While my job generally annoys me anyway, one of my least favorite things to do is deal with customer service and problems when people place orders for gift cards through our website. The task really has nothing to do my job description, but it was given to me six years ago when I was the "new girl" and unfortunately, it stuck.
Customers who order gift cards online are given the option of choosing regular first-class mail shipping for free or expedited FedEx shipping for a charge. One time we received a very large order for 100 gift cards at $50.00 each, and the purchaser had specified regular first class mail shipping. Our office had been having some major problems with entire outgoing mail shipments being "lost" and I was not too trusting of the Post Office at that point. I didn't feel like dealing with deactivating and reissuing the cards if the shipment got lost in the mail, so I decided to be proactive (a word they love to use around here) and give the customer a call.
Now, in fairness to me (lest you think I am a total dumbass) the shipping address on the order page was to some business park but there was no actual business name on the order page. Also, the customer answered her phone by stating her name (not the business' name) when I called. Really, I had no idea what I was about to get myself into when I made the call:
Me: Hi, I am calling about your online order for 100 gift cards. I noticed that you specified regular mail shipping on the order, and I just wanted to ask if you'd like me to ship the cards to you via FedEx because I don't trust the Post Office to handle such a large order and I wouldn't want your order to get lost in the mail.
Customer: Um, this IS the U.S. Post Office.
*awkward silence*
Me: Well, then I guess I'll go ahead and send this to you via regular mail! (dies of embarrassment.)
And that is the story of how I managed to offend the U.S. Government. Go me!
6.23.2008
Announcing the official sunglasses of team SOBER!
Team Not Sober thinks they are soooo cool with their "official" sunglasses:
President of Team Not Sober: The pose clearly makes the woman's sunglasses look less....womanly?
The VP of Team Not Sober is proof that wearing the official sunglasses will get you places in life.
The membership of Team SOBER, while small in numbers, realizes the importance of stylish eyewear. So without further ado, I present to you the official sunglasses of Team SOBER:
Stylish and practical, these glasses both protect your eyes from wild beer pong throws and allow you to go incognito at an insect party.
The sunglasses also distract from terrible hair days. And missing arms. Where the heck is my arm?!? I swear I just had it a few minutes ago!
But the sunglasses - sexy, no?
6.17.2008
Eight years ago today*
*by “today” I really mean yesterday, June 16. I suck at getting things done on time.
Eight years ago today, you were 21 years old and I was 22 years old. We were just three weeks out of college. We had been told we were too young, but we knew better.
Eight years ago today we had just signed the lease on our first home together, a tiny, tiny apartment with exactly two windows and a cable box that had a tendency to overheat and explode.
Eight years ago today was a beautiful, warm, sunny June day perfect for a wedding.
Eight years ago today my bridesmaids and I got our hair done by a crazy lady who did a great job.
Eight years ago today I sent my future sister-in-law on a frantic chase to find a new ring bearer pillow after I spilled soda on the one I had spent so much time sewing myself.
Eight years ago today I had my first and only bridal meltdown when I refused to get out of the limo until all of the guests were seated. Sorry, Mr. Limo driver.
Eight years ago today my father walked me down the aisle and I vowed to love and cherish my husband forever, yet I only remember alternately concentrating on not fainting and not laughing. I hear we got through the ceremony just fine, though.
Eight years ago today my poor maid of honor decided to forgo pain medication after a car accident in favor of drinking at the reception – thus coining the popular phrase “whoooo got me another drink?!?”
Eight years ago today the bartender did not have to worry about covering his dinner break.
Eight years ago today my parents realized that they were very lucky that they had paid for an unlimited open bar rather than paying per drink.
Eight years ago today, a group of 150 of our closest friends, family and coworkers came together for one hell of a party that no one will ever forget.
Eight years ago today my two cousins executed a perfectly synchronized, unchoreographed turn on the dance floor that my sister and I still laugh about at random times.
Eight years ago today, without being asked, my thirteen year old twin cousins took it upon themselves to videotape the entire ceremony and reception, a gesture that has preserved some of the funniest and most unforgettable memories of our lives.
Eight years ago today I cried for the only time of the entire wedding when I danced with my dad.
Eight years ago today my new husband smooshed wedding cake into my face, although he will deny intent until the day he dies.
Eight years ago today my husband made a grand entranced onto the dance floor by sliding across the floor on his stomach, thus making us glad we were not the ones responsible for returning his rented tux.
Eight years ago today we had an unexpected guest in our wedding night suite.
