because she didn't want to pay someone to do it for her. Her reasoning was that she shouldn't have to shell out money, just because I got her a gift. Even though it was the gift she specifically wanted and the only one that would make her happy. I ended up spending hundreds of dollars and several hours of time, just to recognize that she'd been getting paid to come to work all these years. It was a... weird situation."
Weird. And the weird part really is that, after all these years, Carol still feels like the got the short end of the stick. And she's still bitter.
I never did get to ask if her stove came in a big box, and if so, was it bigger than the box of speakers?
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Anniversary, part 2
"Andrea's Company encourages its employees to demonstrate their support and appreciation for one another by consistently treating their co-workers in a positive and respectful manner. Andrea's Company recognizes and celebrates the talents and contributions that each individual brings to the success of the business each day. It is therefore appropriate that cards, gifts, and baked goods which recognize an employee's choices, such as holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, weddings, etc, be kept on a personal level and outside of working hours."
Pretty good, huh? Of course it is. I wrote it (or got it from somewhere, I can't remember). You may ask yourself, "What on earth would cause a company full of good, caring people to codify such a policy in their handbook? What's the harm in passing around a card for someone's birthday? Why can't we buy a cake to celebrate the anniversary of someone who has worked for the company for a whole decade? Isn't it a good idea for a company to recognize the achievements of its employees?"
I would submit to you that at Andrea's Company, it is NOT a good idea. Allow me to illustrate.
One day, it was mentioned to me by an employee named Brady that another employee, Carol, would be celebrating her 32nd year with the company the next week. He wanted to let me know because I, as the office manager, might be the one to organize some sort of recognition for her. It didn't sound like a bad idea, and I really like to eat cake, so I took it up with my boss to see what the company had done in the past and if we had a budget for that sort of thing.
My boss sighed a heavy, heavy sigh. "Well, we used to do that sort of thing, but we've moved away from it in recent years. It used to be anniversaries, then it was also birthdays, then it was weddings and babies and welcome-back-from-vacation and every other occasion you can imagine. It was just so big and out of control, we didn't have anyone to administer it and people were let down if they didn't get recognized for every little thing. But hey, we haven't had an office manager for so long, if you want to resurrect the monster, you are welcome to try."
I didn't really want to resurrect the monster and be in charge of its care and feeding, but since I really like to eat cake, I prodded a little bit more. "What about if we limited it to just anniversaries?" I suggested. "It's a nice feel-good for the employees to be recognized and it's business-related, unlike celebrating birthdays. It might be a morale booster. It wouldn't be too much work to keep track of everyone's five year marks and get a card and a cake, right?"
"So we recognize the fact that people are coming to work? Along with the fact that the earth has gone around the sun 5 times? An anniversary is not really an achievement. Besides we are already recognizing our employees by paying them for coming to work. Congratulations. Good job. Here's your paycheck. Keep up the good work. Same with birthdays. Congratulations for being alive still. Good job. What's the point?"
It sounded a little curmudgeonly, but I understood his point. "Okay, I'll tell Brady that if he wants to bring something in for Carol, he's welcome to, but there will be no officially-sanctioned event recognition."
My boss sighed again. "Did I ever tell you about the time Brady brought in a condolence card for a co-worker whose sister had died? He passed it around for everyone to sign, but one person thought it was a birthday card and wrote something like 'Many happy returns!' in it."
"That's terrible."
"Yes, and it was even worse because the sister hadn't died of age or infirmity. She was murdered."
"Okay. I'm convinced. I'll discourage this kind of activity. I soooo don't want to open this can of worms."
Apparently, I didn't discourage Brady enough. He brought in donuts for Carol's anniversary. He seemed hurt that no one recognized him for remembering her special day. I could see how this would spin out of control. Now we have to recognize the recognizer of the recognizee, otherwise there's hurt feelings all over the place. But how do you tell someone he can't do something nice for someone else?
Brady was a simple guy whose heart was in the right place, mostly. Unfortunately, Brady was not well-liked among his co-workers. Due to his circumstances in life (40-something, unmarried, living with his mother) and his personality characteristics (passive-aggressive, power-hungry, and mentally unstable), he was not taken seriously and often picked on by his peers. But he wanted to be a part of the group and maybe figured he could buy his way in.
The next month, he sidled into my office and quietly laid a greeting card on my desk. "It's Mike's birthday today. I got him a card. Can you make sure everyone signs it?" He began to back away.
"Brady, no. I will sign it right now and then you can take it around to the guys yourself."
"I think it's better if you do it. But just remember, I want to be the one to give it to Mike. I think that's fair since I bought it." He took a few more steps back.
"No, no, no. I'm not going to be responsible for this." Sensing the trainwreck that was going to occur, I waved the card at him. "Wait while I sign it. Then you can pass it around and give it to Mike yourself."
"I have to go back to work. I can't get everyone to sign it. Besides, they don't like me, but they'll do it for you..."
"Brady! I am going to sign this card and put it on the next person's desk. After that, it's out of my hands. I'm not going to keep track of it."
"I gotta go..."
Could I have been any more clear? My responsibilty for your project ends with my signature on that card. Get it? Got it? Uhhh... no. I don't think so.
All afternoon, Brady kept checking back with me. "Did everyone sign it yet? I have to leave early and I want to give it to Mike before I go."
"I don't know. I signed it and passed it on, like I told you I would."
"Well, who has it?"
"I don't know. It's going around, I guess."
"But I NEED it back! I have to go early today! I need to give it to Mike!"
"Ask around. I'm sure someone has it."
"You have to help me! I need to find it! They won't tell me who has it! They're just playing games with me! And I have all this work to do before I go!" He was desperate and near tears.
Against my better judgement, I told him I'd ask around next time I went out into the showroom. No promises, though. I wasn't going to collect any remaining signatures. I would simply find out who had the card and let him know.
I asked around. People rolled their eyes. Yes, they'd signed it. No, they didn't know where it was. Why was Brady so concerned? I explained that it was really important to Brady that he present the card himself and he was leaving soon.
As I was talking, an employee walked in, holding the card. "Great. Hurry and give it to Brady so he can go," I instructed, anxious to be out of the middle of the situation.
"Give it to Brady? I thought it was Mike's birthday."
"It is. But Brady really wants to give it to Mike personally. Maybe we should page Brady..."
"You're not really going to do that to Brady, are you?"
"Do what?"
"Put him in that position."
"What position? It's his card."
"The position of giving this card to Mike again."
My heart sank. "Again?"
"Yeah. I found the card on Mike's desk. It was already open. Don't give it back to Brady just so he can give it to him again. He'd feel really stupid."
I'll say. We quietly put the card back on Mike's desk.
A few minutes later, Brady slunk into my office. "Look," I began to explain, "It looks like someone already gave..."
"I know," he pouted with a thanks-for-nothing tone in his voice.
"Brady, I did tell you that I wasn't..."
"It doesn't matter now. Everything is ruined."
"It's not ruined. You wanted to wish Mike happy birthday with a card that was signed by all his co-workers. Mission accomplished."
"I didn't get to give it to him. It's not fair. I bought the card. It was MY CARD." He sulked away without another word.
You might be thinking, "So, you changed company policy just for this one immature guy who couldn't handle the responsibility of sending his own birthday card around?"
No. Not just for him. Stay tuned for part 3...
Pretty good, huh? Of course it is. I wrote it (or got it from somewhere, I can't remember). You may ask yourself, "What on earth would cause a company full of good, caring people to codify such a policy in their handbook? What's the harm in passing around a card for someone's birthday? Why can't we buy a cake to celebrate the anniversary of someone who has worked for the company for a whole decade? Isn't it a good idea for a company to recognize the achievements of its employees?"
I would submit to you that at Andrea's Company, it is NOT a good idea. Allow me to illustrate.
One day, it was mentioned to me by an employee named Brady that another employee, Carol, would be celebrating her 32nd year with the company the next week. He wanted to let me know because I, as the office manager, might be the one to organize some sort of recognition for her. It didn't sound like a bad idea, and I really like to eat cake, so I took it up with my boss to see what the company had done in the past and if we had a budget for that sort of thing.
My boss sighed a heavy, heavy sigh. "Well, we used to do that sort of thing, but we've moved away from it in recent years. It used to be anniversaries, then it was also birthdays, then it was weddings and babies and welcome-back-from-vacation and every other occasion you can imagine. It was just so big and out of control, we didn't have anyone to administer it and people were let down if they didn't get recognized for every little thing. But hey, we haven't had an office manager for so long, if you want to resurrect the monster, you are welcome to try."
I didn't really want to resurrect the monster and be in charge of its care and feeding, but since I really like to eat cake, I prodded a little bit more. "What about if we limited it to just anniversaries?" I suggested. "It's a nice feel-good for the employees to be recognized and it's business-related, unlike celebrating birthdays. It might be a morale booster. It wouldn't be too much work to keep track of everyone's five year marks and get a card and a cake, right?"
"So we recognize the fact that people are coming to work? Along with the fact that the earth has gone around the sun 5 times? An anniversary is not really an achievement. Besides we are already recognizing our employees by paying them for coming to work. Congratulations. Good job. Here's your paycheck. Keep up the good work. Same with birthdays. Congratulations for being alive still. Good job. What's the point?"
It sounded a little curmudgeonly, but I understood his point. "Okay, I'll tell Brady that if he wants to bring something in for Carol, he's welcome to, but there will be no officially-sanctioned event recognition."
My boss sighed again. "Did I ever tell you about the time Brady brought in a condolence card for a co-worker whose sister had died? He passed it around for everyone to sign, but one person thought it was a birthday card and wrote something like 'Many happy returns!' in it."
"That's terrible."
"Yes, and it was even worse because the sister hadn't died of age or infirmity. She was murdered."
"Okay. I'm convinced. I'll discourage this kind of activity. I soooo don't want to open this can of worms."
Apparently, I didn't discourage Brady enough. He brought in donuts for Carol's anniversary. He seemed hurt that no one recognized him for remembering her special day. I could see how this would spin out of control. Now we have to recognize the recognizer of the recognizee, otherwise there's hurt feelings all over the place. But how do you tell someone he can't do something nice for someone else?
Brady was a simple guy whose heart was in the right place, mostly. Unfortunately, Brady was not well-liked among his co-workers. Due to his circumstances in life (40-something, unmarried, living with his mother) and his personality characteristics (passive-aggressive, power-hungry, and mentally unstable), he was not taken seriously and often picked on by his peers. But he wanted to be a part of the group and maybe figured he could buy his way in.
The next month, he sidled into my office and quietly laid a greeting card on my desk. "It's Mike's birthday today. I got him a card. Can you make sure everyone signs it?" He began to back away.
"Brady, no. I will sign it right now and then you can take it around to the guys yourself."
"I think it's better if you do it. But just remember, I want to be the one to give it to Mike. I think that's fair since I bought it." He took a few more steps back.
"No, no, no. I'm not going to be responsible for this." Sensing the trainwreck that was going to occur, I waved the card at him. "Wait while I sign it. Then you can pass it around and give it to Mike yourself."
"I have to go back to work. I can't get everyone to sign it. Besides, they don't like me, but they'll do it for you..."
