Talking On The Cell Phone While With A Friend

Do you know what  I hate?

I hate it when I see friends walking together but ignoring each other while they talk to other people on their cell phones.

How bloody rude is that? When did we become a society where the person we are with isn't worth talking to? And I'm not talking about married couples!

Seriously... take a good look the next time you are at the mall... or are people watching on the street. Check out how many times you will spot, for example, two women walking side by side - friends - who are on their cell phone chatting with someone else.

Too often.

I've had the displeasure of walking behind such 'friends', and listening to the most inane conversations going on between each woman talking to someone else on the phone.   

Why even bother hanging out with your friends if you are going to ignore them?

Think about it... you are showing the person you are with that they do not matter as much as the person you are chatting with on the phone. It's like call-waiting. Excuse me, I'm going to see who is calling me. Screw that... you have voice-mail.  

This whole ignoring of the person you are with is wrong. And people who do that are incredibly rude. It's as rude as being stuck in the middle seat on a bus, train or plane and having the two outside people carry on a conversation with each other as though you do not exist.

People! Turn off your damn cell phones and talk to the person you are with. Chances are pretty good you won't bump into other people (me) or get hit by a bus.

And! For! The! Record! The photo image above was taken by photographer S. Sharon Pruitt - and here's a link to her Flicker account. Should you wish to use it, just give her accreditation: FLICKER

Do you know what I hate?

I hate people talking on the cell phone while with a friend. 

Telemarketers

Do you know what I hate?

Telemarketers.

Here in Canada (Toronto, even), we have something called a "Do Not Call List" whereby we get to sign up on-line on a government sponsored phone list that means that unless we have done business with a company before, they aren't supposed to call you.

But that does not seem to dissuade a lot of companies who routinely utilize call center companies from other countries - say, India - to ask if I want my ducts cleaned. By the way, I am of Indian extraction, though I've never been there, don't speak the language or eat the food unless my wife makes me.

Now, if that was an euphemism, I might be interested, but it's not and it always seems to be men asking anyway. 

I don't mind that MY banks (plural) contact me. That's cool. But why am I getting a phone call for services from institutions I don't do business with.

I have call display - and no one really wants to call me here at home - so I know that excluding a long-distance call from Guelph, or a a number from a friend or two, an aunt and brother and father - no one else is going to be calling this house.

Upon answering an unsolicited call, I have tried to find out which company the represent, but get the run around - it's like they know they shouldn't give out that information, even though the call center is selling a company's services.

I've tried pretending I was the police investigating a murder scene - that one only confuses the call center, as they have no idea that what I am doing is a trick and keep going with their sales spiel. 

I have picked up the phone and immediately hung it up, only to have them call back again.

Sometimes, I stupidly pick up an unsolicited call, hear the empty silence for one second after I say "Hello", and then hang-up. It's because they have an automatic dialer... so these bastards are too lazy to even call me up themselves... I know that when I hear the sounds of momentary silence after my greeting that it's a telemarketer.

I even get telephone spam at work. At freaking work. We all do. It's a blast of a ships horn telling me that my ship is getting ready to sail and that I should be on a cruise.

I should be, but I don't need unsolicited calls like this at work. It's a recorded message, so I can't even yell at anyone. Does anyone actually ever write down the phone number to go on these cruises?

I mean... if these guys are so desperate to use a recorded dialer to leave messages at a work place, just how reputable a company can the cruise line be? I'm guess it probably uses some sort ff disgraced Italian captain to pilot the boat.

What? Too soon?

Here's what the Canadian National Registry has to say about itself:   

'Register My Number

In order to register on the National Do Not Call List (DNCL) personal information will be collected, used and disclosed by the National DNCL Operator in order to register, verify and de-register residential, wireless, fax or VoIP telephone number(s) on the National DNCL. The numbers registered by consumers on the National DNCL will be disclosed to telemarketers and clients of telemarketers and other subscribers to the National DNCL to prevent telemarketing calls to those numbers. The numbers may also be disclosed, on a confidential basis, by telemarketers and clients of telemarketers and other subscribers to the National DNCL to another person involved in supplying the subscriber with services to enable compliance with the National DNCL Rules.

