Liloia.com

Debate

Is it just me, or is George Bush a blabbering idiot? I admit the fact that John Kerry is not the most interesting of guys, but G-Dub is one of the most unintelligent, poorly spoken, arrogant individuals, I have ever seen in my life.

The OneSwitch Experience

My tolerance for stupid people has dropped to an all-time low. My work hours are long, my time is limited and getting tasks finished is priority one.

Tonight, I carved out some time to switch all of our magazines from Massachusetts to Vermont. There are probably close to 20 subscriptions arriving each month, counting comic books. So I was really pleased to find the OneSwitch ad in our moving coupon book.

OneSwitch claims to be able to move all of your subscriptions painlessly, and I gave them a try. At the end of my experience, I can neither be sure that my magazines will be forwarded, nor report that my experience was painless.

So I go to OneSwitch.com and spend 15 minutes entering label data from all of my magazines. When I finish the last label, instead of an online confirmation that my magazines are switched, I get a screen with an "Authorization code" and a phone number. No joke, I have to finish the online process over the phone.

I call -- I really just want to get this over with -- and I'm connected to a woman named Lee with a mouth full of marbles who stumbles through her script. She has me reapeat to her over the phone everything that I've just typed in. But I do it because I've already come this far.

She asks for my "lead code" instead of an "authorization number" and I tense up, waiting for the sales pitch. But she again goes through the lengthy magazine list; confirming and re-confirming the titles. When she finally starts the pitch, Lee is halting and unsure of herself. I wait for a pause to confidently tell her "no"--and I'm so proud of myself for getting off easy. But at the last second, Lee throws me off track.

"I'm transferring you to my supervisor who can give you more details -- just one moment," she says. Before I can protest, a perky blonde with lip gloss on picks up the other end. They have a little scripted conspiratorial chat (telemarketing-sister to telemarketing-sister) while I listen in.

"Hi Kim, this is Lee in customer service. I have Tara on the line who wants to hear about our promotional offer."

Kim bobs her head in time to the John Tesh album on behind her and sighs with delight.

"Well thanks, Lee! Great job! And I'll see you later! How are you today, Tara? What a pretty name! So unusual. I've never met a Tara. You don't hear that name very much, do you?"

And then I'm with Kim. And Kim is dangerous.

Lee has spreading hips from her hours spent phone banking. Kim does pilates.
Lee will shrug and walk away if you shoot her a sarcastic comment. Kim will squint down her chiseled nose at you and make notes in your permanent file.
Lee has a job. Kim has a career.

It dawns on me, as Kim ruminates on the relative infrequency of my name within the US population with cheerleader vigor, that I'm dealing with the "closer." I have to take charge of the call or suffer through the extended-ending, special-edition, with-never-before-seen-footage version of the sales pitch I just heard. Kim is gonna sell me like her life depends on it.

But like she says, Kim has never met a Tara.

"So Tara, Lee made a mistake here and let's go through your magazines and make sure we've got them right. Okay?" She doesn't wait for my answer. "There's Esquire, now that goes to David, right?" I hear the smirk. This almost-porn goes to your husband, but you don't leave it out on the coffee table for the neighbors to see, do you?

I seize upon her pause.

"A mistake? What was Lee's mistake?" I say, with heartfelt mock concern for my piles of glossy paper.

"Oh, nothing awful," she pauses only for a moment to get off the script. "It's just that Lee is new. We were all new once, right?" she asks with a sunbeam of a smile. "And Electronic Gaming Monthly... of course that's David's too, right?"

This level 86 Diablo II Cold Sorceress does not appreciate the insinuation that EGM is for boys, but I ignore her and ask a question of my own: "Hey Kim? I get a lot of magazines, as you can see by the list in front of you. Do we have to go through all of them again? For the third time?"

"Oh sure!" she giggles. "We have to make sure they're right! Like I said, Lee is new. But we have to cut her some slack, 'cause she's new and we were all new once! Let's finish the process of switching these over to your new address. Now Time, that's David's too?"

She waits again. The fact that she's waiting makes me paranoid about saying "yes." As if she's recording my answers to cobble together an audiotape agreement to buy every magazine in print. "My name is Werner Brandes. My voice is my passport. Verify me." It strikes me as odd that she won't let me get a word in otherwise, but she'll wait ten full seconds for my "yes."

"So what you're saying, Kim, is that they aren't switched over yet? Becuase Lee said we were finished. You and I are supposed to be talking about a special promotion."

She pauses. The list is supposed to make me feel like we're finishing our business. She hasn't even hit the pitch yet and I'm objecting to the list being read. A little bit of the cheerleader dies inside Kim. Her next sentence is deliberate, measured.

