I have about 17,987 (approx.) blog posts I've been working on, but they've all been while I'm doing everything else in the world. They're all in my head. At some point I may get them down onto paper (um, how archaic), erm typed into my spiffy word processor and then you will benefit from them. Truly you will. Even if it's only to think "Wow, I'm way so much less f*ed up than her." Assuming you swear. If you don't you might use a different word.
I just had to call two different customer service departments to find out where my supposedly-delivered package may have gone. Since it wasn't actually delivered as far as we can see. I was not upset in any way shape or form, mostly just following the process I thought I needed to in order to get a resolution. I know that customer service people are trained to speak in a non-confrontational manner, including apologizing for inconvenience, etc.
My experience with both reps was good...but throughout the whole thing - with both of them, mind you - I got the impression that they were trying to make sure they weren't going to become my verbal punching bag. Since I wasn't even starting to sound upset, I'm guessing that it's a knee jerk reaction because they do get those types.
Which makes me mad. I mean, stuff happens. It really does. I just don't get why anyone would feel the need to freak out at some person on the other end of the phone because something didn't go their way. Most reputable companies have a resolution process...and their c.s. people get paid to help you through that...not to take shit-storms of abuse because you didn't get your *insert random item*.
I'm not perfect by any means (as anyone who has been near me at work can attest, and I can't even completely blame it on PMS or anything either, darnit), but I try to make sure that I'm not crapping all over other people even when I'm not happy about something.
Perspective is a good thing.
So is karma.
(And okay, Thing 2 was a bit of a soapbox rant, but I can admit it. Plus, my blog! Ha!)
Ha! Fooled you. Thought of another thing. If I continue to eat Quiznos Honey Bourbon Chicken and subsequently each time spill some sauce on my shirt, which incidentally, stains and does not come out, I think I will need to go shopping. Maybe the weekend my husband is in an all day Saturday conference for Toast Masters (which in my head I pronounced as Teletubbies). And now I'm laughing out loud, and not able to proofread this.
There's really not a Thing 4, it's just acknowledgement that I can't count. Which is not news at all, to anyone.