In addition, personal information will be collected, used and disclosed by the National DNCL Operator, the CRTC and/or its Complaints Investigator Delegate in order to investigate complaints regarding violations of the Unsolicited Telecommunications Rules, to administer and enforce these rules, and for audit and quality assurance purposes. Personal information may also be disclosed to Canadian and/or foreign law enforcement agencies for the purpose of administering or enforcing any law or carrying out a lawful investigation.

Should you wish to move to Canada and sign up for this - and hopefully it will work better for you than it does for me - click HERE and try your luck. 

Still.... do you know what I hate?

Telemarketers.

Rush Hour Traffic

Do you know what I hate?

Traffic.

No... not the awesome rock group featuring Steve Winwood. Rather, I hate the stuff that happens on the roads...

But not just any traffic, what I really, really hate is the incredibly incorrectly named entity known as "rush-hour traffic."

Talk about your oxymorons!

There is nothing remotely 'rush-like' about rush-hour traffic.

In fact, there is nothing remotely like an 'hour' for rush hour traffic.

For those of you that don't know, for traffic, Toronto is the fourth-most congested region in North America, behind only Los Angeles, San Francisco and Chicago.

What's confusing, is that we are ahead of New York City... and NY is not even number 5! Nope... Number 5 is Houston! Houston! What the hell is causing all of the snarl ups there? A cattle drive? Sorry... that's unfair to the beautiful city of Houston. Except for the smell of oil in the air, Houston is a nice-looking place.

Actually, I have heard reports that say that Toronto is actually worse than LA.

I work about 28 kilometers (17.4 miles) from my home, and unless I want to spend over 1-1/2 hours traveling to work (plus 1-1/2 hours to return) via a bus, train and bus again, I have to drive to work.

http://www.torontolife.com/features/monster-jam/

Via driving... I get to work at 8AM, and I leave at around 7:20 - that's 40 minutes. That's not bad considering the first eight minutes of the trip are on suburb roads, with the remainder of the trip on a highway - so I'm not complaining about THIS morning trip.

But I used to try and get to work by 9AM. If you were to leave 40 minutes earlier at 8:20AM, you might float in (as I often did) at 9:15 or once or twice at 9:30AM.

You just can not make the 28 kilometer trip in 40 minutes, with a 55-minute journey more of a norm.


How is possible to spend so much time in traffic?

That's one of the reasons why I decided I would start work early.  Since I now start at 8AM, I leave at 4PM.

Traffic? Look... 10 years ago, I used to work in the same area... it would take - including a traffic light - one minute to get to the highway... and this was me leaving at 5PM.

Now in 2012, leaving at 4PM when it is not supposed to be as busy as the 5PM crush, I spend five minutes in a line waiting for the right to get on the high way and vegetate,


Let's look at yesterday, as an example...  I got on the highway in about five minutes - Highway 401 at Leslie heading west.

I adroitly manouevered four lanes over to get into the Express lanes, and then a further three lanes into the 'passing' lane, otherwise known as the fast lane.

For some reason - on that trip - myself and everyone around me was moving! Nine times out of 10 the highways are so bunged up that you can just barely get over one or two lanes from the Leslie entrance.... and you are left to guess which conga line to choose  - the "Express" or "Collectors". 

But not today. All of us drivers quickly got up to 130 kph (80.78 mph) - even though the speed limit is a paltry 100kph (62.14 mph).

We're all flying on the highway making incredible time... and then... brakes.

While no one had to squeal or smoke their tires to stop, stop we did... hitting exactly 0 kph (0 mph) and holding for 30 seconds.

After numerous starts and stops, we got back up to 80 kph (50 mph). So... not bad.

By why did we have to stop?

There was no accident. No police cars looking to bust speeders. No disable vehicles... nothing. Just volume.

Last Friday was also a beaut. There I was, driving on Highway 401 at a top speed of  50 kph (31 mph). All of a sudden, I have to drop down to 0 kph, holding the zero for 12 seconds... before driving for 20 more seconds at 50 kph... and then brake time down to zero, where I hold my zero for 15 seconds... and repeat... repeat... repeat. I did this for a total of 12 times on my drive home during my drive home. I know... because I counted.

Look... I know that Toronto is a busy city full of busy drivers heading out to the suburbs to the east, north and west... but this highway - Highway 401 while cosmetically changed, looks exactly as it did when my dad first drove the same roads back in the late 1960s.

Nothing has really changed on it except that there are more cars on the road nowadays.