"Brady! I am going to sign this card and put it on the next person's desk. After that, it's out of my hands. I'm not going to keep track of it."
"I gotta go..."
Could I have been any more clear? My responsibilty for your project ends with my signature on that card. Get it? Got it? Uhhh... no. I don't think so.
All afternoon, Brady kept checking back with me. "Did everyone sign it yet? I have to leave early and I want to give it to Mike before I go."
"I don't know. I signed it and passed it on, like I told you I would."
"Well, who has it?"
"I don't know. It's going around, I guess."
"But I NEED it back! I have to go early today! I need to give it to Mike!"
"Ask around. I'm sure someone has it."
"You have to help me! I need to find it! They won't tell me who has it! They're just playing games with me! And I have all this work to do before I go!" He was desperate and near tears.
Against my better judgement, I told him I'd ask around next time I went out into the showroom. No promises, though. I wasn't going to collect any remaining signatures. I would simply find out who had the card and let him know.
I asked around. People rolled their eyes. Yes, they'd signed it. No, they didn't know where it was. Why was Brady so concerned? I explained that it was really important to Brady that he present the card himself and he was leaving soon.
As I was talking, an employee walked in, holding the card. "Great. Hurry and give it to Brady so he can go," I instructed, anxious to be out of the middle of the situation.
"Give it to Brady? I thought it was Mike's birthday."
"It is. But Brady really wants to give it to Mike personally. Maybe we should page Brady..."
"You're not really going to do that to Brady, are you?"
"Do what?"
"Put him in that position."
"What position? It's his card."
"The position of giving this card to Mike again."
My heart sank. "Again?"
"Yeah. I found the card on Mike's desk. It was already open. Don't give it back to Brady just so he can give it to him again. He'd feel really stupid."
I'll say. We quietly put the card back on Mike's desk.
A few minutes later, Brady slunk into my office. "Look," I began to explain, "It looks like someone already gave..."
"I know," he pouted with a thanks-for-nothing tone in his voice.
"Brady, I did tell you that I wasn't..."
"It doesn't matter now. Everything is ruined."
"It's not ruined. You wanted to wish Mike happy birthday with a card that was signed by all his co-workers. Mission accomplished."
"I didn't get to give it to him. It's not fair. I bought the card. It was MY CARD." He sulked away without another word.
You might be thinking, "So, you changed company policy just for this one immature guy who couldn't handle the responsibility of sending his own birthday card around?"
No. Not just for him. Stay tuned for part 3...
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Super terrific happy fun jolly anniversary post
It occurs to me that February is the month in which I started this blog last year. I know. Who cares? It's also the month in which I started working for my current employer 3 years ago. I know. Who cares? It's also the month is which I started my epic war against the-vendor-who-shall-not-be named. I know. Who cares? I do. This isn't the Serious Injury Inflicted blog for nothing. Things have been a little too rosy around here lately, what with new nephews and awesome velociraptors and all. That's about to change.
It all started 2 years ago with a simple request to The Vendor. Let me esplain... no, no, there is too much... let me sum up. We do not have the option of not doing business with this vendor. Otherwise, believe me, this vendor would have gotten the boot long, long ago. Anyhoo, The Vendor was sending some of our invoices to the wrong store. Since all of the accounting is done at my location, I politely requested that they change the mailing address.
"Absolutely!" they responded with glee. "Anything for our valued customer! We will change it immediately... although you might not see the change until next month."
"No problem!" I responded with equal enthusiasm. "Thanks for being a great vendor!"
That was in February 2007. In March, the invoices were again sent to the wrong address. "I'll wait another month," I reasoned, in a reasonable sort of way. "They might not have made the change in time. Surely, they will change it. I'm sure they don't want me calling every month saying I didn't get the invoices because then they have to reprint them and fax them to me. It's just more work for them." Confident that The Vendor would want to reduce their workload and mine, I waited patiently.
In April, the invoices are sent to the wrong address again. I called to request that the missing invoice be faxed to me and gently inquired about getting the address changed. After some investigation into the matter, they determined that the problem was entirely their fault. For some reason that no one could explain, the mailing address was corrected in the system, but was still printing incorrectly on the actual invoice. The Vendor promised to have their tech guys look into it and gave me a help ticket number in case I didn't hear back in a couple of days.
I waited patiently through May and June. Convinced that the problem had not been corrected (since I still wasn't receiving invoices), I finally called and referenced the ticket number I'd been given.
"Hmmmm... well, I see that ticket was closed in April," said the kindly customer service rep.
"Closed? So they fixed the problem? Because, I hate to tell you, nothing has changed."
"Well, no. It's just closed. I don't see any notes on what was done or what the resolution was. But they are not working on it any more. Actually, it looks like it was closed the day after you called."
"Well, there's still a problem. The same problem, in fact. Can you open another help ticket?"
"I'd be happy to. I apologize for the inconvenience. It might take another month to fix, though. Here's you ticket number..."
July and August rolled in, but the invoices did not. I called again for an update. They asked me to wait another month. In October, I called again. They asked me to wait another month. I told them I'd been waiting since February. They were shocked that it would take so long to fix such a simple problem.
Tell me about it.
"I'll tell you what... I'm going to forward this to a team manager. Her name is Vicky and she has a whole team devoted to resolving these kinds of issues. Her direct line is..."
I thanked him profusely and waited another month (or two) before contacting Vicky. She confidently told me that she had reviewed my ticket and it was scheduled to be resolved within 2 weeks. "We're just running behind on our projects. Please be patient."
In February (a whole year after my original complaint), I talked to Vicky again. She was vague and distracted. "Your ticket... uhhh... yes... I see it here. Hmmm... I don't know what the status is." I reminded her that she said it would be completed within 2 weeks from my last call. "I said that? Well, okay. We'll fix it this week."
Next month, I talked to Vicky, she pretended not to know me but she referred me to her supervisor, Jennifer. Jennifer was sympathetic and business-like. "I'm sorry this has been going on for so long," she said sincerely. "I'm the project manager for this whole department and I am allocating resources for your project right now. You won't have any more problems."
"When should I call back?"
"Three weeks. By the end of March it will be done for sure. You can call me directly if there's still a problem after that... here's my direct line..."
At the end of April, I called to report a lack of progress. She told me there'd been some reorganization of the teams and my project had fallen through the cracks. She assured me it would be completely immediately. I should call back at the end of the week.
(For those of you, like my husband, who have fallen asleep by this point, I want to remind you that all I want them to do is correct my mailing address...)
I called back for an update and she didn't answer my call, nor did she return my message. I called again a few days later. No response. I called and left a message each week for the next 5 weeks. Always the same polite message, "Just wondering if you have a status update for me." Maybe Jennifer is dead or has been fired, I thought. Maybe I should try to find out. I called the customer service desk and asked to speak to the supervisor. I was transferred to Jennifer's voice mail. I called the customer service desk back and told them that I was trying to reach Jennifer, but hadn't been able to speak with her for FIVE WEEKS. Was she okay?
"I think so. I just saw her this morning."
"So, she still works there? She's still the project manager? Do you see her now? Can you hand her the phone?"
"Ha ha! Unfortunately, no. I can transfer you to her voicemail, though."
I called Jennifer 12 times in total over the course of about 3 months. She never returned my call. I finally gave up.
Not long after I gave up, I received a notice from The Vendor. "Be advised that we will no longer be sending invoices to our customers. All invoices are available on our website at..."
You dogs. How many companies require their customers to print their own invoices? And Jennifer? You suck. You totally knew this was where your company was headed. You knew if you could put me off long enough, my problem would be a non-issue for you. Professional courtesy would dictate that you return at least one call just to let me know that I wasn't being ignored. But, I was being ignored. So bravo, for not sending me mixed messages. I guess.
But wait! There's more!
I go to the website to print my own invoices, and it doesn't work. The invoices are all garbled and incoherent and completely unusable. I called customer service to see if I was doing something wrong.
"No. There are some formatting issues we are still ironing out. We know about the problem. Hopefully it will be fixed soon."
"Well, how am I supposed to get my invoices? You guys have abdicated your responsibility of printing them and sending them to me (not that you were very good at that) but now you tell me I have to print my own, but don't even provide a method to do that. What am I supposed to do?"
"Well, what you have to do until the formatting gets resolved is pull them up one by one, then copy them into Word and then you can print them one by one."
"You're kidding, right? That's hours worth of work each month."
"Uhhh... yeah."
"Uhhh... yeah? YEAH? Is that all you have to say for yourself? YEAH?!?!"
"It's just until we get the formatting straightened out. Probably in the next couple of weeks it will be resolved."
"This is unacceptable. Who can I complain to?"
"You can talk to Jennifer... she's our project manager..."
Yup. The same phone-call-ignoring Jennifer from last time. That was many moons ago. Guess what I should be doing right now instead of blogging? That's right. Pulling up my invoices and printing them ONE BY ONE.
Yeah, don't think that wound doesn't get opened every single month when I spend hours and hours doing work that The Vendor should be doing for me. Serious, serious injury inflicted.
It all started 2 years ago with a simple request to The Vendor. Let me esplain... no, no, there is too much... let me sum up. We do not have the option of not doing business with this vendor. Otherwise, believe me, this vendor would have gotten the boot long, long ago. Anyhoo, The Vendor was sending some of our invoices to the wrong store. Since all of the accounting is done at my location, I politely requested that they change the mailing address.
"Absolutely!" they responded with glee. "Anything for our valued customer! We will change it immediately... although you might not see the change until next month."
"No problem!" I responded with equal enthusiasm. "Thanks for being a great vendor!"
That was in February 2007. In March, the invoices were again sent to the wrong address. "I'll wait another month," I reasoned, in a reasonable sort of way. "They might not have made the change in time. Surely, they will change it. I'm sure they don't want me calling every month saying I didn't get the invoices because then they have to reprint them and fax them to me. It's just more work for them." Confident that The Vendor would want to reduce their workload and mine, I waited patiently.
In April, the invoices are sent to the wrong address again. I called to request that the missing invoice be faxed to me and gently inquired about getting the address changed. After some investigation into the matter, they determined that the problem was entirely their fault. For some reason that no one could explain, the mailing address was corrected in the system, but was still printing incorrectly on the actual invoice. The Vendor promised to have their tech guys look into it and gave me a help ticket number in case I didn't hear back in a couple of days.
I waited patiently through May and June. Convinced that the problem had not been corrected (since I still wasn't receiving invoices), I finally called and referenced the ticket number I'd been given.
"Hmmmm... well, I see that ticket was closed in April," said the kindly customer service rep.
"Closed? So they fixed the problem? Because, I hate to tell you, nothing has changed."
"Well, no. It's just closed. I don't see any notes on what was done or what the resolution was. But they are not working on it any more. Actually, it looks like it was closed the day after you called."
"Well, there's still a problem. The same problem, in fact. Can you open another help ticket?"
"I'd be happy to. I apologize for the inconvenience. It might take another month to fix, though. Here's you ticket number..."
July and August rolled in, but the invoices did not. I called again for an update. They asked me to wait another month. In October, I called again. They asked me to wait another month. I told them I'd been waiting since February. They were shocked that it would take so long to fix such a simple problem.
