Categories
Funny Stuff

Sorry, Wrong FREAKING Number!

It has now been almost 19 months since my wife and I moved into the rental house we now occupy. Owned by her family, this house was formerly her grandmother’s, and so the utilities and other bills have been in the same name for some fifty years now. And so has the phone number. And this presents a problem.
For the past 19 months – actually, I suspect, for much longer than that – we have been innundated with calls for Cintas, the local uniform vendor. When we got our first phone book not long after moving in, we discovered to our horror that our phone number was printed in Cintas’ Yellow Pages listing for all to see. And so it begins, every morning at about eight, the phone starts ringing off the hook.
And after nearly 19 months of this, I’m about ready to snap. We have tried to give callers the correct number. We have told them about the mistaken listing in the Yellow Pages. Most annoyingly of all, the same people call us week after week, day after day. It’s like they initiate a core memory dump every night when they sleep. You’d think, after hearing me waking up very crankily and explaining to them that they’ve got the wrong freaking number every week for the better part of two years, they might begin to avail themselves of that easily obtainable clue. We’ve even called Cintas to complain – and finally, enough is enough. They apparently have no interest in correcting their own ad, so I have lost any further interest in helping their customers find them. Hey, if it’s good enough for them, it’s bloody well good enough for me if they’re losing business.
It is in this spirit that I have begun to answer the phone…creatively.
“Hello, is this Cintas?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Are our uniforms ready yet?”
“Well, yes, but there’s been a slight problem. They shrunk a bit.”
“Shrunk? How much? Can we get our money back?”
“Well…do you have any midgets on your staff?”
“Midgets? What do you mean?”
“Midgets. As in little people.”
“No, why? How much did they shrink?”
“Enough to provide them with a healthy wardrobe for quite a good while.”
Click.
“Hello, Cintas?”
“That’s us.”
“Do you have our janitors’ uniforms cleaned?”
“Actually, we’re changing the way we do business. We’re not doing uniforms for janitors anymore. In fact, we’re only doing two kinds of uniform from now on.”
“Uh…what kind?”
“Nuns’ habits. And French maid uniforms.”
“What? Who’s speaking?”
Click.
“Is this Cintas?”
“Did I pick up the phone and say it was Cintas?”
“Look, I just asked you a simple question. Is this Cintas?”
“Sir, the likelihood of this being Cintas would be vastly increased by me saying it was Cintas when I answered the phone, don’t you think? Can’t get much simpler than that.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the guy whose phone number has been in Cintas’ Yellow Page ads for a couple of years now, and I haven’t slept in all that time because people like you keep calling. Who are you?”
[Rest of the conversation edited for profanity.] (And, in cause you hadn’t guessed, click.)
“Is this Cintas, the uniform people?”
“Well, we’re not really uniform. In fact, sometimes we’re downright disharmonious. But how can I help you?”
Click.
“Cintas?”
“Nope.”
“Sorry, wrong number.”
Click.
“Hey, are our uniforms ready?”
“Yes they are. Are you interested in our propeller beanie offer?”
“Pardon?”
“We’re offering free propeller beanie caps with every uniform that we clean. What hat sizes do you need them in?”
“We’re really not interested.”
“That’s good. I’m really not Cintas.”
Click.
“Cintas?”
“Sorry, ma’am, wrong number again.”
“Excuse me?”
“You just called here a couple of minutes ago.”
“But I just dialed XXX-XXXX.”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s the wrong number.”
Click.
“Yo Ralph, what’s up? You free tonight?”
“Who? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”
“Oh…is this Cintas?”
“No. I thought you were looking for Ralph.”
“Yeah, yeah, he works at Cintas.”
“Ah. Well. I don’t.”
Click.
“Cintas?”
“Sorry, ma’am. Wrong number again.”
“I keep dialing XXX-XXXX, like it says in the ad.”
“Well, that’s the wrong number in the ad.”
“Who is this then?”
“I’m the guy who keeps answering the phone and telling you that you’ve got the wrong number.”
“Well okay, wise ass, what’s the right number?”
“The one you didn’t call.”
Click.
(I’m reminded of the second apartment I ever lived in, which had a similar but far less persistent problem: my new phone number there was one digit off from the local newspaper’s sports desk. On Friday nights during high school football season, I’d probably average three to five calls. My favorite response when someone excitedly asked me if I had a score for this game or that game was as follows: “I have a partial score for that game.” “Okay, I’ll take it. What is it?” “Three.” Click.)
As of late 2002, and our latest complaint to Cintas, we’re assured that this isn’t their fault, and that the Yellow Pages ad is the responsibility of a third party that takes care of all of the corporation’s ad placement throughout the country. We have been assured most politely that there’s nothing that can be done about it, as, despite the fact that surely Cintas pays the aforementioned third party for this ad placement service, they apparently have no control over them.
Like hell, I say. If you do not know the party you have dialed, you are no longer invited to the party.
Until then, Cintas, as long as you keep passing the buck, we’ll keep passing your customers on. To the dial tone. Maybe if it starts to hit you in the pocketbook, you’ll start losing sleep over it. God knows I’ve been losing sleep taking all these damned phone calls for you.
Click.… Read more

Categories
Gaming

PS1 = NES.