So... until we, as a species, run out of gas - and that won't happen for another 100 years or so ( my guess)... just what will happen to my commute?

What will it be like in five years? Ten? Twenty? God help me. but I may still be working 20 years from now!
 
My commute and the commute of everyone on this highway is going to be stupid.

How can a Toronto commute take almost as long as an LA commute? We have fewer people. Do we have fewer cars than LA?

So... even now... the 401 Highway system designed and built in the 1950s is no longer capable of handling the traffic we put on it in 2012.  It's only going to get worse!

But here's the real kick in the balls. No one really has a plan to alleviate the situation. 

They almost had a plan.

First proposed in 1959, but opened in 1997, the Ontario government constructed Highway 409 across the top of the City of Toronto - in an effort to alleviate the traffic congestion across teh middle of the city and Highway 401, as well as at the foot of th city along the Gardiner Expressway.

A great idea... except they decided to make it essentially a toll highway... totally screwy consideringthe rest of the highways in Ontario are toll free.

After a few years of not making any money from it -  it's a FREE-way, why should we pay for it when our already high taxes should be paying for it!! - the Ontario government sold it to a private firm.... who continue to charge the consumer on a pay as you use it scenario.

I've never driven on that highway in the 15 years it has been open. 

Idiots. 

Urban planners in Toronto are failing the people.  They have ben since the 1950s. I can almost believe that the urban planners who created the highway system had high hopes for the future, fully expecting that future planners would not drop the ball and would continue planning Toronto's transit well into the future.

But... aside from mninor repairs and cosmetic changes here and there, very little has been done to  relieve Toronto of its traffic constipation.
   
Toronto's highways are a farce. Urban planners need to be retired.

Currently, the solution for all of Toronto's woes seems to be to add more public transit...  like add a few more train stops for the Toronto Transit Commission (TTC). Meanwhile, because of money problems, the TTC is either cutting routes, or is cutting the frequency of routes for its buses.

Great! More subways. More trains. But fewer way for consumers to reach them.

So... how long would it take me to get to work if I took the public transit system? It would take me 1-1/2 hours to get to work... unless the Toronto Transit Commission decides to cut some more routes or service on routes...

Even adding more train stops is not going to do it. Not where I live, which is a 20 minute walk or a 10-minute bus ride to a pair of train stops.

TTC? It stands for: "Take The Car." That's an oldie but goodie.

What is the solution?

It's easy to bitch without at least postulating a solution - so let me try.

I say we should construct an overhead highway that runs atop and parallel to the Highway 401 - and add further overheads to the other two over the ensuing decades...

It should look exactly like the one that collapsed in Oakland back in 1989 when a massive earthquake hit the Bay area.

The good news for Toronto residents is, that except for a few minor tremors that feel like a truck is driving by outside your house, Toronto is not afflicted by earthquakes as a concern.

We essentially will be able to double the amount of cars on this particular highway

The problem then comes to where is the money coming from to construct it?

Chain gangs. Prisoners.

But what about all of the city workers or construction crews? I am sorry to say, but screw'em. Supply and demand. We demand cheap and affordable construction, and we can get it supplied by a chain gang.

Look... maybe a construction crew can still be used to ensure the roads are up to code... but why don't we use grunt labor available to us.  


They are prisoner volunteers who get paid, of course... and they can be rotated in and out of service after a week, and maybe they get some time off... but, it's a chance to really repay their debt to society by helping make it a better place - rather than just sitting in jail, lifting weights screwing the little guy up the ass... you know... like the Toronto commuter...

I am tired of not being able to rush during the rush hour that seems to exist in Toronto between 3:30-6:30 PM and 7:30 - 9:30AM.

Do you know what I hate?
Rush hour traffic.

Spam And Spammers

Do you know what I hate?

I hate spam and spammers.

Ugh. I'm unsure if writing that grammatically incorrect headline was more painful or seeing a letter of comment awaiting my approval within my twice daily Japan - It's A Wonderful Rife blog.

Okay... for once, blogger.com's spam filter actually caught a legitimate spam. Blogger.com is the free blog-hosting site my blogs are created upon. I actually have no complaints about it.


But, as for the topic... I certainly hope the spam I received actually is legitimate spam (oxymoron). I'll show you what it is a few paragraphs later...


