The Wedding, Part 3 by Andrea Downing

By the time you read this, there will be twenty days to go to my daughter’s wedding and I will be popping the valium at a steady rate.  If you’re already sick of reading these posts about the proceedings, imagine for a moment exactly how I feel. Did I mention I also have a story coming out in an anthology June 1? That while I’ve been rushing around to dress fittings and discussions with the florist, doing our ‘walk-through’ and tasting, buying shoes and seeing doctors in an effort to make sure I’m healthy and fit on the day, I’ve also been doing edits and taking part in various discussions on promo etc.  Luckily, I’m not the organizer of either event and both my daughter (with a full time job) and the coordinator of the anthology have been brilliant.

Cristal at her NYC Bachlorette
London to follow...

But one thing that has been highlighted in dealing with so many different people as adjuncts to the wedding is the increase in plain ol’ bad customer service; it’s a form of disrepect.  In an article concerning maddening customer service in the New York Times from February, a consumer psychologist explained that our brains are hard-wired to receive respect because disrespect meant we were overlooked, and to be overlooked meant we were left to die. You know that feeling when you’re on the end of a phone to a service center and are kept waiting for what seems like hours with music you wouldn’t play at a cat’s funeral. In one incident I was dealing with, I had ordered hand cream to put in the ladies’ restroom and the company sent the wrong ones.  When I finally found the secret telephone number on their website, there was no answer, only a recording to send them an email. When I sent the email, there was no reply to that for several days though they did respond after a second email. The same week the exact same thing happened with a jitney company I had used. With that company, I eventually wrote to their head office who got on to their customer relations person who had not been responding.  She offered me as recompense five, five dollar coupons.  Only two arrived. Apparently, companies now are ONLY concerned with their bottom line:  you’ve bought the product or used the service so there’s no need for them to go further. Goodness, it seems even if you have an airline ticket, not only does it not mean you’re guaranteed a seat, but heck, they can drag you off the dang plane if they want.

Shoe buying

Back at the wedding, we had been warned that there would be ‘no replies.’ Everyone I know who has thrown a party of some nature has suffered this outright rudeness. Why it has evolved is beyond me, that someone cannot take the two minutes necessary to either stuff a reply card in a stamped envelope or go on line to reply, but there it is. Does it enhance their self-esteem to make you go the extra mile to track them down, email them or text them personally to ask if they’re coming? At the other end of the spectrum, I’m still waiting for a thank-you note for a gift sent for a July, 2016, wedding I was unable to attend. It appears that the accepted ‘deadline’ is now three months so I’m not holding my breath.

As I come to finish this post, ‘Wedding Wire’ has just popped into my email box “10 Ways to Reduce Stress During Wedding Planning.”  Amongst their suggestions to hire a wedding planner, exercise, get out of town, and learn a new skill is ‘Talk About It.’ Thanks for listening!

 http://andreadowning.com

The system IS rigged!- by Leah St. James

We've all puzzled over computer glitches, but some days I wonder if computers truly are taking over the world.

It all started when Son No. 2 (in birth order only), who lives about 90 miles away, mailed my husband a card for Father’s Day. About a week after the day passed without delivery, he called with the following message, “Hey, I got Dad’s card returned. It says, “Moved—No Forwarding Address.’”

Since we’ve lived in this house since 2009, and believe me, hubby still lives here, it was perplexing. We theorized it was a glitch in “the system” since our son had moved out about six months earlier; maybe “the system” got their names mixed up. (Yeah, we didn’t believe it either, but we like to give the benefit of the doubt.)

So our son mailed it again, only this time he used his fiancee’s name, which has no similarity to ours. About ten days passed, still no card in the mail, when our son texted that the card had been returned again, marked “Moved—No Forwarding Address.”

The next day at work, when I had about five minutes of breathing room, I called USPS customer service. I was met with the opening spiel of a pre-recorded message—press 1 for this, 2 for that, and so on. 

Unfortunately, none of the numerous presets addressed the problem of: “You’re returning my husband’s mail to sender and telling everyone he’s moved with no forwarding address!!!” So I tried, “Operator.”   

The line went dead. 

I called back, waited for the script to end and tried, “Agent.”

Response from the robo-system:  “You want to speak with an agent, is that correct?”

Me:  “Yes.” (Or maybe, “Yes, you moronic....”)

The response was that it would be a “21- to 31-minute wait.” I could hang on, or I could leave my number and wait for a call back. I would not lose my place in line. 

Not very trusting of “the system” at this point, I decided to wait it out, but after about 15 minutes on hold, I had to take an incoming call and hung up.

About an hour later, I had another window of opportunity and called back, worked my way through the phone maze and got the exact same response. This time I left my number, rushed to the ladies’ room and ran a few other office errands to make sure I’d be free in “21 to 31” minutes.

I got back to my desk with a few minutes to spare, but it wasn’t for another 20 minutes that my phone rang. I picked up.

Me:  “Hello?

Robo-Voice:  “This is the callback that was requested. When ‘Leah’ is on the line, press 1.”

Grumbling, I pressed “1” and was placed on hold for another minute before a real, live person came on the line. 

Filled with relief, I spilled my guts to the agent. She took notes, gave me a reference number and told me it would be up to 48 hours for a response. I tamped down my impatience; at least we were making progress.

The next day, I was running around at work, came back to my desk, and there was a message on my cell. You guessed it, I had missed the return call from USPS. Thankfully the caller had left a direct number for the local supervisor. I was to call to get it straightened out.