Tell me about it.
"I'll tell you what... I'm going to forward this to a team manager. Her name is Vicky and she has a whole team devoted to resolving these kinds of issues. Her direct line is..."
I thanked him profusely and waited another month (or two) before contacting Vicky. She confidently told me that she had reviewed my ticket and it was scheduled to be resolved within 2 weeks. "We're just running behind on our projects. Please be patient."
In February (a whole year after my original complaint), I talked to Vicky again. She was vague and distracted. "Your ticket... uhhh... yes... I see it here. Hmmm... I don't know what the status is." I reminded her that she said it would be completed within 2 weeks from my last call. "I said that? Well, okay. We'll fix it this week."
Next month, I talked to Vicky, she pretended not to know me but she referred me to her supervisor, Jennifer. Jennifer was sympathetic and business-like. "I'm sorry this has been going on for so long," she said sincerely. "I'm the project manager for this whole department and I am allocating resources for your project right now. You won't have any more problems."
"When should I call back?"
"Three weeks. By the end of March it will be done for sure. You can call me directly if there's still a problem after that... here's my direct line..."
At the end of April, I called to report a lack of progress. She told me there'd been some reorganization of the teams and my project had fallen through the cracks. She assured me it would be completely immediately. I should call back at the end of the week.
(For those of you, like my husband, who have fallen asleep by this point, I want to remind you that all I want them to do is correct my mailing address...)
I called back for an update and she didn't answer my call, nor did she return my message. I called again a few days later. No response. I called and left a message each week for the next 5 weeks. Always the same polite message, "Just wondering if you have a status update for me." Maybe Jennifer is dead or has been fired, I thought. Maybe I should try to find out. I called the customer service desk and asked to speak to the supervisor. I was transferred to Jennifer's voice mail. I called the customer service desk back and told them that I was trying to reach Jennifer, but hadn't been able to speak with her for FIVE WEEKS. Was she okay?
"I think so. I just saw her this morning."
"So, she still works there? She's still the project manager? Do you see her now? Can you hand her the phone?"
"Ha ha! Unfortunately, no. I can transfer you to her voicemail, though."
I called Jennifer 12 times in total over the course of about 3 months. She never returned my call. I finally gave up.
Not long after I gave up, I received a notice from The Vendor. "Be advised that we will no longer be sending invoices to our customers. All invoices are available on our website at..."
You dogs. How many companies require their customers to print their own invoices? And Jennifer? You suck. You totally knew this was where your company was headed. You knew if you could put me off long enough, my problem would be a non-issue for you. Professional courtesy would dictate that you return at least one call just to let me know that I wasn't being ignored. But, I was being ignored. So bravo, for not sending me mixed messages. I guess.
But wait! There's more!
I go to the website to print my own invoices, and it doesn't work. The invoices are all garbled and incoherent and completely unusable. I called customer service to see if I was doing something wrong.
"No. There are some formatting issues we are still ironing out. We know about the problem. Hopefully it will be fixed soon."
"Well, how am I supposed to get my invoices? You guys have abdicated your responsibility of printing them and sending them to me (not that you were very good at that) but now you tell me I have to print my own, but don't even provide a method to do that. What am I supposed to do?"
"Well, what you have to do until the formatting gets resolved is pull them up one by one, then copy them into Word and then you can print them one by one."
"You're kidding, right? That's hours worth of work each month."
"Uhhh... yeah."
"Uhhh... yeah? YEAH? Is that all you have to say for yourself? YEAH?!?!"
"It's just until we get the formatting straightened out. Probably in the next couple of weeks it will be resolved."
"This is unacceptable. Who can I complain to?"
"You can talk to Jennifer... she's our project manager..."
Yup. The same phone-call-ignoring Jennifer from last time. That was many moons ago. Guess what I should be doing right now instead of blogging? That's right. Pulling up my invoices and printing them ONE BY ONE.
Yeah, don't think that wound doesn't get opened every single month when I spend hours and hours doing work that The Vendor should be doing for me. Serious, serious injury inflicted.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Dilemma, part 6
I've gotten a couple of e-mails from a co-worker asking about DMV fee increases for 2009. I don't know the answer to her question. The DMV knows the answer to her question. That's what I told her the first time she asked the question. "I don't really know. You can call DMV to find out, though," was my reply several weeks ago.
The next time she sent me an e-mail with the same question, I ignored it. Because I'm passive-aggressive like that.
Today, there was a new e-mail, same subject. I responded with. "I don't know. Only DMV knows for sure." That was as lighthearted as I could be given my current irritation level.
What I wanted to say was, "I still don't know. Why do you keep asking me this question? The reason I don't know is because I haven't called DMV to find out. The reason I haven't called DMV is because it's not important to me right now. When it becomes important and I am forced to find the answer, I will do so. It seems important enough to you, however, to ask me (the wrong person) about it 3 times. You are just as capable of finding out from DMV as I am. So please do so and stop asking me. And in case that's not direct enough (since my previous suggestions that you call DMV yourself have gone unheeded), YOU NEED TO CALL DMV PERSONALLY TO GET THIS INFORMATION. I AM NOT GOING TO."
I'm not planning on having a discussion about this with her, but if it comes to that I will certainly try to find out why she keeps asking me. Does she think I get a secret bulletin from DMV that gives me information that she doesn't have? Does she not have the phone number for DMV? Is she just trying to fop it off on me?
I suspect the real reason is this: She started wondering about it in November. It's been on her to-do list since then. She probably thinks it must be nagging at me like it's nagging at her. Eventually, I won't be able to take it anymore and I'll break down and call DMV. I must have done so and just not communicated the information to her so eventually, at some point when she asks me the same question I will have answer.
But she's wrong. The only thing that's nagging me is her.
So, here are some options:
1. I ignore her every time she asks about it.
2. I keep telling her that I don't know and that she should call DMV if she wants to know.
3. I tell her that she has irritated me so much at this point that even if I did know, I wouldn't tell her.
4. I call DMV myself, just to get her off my back.
5. I don't deal with the issue directly, but instead turn the conversation to why, WHY DO YOU KEEP ASKING ME THIS?
I'm sure there are other options. Your opinions?
The next time she sent me an e-mail with the same question, I ignored it. Because I'm passive-aggressive like that.
Today, there was a new e-mail, same subject. I responded with. "I don't know. Only DMV knows for sure." That was as lighthearted as I could be given my current irritation level.
What I wanted to say was, "I still don't know. Why do you keep asking me this question? The reason I don't know is because I haven't called DMV to find out. The reason I haven't called DMV is because it's not important to me right now. When it becomes important and I am forced to find the answer, I will do so. It seems important enough to you, however, to ask me (the wrong person) about it 3 times. You are just as capable of finding out from DMV as I am. So please do so and stop asking me. And in case that's not direct enough (since my previous suggestions that you call DMV yourself have gone unheeded), YOU NEED TO CALL DMV PERSONALLY TO GET THIS INFORMATION. I AM NOT GOING TO."
I'm not planning on having a discussion about this with her, but if it comes to that I will certainly try to find out why she keeps asking me. Does she think I get a secret bulletin from DMV that gives me information that she doesn't have? Does she not have the phone number for DMV? Is she just trying to fop it off on me?
I suspect the real reason is this: She started wondering about it in November. It's been on her to-do list since then. She probably thinks it must be nagging at me like it's nagging at her. Eventually, I won't be able to take it anymore and I'll break down and call DMV. I must have done so and just not communicated the information to her so eventually, at some point when she asks me the same question I will have answer.
But she's wrong. The only thing that's nagging me is her.
So, here are some options:
1. I ignore her every time she asks about it.
2. I keep telling her that I don't know and that she should call DMV if she wants to know.
3. I tell her that she has irritated me so much at this point that even if I did know, I wouldn't tell her.
4. I call DMV myself, just to get her off my back.
5. I don't deal with the issue directly, but instead turn the conversation to why, WHY DO YOU KEEP ASKING ME THIS?
I'm sure there are other options. Your opinions?
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Monday, Monday
There was an extremely rude and irate message on my voicemail this morning. It went something like this:
"Ummm, yeah. HELLLLLLLLLO! Is there anyone there? HELLLLLLO! I'm looking for someone to answer the friggin' phone! I've been calling and calling! Is anyone there today???!! HELLLLLLO! Come on! Answer the phone!! I need to talk to someone and no one is aaaaannnswering! You just don't answer the phone on Mondays? HELLLLLLO! HELLLLO! Answer your friggin' phone! HELLLLLO!"
No, moron, we don't answer the phone on Monday because we are closed. You would know this if you had listened to the message which played when you called which said, "Thank you for calling Andrea's Illustrious Company. Our hours are Tuesday thru Saturday, 9 am to 5 pm. We are closed on Sunday and Monday. To leave a message, press...."
In addition, what decade are you living in? Do you really think you can call a business, select the option to be transferred to my voicemailbox, and expect that, even if I am sitting at my desk ignoring you, I will be able to hear your brainless HELLLLLLO caterwauling and that will make me pick up the phone? It's not an answering machine, it's voicemail, ya jerk.
And finally, if it is soooo important that you talk to someone, why not leave your name and number? Because I would have loved to return your call this morning and let you know how immature and idiotic you sounded demanding to have your call answered on a day when we are not open for business.
So many idiots, so little chance for retribution.
"Ummm, yeah. HELLLLLLLLLO! Is there anyone there? HELLLLLLO! I'm looking for someone to answer the friggin' phone! I've been calling and calling! Is anyone there today???!! HELLLLLLO! Come on! Answer the phone!! I need to talk to someone and no one is aaaaannnswering! You just don't answer the phone on Mondays? HELLLLLLO! HELLLLO! Answer your friggin' phone! HELLLLLO!"
No, moron, we don't answer the phone on Monday because we are closed. You would know this if you had listened to the message which played when you called which said, "Thank you for calling Andrea's Illustrious Company. Our hours are Tuesday thru Saturday, 9 am to 5 pm. We are closed on Sunday and Monday. To leave a message, press...."
In addition, what decade are you living in? Do you really think you can call a business, select the option to be transferred to my voicemailbox, and expect that, even if I am sitting at my desk ignoring you, I will be able to hear your brainless HELLLLLLO caterwauling and that will make me pick up the phone? It's not an answering machine, it's voicemail, ya jerk.
And finally, if it is soooo important that you talk to someone, why not leave your name and number? Because I would have loved to return your call this morning and let you know how immature and idiotic you sounded demanding to have your call answered on a day when we are not open for business.
So many idiots, so little chance for retribution.
Friday, December 5, 2008
COD is not just a tasty fish
I got a call from a vendor this morning...
Her: *curtly* I'm calling about such-and-such a shipment. We haven't gotten paid for it. Can you tell me when to expect payment?
Me: Hmmm... that doesn't sound familiar. I don't think the invoice has come across my desk yet. Can you tell me when it was sent?
Her: According to UPS, it arrived at your store C.O.D. on December 2nd. So-and-so signed for it. When will we be receiving payment?
Me: You sent it C.O.D. with UPS?
Her: That's right. So, when can I expect a check?