Eight years ago today was long enough ago to look at the pictures and remark how young we all looked, but not too long ago that our outfits and hairstyles look ridiculous (yet).
Eight years ago today we had no idea what we were getting into, but we knew it would be good.
Eight years ago I married a man who I loved dearly then but love infinitely more today. We have grown up together and have learned the meaning of “through thick and thin”, but are still each others best friends and confidants. I’ve learned that no matter how busy, how stressed or how tired I may be I will always have the love and support of a great man, and there is no better feeling.
Eight years ago today I would not have changed a single thing, and I wouldn’t change a single thing today either.
Happy Anniversary, Ricky!
Love,
Dames
Eight years ago today, you were 21 years old and I was 22 years old. We were just three weeks out of college. We had been told we were too young, but we knew better.
Eight years ago today we had just signed the lease on our first home together, a tiny, tiny apartment with exactly two windows and a cable box that had a tendency to overheat and explode.
Eight years ago today was a beautiful, warm, sunny June day perfect for a wedding.
Eight years ago today my bridesmaids and I got our hair done by a crazy lady who did a great job.
Eight years ago today I sent my future sister-in-law on a frantic chase to find a new ring bearer pillow after I spilled soda on the one I had spent so much time sewing myself.
Eight years ago today I had my first and only bridal meltdown when I refused to get out of the limo until all of the guests were seated. Sorry, Mr. Limo driver.
Eight years ago today my father walked me down the aisle and I vowed to love and cherish my husband forever, yet I only remember alternately concentrating on not fainting and not laughing. I hear we got through the ceremony just fine, though.
Eight years ago today my poor maid of honor decided to forgo pain medication after a car accident in favor of drinking at the reception – thus coining the popular phrase “whoooo got me another drink?!?”
Eight years ago today the bartender did not have to worry about covering his dinner break.
Eight years ago today my parents realized that they were very lucky that they had paid for an unlimited open bar rather than paying per drink.
Eight years ago today, a group of 150 of our closest friends, family and coworkers came together for one hell of a party that no one will ever forget.
Eight years ago today my two cousins executed a perfectly synchronized, unchoreographed turn on the dance floor that my sister and I still laugh about at random times.
Eight years ago today, without being asked, my thirteen year old twin cousins took it upon themselves to videotape the entire ceremony and reception, a gesture that has preserved some of the funniest and most unforgettable memories of our lives.
Eight years ago today I cried for the only time of the entire wedding when I danced with my dad.
Eight years ago today my new husband smooshed wedding cake into my face, although he will deny intent until the day he dies.
Eight years ago today my husband made a grand entranced onto the dance floor by sliding across the floor on his stomach, thus making us glad we were not the ones responsible for returning his rented tux.
Eight years ago today we had an unexpected guest in our wedding night suite.
Eight years ago today was long enough ago to look at the pictures and remark how young we all looked, but not too long ago that our outfits and hairstyles look ridiculous (yet).
Eight years ago today we had no idea what we were getting into, but we knew it would be good.
Eight years ago I married a man who I loved dearly then but love infinitely more today. We have grown up together and have learned the meaning of “through thick and thin”, but are still each others best friends and confidants. I’ve learned that no matter how busy, how stressed or how tired I may be I will always have the love and support of a great man, and there is no better feeling.
Eight years ago today I would not have changed a single thing, and I wouldn’t change a single thing today either.
Happy Anniversary, Ricky!
Love,
Dames
6.12.2008
I'm going to look at this post in February and cry...
This picture was taken in my car as I pulled into my driveway on Tuesday. 102 degrees. In early June. I swear that just a year or two ago we got frost and a dusting of snow in June. I guess that might still happen, you never know with this crazy New England weather!
Call me crazy, but me and my pansy-ass thin Italian blood actually loves the heat(thanks mom). Judging from the general crankiness of everyone else around me I think I may be the only one. But what would you rather deal with, 100-degree weather or two feet of snow? Global warming...BRING IT ON! (just without the nasty environmental consequences).
6.09.2008
I should have kept my big, stupid mouth shut – incident #4021
It’s a curse of my family (especially my sister and I) to witness awkward situations – almost on a daily basis. Sadly, I often bring these awkward situations upon myself simply by opening my mouth.
