The Junk Drawer

More importantly, is it enough to save my retirement account?

Yeah. So since I let my sister guest post yesterday, my three cats wanted to get into the act. I’m sensing a little attitude.

Lucky

Dear Bigfoot — When you try to pet my head with your disgusting foot, do you not think for a moment that I won’t bite your freak, ugly toes? You have it coming. And p.s.? I wouldn’t show those things in public.

Shadow

Dear Gigantic Person — I’m black. All black. You can’t see me at night, but you know where I lay down on the bedroom floor. Why must you always step on me when you get up to go to the bathroom? I’m pretty sure you can crush me. Load.

Stinky

Dear Peon — If you fail to bring me breakfast in bed one more day this week, you’re going to find a gift on your pillow. I poop outside, you know. I can poop anywhere.

And thus concludes the first and last guest post from my ungrateful cats. They shan’t be getting their own blogs anytime soon.

But if you want to read the most outstanding blog written with paws and claws, head on over to see Daisy the Curly Cat.

Those of us who leave comments for Daisy, as if we are actually talking to Daisy, have decided it doesn’t make us too mental. Embrace it.

The Junk Drawer celebrates its first-ever guest post. Actually, it’s a guest email I received last night from my sister, Ann of the Shampoo Bag.

I decided her rant had all the qualities I look for in a blog entry: customer service hell, a hatred for waiting in line, idiots and pizza. And so I give you …

Ann Buys a New Cell Phone 

Gather round kittens, for I have a story for you…

What is with Verizon Wireless? Is this the worst environment in which to purchase a phone AND in which to interact with the buying public?!

First, step right up to the kiosk where there is no way of knowing who’s next. People are swarmed around the counters, all looking, standing, touching, but you have no way of knowing if a person is being helped or is waiting to be helped.

So, you belly up to the counter with rainbows and stars in your eyes hoping that a customer service rep will notice your pathetic-ness.

Next, you have someone’s attention and state your business. In my case, I wanted to purchase one cell phone and one Blackberry. I already knew which model I wanted so we launched right into the TRANSACTION. Fork over your license, birth certificate, cemetery plot deed, and a tube of blood.

During the data entry portion of the program, I begin looking for the bar stools and refreshments. Why must the customer be forced to stand for the entire transaction? I sent Regan for pizza and a soda while I waited for the rep to finish the sale.

In the middle of watching the reps SIT WHILE WORKING, I was informed that the only Blackberry in stock was pink. That was lovely, except I was buying it for Don.

So Jeanette mentions casually that the Circuit City Verizon kiosk in BETHLEHEM has a silver Blackberry that he may like instead. So, after having nourishment to continue making this purchase, we leave the mall and drive to another freakin’ store to pick up the other phone.

As you may know, the Verizon kiosk is located just inside the Circuit City store. I already see five people swarming the kiosk, where only one sales rep is visible.

Let the screaming begin.

At least this place has a sign in sheet. There is one couple deep in conversation with the only rep. He’s got one cell phone on his belt loop, and another in his hand. His wife keeps touching the model phones. OK, can you just pick the one you need. You can read all the features yourself, stop asking questions and buy one, dammit!

While I’m waiting, swear to God, a man is beside me WAITING IN LINE TO PAY HIS MONTHLY BILL!!!!!! He left his house, got in his car, drove to this store, signed a sheet, and waited in line to pay a freaking bill with cash. I’d hate to know what he does with the rest of his time.

So, after waiting 30 minutes, it’s my turn. Yes, my silver Blackberry is sitting on the counter waiting for me. The rep activates the number, answers my questions, and I am on my way home.  Only 2 hours and 30 minutes out of my life that I’ll never get back.

ann of the cell phone bag

Blogger’s note: And now we wait for all the Verizon people to show up, arguing that their system doesn’t need improvement.

What makes me weirder?

a) I watched The Bourne Ultimatum and freeze-framed this newspaper shot so I could read the fine print.

b) I noticed a mistake in grammar, called my husband into the room and excitedly showed him what I’d found.

For the record, he gave me the same blank stare as the time I made him get in my car without telling him why. After we drove around for five blocks, I stopped and showed him why I made him come with me.

My odometer turned over to 77,777 miles!

Well, I thought it was something.

So can you spot the error?

It’s been almost two months since my last plastic bag update. For those new to this blog, I’ve been monitoring the status of a plastic bag that got stuck in a tree outside my building at work. It’s been hanging on for 167 days.

Incidentally, a few people have asked me if it has a name. I’m partial to Windy, which was the name suggested by longtime reader, Alan Bamboo.

The bag hasn’t moved from its original spot, but take a closer look now. Notice the split down the right hand side through the "T" in Wal-mart?

We’re expecting hard rains this weekend, so maybe it’ll cause the split to continue and at least pull down the right handle from one of the two branches it’s stuck on.

Thank you, Rich T., for helping me move a gigantic piece of furniture away from the window to the roof so I could get outside for up-close pictures.

To the woman who saw me walking back into the building from the roof, don’t worry, I wasn’t going to jump. Although I might have if my work week had gotten any worse than it had. TGIF and all that.

Have a good weekend, everybody!