Me: *blink* *blink* Well, if it was sent C.O.D., without knowing anything about it, I would have to assume that you've already been paid. It was delivered C.O.D. by UPS on the 2nd?
Her: *impatiently* Yes. I have the tracking record right here. So, you've sent a check?
Me: Noooo... UPS would have collected it upon delivery.
Her: What do you mean?
Me: Well, if it was sent C.O.D....
Her: That's right. Collect. On. Delivery. C.O.D.
Me: Yes. That's right. So we would have had to pay for it in order for UPS to deliver it. Collect. On. Delivery. C.O.D.
Her: Ma'am, I'm not seeing what that has to do with you sending me a check for the shipment.
Me: Well, if we paid for it when it was delivered, I don't want to send you another check and pay for it twice.
Her: Why would you have paid for it when it was delivered?
Me: Because, according to you, it was sent C.O.D.
Her: I don't understand. Hold on...
At this point I can hear her talking to someone in the background...
Her: Hey Gary, that thing was sent C.O.D., right?
Gary: Yup. What's the problem? When are they going to pay for it?
A different voice is heard in the background...
DV: Hey, you two! C.O.D. means that...*garbled sounds as the phone is now being covered*
Her: *back on the line* Uh, ma'am? I guess... the uhhh, shipment wasn't sent C.O.D. It was sent, uhhh... whatever the opposite of C.O.D is...
Her: *curtly* I'm calling about such-and-such a shipment. We haven't gotten paid for it. Can you tell me when to expect payment?
Me: Hmmm... that doesn't sound familiar. I don't think the invoice has come across my desk yet. Can you tell me when it was sent?
Her: According to UPS, it arrived at your store C.O.D. on December 2nd. So-and-so signed for it. When will we be receiving payment?
Me: You sent it C.O.D. with UPS?
Her: That's right. So, when can I expect a check?
Me: *blink* *blink* Well, if it was sent C.O.D., without knowing anything about it, I would have to assume that you've already been paid. It was delivered C.O.D. by UPS on the 2nd?
Her: *impatiently* Yes. I have the tracking record right here. So, you've sent a check?
Me: Noooo... UPS would have collected it upon delivery.
Her: What do you mean?
Me: Well, if it was sent C.O.D....
Her: That's right. Collect. On. Delivery. C.O.D.
Me: Yes. That's right. So we would have had to pay for it in order for UPS to deliver it. Collect. On. Delivery. C.O.D.
Her: Ma'am, I'm not seeing what that has to do with you sending me a check for the shipment.
Me: Well, if we paid for it when it was delivered, I don't want to send you another check and pay for it twice.
Her: Why would you have paid for it when it was delivered?
Me: Because, according to you, it was sent C.O.D.
Her: I don't understand. Hold on...
At this point I can hear her talking to someone in the background...
Her: Hey Gary, that thing was sent C.O.D., right?
Gary: Yup. What's the problem? When are they going to pay for it?
A different voice is heard in the background...
DV: Hey, you two! C.O.D. means that...*garbled sounds as the phone is now being covered*
Her: *back on the line* Uh, ma'am? I guess... the uhhh, shipment wasn't sent C.O.D. It was sent, uhhh... whatever the opposite of C.O.D is...
Friday, October 24, 2008
Dilemma, parts 1 and 2
Workplace dilemma, part 1:
People at work often greet me with, "Hi, how are you today?" I reply, "Fine, thank you."
I know the socially acceptable response is, "Fine, how are you?" But I don't want to feed the how-are-you-as-a-greeting machine, so I simply answer the question. It has led to an awkward pause on more than one occasion, though.
Am I wrong for failing to observe this nicety?
Workplace dilemma, part 2:
A certain co-worker starts all of her phone conversations with me, "Sorry to bother you, but..." When she has to call more than once in a day, she starts with, "I know I'm being a pest, but..."
She pauses and waits for me to reassure her that she's neither a bother nor a pest. I never do. I usually just say nothing and wait for her to get to the point.
Whether or not she is bothering me is irrelevant. The damage is done. She's already pestered me. Also, I don't really believe she's sorry. If she was, wouldn't she stop calling me?
Should I cut her some slack?
Discuss.
People at work often greet me with, "Hi, how are you today?" I reply, "Fine, thank you."
I know the socially acceptable response is, "Fine, how are you?" But I don't want to feed the how-are-you-as-a-greeting machine, so I simply answer the question. It has led to an awkward pause on more than one occasion, though.
Am I wrong for failing to observe this nicety?
Workplace dilemma, part 2:
A certain co-worker starts all of her phone conversations with me, "Sorry to bother you, but..." When she has to call more than once in a day, she starts with, "I know I'm being a pest, but..."
She pauses and waits for me to reassure her that she's neither a bother nor a pest. I never do. I usually just say nothing and wait for her to get to the point.
Whether or not she is bothering me is irrelevant. The damage is done. She's already pestered me. Also, I don't really believe she's sorry. If she was, wouldn't she stop calling me?
Should I cut her some slack?
Discuss.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
The Office
Recently, Brett's cousin became convinced that we would be the kind of people who love "The Office" and insisted we borrow season 1 and season 2 from his collection. He was right. We are totally hooked, as is, to my understanding, most of the rest of America.
It has come to my attention, however, that there are a few naysayers out there. The most common complaint I've heard (okay, it was hearsay from ONE person, but still) is that Michael is way too over-the-top. The show is not realistic because no one would ever act like that.
Untrue. I am here to bear witness to this fact. I worked for Michael for a brief time, only his name was Rick back then.
I'll give only one example to support my claim, but I think it should be sufficient. *Warning! The following material may not be appropriate for young children and for those who are squeamish about body parts/functions.*
This scene from "The Office" was actually one of the deleted scenes. Deleted, mind you, probably because it was too much for TV.
Pam is eating her lunch and reading a book. Michael approaches her and begins to small talk. Even though he is clearly interrupting her break, she humors him a little which encourages him to stay and chat more. He peers over her shoulder and asks about the book she's reading. She replies and an awkward pause follows. Michael fills in the dead air by saying:
"Yup. Had a big scare this morning." Pam responds by nodding politely but uninterestedly. Michael continues:
"Yup. Big, big scare....probably took a few years off my life. Yup, it wasn't good. Found a lump. You know...down there." Michael gestures toward his groin. He pauses dramatically. Pam lowers her head and begins to cover her eyes. "I was totally freaking out. Just freaking out. Wow. My life flashed before my eyes. Just think about... well, you know... what would happen if... well, you don't need to worry about that but, wow... I was really sweating it. Yup... Oh, it turned out to be nothing, but phew! Can you imagine? It's scary to think about..."
Of course, the comedy is that Michael is sharing way too much personal information with someone, his employee even, completely oblivious to the fact that she's uncomfortable and he is being completely inappropriate.
Compare the following situation:
Andrea is at work one afternoon when the power goes out. Computers are down, phones are down, and there's almost no light. Being the only one in the office, she opens the doors to some of the exterior offices which lets a small amount of sunshine in. About 10 minutes later, the power revives and a few minutes after that her boss comes charging in.
"Good thing the power came back on. I hadn't realized how dark this office is when the power's off. I was about ready to go home." she jokes with her boss.
"Dark? You think it's dark in here? I was in the bathroom when the power went off. It's pitch black in there."
"Uhhh...yeah. I can imagine," Andrea replies, treading lightly. She's not really interested in exactly where in the bathrooming process her boss was when the power went off. She's afraid he's going to tell her anyway.
"Yeah, it's pretty funny. I'll tell you, because it's just the two of us and I know you can keep a secret..."
Andrea cringes. Rick continues.
"So, I was in the bathroom and well, I'm of a certain age where doctors start checking for various illnesses and diseases by using stool samples. So, I was actually trying to collect my sample when the power went out. It was soooo dark! *chuckle chuckle* Anyway, I've got the collection stuff all ready and I don't want to loose my opportunity..."
Andrea lowers her face and covers her eyes, just like Pam. Rick charges on:
"Actually, you've probably never had to do this, but basically you collect the stool on a piece of cloth, then there's this little scooper that you use to take the samples to send to the lab. Aaaaanyway, I'm standing there, all of a sudden in the pitch black, all ready to collect my sample and I don't know when I'll get another chance, so I pull out my cell phone, open it up and set it on the counter, just for a little light. And when I'm right in the middle of things, someone calls and the ringer makes the phone vibrate right off the counter, because I've got my hands full and can't answer it. Then, when it hits the floor, the battery pops off, so I'm in the pitch black again. But now, I'm crawling around with the scooper in one hand, trying to find my phone and the battery with the other. Hahaha! I'm glad the power came on when it did, because I might have been in there all day. I finally found the battery and it was clear over on the other side of the bathroom, under one of the urinals..."
Andrea is wishing the power would go off again so that she can escape under the cover of darkness.
"Anyway, pretty funny story, huh? Just don't tell anyone. It's way too embarrassing! Hahaha!"
Mercifully, the story ends when the office door opens and another employee enters. Rick accosts him in the doorway.
"Hey Keith! Want to hear a funny story? This happened just now when I was in the bathroom and the power went out. See, I was trying to collect a stool sample for..."
Too over-the-top to be true? Not even. I was there. It just wasn't as funny as "The Office."
It has come to my attention, however, that there are a few naysayers out there. The most common complaint I've heard (okay, it was hearsay from ONE person, but still) is that Michael is way too over-the-top. The show is not realistic because no one would ever act like that.
Untrue. I am here to bear witness to this fact. I worked for Michael for a brief time, only his name was Rick back then.
I'll give only one example to support my claim, but I think it should be sufficient. *Warning! The following material may not be appropriate for young children and for those who are squeamish about body parts/functions.*
This scene from "The Office" was actually one of the deleted scenes. Deleted, mind you, probably because it was too much for TV.
Pam is eating her lunch and reading a book. Michael approaches her and begins to small talk. Even though he is clearly interrupting her break, she humors him a little which encourages him to stay and chat more. He peers over her shoulder and asks about the book she's reading. She replies and an awkward pause follows. Michael fills in the dead air by saying:
"Yup. Had a big scare this morning." Pam responds by nodding politely but uninterestedly. Michael continues:
"Yup. Big, big scare....probably took a few years off my life. Yup, it wasn't good. Found a lump. You know...down there." Michael gestures toward his groin. He pauses dramatically. Pam lowers her head and begins to cover her eyes. "I was totally freaking out. Just freaking out. Wow. My life flashed before my eyes. Just think about... well, you know... what would happen if... well, you don't need to worry about that but, wow... I was really sweating it. Yup... Oh, it turned out to be nothing, but phew! Can you imagine? It's scary to think about..."
Of course, the comedy is that Michael is sharing way too much personal information with someone, his employee even, completely oblivious to the fact that she's uncomfortable and he is being completely inappropriate.
Compare the following situation:
Andrea is at work one afternoon when the power goes out. Computers are down, phones are down, and there's almost no light. Being the only one in the office, she opens the doors to some of the exterior offices which lets a small amount of sunshine in. About 10 minutes later, the power revives and a few minutes after that her boss comes charging in.