So... since spammers like attention, allow me to give you some. People should do their best to avoid buying whatever product this spammer is selling - something called the JunoWallet.

If the company wants to make thing better - show me  - contact me - explain why your company is involved with spam. Yes... I suppose you could be hacked... but considering what your product is....

Until then... Ugh.

The comment was on an older blog entry of mine, in which I wrote about the 19th anniversary of the Hattori shooting - that's the one about a short Japanese exchange student shot by a large U.S. man who thought the kid who was dressed up in Halloween gear was going to hurt him. You can read about that story HERE.
Anyhow... someone added some spam via the Letters section. To be honest - since it is spam, it never actually got posted, but the fact that someone tried... that makes me want to puke.

Here's the comment sent to me on March 28, 2012:

What a tragedy. But you know what can make this better? Free gift cards. You can do this with JunoWallet. JunoWallet is a free app for the App Store or Android Market. You earn money (gift certificates) in JunoWallet by downloading (and opening) other developer's applications or by getting referrals from your coworkers, family, or friends with an iPod Touch, iPad, iPhone, or Android device. It's nice to check my JunoWallet balance increase every day with little work on my end. I won't lie, you WILL NOT get rich by using JunoWallet, but you can use it to make a little bit of tax free money on the side. Use JunoWallet invite code: AG696287 for a one time, $.25 sign up bonus. All codes provide the exact same bonus. Sign up now and earn those gift cards!

No... the real tragedy is this spam.

The creator of the above comment is: MWeiss... who has been a part of the blogging hemisphere since March 2012.

Weisssssssss.  Of course, this may not be anyone's real name. It may be a computer program generating inane comments and ads if it spots a key phrase... whatever it is, it's spam.  

Anyhow... JunoWallet... is a real product... here's the list of people involved in that company - as pulled from their website... I'm not advertising their website - you can look it up if you wish:

Their home page reads:

Every company at its inception has certain people who made financial, time, and other sacrifices in getting that company off the ground and past failure. These sacrifices are greatest in the beginning of every company and key to the company's survival and success. The following individuals have put their fingerprint on the future growth and success of JunoWallet:

The Founders

• Dr. Raghu Sastry
• Dr. Jae Hoon Kim
• Christopher Sweis

The Core 100 Team

• Shannon Corrigan
• Akira Doi
• Laura Wappner
• Duke Begy
• Claude Jewell
• Maureen Cutler (Ireland)
• Todor Krecu
• Mike J. Cacicio
• Randy Sweis
• Mike Nanay
• Michelle Hillaert
• Rohit Sherma

The Security Team

• Skeeter Boy
• Buddy

I'm not saying you guys are directly involved with sending spam... but if you are and even if you aren't, you need to get involved to stop it. Do you want to be known as a SPAM company - especially knowing what company your APP is for?

Really, people? Getting a JunoWallet will help you feel better about a miscarriage of justice? About a loss of life? About a family forever grieving?

That's the problem with computer spam. It just gets sent out without thought or consequence.

JunoWallet - Tsk, tsk.

By Andrew Joseph
As for the image at the top? Hormel's Spam? I actually really like to eat Spam! I do. Hormel is a great company... and I apologize for linking their product with the bad type of spam... but it had a Monty Python motif, and I love Monty Python as much as I love Spam

Poor Customer Service II - The CIBC Experience - Updated

This blog entry has been updated just because of the comments section - mostly my own - as of early morning Feb. 3, 2012.It's very nice to know that at least with one company... monitoring social media and then dealing with a customer is a good way to do business. McDonalds and KFC - wherefore at thou? LEGO store - thanks for thanking me... keep up the great work.
 

Do you know what I hate? It's poor customer service.

I never thought I would ever have to write this one, but the customer service I have received and subsequently not received from a place I have utilized for decades is annoying.

I have been dealing with the CIBC (Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce) since around 1990 when I first began working for the Toronto Star newspaper upon graduation from Humber College's journalism program (damn fine school, by the way!).

I actually have nothing bad to say about the CIBC as a banking institution. They have been more than fair to me and their customer service has been pretty decent.

My complaint actually revolves around the CIBC Visa department. That's the CIBC's credit card department.

I have actually had a CIBC credit card since 1990. I even took one with me to Japan for three years and used it with aplomb to purchase many an antique piece of art I have. Thank-you for allowing me to do that.

