Friday, June 08, 2007

Extremes of Service

I got a new computer recently, as you may know. I was dumb and paid for an IEEE somethingsomethingsomethingsomething that has something to do with digital transfer or something about which I'm clueless. But what I really needed was an IEEE somethingelsesomethingelsesomethingelsesomethingelse, aka a parallel port. I contacted Dell via their live chat, the guy offered a solution that doesn't work for my printer, and proceeded to immediately find me four options at third-party retailers. The entire thing took maybe ten minutes, tops. I love well-trained, helpful people who know how to do their jobs.

In contrast, I recently tried to add a bank account to my PayPal account. There are four fields on the screen: bank name, routing number, account number, and repeat account number. I got an error message that said the First Name had to be letters, numbers, spaces, or hyphens only. I e-mailed PayPal customer service. They sent back a cheerful response telling me how to add a bank account to my account. I said no, they DIDN'T solve my problem, they just repeated their own FAQ files, and I still got the error message. Today I got a message from a new "person" who said "in looking at your account history I see your problem is solved. Have a nice day!"

Dumbasses.

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StressStressStressStressStress

I have spent the last two days running nonstop. Cleaning, shopping, cooking (okay, doing the Wendy's drive-thru), preparing for dress rehearsal, recording dress rehearsal (badly), more cleaning, laundry, running the kids all over town. My dad and stepmother will be here in one to two hours, I have soccer camp for Number Two tonight, tomorrow is the dance show, for which I am a backstage Mom (*screaming stress*). And there's a soccer game on Sunday.

I love my family and enjoy spending time with them, which I haven't done in a year. The backstage stuff is never as bad as I anticipate it being, and everything goes smoothly even if we're rushing nonstop. The cleaning is done, and I may have some time to read at camp tonight.

So why won't my nerve endings stop vibrating?

All in all, I'd much rather be here.

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