"Good thing the power came back on. I hadn't realized how dark this office is when the power's off. I was about ready to go home." she jokes with her boss.
"Dark? You think it's dark in here? I was in the bathroom when the power went off. It's pitch black in there."
"Uhhh...yeah. I can imagine," Andrea replies, treading lightly. She's not really interested in exactly where in the bathrooming process her boss was when the power went off. She's afraid he's going to tell her anyway.
"Yeah, it's pretty funny. I'll tell you, because it's just the two of us and I know you can keep a secret..."
Andrea cringes. Rick continues.
"So, I was in the bathroom and well, I'm of a certain age where doctors start checking for various illnesses and diseases by using stool samples. So, I was actually trying to collect my sample when the power went out. It was soooo dark! *chuckle chuckle* Anyway, I've got the collection stuff all ready and I don't want to loose my opportunity..."
Andrea lowers her face and covers her eyes, just like Pam. Rick charges on:
"Actually, you've probably never had to do this, but basically you collect the stool on a piece of cloth, then there's this little scooper that you use to take the samples to send to the lab. Aaaaanyway, I'm standing there, all of a sudden in the pitch black, all ready to collect my sample and I don't know when I'll get another chance, so I pull out my cell phone, open it up and set it on the counter, just for a little light. And when I'm right in the middle of things, someone calls and the ringer makes the phone vibrate right off the counter, because I've got my hands full and can't answer it. Then, when it hits the floor, the battery pops off, so I'm in the pitch black again. But now, I'm crawling around with the scooper in one hand, trying to find my phone and the battery with the other. Hahaha! I'm glad the power came on when it did, because I might have been in there all day. I finally found the battery and it was clear over on the other side of the bathroom, under one of the urinals..."
Andrea is wishing the power would go off again so that she can escape under the cover of darkness.
"Anyway, pretty funny story, huh? Just don't tell anyone. It's way too embarrassing! Hahaha!"
Mercifully, the story ends when the office door opens and another employee enters. Rick accosts him in the doorway.
"Hey Keith! Want to hear a funny story? This happened just now when I was in the bathroom and the power went out. See, I was trying to collect a stool sample for..."
Too over-the-top to be true? Not even. I was there. It just wasn't as funny as "The Office."
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Well, we didn't know what that was
I was having trouble a couple of weeks ago reconciling a statement sent to us by one of our regular vendors. Last month's check seemed to have been applied to random invoices, resulting some some items being prepaid and some being overdue.
I called the company and asked to be transferred to the accounting department. I got Holly's voicemail:
"Hi, you've reached Holly. I'm in the office today, but not at my desk so please leave a message and include your account number. Bear in mind that I am REALLY busy, so I might not be able to get right back to you."
O-kay. Essentially tell me right in your message that you are not going to call me back. Nice. I left a message explaining the problem and asking that she phone me. That was on August 7th.
On August 12th, I figured I'd enough time had elapsed even for a busy person to find a moment to call me back, so I left another message.
On August 15th, I left another message saying that I wouldn't be able to pay the invoices until I was able to get the statement straightened out. I thought that might get her attention.
Apparently not. She never called me back.
Today, I called and asked to speak to the accounting manager. He was smart and helpful and said he'd look into it and have someone call me.
So, Robin called me back later in the afternoon.
"Andrea, I did review your account and there were some errors on our part, but well, frankly it looks like there are some errors on your end, too."
I was skeptical, not because I don't make mistakes, but because it's really, really hard to make a mistake when you pay the balance on the statement in full. Robin elaborated:
"Well, there's a credit memo here for $xxx.xx. Maybe you can tell me what that is?"
"That's our 3% discount we take for paying in full by the 10th of the month."
"Discount on what, exactly?"
"Uhhhh... on the total amount that we owe for the month."
She digested that. I could hear her adding machine working fast and furious in the background, verifying my math.
"Humph. I see. Well, we just didn't have anyway of knowing what that was. So, that's why your statement is off. We just didn't know what that was."
"That's the way we've always done it. It's never been a problem before. Is there another way you would prefer to have it done?"
"Well, I don't know. It's just no one here in the office could figure out what that amount was for."
"So, when I sent in the remittance stub with my check with the words '3% discount = $xxx.xx' written on it, that wasn't clear enough?"
*pause*
"I'm not actually the person who handles that."
"Well, who is? Holly?"
"Sort of. We both work on it."
"It's funny, but I've been trying to get a hold of Holly for 3 weeks and she's never returned my calls."
"Maybe she just didn't get your message."
"I left 3 different messages."
*pause*
"We're really busy here in the office. Maybe she didn't have time to call back."
"In three weeks? Not even a courtesy call to tell me she's busy but she got my message?"
*pause*
*pause*
"We're really busy...she probably would have called you back but no one in the office could figure out what that credit memo was..."
"Yeah, or SHE COULD HAVE RETURNED MY CALL AND ASKED ME ABOUT IT."
"We're really busy. We didn't know what it was."
And on and on. I'm tempted to not pay the statement this month. When they call to demand payment, I'll just say, "Yeah. I've been busy and well, I just didn't know what it was."
I called the company and asked to be transferred to the accounting department. I got Holly's voicemail:
"Hi, you've reached Holly. I'm in the office today, but not at my desk so please leave a message and include your account number. Bear in mind that I am REALLY busy, so I might not be able to get right back to you."
O-kay. Essentially tell me right in your message that you are not going to call me back. Nice. I left a message explaining the problem and asking that she phone me. That was on August 7th.
On August 12th, I figured I'd enough time had elapsed even for a busy person to find a moment to call me back, so I left another message.
On August 15th, I left another message saying that I wouldn't be able to pay the invoices until I was able to get the statement straightened out. I thought that might get her attention.
Apparently not. She never called me back.
Today, I called and asked to speak to the accounting manager. He was smart and helpful and said he'd look into it and have someone call me.
So, Robin called me back later in the afternoon.
"Andrea, I did review your account and there were some errors on our part, but well, frankly it looks like there are some errors on your end, too."
I was skeptical, not because I don't make mistakes, but because it's really, really hard to make a mistake when you pay the balance on the statement in full. Robin elaborated:
"Well, there's a credit memo here for $xxx.xx. Maybe you can tell me what that is?"
"That's our 3% discount we take for paying in full by the 10th of the month."
"Discount on what, exactly?"
"Uhhhh... on the total amount that we owe for the month."
She digested that. I could hear her adding machine working fast and furious in the background, verifying my math.
"Humph. I see. Well, we just didn't have anyway of knowing what that was. So, that's why your statement is off. We just didn't know what that was."
"That's the way we've always done it. It's never been a problem before. Is there another way you would prefer to have it done?"
"Well, I don't know. It's just no one here in the office could figure out what that amount was for."
"So, when I sent in the remittance stub with my check with the words '3% discount = $xxx.xx' written on it, that wasn't clear enough?"
*pause*
"I'm not actually the person who handles that."
"Well, who is? Holly?"
"Sort of. We both work on it."
"It's funny, but I've been trying to get a hold of Holly for 3 weeks and she's never returned my calls."
"Maybe she just didn't get your message."
"I left 3 different messages."
*pause*
"We're really busy here in the office. Maybe she didn't have time to call back."
"In three weeks? Not even a courtesy call to tell me she's busy but she got my message?"
*pause*
*pause*
"We're really busy...she probably would have called you back but no one in the office could figure out what that credit memo was..."
"Yeah, or SHE COULD HAVE RETURNED MY CALL AND ASKED ME ABOUT IT."
"We're really busy. We didn't know what it was."
And on and on. I'm tempted to not pay the statement this month. When they call to demand payment, I'll just say, "Yeah. I've been busy and well, I just didn't know what it was."
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Do I have detail-oriented co-workers?
You decide.
When we run out of office or shop supplies, someone will usually start a shopping list and pin it to the bulletin board. The last guy who started a list put a title at the top:
"Things We Need To Get"
Personally, I don't think a shopping list needs a title. A piece of paper, tacked to the corkboard, exactly where our shopping lists have hung for the last 15 years, with items like "copy paper" and "staples" written on it, is probably going to be... well, self-evident as to its purpose. But okay. If you want to title it, then "Things We Need To Get" is a fine title. It's to the point and an accurate description of what this mystery piece of paper is.
A few days later, I noticed the list had been revised. The title, "Things We Need To Get" had been crossed out. Underneath, a new title had been typed in to more accurately describe the purpose of this piece of paper:
"Shopping List"
Whew. Thanks for clearing that up for me.
When we run out of office or shop supplies, someone will usually start a shopping list and pin it to the bulletin board. The last guy who started a list put a title at the top:
"Things We Need To Get"
Personally, I don't think a shopping list needs a title. A piece of paper, tacked to the corkboard, exactly where our shopping lists have hung for the last 15 years, with items like "copy paper" and "staples" written on it, is probably going to be... well, self-evident as to its purpose. But okay. If you want to title it, then "Things We Need To Get" is a fine title. It's to the point and an accurate description of what this mystery piece of paper is.
A few days later, I noticed the list had been revised. The title, "Things We Need To Get" had been crossed out. Underneath, a new title had been typed in to more accurately describe the purpose of this piece of paper:
"Shopping List"
Whew. Thanks for clearing that up for me.
Monday, August 18, 2008
I did not work hard on this.
Today at work, I received an unusual piece of junk mail. It was a glossy, three-fold pamphlet advertising some sort of specialty office supply. I normally would have thrown it out without a second glance, but the message on the front caught my eye.
"Please Don't Throw Me Away!
At Least look At Me.
Alot Of Hard Work Went Into Making Me For You!
And Our Pricing Is Great Too!"
Never mind the overzealous use of capital letters and the common misspelling of "a lot." What grabbed my attention was the fact that they expected me to not toss the brochure as trash (and by extension expected me to consider buying their product) simply because they had worked hard to make it.
Ahem... excuse me for a moment...
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
What marketing genius thought that up? Is this supposed to get some sort of sympathy vote? It's plain that someone did some work to bring this brochure into existance, but honestly, I can't even believe they worked "hard" on it. It was totally non-descript and looked exactly like any of a thousand of pieces of junk mail I toss every week.
Even if it had been interesting or flashy or creative, is the fact the someone "worked hard" on it really a reason for me to open it? No. That's just pathetic.
I think this thing stems from the "self-esteem" thinking that seems to be prevalent today. The most important thing for some parents and educators is that a child grows up with high self-esteem. They seem to believe that any criticism will cause a child's self-esteem to falter and his ability to achieve will be compromised.
In a way, it is a self-fulfilling prophesy. If a person grows up being continually indoctrinated with the idea that everything he never makes mistakes and everything he does is a rousing success, then yes, of course, any criticism will probably be crippling.
I'm not saying good self-esteem isn't an important component of being a high-achiever, it's just not the only thing. People need to learn the difference between what is a real triumph of hard work and something they may have worked hard on, but is still crap. We learn because we are allowed to receive feedback and criticism. If everything you put hard work into is excellent, just because you worked hard on it, you loose the motivation to do it even better the next time.
I guess their marketing ploy worked better than I thought it would, because I actually did open and peruse the brochure instead of just throwing it away. But only so I could make fun of it.