I did cancel it a few years ago when I received a mortgage from another institution (arranged by my wife), even though I did continue to be a CIBC bank customer. That loyalty was rewarded in 2010 when the bank without much prompting offered me a $45,000 line of credit at a fantastic rate... simply because I had been a customer in very good standing. Again... thank-you very much. I owe you. Don't I?

However, in September of 2011 after learning from the CIBC that I could get a better banking account than the one I currently had with fewer bank charges, I jumped at that chance. Unfortunately, one of the things I had to do was open up a CIBC Visa credit card to get that better account. Sure there was a string attached to the bank account, but whatever.

CIBC Visa sent me a statement earlier this month warning me that I had charges totaling $357.22, and that I had missed a $20 minimum payment on January 14, and that I should pay a total minimum payment of $30 by February 14, 2012.

All cool. I should have made the measly $20 payment - but I forgot to do so. My car died (I hate SAAB!) on me and I had no time or even a way to make it to a bank.

However... on Saturday, January 21, 2012, I received a phone call from CIBC Visa. I should note that they also called on January 20 and again the day before that on January 19 - five days after my little $20 payment was due.

I picked up the phone this time, as I was in. By the way... no message was left the other times from CIBC, but thanks to Call Display on my phone, I know they had called.

The call was from some young woman with a thick Indian accent who identified herself, but not clearly.

Just for the record... I am of Indian descent, and although I have never been to India, my parents were both born there.

She began to warn me that I had missed a payment (Heavens! I am a whole seven days late! The sky is falling!), and that she didn't want my credit rating to be affected by any non-payment of bills owing.

First off... my credit rating is pretty damn good. I've also been a CIBC customer for decades, and have also been a credit card user with CIBC Visa for many years. However, according to her records, I am a new CIBC Visa credit card customer and she felt the need to inform me all about how I need to pay bills on time or suffer the wrath of the dreaded credit rating penalty.

Big whoop. I own nothing and am currently in no danger of owning a house or car. How will the threat of my credit rating going down affect me? Truthfully, it won't.

Still... I was late with a payment, and the CIBC Visa department was fair to warn me.

I do think it's ridiculous to call me and harass me for being seven days late. Only the day before had I received my credit card statement informing me I had missed a payment and to please make sure I paid the minimum by February 14, 2012.

But she kept on yammering at me. Chastising me. Trying to make me feel worthless.

Now maybe it was the nicotine withdrawls, or maybe I just don't care for people being dicks, but I had enough.

I told her I would make the $20 payment tomorrow (the 22nd.... which I did), but then she wanted to know how much of a payment I would be making on February 14.

I beg your pardon?
   
That's none of your business, I snapped.

She said it was.

Uh, no. I'll pay what I owe because I missed a payment, but it's no one's business how much money I will be paying for the next credit card statement! I have three weeks plus to think about it! I don't owe any sort of explanation to some stupid bitch in a call center whose weekly salary equals my daily salary (I exaggerate, but you know what I mean).

I told her I don't have to tell her what my future payment will be.

She argued that I had to, that it was CIBC Visa policy.

Bull.

I asked to speak with her manager, please.

She asked: "Why? Why do you want to speak to a manager?"

Are you serious? Why? I'm just thinking that. I tell her because I want to talk to your manager. That should be explanation enough.

She starts up again about the need to maintain my credit rating because I am so new to the CIBC Visa credit card.

Frustrated with not getting my request for a manager, I hung up on her.

I immediately called up the CIBC bank and asked who I could complain to about the CIBC Visa customer service. While they apologized profusely for that department's lack of tack, they are indeed a separate department, and I would have to call them. They politely transferred me and I was quickly picked up by a young Indian man whose name I can not pronounce. Still... his English was good and he was polite.

He heard my complaint, apologized to me, and even noted through his computer that someone from CIBC Visa had indeed talked to me minutes earlier. Good... they now believe I wasn't making up things.

I told him I wanted to talk to a manager to lodge a complaint.

He said no problem - that someone  - a manager - would contact me within two working days.

Two days? Two working days? Is there not a single manager at this call center? Or... could this call center be in India... and it's going to take that long to get hold of some dumb Canadian manager to chat with me?

Two working days?

Uh, people... you dumb asses are working on a Saturday. As well... if I call CIBC Visa on Sunday, I'm pretty sure someone will be there to talk to me... that's also a working day. So technically, someone could call me on Sunday... or Monday if I really want to give them 48 hours and two working days.