"Tara, we have to get this list right. Okay? There are a few names on the list and we have to make sure that these magazines are all going to the right people." As if, when the Nick Jr. Magazine arrives in the mailbox addressed to Dave instead of Trevor, Dave will scratch his head and start reading about The Wiggles, wondering why he subscribed to such a thing, but continuing to read nonetheless because his name is on it.

A brillant, time-saving idea dawns on me. I share it with Kim.

"How about if you just say "David" once, then read all the magazines that belong to him? Then we only have to say his name one time, instead of after each magazine."

I'm honestly trying to be helpful and speed up the process. I swear to you. I just want my magazines. Did I mention how much I love my magazines? Yeah, there might have been a little sarcasm in there, but I'm sarcastic ordering Alpine Lace swiss cheese from the deli counter. It's just me. But I have hit Kim's (shockingly low) tolerance limit. She knows I'm not buying what she's selling. Her voice drops an octave. I can hear half a pack a day in her throaty tone now.

"You know what? How about we just stop going through these. Your magazines are switched over and you're done. Good night."

Click.

Neat Tool

Check out this neat zip code identification tool that Clay just passed along

zipdecode | ben fry

I am not sure what situation this would be more useful than something like anywho.com, but it is a unique novelty.

Shalimar

Friday marked the first time I was able to work from home in the new place. It all went pretty well, and my office phone forwarding to my VoIP phone forwarding to my cell so I can go out to lunch with Tara and not miss a single call is sweet.

The weekend turned out to be cool, hinting at Fall which is only a few short days away. The fans were packed, the windows were closed and I began looking forward to my annual Ray Bradbury-a-thon in October.

For the third Sunday in a row we headed over to Shalimar for the Sunday brunch. We usually meet up with Lakshmi, but we showed up late today (as she was pulling away) and missed her. Trevor goes off and plays with Tutu (the owners son) and we get a great, cheap meal.

I came home and spent a stangely pleasant hour or so this afternoon sorting out all the wires/cables/connections in our bedroom. Things are starting to look a bit more settled, not all the way there yet but closer.

Oh and last but not least, my car (picture coming soon) broke down on Thursday night. I was heading to Burlington after two days in Shelton, CT and it began to sputter. I pulled over in Sharon, VT to see what was up, and the care refused to start again.

I was pretty annoyed at the situation as I waited for the AAA tow truck to arrive, but in retrospect perhaps it was all for a reason. The owner of the Sharon Country Store was nice enough to make me a sandwich even after the deli was closed, and let me use her phone. She said that she would hate for me to go hungry while waiting. We chatted a bit after she cleaned up the store about where I was from and where I was headed. Nice lady.

The tow truck driver (James) and I chatted on the way home about his newborn daughter, his wife and golf. Even though I was at least ten years or more younger than him, my experiences with Tara and Trevor gave me the perspective to be able to offer him some advice on the first two subjects.

We were clearly two very different people, but he seemed to really perk up when I started telling him about what it was like for me as a new Dad, and how Tara and I dealt with the changes in our lives. When Ta picked me up, she gave me a hug and offered simpathy for my troubled evening. Instead of being grumpy, hostile and annoyed I was refreshed, energized and peaceful. Perhaps I was meant to meet these people, and spend some time in Sharon. Regardless of which, the stop gave me time to clear my head and focus.

Yikes

This evening after Tara got out of work (hah, she is never out of work these days. In fact, I am in the office with her now..BACK at work) we picked up Trevor and headed over to Sears to check out Washing Machines and Dryers.

Our new place has a closet with hookups for our own washer and dryer, and we were excited at the opportunity to finally be able to throw in a load anytime we wanted.

The intention of the trip was to price out the two machines, collect some information and come back in a few more weeks. That didn't happen. After surveying the selection and assessing what was available, we found a really nice set that had decent features but wasn't priced out of our range.

Additionally, the set wasn't complete crap. I'm serious about this. There were actually a few choices there that I was afraid might combust if you put more than one sock inside at a time and tried to dry with any heat whatsoever.

So in a very uncharacteristally "Dave" move, I asked Tara very quietly (partly hoping that she wouldn't hear me) "Do you want to just get them now?", and we did.

I am a little nervous, as this is a large purchase and I am afraid Trevor will try to make a grilled cheese sandwich inside the dryer, or play boats in the washing machine. I am sure they will be fine, and they arrive next Friday!

LACK

Dave went to IKEA in CT today—what a waste of a perfectly good IKEA trip. I am the Liloia family authorized Swedish furniture buyer. Bah, I am so jealous.