When I used to work for a jeweler one of my favorite things to do was to sell wedding bands. Most of the time, couples shopping for wedding bands are happy, cheerful and excited to be there(with some exceptions – but that’s a whole different blog post) and I enjoyed being a part of the couple’s excitement by helping them pick out their rings. One day, a pleasant middle aged couple came in to shop for wedding bands. As is the norm, the bride-to-be did most of the talking and browsing while her fiancé stayed in the background. I remember that she did not wear an engagement ring, so her choices were endless and she must have tried on dozens of rings before choosing a pretty platinum and diamond band. Once the bride-to-be had picked out her ring I turned my attention to the bride’s fiancé, who to this point had not said much other than “uh-huh” and “yup” in reply to her comments. The wedding bands were displayed in a low, L-shaped case, and probably 90% of the case was reserved for women’s rings while the men’s rings were kept in the short part of the “L”. Her fiancé moved towards the counter and started browsing through the rings on the women’s side of the case at which point I ever-so-helpfully gestured towards the men’s display and said “oh, the men’s rings are over on this side”
Have you ever said something, and as the words came out of your mouth you suddenly knew that what you were saying was very, very wrong? It’s like slow motion – yet you can’t close your mouth in time to stop the words from escaping. This was one of those times. As I spoke those very words I instantly knew: the fiancé was a WOMEN. Not a very feminine women (actually not a feminine woman at all – and she wasn’t exactly wearing a flowered dress either) but a women nonetheless. A woman that I had just called a man. To her face.
Honestly, I don’t even remember what happened next. I think that my mind has blocked out the event from that point forward to spare me years of hiding under my desk and sucking my thumb in mortification whenever I revisit the incident. I would like to think that I handled it with grace and humor, but I highly doubt that was the case. More likely, I probably babbled something ridiculous about staying away from the men’s rings that I had just pointed out because you are obviously a woman who wants a woman’s ring and I would not want to waste your time by showing a man’s ring to a woman. Then I probably cried and ran away. Yup, that is probably how I handled it.
To the couple: I hope you two are happy together and I’m very sorry I called one of you a man. I also hope you like your rings – wherever you ended up buying them.
When I used to work for a jeweler one of my favorite things to do was to sell wedding bands. Most of the time, couples shopping for wedding bands are happy, cheerful and excited to be there(with some exceptions – but that’s a whole different blog post) and I enjoyed being a part of the couple’s excitement by helping them pick out their rings. One day, a pleasant middle aged couple came in to shop for wedding bands. As is the norm, the bride-to-be did most of the talking and browsing while her fiancé stayed in the background. I remember that she did not wear an engagement ring, so her choices were endless and she must have tried on dozens of rings before choosing a pretty platinum and diamond band. Once the bride-to-be had picked out her ring I turned my attention to the bride’s fiancé, who to this point had not said much other than “uh-huh” and “yup” in reply to her comments. The wedding bands were displayed in a low, L-shaped case, and probably 90% of the case was reserved for women’s rings while the men’s rings were kept in the short part of the “L”. Her fiancé moved towards the counter and started browsing through the rings on the women’s side of the case at which point I ever-so-helpfully gestured towards the men’s display and said “oh, the men’s rings are over on this side”
Have you ever said something, and as the words came out of your mouth you suddenly knew that what you were saying was very, very wrong? It’s like slow motion – yet you can’t close your mouth in time to stop the words from escaping. This was one of those times. As I spoke those very words I instantly knew: the fiancé was a WOMEN. Not a very feminine women (actually not a feminine woman at all – and she wasn’t exactly wearing a flowered dress either) but a women nonetheless. A woman that I had just called a man. To her face.
Honestly, I don’t even remember what happened next. I think that my mind has blocked out the event from that point forward to spare me years of hiding under my desk and sucking my thumb in mortification whenever I revisit the incident. I would like to think that I handled it with grace and humor, but I highly doubt that was the case. More likely, I probably babbled something ridiculous about staying away from the men’s rings that I had just pointed out because you are obviously a woman who wants a woman’s ring and I would not want to waste your time by showing a man’s ring to a woman. Then I probably cried and ran away. Yup, that is probably how I handled it.
To the couple: I hope you two are happy together and I’m very sorry I called one of you a man. I also hope you like your rings – wherever you ended up buying them.
6.05.2008
Look at me! I'm so important that I have my own blog!
Um, not really. Actually, I thought it might be a good idea to start my own blog because at any given time I have 27 different things swimming around in my head that I'd like to write about - things that piss me off, things that make me nostalgic, things that (probably only I) find funny, awkward situations, stupid work and bad cat names. Actually, I mostly think about bad cat names. Like Christine and Michael. Except, now that I just spent an hour setting it up and making it look all pretty I can't think of a single thing to write about. So basically this post is about absolutely nothing. Sorry this blog is lame already; I'll try to make it better.
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