But let's suppose the guy meant two business days - even though he did not state that - that would mean Tuesday, January 24, 2012.

It's Friday now. Friday, January 27, 2012. Seven days late. No one has called me back. No one. I know... I have Call freaking Display.

I suppose my request may have been lost in translation over this new interweeb thingamabob that Bob Dole invented a few years ago.

How quick CIBC Visa's customer service department was to get on the telephone to harass a long-time CIBC bank customer for being five days late with a $20 payment. Oh my god... did I cause CIBC to not make an extra couple of million dollars that week? I'm sorry. Please arrange to garnish my salary for a few weeks if that will help. 

But look how slow they are to respond to a customer who wants service from a manager! It's all fine when you want my money, but not fine when I want--no demand--customer service.

For shame!

I will pay off my CIBC Visa, and while I will not cut it up, I will not use it ever again.

Do you know what I hate?

I hate the poor customer service offered by CIBC Visa. You suck.

Poor Customer Service

Here there be: good customer service!!!

Do you know what I hate?

Poor customer service.

I'm a working stiff. I don't just sit on my ass writing these blogs. I do that in my free time. For me - just as it is for you, time is money. And, when I have the time to spend my money, I want to be treated like I matter.

Everybody wants to matter.

For this blog entry, I am going to give you a couple of examples of extremely poor customer service, and come right back with a pair of extremely good customer service examples.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair, right... particularly since I bastardize Shakespeare in the blog description right under the main title.

I am going to write about some Toronto area places. It may not mean anything to you living in another country, but it will help you decide if YOU are getting effective customer service or merely being served one up the butt.

I am going to write about McDonald's, Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) and LEGO. I actually do like all of their products. However...

Perhaps one of the worst places I have every been "served" has to be the KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken) outlet located on Dundas just north of the Kipling train station here in good old Toronto. I know the exact location doesn't mean anything to most of you global visitors, but perhaps someone from KFC will take notice and come down with the wrath of Harland on their collective ass.

Considering Colonel Harland David Sanders was a southern gentleman (or so he appeared), it might come as a shock to discover that one of the franchises bearing his shortened kid-friendly name (KFC) has, what can only be described as, deplorable customer service.

And not just once or twice, either... but every single time my wife goes there... which I am sorry to say may be never again. Which sucks, because I do love the seven herbs and spices!

All my wife wants when she goes there is thighs. Not three or four, sometimes not even two... one will do... but at this particular restaurant that has been in the area for at least 39 years - that's how long I have lived here (and longer - I'm sure there was a Scott's Chicken Villa there as a sit-in family restaurant there before that!)... the customer is not always allowed to purchase the meal they want.

On two separate occasions different staff told my wife that it would be 10 minutes before they had her thigh (singular) ready. Fifteen minutes passed. and when my wife inquired, the staff member then went to check in at the back where the chicken is prepared and came out seconds later to state that they do not have any more thighs.

Do you offer thighs for sale at KFC? Yes. Do you always have some ready considering they seem to be a popular item? No. And that's fine. It's not acceptable, but at least I, as a consumer, understand that a popular item may sell out. But does KFC understand supply and demand? Apparently not at this store. 

Now... real customer service would involve everybody coming over to apologize and to offer something for free - as a way to soothe any possible ruffled feathers. But not at this KFC! Nope. Not only did no one offer any gift certificate of free coleslaw or a bottle of pop or heck - a couple of free pieces of chicken - but no one actually offered an apology. Zip. Nada. Nothing.

KFC sucks! Or at least this store does.

Another downer of a place to visit is the McDonald's just west of the Kipling station on the south side of Dundas. In fact... it's about 200 meters west of the aforementioned KFC. Must be some sort of nexus of poor social skills.

Now... I can't say enough positive things about the friendliness of the drive-through staff who take my order. Fantastic!

No mater what, I always get a warm greeting, am asked how I am doing and even have them wait for my answer. They then ask for my order - all done with polite efficiency. I pay at the first window, and move along to the second to get my food.

And that's when it all falls apart.