Hi, I'm a Playstation, and I can play NES games.Normally, I don’t care to get into the emulation debate. Obviously, I have emulators and use them to get screen shots of things like arcade games, though I’m leaning heavily toward non-emulated screen shots grabbed from videotape for most of our home console coverage. But this is one of the coolest things I’ve seen in ages: an NES emulator for the Playstation 1. It’s called It Might Be NES, or IMBNES for short. The good news is that, on ROMs where everything works, IMBNES is perfect emulation – in short, it’s stunning. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be playing Donkey Kong or Super Mario Bros. on a PSone, but the day has arrived, and It Is Good. On the other hand, not all ROMs work – the Star Wars game is a good example of this, with garbled video and controls. But running side by side, I could find no distinguishing differences between games like Donkey Kong, Super Mario, Ren & Stimpy Buckaroo$, Pac-Man or Tetris on the actual NES and on the Playstation – the emulation is just that good. If you have a chipped or boot-disk-ready Playstation and a PC CD-R burner, I highly recommend checking out IMBNES.… Read more

Categories
Serious Stuff

Gassed Up And Ready To Blow

Those of us living in that somewhat less than fertile crescent of western Arkansas and eastern Oklahoma are dealing with a major crisis this winter – and it’s a crisis that our elected officials could be putting an end to. But they aren’t.
In the past month, the Arkansas Oklahoma Gas Corporation has ramped its prices up something llike 500% in most cases. Last month, our gas bill was $35. This month, our usage was down, and the bill is up to $221. The company has been very mum on why this is, alluding only vaguely to having to compensate for financial shortfalls last winter.
They have also stopped accepting applications to join average monthly billing, and their accounting department is finding any reason whatsoever to dump existing subscribers to that program out of it; there is some word floating around about an internal e-mail memo encouraging AOG employees to seek out any irregularity that could get someone taken off of average monthly billing, because the monthly averaging program isn’t making the company any money.
They’re not even trying to be bashful about it. They’re going for the vulgar damned dollar, and they’ve made it clear that they could care less what their customers think. After all, aside from being a huge mess, it’s also a monopoly. We have no choice of natural gas providers. We’re stuck with AOG.
The public service commission in this state has no elected seats; all the people sitting on that board are political appointees. As part of the explanation for the increase – at least on paper – is taxes, and given the state government’s odd refusal to make any comment on this activity, it’s starting to seem as though our elected representatives in the state capitol are going to sit quiet and let their cut of the money roll in.
In the meantime, elderly people and others on fixed incomes are sitting by helplessly as their service is cut off, in the dead of winter. Even the assistance programs that exist for vital utilities like natural gas are gasping for air here, because they can’t absorb the costs of a lot of small three-room residences suddenly being hit with $250+ gas bills.
When you screw with people’s ability to stay warm in their own homes and cook their food, you’re screwing with – essentially – their ability to stay alive. This isn’t like cable rates. This is stuff that falls into the foundation of Maslow’s hierarchy: basic, essential human needs. Opinions are growing more and more angry, suggestions are shifting from merely angry to radical, and sooner or later someone’s going to wind up doing someone else real harm over this.
All because someone got greedy.
I have to admit, normally a very patient person myself, I too am growing impatient for some kind of action here. My reaction has gone from concern to alarm to a slow-boiling rage, bubbling just beneath the surface. I can vote people out of office who refuse to take action, but election season isn’t going to roll around soon enough to bring heat back to the homes of elderly people and single mothers with kids they can already barely feed. This area’s economy is not strong enough to absorb this kind of a hit. But rest assured, when election season does roll around, it is my intention to cast my vote against anyone who is presently sitting cozy in office, benefitting from this.
Something’s got to give.
And keep in mind, the energy utilities in Arkansas, unlike those of California, are regulated.
In the meantime, where my own home is concerned, I’m already looking at replacing the gas-powered hot water heater, and since that’s coming up anyway, it’ll be replaced with an electric model. As for heating… that’s a thornier issue, but I’m determined not to give AOG any excuse to charge me so much as a single damned cent. If I have to, I’ll dress for winter inside my own four walls, and divert the money that would be going toward AOG’s exorbitant natural gas bills to buying an electric central heating unit. It’s my intention to be all-electric by summer – and for what it’s worth, even in the summertime, my electric bill barely scratches half of the amount of this month’s heating bill.
But beyond this, we need change in the state government to ensure that nothing like this happens again. Some changes that desperately need to be made:

The Public Utilities Commission should be an elected body, answerable to the public – not an appointed one which can be bribed by the utilities or their lobbying interests. The utter inaction of Arkansas’s PUC in this instance is beyond disgraceful, but as it is, the public cannot do anything about it. This must change.
The utilities have the right to make a buck, but not to gouge us. Just as price-gouging laws exist for gasoline sales, they should apply to utilities as well. And caps should exist for how much certain items on one’s utility bill can cost the end user: AOG passes much of my bill’s nearly $200 increase to various taxes, a “customer charge,” exploration and exploitation fees, storage fees, and other things. Unless there are protections in place, utilities can use line items like these to collectively nickel-and-dime their customers to death, and this too must change.
The quality of customer service should factor into a company’s right to do business in the state. The behavior of AOG’s customer service employees has been – at best – shameful during this crisis. Customers have been told that they cannot dispute their charges, customers have been hung up on, customers have been told – and this is one customer’s direct quote – “Hello! Duh! It’s because it’s been colder lately.” This is inexcusable. The utilities have to remember that they have to earn the public’s trust – or the public will find an alternative, even if it means moving out of town. Treating one’s customers like this won’t earn anyone’s trust.
“You’ll never do business in this state again!” Franchises must be fluid. If a utility has been proven to be unreliable, inflexible, or even – as in AOG’s case – relentlessly exploitative, then local government must be able to act on the wishes of its constituents and transfer control of that utility to another company. Granted, this would be a last-ditch option, but unless the option exists to exercise this ultimate sanction, utility companies like AOG which are engaging in a scorched-earth burst of exploitation will feel no need to reform their practices.

On Thursday, January 31st, State Representative Jo Carson (D) called for a public forum at the recently rechristened University Of Arkansas – Fort Smith, inviting both the public and AOG’s reps to come and have their fair say. AOG sent a P.R. point man (who also happened to be an attorney) to speak for them, and he generously offered a ten-day extension to anyone who calls in requesting it. But at that time, he said, all bills were due in full.
Brave man, that one, to walk into an impoverished area where heating bills have jumped up 500% or more and offer ten days to come up with hundreds of dollars that most of these people’s credit ratings won’t allow them to come up with at all. Word has it that AOG balked at the last minute on sending him at all unless the city provided police protection for him.
The people, in the meantime, had their say. One by one, stepping up to the microphone. The ones who didn’t make it to the microphone cheered on those who were speaking. 600+ strong, overflowing the fire marshal-determined capacity for the lecture hall at the Gardner Building and streaming out into the decidedly unheated evening air outside the building, trying to hear what was being said inside.
At one point, Carson tried to tactfully raise a point about AOG’s phone bank. “Mike,” she said to Callan, “one thing I’ve heard a lot of complaints about is that your customer service…”
She paused to find a way to put it within the constraints of decorum for a public official. The crowd, however, saved her the trouble with a hearty, unified shout of “…SUCKS!!!”
Sometimes, not only does democracy work, but it’s damned funny when it does.
Some of the stories were heartbreaking. A local church was hit with a bill triple what it normally pays per month – not bad by the standards of some customers’ increases, until you realize that this meant a $3,200 gas bill that their monthly budget couldn’t meet. Another customer, this time at a private residence, waved a bill of nearly $800 in the air. The elderly and their families were there in force, complaining about the unjust bills and the unjust handling of the customers with those bills, when these people have more than paid their dues – at least by the reckoning of most people.
But no answers were forthcoming other than an Orwell-worthy doublespeak explanation involving costs-per-unit, supply and demand, storage fees, and so on. People with knowledge and experience of these things were present, looked at the flyers, and said what everyone had been thinking: it makes no sense.
Arkansas Oklahoma Gas Corporation’s recent treatment of its natural gas customers in western Arkansas is admittedly an extreme case, almost a worst-case scenario – but if the people don’t get some power to wield in this matter, and soon, we’ll be looking at another worst-case scenario, one that won’t make anyone look good. It doesn’t help that the silence from Fort Smith’s city hall, our Congressional representatives’ offices, and the seat of government in Little Rock has been deafening.
Because when you screw with people’s basic needs so blatantly, they tend to fight back. And they tend not to hold their punches when doing so. If someone dies of pneumonia because their heat was shut off after non-payment of a ridiculously high bill, no words, no amount of apology will save AOG from whatever payback anyone has in mind for them then.
It’ll go beyond non-payment of the gas bill.
Is the board of directors’ greed worth that?… Read more

Categories
Serious Stuff

169

Preface: This item was largely written in June 2001, a relatively innocent time when the phrase “the worst act of terrorism on American soil” conjured up images of Oklahoma City instead of lower Manhattan. I had planned on running it late last year, and then sat on it for fear that it had suddenly become wildly irrelevant. But with reports of hate crimes, vandalisms of mosques, and other knee-jerk reactions to the September 11th attacks and the subsequent scares, I have gradually come to the realization that, even if it’s running half a year late, this piece still needs to run.
Desperately.