"Please Don't Throw Me Away!
At Least look At Me.
Alot Of Hard Work Went Into Making Me For You!
And Our Pricing Is Great Too!"
Never mind the overzealous use of capital letters and the common misspelling of "a lot." What grabbed my attention was the fact that they expected me to not toss the brochure as trash (and by extension expected me to consider buying their product) simply because they had worked hard to make it.
Ahem... excuse me for a moment...
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
What marketing genius thought that up? Is this supposed to get some sort of sympathy vote? It's plain that someone did some work to bring this brochure into existance, but honestly, I can't even believe they worked "hard" on it. It was totally non-descript and looked exactly like any of a thousand of pieces of junk mail I toss every week.
Even if it had been interesting or flashy or creative, is the fact the someone "worked hard" on it really a reason for me to open it? No. That's just pathetic.
I think this thing stems from the "self-esteem" thinking that seems to be prevalent today. The most important thing for some parents and educators is that a child grows up with high self-esteem. They seem to believe that any criticism will cause a child's self-esteem to falter and his ability to achieve will be compromised.
In a way, it is a self-fulfilling prophesy. If a person grows up being continually indoctrinated with the idea that everything he never makes mistakes and everything he does is a rousing success, then yes, of course, any criticism will probably be crippling.
I'm not saying good self-esteem isn't an important component of being a high-achiever, it's just not the only thing. People need to learn the difference between what is a real triumph of hard work and something they may have worked hard on, but is still crap. We learn because we are allowed to receive feedback and criticism. If everything you put hard work into is excellent, just because you worked hard on it, you loose the motivation to do it even better the next time.
I guess their marketing ploy worked better than I thought it would, because I actually did open and peruse the brochure instead of just throwing it away. But only so I could make fun of it.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Who?
We're shorthanded today and I made the mistake of answering the phone at work just now... remind me to never do that again.
Me: Good afternoon, (company name). How may I direct your call?
Him: Is this the Sacramento store?
Me: Yes, it is.
Him: Lemme talk to Lori.
Me: I'm sorry. There's no Lori who works here.
Him: No. Loren. I want to talk to Lor-en.
Me: Oh, I'm sorry. Loren just comes in as needed. He's not here today. Is there someone else who can help you?
Him: No. Larry. I want to talk to Larry.
Me: Sir, I'm sorry. There's no Larry here. Maybe if you tell me what you need I can direct your call to someone who can help you.
Him: I want to talk to Larry... in maintenance.
Me: Maintenance? Like, you want to talk to our janitor?
Him: *sigh* Maintenance. Larry. He's a maintenance guy... you know, like he works on the engines and stuff.
Me: A mechanic? We don't have a mechanic named Larry, but I can connect you to the service department.
Him: *exasperated* Yes. The service department. That's what I want.
So, I transfer him to the service manager. Five seconds later, I hear the service manager paging over the intercom.
"Sales, line one. Sales, line one."
Me: Good afternoon, (company name). How may I direct your call?
Him: Is this the Sacramento store?
Me: Yes, it is.
Him: Lemme talk to Lori.
Me: I'm sorry. There's no Lori who works here.
Him: No. Loren. I want to talk to Lor-en.
Me: Oh, I'm sorry. Loren just comes in as needed. He's not here today. Is there someone else who can help you?
Him: No. Larry. I want to talk to Larry.
Me: Sir, I'm sorry. There's no Larry here. Maybe if you tell me what you need I can direct your call to someone who can help you.
Him: I want to talk to Larry... in maintenance.
Me: Maintenance? Like, you want to talk to our janitor?
Him: *sigh* Maintenance. Larry. He's a maintenance guy... you know, like he works on the engines and stuff.
Me: A mechanic? We don't have a mechanic named Larry, but I can connect you to the service department.
Him: *exasperated* Yes. The service department. That's what I want.
So, I transfer him to the service manager. Five seconds later, I hear the service manager paging over the intercom.
"Sales, line one. Sales, line one."
Friday, August 8, 2008
Oh, crap.
Just now, I opened the door to the ladies room here at work and was greeted with the most wretched smell known to the earth. It was what evil smells like, I'm sure. Without turning on the light or crossing the restroom to the toilet, I could see there was a mess of toilet seat covers and wads of paper stuffed into the bowl.
"This can't be good," I thought. "And I really have to go."
I took a step backward and the door slammed shut, trapping the evil-smell inside.
I looked down. There was a schmear of brown on the floor. A few inches away... another schmear. And another... and another. A trail of brown dotted the walkway to the bathroom door.
So. Gross. I understood now. Someone wasn't being inconsiderate. They had legitimately lost control of their bowels a few steps from the bathroom. (No excuse for not cleaning up the toilet, though.)
There were customers hanging around the counter, so I tried to be as discreet as possible. I wet a mess of paper towels, dropped them over the first little pile and rubbed my foot back and forth. Not great results, but it would keep the customer from stepping in the little piles of crap until it could be cleaned thoroughly.
I did the next one... and the next one... After about 2 feet, I realized there was no end to the poop-trail. Someone had come in the front door, poop dripping from their shorts, walked ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE ENTIRE SHOWROOM FLOOR, and exploded into the toilet. And then left the mess for someone else to clean.
Well, crap. There's no way in heck that someone is going to be me.
I was tempted to page over the intercom, "Wet clean up on aisle... well, aisle everywhere."
Someone with a lower propensity to vomit is cleaning it as we speak.
"This can't be good," I thought. "And I really have to go."
I took a step backward and the door slammed shut, trapping the evil-smell inside.
I looked down. There was a schmear of brown on the floor. A few inches away... another schmear. And another... and another. A trail of brown dotted the walkway to the bathroom door.
So. Gross. I understood now. Someone wasn't being inconsiderate. They had legitimately lost control of their bowels a few steps from the bathroom. (No excuse for not cleaning up the toilet, though.)
There were customers hanging around the counter, so I tried to be as discreet as possible. I wet a mess of paper towels, dropped them over the first little pile and rubbed my foot back and forth. Not great results, but it would keep the customer from stepping in the little piles of crap until it could be cleaned thoroughly.
I did the next one... and the next one... After about 2 feet, I realized there was no end to the poop-trail. Someone had come in the front door, poop dripping from their shorts, walked ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE ENTIRE SHOWROOM FLOOR, and exploded into the toilet. And then left the mess for someone else to clean.
Well, crap. There's no way in heck that someone is going to be me.
I was tempted to page over the intercom, "Wet clean up on aisle... well, aisle everywhere."
Someone with a lower propensity to vomit is cleaning it as we speak.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Conversation just now with a representative from a company we do business with regularly:
Me: I'm trying to reach Linda Brown in your department regarding a letter she sent me. I've been calling the number on the letter all day and it's not working. It just rings and rings--there's no voicemail or anything. Is there a better number to reach her at?
CSR: Linda Brown? I've never heard of her in this department.
Me: The title on her letter says "Asset Disposition Representative." Is this the Asset Disposition department?
CSR: Yes. But "Linda Brown" doesn't sound familiar.
Me: --
CSR: Hmmm... Linda.... Linda...
Me: --
CSR: Oh yeah. I got it. Linda. I work with her every day. Duh. It's Tuesday and I'm still acting like it's Monday. Sorry.
Me: That's fine. Can I talk to her?
CSR: She's gone home early today. I can transfer you to her voicemail, though.
Me: Okay. But can I also have the number in case I need to call her back?
CSR: It's xxx-xxx-xxxx.
Me: That's the number I've been calling. The one that doesn't work.
CSR: Huh. Well, I'll transfer you now so you can leave a message.
Me: Wait! That's the number I've been calling and it just rings. There's no way to leave a message.
CSR: Well, maybe her voicemail just isn't set up. I'll transfer you over there.
Me: No! Wait! I need to be able to leave a message or talk to someone. How am I going to leave a message if her voicemail isn't set up?
CSR: I don't know. I've never really had to leave a message for her before.
Me: How about Linda's supervisor then?
CSR: Please hold...I"ll transfer you...
*ring* *ring* *ring* *ring*..... ad nauseum
What she meant by "I'll transfer you" was "I'll transfer you again to Linda's non-existent voicemail since I know that's what you want, what you really really want even though you have indicated you don't want that, I know better and it will be far better for me to transfer you to the extension of a person I know is not here and has no voicemail than to transfer you to an actual working extension where you might be able to talk to someone, ANYONE, who is clear on the concept of 'leaving a message.'"
Me: I'm trying to reach Linda Brown in your department regarding a letter she sent me. I've been calling the number on the letter all day and it's not working. It just rings and rings--there's no voicemail or anything. Is there a better number to reach her at?
CSR: Linda Brown? I've never heard of her in this department.
Me: The title on her letter says "Asset Disposition Representative." Is this the Asset Disposition department?
CSR: Yes. But "Linda Brown" doesn't sound familiar.
Me: --
CSR: Hmmm... Linda.... Linda...
Me: --
CSR: Oh yeah. I got it. Linda. I work with her every day. Duh. It's Tuesday and I'm still acting like it's Monday. Sorry.
Me: That's fine. Can I talk to her?
CSR: She's gone home early today. I can transfer you to her voicemail, though.
Me: Okay. But can I also have the number in case I need to call her back?
CSR: It's xxx-xxx-xxxx.
Me: That's the number I've been calling. The one that doesn't work.
CSR: Huh. Well, I'll transfer you now so you can leave a message.
Me: Wait! That's the number I've been calling and it just rings. There's no way to leave a message.
CSR: Well, maybe her voicemail just isn't set up. I'll transfer you over there.
Me: No! Wait! I need to be able to leave a message or talk to someone. How am I going to leave a message if her voicemail isn't set up?
CSR: I don't know. I've never really had to leave a message for her before.
Me: How about Linda's supervisor then?
CSR: Please hold...I"ll transfer you...
*ring* *ring* *ring* *ring*..... ad nauseum
What she meant by "I'll transfer you" was "I'll transfer you again to Linda's non-existent voicemail since I know that's what you want, what you really really want even though you have indicated you don't want that, I know better and it will be far better for me to transfer you to the extension of a person I know is not here and has no voicemail than to transfer you to an actual working extension where you might be able to talk to someone, ANYONE, who is clear on the concept of 'leaving a message.'"
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
I've been working like a dog
I'll be the first to admit that I have been very, very lucky when it comes to my career. In my entire work history, teenage and adult, I've only had one job that I didn't like. Sure, every now and again I'd get an annoying co-worker but, the vast majority of the time, I've worked for great companies with great people. It's actually kind of stunted my career, I think, because I never want to move onward and upward and leave my current great job.
I started one of these great jobs right after I got married and moved to Sacramento. I considered it my first "real" job. I had a monthly salary, good benefits, and a big office. I was originally hired to be an assistant to the president and another executive but soon I was operating in a de facto "office manager" role. I handled all the out-of-the-ordinary problems. I developed more efficient ways of doing things. I tackled the big, ugly projects that no one else wanted or had time for. I dabbled in HR, employee training, accounting, event planning, and budgeting. I was versatile, resourceful, and responsible. (I realize every sentence in this paragraph starts with "I.")