Vermont: Mosquitoes

Not particularly large, but who don't know the meaning of the word "no."

Vermont Dictionary

In moving to a new place, I am sure that we will encounter many terms from the Vermont Vernacular which will be unfamiliar to us. Recently, a number of people made reference to "Smuggs" as a location of interest without stating what it meant.

Turns out they were referring to "Smugglers Notch" a local Ski resort. Weird.

More to come (I'm sure) over the next few months regarding Vermont-y things!

White River Disfunction

Here I am on a Friday night stuck in the White River Junction bus terminal. I should be just about arriving in Burlington, meeting up with Tara and spending a few hours playing Nintendo with Trevor before I pass out on the couch.

So much for that, the bus stopped here in WRJ as it was scheduled to but then the driver announced that we had to stay here to make some repairs. No details other than that were given, and even fewer details were given on our departure time.

The murmurs amongst those waiting to head to Burlington and some ultimately to Montreal are reminiscent of a High School homeroom. As we all wait in different parts of the station, we hear different things in bits and pieces and feel compelled to share them with those around us.

“I heard that the bus just left Burlington headed this way”

“Another hour at least”

“There is supposed to be a bus being sent from East #@$ to take us there, and it will be here in 5 minutes” – Fat chance of that happening.

“My girlfriend is in Burlington and said that there is some kind of problem with the buses that is causing them to be delayed” – Thanks braniac. Feel free to collect more details next time you talk to her. Was it a flat tire, or a nuclear sub causing the delay?

“Who can you trust? My money is on the counter clerk, she seems to be on the same team as us” Seriously, someone said that. It was weird. I think the person who said it has never been on a bus, let alone left their home before. Welcome to the world.

Even the distribution of the room shows a structure similar to that of grade school. There is a group of single women (who obviously didn’t know each other to start) all chatting near the counter. I am wearing headphones, but I can bet it has something to do with how cute the football team looks this year.

There is a group of young adults outside who somehow found a liquor store and are drinking out of crumpled paper bags. Each of them has their own bottle covered in craft paper that is becoming softer and softer each time they squeeze it with their hands. Paper like that almost takes on the qualities of a fabric once it has been used for an extended period of time.

The skaters all found a quiet corner and are slouching appropriately in their chairs. None of them seems to really care that the bus is late or that they are sitting in hard molded chairs from 1964. For all outward appearances they could be sitting in bean bag chairs wearing terrycloth bathrobes and playing Tony Hawk Underground at 3 AM while eating Cheetos. It’s all good.

I am (as always) sitting alone. For as outgoing a person as I can be, I don’t really have an interest in putting myself out there and meeting some new people. If I happened to start talking to one of them, that would be ok but there really isn’t a reason to do that. I find that this is often the case with me. I can go from the organizer of a group, to the wall flower waiting to see what everyone else is doing.

There are two other loners in the room with me. One shaved headed young man, wearing all black. He looks tough, but I think that he is shy instead. Not that there is any real reason to speak to anyone here. I have a feeling that if we got in a pinch, he would be my go-to-guy. You know, like if the bus is taken over by pirates or reupholstered by the guys from queer eye.

The other loner is an emo/punk chick eating slices if cheese and reading a zine. Does it get cooler than that? I think not.

The rest of the room is made up of small families and couples all chatting with each other in English, French and Mandarin. One woman (who speaks all three and is the only reason why I know it was Mandarin and not Cantonese) for some reason has the personality of a cheerleader.

She has talked to every person in the room at least once and was the glue that held two or three larger conversations together. Her name is Angela, like Angel with an “a”. She also has a similar quip for her last name, but I won’t post that here to protect her from everyone being sickened by her cheerfulness.

Her advances are welcomed by everyone in the room for some reason that I don’t understand. No one seems to mind her chatting and embraces the conversation. As I am coming back to edit this, she has moved four times in the room and doesn’t show signs of stopping. If somehow the buses were to start acting like the trucks from Stephen King’s Maximum Overdrive, we would elect her group leader and make her go out to try and “communicate” with them.

Then there are the flighty people. Every time someone gets up or comes in the doorway, they jump up and rush outside. Almost as if they are afraid that the bus will leave without them, and that somehow the rest of us aren’t waiting for the same ride. They have (there are two of them) done it three times already and don’t seem to be learning. They need to ease up on the coffee.

By the time I get a chance to post this it will probably be Saturday or later.

Verrrrr

So we have been essentially gone for the last two weeks. Moving moving moving. I am now sufficiently adept at hanging mini-blinds and curtains, and know the shortest drive to the local Home Depot.

It's a nice place. As soon as we have a camera unpacked I will post some pictures. The camera phone won't do it justice.