If you are growing more Irate please say "yes."

Where have all the people gone? To India? Sucked into a vortex? Laid off by our scary economy to be replaced by recordings that are eerily real sounding?

Today I had the wonderful experience of completing a transaction almost completely with an electronic man. I needed to make an appointment through DHL to have them pick up a package. After dialing the number I was greeted by a voice that sounded like the high school quarterback. He sounded confident and a little bit irritated that he had to be talking to me in public.

First he asked me for my number, which I think I can safely say has never happened from any cute football player ever. An ugly and creepy one yes, but never a cute one. I gave it to him and he repeated it perfectly.
"Is this correct?" he asked disinterestedly.
"Yes." I replied knowing he would never call me.

He changed the subject and asked.
"Do you want to make an appointment for a pick up? Please say yes, or no."
"Yes." I said.
"I'm sorry," the quarterback said casually, repeating himself. "Do you want to make an appointment for a pick up? Please say yes, or no."
"Yes." I said more firmly.
Once again he began to apologize.
I cut him off before he could repeat the question. I admit I was a bit rude. "Yeesssssssss." I said loudly, my s's hissing like a snake.
"Okaaay." He said, his voice giving the impression that he had something better to do than talk to me.

"Can you please verify your address?" He asked, this time with attitude.
"432 Lark Meadow St." I said
"432 Marshmallow St." He repeated, "Is this correct? Please answer yes or no."
"No."
"432 Sharks and Minnows St.?" He tried again.
Was he messing with me? I repeated the address.
"432 Lark Meadow St." He guessed correctly. "Is this correct, please answer yes or no."
"Yes." I said exasperatedly.
"I'm sorry," he said, "was that a yes?"
"Yes!" I shouted into the phone.
"Whatever." He muttered.

Next he sent me to a an actual person to confirm our conversation.
"Hello, this is a real person." He distractedly greets me. I can tell he is playing mahjong on his computer. Of course he sounds like he is a million miles away. His tiny voice barely makes a radio wave over the distance it's traveling to my phone. "I'm sorry" I said, "I can't hear you."
"Hello," the man replies, " I'm in a different galaxy. India was getting too expensive to outsource to, so we are in a call center in a dwarf galaxy to your distant left. Can I get your number?"
Honestly? Didn't I just give it to Johnny Football Player? But of course I give it to him I mean, this call is probably costing a fortune.
Then he asks, "And do you want to schedule an appointment?"
Again, didn't I just go through this?
"And just to make sure," the real person asks, "Can you please tell me your address?"
This is just too much. I want to shout, "what was the last 10 minutes about? Is this just an elaborate way to make the customer hang out instead of putting them on hold and enraging them?" Because it's not working.

Where have all the real people gone? Apparently it's become too expensive to let a real person help you out in the first place. I'll let you know if tomorrow a real person comes to pick up the package... I'm not holding my breath.

Household Worm Holes

Have you ever wondered where certain items in your house go? Have you ever put something down only to reach for it a few hours later and grasp a clean countertop? Have you ever lost so many things that you bought replacements and then quickly found a hidden cache in some random but obvious spot? And though occasionally an assortment of items go missing, it is usually one item that seems to pull the disappearing act most often. In my case, it's the bobby pins.

It starts like this:

I get sick of some hair style I'm wearing and take out my bobby pins. They get left on the kitchen table, the bathroom counter, the bowl that holds the keys or occasionally Jarom's change drawer in his car. A few hours later I go to reach for the said bobby pins only to discover they have been moved.

"Jarom," I say perplexed, "I can't find my bobby pins. Have you taken them?"
To which Jarom shoots me a look that says, "Yes. I decided to try a new updo on my shaved head but got so frustrated that I twisted them into random shapes which I then glued to a canvas, painted over in neon acrylics and sold to a posh art gallary in San Francisco... In other words, No, why would I move your bobby pins?"
Right. Of course.

For the next few months I search our apartment as the pins continue to go missing, eventually resorting to buying a set of 72 new ones. Those of course go missing as well.

So here is my theory:

The bobby pins are actually sucked into a worm hole that travels around the world a few times, briefly returning in groups of four under my couch, into the bottom of my purse and infrequently scattered amongst my cosmetics, although I know I didn't place them there myself. The problem is these bursts of paranormal exposure occur when I am looking for another item and do not need the pins, by the time I need them they are back in the worm hole and traveling across some far distant universes.

If they do return, all 72 suddenly reappear in near vicinity of the shiny new ones causing me to wonder how I missed them in the first place. Or, if I'm no longer living their the next owner of the apartment will discover to their dismay about 72 brown bobby pins scattered in their sock drawer which of course is where the worm hole ends...

I'm still waiting on the delivery.

Tagged... Thanks Mom!

So this blogging thing has been going around and I thought, man if I get tagged I will really have to think about this one because everyone knows everything about me. I'm not very secretive about myself. But anyways, Mom Moore tagged me so here goes...

Six Unremarkable Things About Me:

1. I have a major phobia against band-aids and wiggling toes. I really can't handle seeing a band-aid rolled up on the ground. Even writing this I am having a hard time controlling my urge to heave. Also, if I have a server who has a band-aid on at a restaurant I want to ask for a new server, or not eat. The toes thing makes me crazy if I am sitting next to someone and they wiggle their toes on me. Not cool.

2. I LOVE LOVE LOVE to cook. I could spend all day in the kitchen messing around. I love trying new things and tying different ethnic dishes. I think if I could pull it off, I would love to open up a dessert store. It would be like a page out of a pottery barn magazine, with cool table settings and then you can order some tasty desserts from creme brulee to a warm lemon tart with raspberry sauce.

3. I have an awesome imagination and can convince myself that their is a monster in a closet when I am walking down the hall after being blinded by the bathroom lights in the middle of the night. Seriously, I have ran down the hallway, my heart pounding many times. Lame, huh? That's why I am still a bit scared of the dark. (=

4. I once lived a whole summer off pretty much diet coke and fruit roll-ups. Don't ask. It was a crappy summer. But I lost 15 pounds...

5. I am a job gypsy and have had almost every type of job under the sun. I get restless easily and look for a change when things slow down and the new job honeymoon excitement is over. I'm working on this one. It's a fault of mine, that also translates into me quitting when things get difficult or I lose interest. Not cool.

6. My favorite movie is Breakfast at Tiffany's. There are a few reasons. 1) I identify with Holly Golightly. She is a free spirit who likes to have fun and doesn't like being bound to the rules of life. She also has a tendency to run from things which are difficult and is totally a nut case... whoops did I admit that out loud? 2) Audrey Hepburn reminds me of my mom and when I missed her at college I would watch that movie over and over. 3) I love the song "Moon River" sung by Audrey Hepburn. 4) The last line of the movie is in my opinion very deep and has inspired much internal thought. Here, read it yourself:

"You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself."

Hope you enjoyed.

The very official terms & conditions:
Link the person who tagged you.
Mention the rules on your blog.
List 6 unspectacular things about you.
Tag 6 other bloggers by linking them.

I tag: Julie, Mom Tanner, Alicia, Megan, Angee, Kris