So, of course, they fired me. The use of the word "fired" would draw a collective gasp from the people who made the decision to fire me. Technically, I was "laid off." When one of our major clients decided he would be better off managing his own properties, it took a big bite out of our company profits and suddenly we were overstaffed. Someone had to go. That someone was me.
I understand how they reached that conclusion. Even after 3 years, I was still the last person they had hired. My actual assigned job duties were few because I'd been functioning as a problem-solver for so long. I could see how they might decide that a full-time office manager was a waste of money.
They were gracious about it. They wrote a glowing letter of recommendation. They tried to help me find another job in the industry. They paid me a two-week severance. (Although, the last guy that got fired for actual wrongdoing was given a whole month of severance pay.) They expressed appreciation for all I had done for the company. They didn't want me to think I wasn't a valuable employee.
Just not valuable enough to not fire.
I kept on a happy face through my final day. I told them I understood. I told them it was probably for the best. I assured them that my family would be fine and I wouldn't have a problem finding another job.
I had lunch with a former co-worker a few weeks after my last day with the company. She told me that the woman who was assigned to handle a small portion of my former duties was totally inadequate for the work. Not that the workload was too much, but that she just didn't have the skills. "She wrote a letter for me, and it looked like something a forth-grader would churn out." My former co-worker said she thought a big mistake had been made when they decided to fire me and she thought they were going to realize it shortly.
I had a smug sense of satisfaction thinking about the company limping along, wishing they had not fired their capable and resourceful office manager.
That was 4 years ago.
The other day, I ran into someone I knew from when I worked at the company. "How's everyone at My Former Company?" I asked, knowing him to be just clueless enough to give me the honest truth. I expected a tale of the rough struggles they'd been through with the bad economy and housing market.
"Great!" he declared. "They have so many more properties than they did when you worked there. You'd be surprised. Business is great. It's keeping everyone really busy."
"Huh. That's good for them, I guess."
"Yeah. Mike (the president) just moved into a big new house."
"Really? He moved into a big new house right after I started working there."
"This one's even bigger! You should see it! It's totally awesome!" blah blah blah
There was more conversation but I didn't care. Apparently, My Former Company is doing great without me. Bully for them.
I started one of these great jobs right after I got married and moved to Sacramento. I considered it my first "real" job. I had a monthly salary, good benefits, and a big office. I was originally hired to be an assistant to the president and another executive but soon I was operating in a de facto "office manager" role. I handled all the out-of-the-ordinary problems. I developed more efficient ways of doing things. I tackled the big, ugly projects that no one else wanted or had time for. I dabbled in HR, employee training, accounting, event planning, and budgeting. I was versatile, resourceful, and responsible. (I realize every sentence in this paragraph starts with "I.")
So, of course, they fired me. The use of the word "fired" would draw a collective gasp from the people who made the decision to fire me. Technically, I was "laid off." When one of our major clients decided he would be better off managing his own properties, it took a big bite out of our company profits and suddenly we were overstaffed. Someone had to go. That someone was me.
I understand how they reached that conclusion. Even after 3 years, I was still the last person they had hired. My actual assigned job duties were few because I'd been functioning as a problem-solver for so long. I could see how they might decide that a full-time office manager was a waste of money.
They were gracious about it. They wrote a glowing letter of recommendation. They tried to help me find another job in the industry. They paid me a two-week severance. (Although, the last guy that got fired for actual wrongdoing was given a whole month of severance pay.) They expressed appreciation for all I had done for the company. They didn't want me to think I wasn't a valuable employee.
Just not valuable enough to not fire.
I kept on a happy face through my final day. I told them I understood. I told them it was probably for the best. I assured them that my family would be fine and I wouldn't have a problem finding another job.
I had lunch with a former co-worker a few weeks after my last day with the company. She told me that the woman who was assigned to handle a small portion of my former duties was totally inadequate for the work. Not that the workload was too much, but that she just didn't have the skills. "She wrote a letter for me, and it looked like something a forth-grader would churn out." My former co-worker said she thought a big mistake had been made when they decided to fire me and she thought they were going to realize it shortly.
I had a smug sense of satisfaction thinking about the company limping along, wishing they had not fired their capable and resourceful office manager.
That was 4 years ago.
The other day, I ran into someone I knew from when I worked at the company. "How's everyone at My Former Company?" I asked, knowing him to be just clueless enough to give me the honest truth. I expected a tale of the rough struggles they'd been through with the bad economy and housing market.
"Great!" he declared. "They have so many more properties than they did when you worked there. You'd be surprised. Business is great. It's keeping everyone really busy."
"Huh. That's good for them, I guess."
"Yeah. Mike (the president) just moved into a big new house."
"Really? He moved into a big new house right after I started working there."
"This one's even bigger! You should see it! It's totally awesome!" blah blah blah
There was more conversation but I didn't care. Apparently, My Former Company is doing great without me. Bully for them.
This is totally petty, I know, but here's my gripe with My Former Company:
As office manager, at the request of the owner, I planned dozens of "Bon Voyage" parties for departing staff members. Some were long-time employees but leaving under less-than-amicable conditions. Some were short-timers who were leaving because they were incompetent and hard to get along with. No matter what the circumstances, there was a card and a cake, and everyone was invited to come and express their appreciation for a job well done.
For my departure, at five minutes to noon, someone said, "Hey, it's Andrea's last day. We'd probably better go out to lunch or something." Three staff members (those who hadn't already left for lunch) and I walked to the Mexican restaurant next door and had a burrito.
I even had to pay for my own lunch.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Winner winner chicken dinner!
I've been dealing with two separate issues at work, both of which were resolved in my favor today. Yay me!
The first had to do with a vendor overcharging us for equipment we ordered. It boiled down to my word against hers. She told me one price and then charged me $100 more. There was no agreement as to price in writing so all I could do was keep saying, "But that's not what you told me over the phone." In the absence of any other evidence which supported my side or hers, she eventually agreed to refund the money as a gesture of "good will." (She made it very clear she still thought I was wrong, but since she's a better person that I am, she will graciously refund the difference. Call it what you want, sister, I still win!)
I can only describe in vague terms what the other issue was. A company was refusing to uphold their end of a contract because the initial person who processed the paperwork got confused. As the problem worked its was up the chain of command it became more and more convoluted. Something that could have been solved very easily was blown way out of proportion, I think, because the higher-ups figured it must be a very big problem if it had made it all the way to their desks.
After I had wrestled with the underlings all day, eventually a big-wig muckity-muck from the company called and said, "Ummm, yeah. I see the problem, but now that it's been hashed and re-hashed so many times, we're not comfortable accepting this without additional documentation." Not comfortable? This is a business, not a Lazy-Boy. I don't give a fat crap what you are comfortable with. I also don't think it's a coincidence that the additional documentation you are requesting is not available and you darn well knew that.
I opened up a can of jerk-sauce and poured it all over this lady's head. I argued with everything she said. I interrupted her over and over to tell her how ridiculous their made-up-on-the-spot-for-this-situation-only policy was. I cited examples of similar transactions which had gone smoothly. I pointed out again and again that it wasn't my fault that their person got confused. I accused her of treating us like shady people when we'd been doing business with them for 15 years. Every time she would try to speak I just ran right over the top of her with my tirade. I didn't care about raising my voice, presenting a logical argument, or acting like a total nutjob. I might have even insulted her mother.
I didn't figure it would change anyone's mind, but it made me feel better to unload. I was shocked when she called back a few minutes later and said they would be sending us money promptly, no further action required on my part.
HA! I win again!
These two victories are for all the times I have been screwed over by big companies. Take that Comcast, AOL, Capital One, Sprint, Nextel, AOL, Audio Express, Merchant Services, AOL, County of Sacramento, Sears, and AOL!! Don't mess with me again.
The first had to do with a vendor overcharging us for equipment we ordered. It boiled down to my word against hers. She told me one price and then charged me $100 more. There was no agreement as to price in writing so all I could do was keep saying, "But that's not what you told me over the phone." In the absence of any other evidence which supported my side or hers, she eventually agreed to refund the money as a gesture of "good will." (She made it very clear she still thought I was wrong, but since she's a better person that I am, she will graciously refund the difference. Call it what you want, sister, I still win!)
I can only describe in vague terms what the other issue was. A company was refusing to uphold their end of a contract because the initial person who processed the paperwork got confused. As the problem worked its was up the chain of command it became more and more convoluted. Something that could have been solved very easily was blown way out of proportion, I think, because the higher-ups figured it must be a very big problem if it had made it all the way to their desks.
After I had wrestled with the underlings all day, eventually a big-wig muckity-muck from the company called and said, "Ummm, yeah. I see the problem, but now that it's been hashed and re-hashed so many times, we're not comfortable accepting this without additional documentation." Not comfortable? This is a business, not a Lazy-Boy. I don't give a fat crap what you are comfortable with. I also don't think it's a coincidence that the additional documentation you are requesting is not available and you darn well knew that.
I opened up a can of jerk-sauce and poured it all over this lady's head. I argued with everything she said. I interrupted her over and over to tell her how ridiculous their made-up-on-the-spot-for-this-situation-only policy was. I cited examples of similar transactions which had gone smoothly. I pointed out again and again that it wasn't my fault that their person got confused. I accused her of treating us like shady people when we'd been doing business with them for 15 years. Every time she would try to speak I just ran right over the top of her with my tirade. I didn't care about raising my voice, presenting a logical argument, or acting like a total nutjob. I might have even insulted her mother.
I didn't figure it would change anyone's mind, but it made me feel better to unload. I was shocked when she called back a few minutes later and said they would be sending us money promptly, no further action required on my part.
HA! I win again!
These two victories are for all the times I have been screwed over by big companies. Take that Comcast, AOL, Capital One, Sprint, Nextel, AOL, Audio Express, Merchant Services, AOL, County of Sacramento, Sears, and AOL!! Don't mess with me again.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
That's his story and he's sticking to it
When I opened the mail at work yesterday, I found that a check written to us by a customer had bounced. Well, it didn't bounce; he had actually put a stop payment on it. Everyone was shocked. It was a sizable amount of money, but as far as we knew, he was completely satisfied with the merchandise he had purchased.
Some poor schmuck (not me, luckily) had to call the customer to find out what was going on. Here's the story as it was related to me by the poor schmuck who talked to the customer:
PS: So, I talked to that guy about his check. He says it was all a mistake.
Me: A mistake? Like a bank error?
PS: Well, no. Not exactly. His story is that he put a stop payment on the wrong check.
Me: The wrong check?
PS: Yeah. He had ordered something from another company and it never arrived, so he tried to put a stop payment on that check and accidentally did our check instead.
Me: *blink* *blink* So, did you ask him HOW STUPID DOES HE THINK WE ARE?
In my limited experience with stopping payment on check, I would have to conclude that is it virtually impossible to stop payment on the wrong check. The bank asks for the check number, the amount, the date of the check, and the payee. So unless he wrote a check on the exact same day, for the exact same amount, paid to a company whose name is almost exactly like ours, there's no way it could be a mistake.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
My suspicions that he's a liar were further confirmed when he wasn't able to make good on the check when the "error" was brought to his attention. He had another convoluted story/excuse as to why he couldn't make good on the check which involved his having inadvertently overdrawn his account by $10 due to an ATM fee.