The young lady who serves me doesn't say a word as she opens the window and hands me my drink. It doesn't matter that I say thank-you as she does so. There is no vocalized sound from her. No twinkling of the eyes. No smile. The drive-thru window slams shut in my face as I await the food, which does quickly comes. I know they don't want car exhaust fumes in their face - that's fine - but still... aside from physically handing me my drink, I have received no indication that I even exist in her world.

Now... was this just a solitary incident? No. I go there at least once a week, and five times in a row, I was 'lucky' enough to be served by her. Wait... it gets better...

The drive-thru window opens up again, and without even seeing if I am paying attention (I usually am), I see her arms thrust out with my bags of food. There is still no vocalization from her. Now I know she can talk because after I quickly say thank-you again (previous time was for the drink), the window is closed again... but not before I hear her yell to one of her co-workers that she is going on a break in 15 minutes.

Apparently forgotten again because she will soon have her break, I place my food on my car seat beside me and hand my son his Happy Meal. By the way, my son always likes the chicken nuggets, but not once has he ever received a dipping sauce... in fact, not once have I ever been asked if I want one or even what flavor might I want. For shame!

Regarding the non-communicative sales clerk at the drive-thru... well, I  can't blame it on the cool weather now hitting Toronto. This has happened a few times before through the summer.

She's just a miserable bitch, and I hate that McDonald's.

I could hate just her, but whomever the manager is has not trained her either, and bears a load of responsibility there. Surely someone observes her interaction - or rather, lack of interaction - with the customers. Surely someone can say something, anything to make her greet the customer as though they matter.

It sucks to not matter... I mean, this is McDonald's!

I've seen some great customer service - like the uber-friendly woman at the drive through at the McDonald's in Brampton on Highway 10 just south of Steeles!

I once asked her to call her manager and told her just how impressed I was with her and her manners, and told him he should watch himself because she should be a manager there one day. He laughed and smiled and agreed with my assessment, wished me a wonderful day and said he hoped to see me again soon.

Now that was customer service. Plus... they always got my order 100% correct. Always. Fifty-two times a year. Sometimes more if I'm getting a breakfast on the way to a magazine interview!

See? This McDonald's I love. It's a pity it's not near me and even a greater pity that not all McDonald's are created equal.

That was a bad and a good description for the same company.

Now, let me mention the final good example of customer service:  The LEGO store over at Sherway Gardens in Toronto.

I do go there often, and I do spend a few bucks there. Probably more than I should.

But proving that a little kindness goes a long way, the staff at this particular store are simply the best. Belinda, Geoff, Tyler, Shannon, Michael, Jason, Lisa, Randa, another Geoff ... cripes, I'm afraid I've left others out - but just know, I have received nothing but stellar support, service and friendship from every single person who works at this store!

With my 6-year-old son in tow, we visit at least once a week. Granted we are smiling and polite - but I am all the time regardless of where I am. ... but the LEGO staff are courteous beyond belief.

They come out from their break or from the back office to say hello to my son and I. We get personal service like we are best friends - and it's not just for me - though I think I do get some preferential treatment - but they are great to everyone.

My wife went into the shop before Christmas looking for a particular item for our son. My wife doesn't like crowded stores at Christmas, and she has no interest in LEGO either, so this may have been one of her first times in this shop.

The first person she sees greeted her with a smile and a hello. After a few moments of not being able to find the LEGO product I told her to get, she asked a LEGO store employee for help (taller Geoff, I believe). She said that her husband (me) may have asked that the store put away a product for us.

I've never done that, but the LEGO store employee asked what her husband's name was.

She began: "Andrew - " and didn't need to finish...

"Ohhh! Andrew and Hudson (my son)!"

My wife was flabbergasted and nodded a yes, making a mental note to lambaste me over my obviously excessive purchasing practices at this store.

While there was nothing there in my name or anywhere in the store's inventory, the LEGO employee went that extra mile.

"Let me check with our other Toronto store."  

One of what we were looking for was there, it was put aside for us, and lo and behold when my wife drove out to that other store, it was indeed waiting for us allowing for our son to have a merry, if not some-what spoiled Christmas. 

I can't even begin to tell you how many times I have recommended this shop to other adults! If I wanted, I could tell my friends to inform the LEGO staff they are friends of mine - but it wouldn't  matter. Fast, efficient, knowledgeable, friendly service from people who like what they are doing. Kudos have to go management for looking for the right fit like a building block.

The LEGO shop in Toronto's west end rocks! Tell them you know me. Not that it matters. They know what customer service is!