It’s a scary thing, sometimes, working in news. For, as hard as everyone tries to avoid letting opinions seep into their writing or editing, something always gets through.
And sometimes there’s the even scarier stuff, left on the metaphorical cutting room floor, voiced in the newsroom but not on the set with a live microphone.
I hauled my butt out of bed at an obscenely early hour on the morning of Monday, June 11th, 2001, since I needed to be at work before 7:00am to update the station’s web site with any local video or stories related to the execution of Timothy McVeigh. Normally, I get to work somewhere in the neighborhood of 10:00am and work until six or seven at night, so I arrived in the midst of the morning show – and a number of faces I don’t normally get to see.
One of these faces was completely new to me, a woman I had never met before, who is usually gone by the time I arrive. I won’t identify her further except to say she’s not one of our on-air talent – fortunately.
A few minutes before 7:00am central time, McVeigh’s scheduled execution time, this co-worker of mine began to talk back to the TV. “Enough of this!” she said repeatedly to ABC’s network anchors (and anyone in the newsroom who happened to be listening). “It’s time for him to die!”
Over the next several minutes, basically non-stop until a prison spokesman in Terre Haute, Indiana took the podium and announced McVeigh’s death, this co-worked increasingly creeped me out by proclaiming that it was “time for him to die,” and how much she wished public executions would come back so everyone could see it, and how older styles of the death penalty would make more of a spectacle than an injection if the public could witness the event.
I know she’s not the only one saying these things.
I know she’s not the only one feeling these things.
But it still bugs the hell out of me. And here’s why.
Among the few things that separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom is our use of utensils. Another dividing line is our ability to overcome most instincts – well, okay, some – in favor of reason. When Timothy McVeigh pulled a rental truck up to the federal building in Oklahoma City, was he acting on instinct? Hell no. He was operating under a very carefully orchestrated plan. He chose to do it.
Even when someone like him kills 168 people, we are still in control of our reactions. It’s natural to be shocked and angry. But beyond that, you’re in the driver’s seat. You decide how to use that anger.
You could reflect on why it makes you angry, and take a long, hard look at the big picture. Or you can let the anger steer you – possibly long enough to make you do something like, oh, say, bombing a building loaded with people.
I understand why survivors, and friends and families of the deceased, would want to watch a closed-circuit TV feed of McVeigh’s execution. I’m not saying that, were I in there position, I’d join them. But I can see where, for some people, it would bring closure. After all, it’s not like they’re giving the injection themselves.
Which brings me back to my anonymous co-worker, urging a man to die. It really disturbed me on many levels – someone who seemed to have the same urge to destroy someone’s life that McVeigh himself must have held when he parked that truck and took off running. But she’s okay, right? ‘Cause she’s one of the good guys, since she’s rooting for the demise of the bad guys.
And if you believe that, you’re evidently color-blind to every shade of grey that exists between zero black and 100%, 255 x 255 x 255 white.
It’s that very intent to see harm come to someone that led McVeigh himself to blow up the building in the first place. Sure, he later said he was sorry he killed children in that attack, but one doesn’t set out to destroy an entire building without wishing to do someone harm.
And it’s that same urge to do harm that bothered me so much in this case.
If you’re called to serve on a jury, that’s when you’re called upon to pass judgement on someone. Until that time comes, you might want to think about this: thou shalt not kill, right? Of course not. Most of us know that.
But what do you do about the impulse? While not as bad as acting on it, do we not need to deal a little more constructively with it? Effect positive change, rather than allow it to eat away at us? I’m not advocating the thought police idea here, either: this is something that individuals must learn to do. Anytime a violent thought crosses my mind, an impulse to commit any sort of violence, I feel sharp remorse afterward. And maybe if more of us had a comparable reaction, we wouldn’t need to worry about who gets to watch the closed-circuit execution – or worry more about the self-appointed armchair quarterbacks of justice who cheer the reaper on from the sidelines.
Just keep in mind, next time that the impulse hits you to declare the death penalty in your head, that it’s thanks to someone appointing himself judge, jury and executioner that 169 people are already dead.… Read more