Yeah, right. Just keep digging that hole. We're all laughing at your transparent falsehoods and crazy stories anyway. The important part is that you pay us the money you owe. By the way, for your convenience was accept all major credit cards.
Some poor schmuck (not me, luckily) had to call the customer to find out what was going on. Here's the story as it was related to me by the poor schmuck who talked to the customer:
PS: So, I talked to that guy about his check. He says it was all a mistake.
Me: A mistake? Like a bank error?
PS: Well, no. Not exactly. His story is that he put a stop payment on the wrong check.
Me: The wrong check?
PS: Yeah. He had ordered something from another company and it never arrived, so he tried to put a stop payment on that check and accidentally did our check instead.
Me: *blink* *blink* So, did you ask him HOW STUPID DOES HE THINK WE ARE?
In my limited experience with stopping payment on check, I would have to conclude that is it virtually impossible to stop payment on the wrong check. The bank asks for the check number, the amount, the date of the check, and the payee. So unless he wrote a check on the exact same day, for the exact same amount, paid to a company whose name is almost exactly like ours, there's no way it could be a mistake.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
My suspicions that he's a liar were further confirmed when he wasn't able to make good on the check when the "error" was brought to his attention. He had another convoluted story/excuse as to why he couldn't make good on the check which involved his having inadvertently overdrawn his account by $10 due to an ATM fee.
Yeah, right. Just keep digging that hole. We're all laughing at your transparent falsehoods and crazy stories anyway. The important part is that you pay us the money you owe. By the way, for your convenience was accept all major credit cards.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Do you hear the words that are comin' out of my moooouuuuf?
Twice within the space of 30 minutes this morning, co-workers started to talk to me about work-related issues. Twice within the space of 30 minutes this morning, I had no idea what they were talking about.
The first time, I thought it was a fluke. The guy was in the other room when he started talking. I wasn't sure if he was talking to me. By the time I realized he was, I had missed the entire first half of the conversation. I fumbled and groped around trying to get my bearings. Was he asking me for information? Did he need me to do something? Was I supposed to be taking this information and doing something useful with it?
I asked a couple of questions which I thought might help clear things up. It made it worse. He would answer yes in response to questions that were open-ended. I would restate what he had said and he answer yes and then restate what I had restated completely differently. I still had no idea what the original topic (question? amusing anecdote?) was.
I fessed up. "I hear your words, and I know they are English, but they don't mean anything to me. Out of everything you just said, there is nothing which even remotely resembles a cohesive thought in my brain. Can you start over?"
He sighed, "This boat had the wrong inventory description in the computer. I changed it for you. That's why you are confused, because the description is wrong."
I pulled the file and showed him the inventory description paperwork which he had originally filled out. "You mean this description is wrong?"
"Yeah, it's wrong. It's not a...wait, that's MY writing. Did I fill it out that way? Golly, that's totally wrong....Wow, that's waaaaay off. What was I thinking? I, uh, fixed it for you in the computer."
Thanks. Glad we got that cleared up.
Then, I got a call from another co-worker. She's not a cut-to-the-chase kind of person and I usually have to listen to 30 times more information than I need to find out exactly what she wants. So I listen, and listen, and listen, and listen. Finally she's done, but I still have no idea what she wants.
"So, you need me to fax something to you?"
"No. This is your thing. I'm just letting you know what the status is."
I begin to bristle at the fact that she's trying to fop this incredibly complex and probably unsolvable problem off on me.
"So, you think I need to take care of this?"
"Well, you asked about it yesterday. You're going to need this information. I'm just passing it along to you."
"I asked about it? Asked you about it yesterday?"
"No, you asked Gene when you saw him and he told me to call you and give you this information."
Now, it's true that I did see Gene yesterday. I start to rack my brain. It is possible that I was working on an incredibly complex and probably unsolvable problem as recently as yesterday and can't REMEMBER ANYTHING ABOUT IT? Yes, it's possible.
She senses my confusion and her conviction that I need to have this information wanes a tad. "Well, Gene is out right now. I'll call you back after I talk to him about it."
Yes, please do that.
She calls back. "Um yeah. It looks like the lady at the bank, well, this is really funny, haha, it, uh, well I just saw the note, and it, heehee, looks like her name is Andrea, too. Heehee. Isn't that odd and bizarre and just-so-very-unusual? So, I guess I was supposed to call her, not you. Hahaha. Sorry about that."
Yeah. Sorry for making me think, for the second time this morning, that I'd been kidnapped during the night and that my brain had been harvested for sale by black-market organ dealers? No problem, happens all the time.
The first time, I thought it was a fluke. The guy was in the other room when he started talking. I wasn't sure if he was talking to me. By the time I realized he was, I had missed the entire first half of the conversation. I fumbled and groped around trying to get my bearings. Was he asking me for information? Did he need me to do something? Was I supposed to be taking this information and doing something useful with it?
I asked a couple of questions which I thought might help clear things up. It made it worse. He would answer yes in response to questions that were open-ended. I would restate what he had said and he answer yes and then restate what I had restated completely differently. I still had no idea what the original topic (question? amusing anecdote?) was.
I fessed up. "I hear your words, and I know they are English, but they don't mean anything to me. Out of everything you just said, there is nothing which even remotely resembles a cohesive thought in my brain. Can you start over?"
He sighed, "This boat had the wrong inventory description in the computer. I changed it for you. That's why you are confused, because the description is wrong."
I pulled the file and showed him the inventory description paperwork which he had originally filled out. "You mean this description is wrong?"
"Yeah, it's wrong. It's not a...wait, that's MY writing. Did I fill it out that way? Golly, that's totally wrong....Wow, that's waaaaay off. What was I thinking? I, uh, fixed it for you in the computer."
Thanks. Glad we got that cleared up.
Then, I got a call from another co-worker. She's not a cut-to-the-chase kind of person and I usually have to listen to 30 times more information than I need to find out exactly what she wants. So I listen, and listen, and listen, and listen. Finally she's done, but I still have no idea what she wants.
"So, you need me to fax something to you?"
"No. This is your thing. I'm just letting you know what the status is."
I begin to bristle at the fact that she's trying to fop this incredibly complex and probably unsolvable problem off on me.
"So, you think I need to take care of this?"
"Well, you asked about it yesterday. You're going to need this information. I'm just passing it along to you."
"I asked about it? Asked you about it yesterday?"
"No, you asked Gene when you saw him and he told me to call you and give you this information."
Now, it's true that I did see Gene yesterday. I start to rack my brain. It is possible that I was working on an incredibly complex and probably unsolvable problem as recently as yesterday and can't REMEMBER ANYTHING ABOUT IT? Yes, it's possible.
She senses my confusion and her conviction that I need to have this information wanes a tad. "Well, Gene is out right now. I'll call you back after I talk to him about it."
Yes, please do that.
She calls back. "Um yeah. It looks like the lady at the bank, well, this is really funny, haha, it, uh, well I just saw the note, and it, heehee, looks like her name is Andrea, too. Heehee. Isn't that odd and bizarre and just-so-very-unusual? So, I guess I was supposed to call her, not you. Hahaha. Sorry about that."
Yeah. Sorry for making me think, for the second time this morning, that I'd been kidnapped during the night and that my brain had been harvested for sale by black-market organ dealers? No problem, happens all the time.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
E-mail ettitiqute or generation gap?
Since my co-worker and I work at different stores but our responsibilities overlap a little bit we often communicate via e-mail. She has several curious habits that I've never encountered before in a business environment.
1. She uses an excessive amount of wordy filler phrases, which don't really mean anything. Example:
This is the way she speaks as well, which I understand. But it amuses me that she would take the time to actually type out all the fluffy phrases. Is this more polite than, "Would you please send me another deposit book?" I don't think so. I'm still saying "please."
2. She uses my name constantly in her e-mails. So the above message turns into:
This bothers me way more than it should. I feel it is condescending--like the way you would talk to a small child to make sure he is paying attention to you. Or maybe she thinks her e-mail might fall into the wrong hands? Maybe someone who is not Andrea might start to read it and realize, "Hey, this isn't for me! It's for someone named 'Andrea.' I'd better see if I can track her down!"
3. Without fail, every message will have a follow-up "thank you." If I respond to her request for a deposit book with, "I'll have the courier bring one to you," I will always get a "thank you" message. Multiply that by, oh, I don't know, every single e-mail we send in a week and I have 40 messages which just say "thank you."
I suppose she's never read any e-mail ettitiqute articles, all of which say, "Get to the point. Don't waste your time or the recipient's time with extra keystrokes. Don't reply to every single e-mail with a 'thank you.'" It may be a generational thing. (She is sixtysomething, which is thirtysomething years older than me.) Maybe this is a throwback to a time when people used many, many, many more words to get their point across.
I wonder if she thinks my e-mails are rude. "That Andrea... she's always so demanding and forceful. She never asks if I would mind or if it is convenient for me. Plus, I'm always so confused because I don't know if the e-mail is actually for me because she never uses my name."
I wouldn't be surprised.
1. She uses an excessive amount of wordy filler phrases, which don't really mean anything. Example:
"I'm sorry to bother you but if you wouldn't mind when you have the time
and it is convenient for you, would you please be so kind to send me another
deposit book. I'm running low and I only have one more left and it will
only last me another month or so. So, please, if you wouldn't mind, I'd
appreciate it."
This is the way she speaks as well, which I understand. But it amuses me that she would take the time to actually type out all the fluffy phrases. Is this more polite than, "Would you please send me another deposit book?" I don't think so. I'm still saying "please."
2. She uses my name constantly in her e-mails. So the above message turns into:
"Andrea, I'm sorry to bother you but if you wouldn't mind when you have the
time and it is convenient for you, would you please be so kind to send me
another deposit book. I'm running low, Andrea, and I only have one more
left and it will only last me another month or so. So, please Andrea, if
you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate it."
This bothers me way more than it should. I feel it is condescending--like the way you would talk to a small child to make sure he is paying attention to you. Or maybe she thinks her e-mail might fall into the wrong hands? Maybe someone who is not Andrea might start to read it and realize, "Hey, this isn't for me! It's for someone named 'Andrea.' I'd better see if I can track her down!"
3. Without fail, every message will have a follow-up "thank you." If I respond to her request for a deposit book with, "I'll have the courier bring one to you," I will always get a "thank you" message. Multiply that by, oh, I don't know, every single e-mail we send in a week and I have 40 messages which just say "thank you."
I suppose she's never read any e-mail ettitiqute articles, all of which say, "Get to the point. Don't waste your time or the recipient's time with extra keystrokes. Don't reply to every single e-mail with a 'thank you.'" It may be a generational thing. (She is sixtysomething, which is thirtysomething years older than me.) Maybe this is a throwback to a time when people used many, many, many more words to get their point across.
I wonder if she thinks my e-mails are rude. "That Andrea... she's always so demanding and forceful. She never asks if I would mind or if it is convenient for me. Plus, I'm always so confused because I don't know if the e-mail is actually for me because she never uses my name."
I wouldn't be surprised.
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