With fingers and toes crossed, I pressed the numbers into my cell. My call was answered by yet another robo-voice: 

“You have been forwarded to a voicemail system; however, the person at this number does not subscribe to this service. A valid attendance member (number?) has not been specified. Your session cannot be continued at this time. Please try again later. Goodbye.” CLICK.

And we wonder why our government is so messed up? Even its voicemail system can’t speak English. The bureaucrats probably don’t have a clue what the others are saying! (Yes, I know USPS isn’t exactly “the government,” but it’s close enough.)

A couple days went by during which I was too frustrated to take up the fight. Then hubby got a call from his dentist’s office that a statement had been returned marked “Moved—No Forwarding Address.” 

Obviously the problem wasn’t going to fix itself. I returned to battle.

Eventually I got the correct number to the local office and spoke to a supervisor who promised to delete the forwarding order from “the system.” When I reiterated that we hadn't submitted any forwarding order for my husband, he said, 

“It doesn’t matter that you didn’t do it, it’s there, 

and the system will pull your husband’s mail
before it even gets to our facility.”  

That was five days ago, and so far so good. He's actually received mail! I just know if I have to do business with “the system” again, I might go postal. 

(Next month:  Everything you didn’t want to know about tracking a delivery from the FedEx Home Delivery service.)

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Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil and the power of love. Please visit her on her Facebook page where she’s been known to post goofy photos of Hercules the Kitten.

The Good, Bad and Ugly of working with the public ~ Leah St. James

If you’ve ever dealt with the public on a daily basis, you know that “good, bad and ugly” can take on meanings that make you proud to be human in one moment, and in the next doubt the ability of humankind to survive. 

In my day job, I answer the “tip” line for a news organization. On any given day, I’ll field calls from people thinking they have an actual news tip, to callers wondering why their newspaper isn’t being delivered. They’re often either upset or anxious or frustrated. It’s a perfect simmer pot for some of the most extreme examples of “good, bad and ugly” behavior I’ve ever come across.

Here’s a look at some of what I’ve experienced.

Photo courtesy of 1950s Unlimited
via Flickr Creative Commons

The Good Caller
This might be a tad self-serving, but to me, the “good” callers are those who are brief and to the point. Example:  “Where do I send a press release for a new theater opening?” Perfect question, easy answer. Sometimes, though, people want to be chatty, and that’s good too. You just never know who you’ll meet or what information they might have. Sometimes, here in the south, these people will sign off with a “You have a blessed day now” that’s sure to bring a rush of warm fuzzies to my innards. These episodes don’t happen often, but when they do, I cherish them!


The Bad Caller
Some people think every event constitutes news that’s of interest to the rest of the community. These callers usually have agendas, and they take the “squeaky wheel” definition to new heights. If I direct that type of caller to a specific person, and if that person doesn’t call back within 15 minutes, he or she might call again. And again. And again. Sometimes these types of callers become belligerent, which brings us to…

The Ugly Caller
When I moved from Jersey to Virginia, I learned that “ugly” can mean something other than an unpleasing physical appearance. Here, it means a lack of grace in attitude or behavior, as in, “I don’t mean to be ugly, but…” And there is no shortage of ugly callers in my job. Here are a few that come instantly to mind.

My first day on the job, a woman called to find out the name of “the main congressman.” I said, “You mean the Speaker of the House?” No, she wanted to know the name of HER congressman. I told her it depends on where she lives, and that districts cross town boundaries, so I wouldn’t know. She said, “You’re a newspaper. You’re supposed to know.” When I suggested she call her local library (which would have reference librarians who do that kind of thing…right?), she snapped, “You’re pathetic. Who’s your supervisor?” 

I soon learned that hers was not an uncommon call. People often call the newspaper for bits of general information. I learned that it’s usually better to just Google it and give them what they want. It’s faster and easier (and makes for better customer relations) than engaging a caller in a potentially unpleasant conversation.

"Yelling Man" photo courtesy of Paul Cross
via Flickr Creative Commons

Some callers, however, don’t want help. Some prefer to go straight to nasty. They want to yell and vent their frustrations. I've learned that when I pick up the phone to this type of person, it's best to just wait it out, then try to direct him or her to someone who can make it better, if possible.

Even that doesn’t work at times, though. We have one regular caller who hates everything we do, and he leaves daily “love letters” on our voice-mail. He hates our writers, our stories, what we cover, our opinion pages. He hates our distribution, our pricing, our advertising. The man just hates. I started to feel sorry for him until I launched my own column and found myself in his cross-hairs. He hates my  coverage topic, and regularly shares his opinion with me. I tried reasoning with him at first, until he sent me a letter saying I’m “a (word that rhymes with witch) who don’t know nothin’.”

It’s hard enough to read those words, but when those types of sentiments are left on voice-mail, it can be worse because the tone of voice can say so much more than the mere words. Just this past week I took a few days off so left an away message on my voice-mail. I received this message when I returned:

“Your boss must really appreciate yoooou ‘cuz I don’t. Useless voice-mail. Useless. I’m calling on Friday, and you telling me you’re not going to be in until Tuesday is even more useless.”

He said it in a belligerent, sneering tone of voice that really did send chills down my back. It was the kind of voice I’d use for one of my really bad guys. When I played the message for my husband, he wanted to call the cops!

The good news is that I’ll use his ugly words and tone in one of my villains some day, just as I’ve tucked these other callers in the back of my mind for the next time I need to breathe life into a fictional man or woman. 

Working with real people is, after all, the perfect laboratory for examining true-to-life characters—the good, the bad and the ugly.

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Leah writes stories of mystery and suspense, good and evil and the redeeming power of love. Learn more at LeahStJames.com