Still... McDonald's and KFC... do you know what I hate?

Poor customer service.

Wasting Time

Do you know what i hate?

It's wasting time.

Today is my 47th birthday. Yeah, yeah. Happy birthday to me. Big whoops.

i'd feel better about turning this auspicious age if it was for me having wasted my 46th year on this planet.

First, why auspicious 47th birthday? Well, the number 47 has always been my inside joke. In pretty much every one of my short stories or comic books, the number 47 makes an appearance. Heck, it often appears quite by accident, but it's there. It's my magic number.

i once wrote a story  - a fake letter if you will - that i sent to my friend Rob while i was still living in Japan - all the way back in the month of March 1991. It was a birthday present for Rob, as i said i would write a letter to him for the entire month of March (his b-day is March 31st), except for weekends. Because i quickly got bored writing the standard "hi, how are you?" letters, on the third day i decided i would create a short story.

By the end of the months i was writing several a day and mailing them off to Rob, who luckily for me still has them 20 years later. i had lost quite a few over the years in a house fire and several house moves. Anyhow... it's Rob's fault i'm a writer now. i owe that dumb loveable bastard a world of thanks. 

In one story, i wrote a fake letter from one alien to another, which i am sure is how we both felt about ourselves. Tron Blarg. Remember that one Rob? It was just a stupid harmless letter in which i wanted to use an anagram (mixed up letters of a word to form new words) to state that: Evil is a live vile veil. Kind of cool, i thought. Then a thought hit me... since I had already begun using the #47 in my stories, i decided to count every 47th letter in the story to see if it spelled out a secret message. Would you believe it? It did! What it said is not important here.    

So... my magic number 47 is a prime number. That in itself sounds impressive. A prime number is a natural whole number that is greater than one (1) that has no positive dividers except for one (1) and itself - in the case of my number, it's 47.

The other reason, that very, very, very few people know, is that back when i played soccer between the ages of 7-18, the number i was was usually a 7, with a 4 tossed in. A 4 and a 7. Forty-seven. Look, that's how my mind works. 

So... that's why this upcoming year is supposed to be special. It has to be. Forty-six sucked more than all of my previous years combined and multiplied by as big a number as i can imagine - 8. My mother adored the number 8. Not only was it the day i was born - okay, maybe that was the only reason. But it's also infinity sideways. She always made sure we lived in a house with the number 8. The current house i live in - where she died 17 years ago was an 8, of a sort... it was the addition of the numbers 1+1+6 = 8. Hell, i even carried it out in my first house 5+3=8. 

The whole year of being 46 truly was awful. No one remembered my birthday. No presents. Nothing. It was like i didn't matter. I didn't exist. I was like a ghost walking the world and no one thought to look hard enough at me to give me form.

Christmas - nothing. And yet i had done nothing wrong. i was the wronged party. Yet, i got treated like shit.

New Year's day sucked... and sure enough a few days later my world was turned upside down again. Valentine's day - a massacre. Father's day? Mother's day? What the hell is that? Shouldn't every day be special? Labour day? Don't even get me started. 

It didn't matter that i tried to write more to cover up the pain. The pain still found a way to come back and slap me across the face in ways you readers can never imagine (i hope). i was just starting to get into writing my Japan - It's A Wonderful Rife blog on a near daily basis when i had to stop for a month.

Not writing killed me just as much as the other shit going on in my so-called life. And just when i think it's getting better, my own vivid imagination and great memory brings everything back - my own inner demons to conquer - that will not let me either forgive or forget. It encourages me seek vengeance. You know, like back in the old days, when you were wronged, you slapped someone across the face with a glove and challenged them to a duel. Oh how i long for the old days.

i can slap a guy across the face with a dueling glove. i can count 10 paces (8 for sure!). i'm pretty sure i can aim and fire a gun in anger - especially when justified.

But no. This is the 21st effing century and i live in Canada, so i get to see a therapist to cope with my feelings. What crap. i'm an intelligent person. i can psycho-analyze myself. but i was told not to seek vengeance. despite what so sayeth the lord.

Yeah, yeah, everyone is sorry now. Yay. That was sarcasm, by the way.


Being 46 sucked the big one. i'm pretty sure 47 will too.

Being 46 was a complete waste of my time on this planet. 


Do you know what i hate?


Wasting time.