WTF, Friday?
Betcha never heard that one before. There’s usually more of a welcome greeting to arguably the best day of the week. And I’m normally right there w/ the TGIF, bitches! But this week has been a doozy. Somehow, having Wednesday off for the 4th really just made everything seem longer. Or is that just me?
I shouldn’t complain, really. Everything was just dandy until about 6 o’clock last night. I was throwing our sheets in the laundry b/c they were all sandy from our beach escapade last weekend. I had been sleeping in a mound of sand all week. Somehow waking up and brushing sand off you isn’t quite the endearing experience it is at the beach when you’re at home in your bed.
I waited for B to get home to help me put on our new sheets. Fitted sheets and I are not on good terms. I needed B to mediate the situation, and by mediate I mean get in the corner that somehow no one can wedge into and whenever you make the bed you don’t plan accordingly and always end up getting the sheet round the other corners first and then you have to rearrange your nightstand or your dresser or the fucking wall and get all up in that corner to get the sheet on the bed, am I right?
So B is all up in that spiteful corner and he can’t get the sheet even near the edge of the mattress. I decide that we should try a new approach. We rotate the sheet and get it over that crowded corner first, then are left struggling to pull it over another, less hostile, corner. Still no luck. B mentions that maybe they were labeled wrong and aren’t actually a queen fit. I push B aside, convinced that I’m stronger/smarter/somehow able to make it work. After a rather brutal struggle, the sheet is still nowhere near covering that last corner. I mention that possibly the sheets are sized incorrectly.
After the sheet fiasco, the plumber showed up and quoted us hundreds of dollars to fix our kitchen sink. One of the basins wasn’t draining and the disposal had gone to shit. Fine, whatever, get that shit done, we said. It literally took him like two minutes to fix. Hooray, it’s fixed, we said. Then we all wrinkled our noses in unison at the stench wafting out of the dishwasher. It smelled like something crawled in there and died. The plumber chose that moment to tell us that dishwashers weren’t his area of expertise. Pardon?
This morning I come to work armed with the case of ill-fitting sheets and the GE dishwasher manual B saved from the prior owner (I guess hoarding has its benefits). I planned on returning the sheets to Marshall’s – or at least making a scene – and scheduling a repairman to come check out the dishwasher. Pretty ambitious for a Friday, I know.
Me: I’d like to schedule a technician to come look at our dishwasher. It isn’t draining properly.
GE Rep: Sure, m’am, I’m happy to help you with that. What seems to be the problem?
Me: It isn’t draining properly.
GE Rep: Sure, I’ll look into that for you. Can I put you on a slight hold m’am?
elevator music
GE Rep: Thank you for holding. Now, what seems to be the problem with the dishwasher, m’am?
Me (did I mention that I hate being called m’am? And repeating myself for the third time about a very easy-to-understand issue?): THE. DISHWASHER. IS. NOT. DRAINING. PROPERLY.
GE Rep (slight pause): Okay, m’am, I’m happy to help you with that. When would you like to schedule service?
Me: Do the technicians work on Saturdays?
GE Rep: On a volunteer basis.
Me (confused): A volunteer basis? What does that mean? Will this be a certified technician or some do-gooder who fancies himself a handyman?
GE Rep: Sometimes the techs will volunteer to work a Saturday. But I’m not seeing any of these in the calendar for a few months.
Me: What a helpful program. Okay, I need something for after 5pm then.
GE Rep: Our service availability is from 8-5.
Me: 8-5? Like the hours that everyone else is working at their jobs?
GE Rep: Well, we do have those Saturdays on a volunteer basis, m’am.
Me: Right. Which no one is volunteering for.
I thank her in a “thanks for nothing, biznatch” kind of way, and immediately feel guilty. As someone who answers phones and gets screamed at for things that are not in my control, I try my best to always be pleasant to customer service reps on the phone. They’re not the ones who implemented the useless service hours.
I’m crossing my fingers for better luck at Marshall’s.
I shouldn’t complain, really. Everything was just dandy until about 6 o’clock last night. I was throwing our sheets in the laundry b/c they were all sandy from our beach escapade last weekend. I had been sleeping in a mound of sand all week. Somehow waking up and brushing sand off you isn’t quite the endearing experience it is at the beach when you’re at home in your bed.
I waited for B to get home to help me put on our new sheets. Fitted sheets and I are not on good terms. I needed B to mediate the situation, and by mediate I mean get in the corner that somehow no one can wedge into and whenever you make the bed you don’t plan accordingly and always end up getting the sheet round the other corners first and then you have to rearrange your nightstand or your dresser or the fucking wall and get all up in that corner to get the sheet on the bed, am I right?
So B is all up in that spiteful corner and he can’t get the sheet even near the edge of the mattress. I decide that we should try a new approach. We rotate the sheet and get it over that crowded corner first, then are left struggling to pull it over another, less hostile, corner. Still no luck. B mentions that maybe they were labeled wrong and aren’t actually a queen fit. I push B aside, convinced that I’m stronger/smarter/somehow able to make it work. After a rather brutal struggle, the sheet is still nowhere near covering that last corner. I mention that possibly the sheets are sized incorrectly.
After the sheet fiasco, the plumber showed up and quoted us hundreds of dollars to fix our kitchen sink. One of the basins wasn’t draining and the disposal had gone to shit. Fine, whatever, get that shit done, we said. It literally took him like two minutes to fix. Hooray, it’s fixed, we said. Then we all wrinkled our noses in unison at the stench wafting out of the dishwasher. It smelled like something crawled in there and died. The plumber chose that moment to tell us that dishwashers weren’t his area of expertise. Pardon?
This morning I come to work armed with the case of ill-fitting sheets and the GE dishwasher manual B saved from the prior owner (I guess hoarding has its benefits). I planned on returning the sheets to Marshall’s – or at least making a scene – and scheduling a repairman to come check out the dishwasher. Pretty ambitious for a Friday, I know.
Me: I’d like to schedule a technician to come look at our dishwasher. It isn’t draining properly.
GE Rep: Sure, m’am, I’m happy to help you with that. What seems to be the problem?
Me: It isn’t draining properly.
GE Rep: Sure, I’ll look into that for you. Can I put you on a slight hold m’am?
elevator music
GE Rep: Thank you for holding. Now, what seems to be the problem with the dishwasher, m’am?
Me (did I mention that I hate being called m’am? And repeating myself for the third time about a very easy-to-understand issue?): THE. DISHWASHER. IS. NOT. DRAINING. PROPERLY.
GE Rep (slight pause): Okay, m’am, I’m happy to help you with that. When would you like to schedule service?
Me: Do the technicians work on Saturdays?
GE Rep: On a volunteer basis.
Me (confused): A volunteer basis? What does that mean? Will this be a certified technician or some do-gooder who fancies himself a handyman?
GE Rep: Sometimes the techs will volunteer to work a Saturday. But I’m not seeing any of these in the calendar for a few months.
Me: What a helpful program. Okay, I need something for after 5pm then.
GE Rep: Our service availability is from 8-5.
Me: 8-5? Like the hours that everyone else is working at their jobs?
GE Rep: Well, we do have those Saturdays on a volunteer basis, m’am.
Me: Right. Which no one is volunteering for.
I thank her in a “thanks for nothing, biznatch” kind of way, and immediately feel guilty. As someone who answers phones and gets screamed at for things that are not in my control, I try my best to always be pleasant to customer service reps on the phone. They’re not the ones who implemented the useless service hours.
I’m crossing my fingers for better luck at Marshall’s.
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