I Wasn't Laughing

Got a certified letter Tuesday. Good news.

Got a certified letter from Texas sent to my address at The Apartment Complex in December 2004. Bizarre!

I think the December letter must have been someone’s idea of a joke. The envelope was “sort of” addressed correctly; i.e., the address did include the name of a household member. First red flag: The envelope was handwritten, with a stamped, not printed, return address.
Second red flag: The letter was typed on an obvious copy of the (legitimate) company’s letterhead, with the address blocked out. The body of the letter comprised three semi-literate sentences. The assistant manager's signature did not match the handwriting on the envelope.

The salutation did not include household member's name. It referenced a Mr. Harmony. No first name, just Mr. Harmony. I had no idea as to who this person was. Mr. Harmony, it seems, was three months behind in rent payments for his office space—in Texas. The assistant manager, Ms. AC, requested that he pay the past due amount of $628.30 by December 10.

What???

A quick check with the property management company confirmed that no one named Harmony lived in the The Apartment Complex. (However, I believe Harmony actually is the name of a town/city in Texas.) I had never been to The Woodlands, the Texas city referenced in the return address on the envelope. Furthermore, in 2004, I hadn’t been anywhere near Texas in three years.

Fortunately for me, in an effort to appear professional, the assistant manager copied the company’s regional director and collections manager on the letter. Thank you, Ms. AC. You made my research efforts a lot easier.I wrote a complaint letter to the regional director and sent copies to the collections manager AND the company's CEO. The regional director responded with an apology that was fairly literate, but more confusing than the original letter.

Someday, somewhere in cyberspace, I will post an article about how I researched and “resolved” this fiasco. (There was some screaming involved on my part.) Maybe I’ll even post a photo of the letter and the envelope—with the names of the company and letter writer blocked out.

Housework and Me

I might as well face it: I’m not going to get any major house cleaning chores done until I “retire.” Cleaning out closets and washing walls will just have to wait.

Working full time, I often have little energy/motivation left to work on my writing projects during the evening, let alone dust, vacuum, or mop floors. By the time the weekend rolls around, I feel that, after working all week, I deserve some time for myself. So, I dust, vacuum, or mop whatever really needs it and spend the rest of the weekend writing, reading, or just trolling the ‘Net. It’s worked well so far.

And, no, I don’t live in a pig sty.

Actually, I have found that a lot of other people feel the same way. Makes me feel less guilty about the whole thing.

Fun at the Bank

One day, not too long ago, I went to the bank to visit my money. Waiting in line, I noticed a thirty- something man standing off to one side. He was wearing a baseball cap. The baby in his arms was also wearing a hat. Well, that was sensible. We’re in the Southwest, after all, and it probably was 106 degrees outside.

A bank employee was standing next to the customer, but neither man was talking. The bank employee looked nervous; the customer looked angry.

They were joined by another employee. She said something to the customer that I couldn’t hear. But I did hear his response. Was the man overdrawn? Behind in car payments? Complaining about a bank error? No. As it turned out, he didn’t want to remove his hat.

That’s when I remembered the sign on the door. Please remove hat and sunglasses for security reasons. Sounds reasonable to me. Banks in this city seem to get robbed on a daily basis. I’d seen too many news reports with videos that featured bank robbers wearing hats and sunglasses.

But this guy insisted on keeping his hat on his head. I guess he thought it was un-American to ask him to remove his hat in a bank, even for security reasons. At one point, he lifted the hat off his daughter’s head, pointed toward the spot where he thought the security camera was located, and remarked, “Suspected bank robber.”

The male employee said, “That isn’t funny, Sir.”

In the end, they compromised. The man pulled the hat off his forehead so that the camera could get a clear view of his face.

I thought his attitude was really weird. I’m not insulted because I have to remove my hat and sunglasses. After all, that rule was made for everyone’s protection including his—and for the protection of that baby he held in his arms.

Don't Get Your Hopes Up About the Job

Waiting in the check-out line at the library, I couldn’t help but hear a twenty-something man talking on his cell phone. He was discussing his job application with a prospective employer.

My ears perked up as he listed a number of “concessions” that he needed from any employer.
“And I’ll need at least one Sunday off a month,” he said. “And probably a couple of Saturdays too. I put that on my application.”

Well, okay, it’s a drag to work weekends. But I did it. Several times, in fact. And a lot of other people do, too. You tend to agree to that if being available to work weekends is one of the requirements for the job—and you really want/need the job. Had I not been willing to work weekends, I wouldn’t have had a job at SmartMart for over three years.

Given today’s economy, that fellow probably isn’t going to have a job either. Too bad, because he left with a woman and a couple of small children who called him “Daddy.”

Yes, some companies offer flexible work schedules, but generally the employer, not the employee, decides the definition of flexible. With all the people in this country who are out of work, that man’s prospective employer will, no doubt, find someone willing to work the hours required for the job.

Don't Run Me Down

HELLO Mr. SUV driver.

Yes, that is a pedestrian—me—in your path as you try to sneak in a left turn before the north-bound traffic slams into your gas guzzling, over-priced hunk of steel. I realize that you didn’t notice me, but, according to the walk sign, I have the right of way. So stay right where you are until I finish crossing the street.

I apologize for having to walk to work in the dark. Believe me, I like it even less that I have to get up at 4:15 a.m.

And I don’t understand how you could not have seen me. Yes, it is dark out here, and, yes, I am wearing a black coat, but the intersection is well lit. And the flashlight I’m waving all over the place should give you a clue that someone is attempting to cross the street. What do you think the beam of light is? A signal from an alien spaceship?

I Am Not a Stalker

I view certain individuals’ MySpace pages (and sometimes their Classmates pages), but that’s because I miss them, think of them often, and hope life is going well for them.

My Computer Crashed

My laptop crashed on October 4, just before I had to leave for a writing workshop. I have no idea what happened. I will admit that there was a lot of “stuff” on that computer. Maybe the hard drive was so bloated that it just gave up.

I have a new computer now, and I’m slowly but surely getting used to the Vista operating system and Office 2007. Vista is very different from the XP operating system, but I think I’m going to like it—once I figure it out.

Good thing I budgeted for a new computer back in June. That’s where my stimulus check went. I put the check in the bank, intending to buy the computer in November or December. Instead, out of necessity, I bought it in October, just in time for NanoWriMo.

Web Page Advice

I’m thinking about creating a MySpace page. So, I have been doing some online research. After looking at many individuals’ personal web pages, I’m going to offer an opinion that probably won’t go over well with most readers.

Are you a teacher, preacher, lawyer, or member of any other profession whose members are—even in this day and age—generally described by the term conservative? If the answer is yes, then maybe you shouldn’t post text and pictures that could be construed as even a teensy bit, um, suggestive.

Your posts could come back to haunt you because you never know who’s out there.

Hey,Where's the Hard Drive?

After using a desktop computer for five years, I bought my first laptop four years ago.

However, I still have the desktop. It’s been sitting on a desk (where else?), ignored and unplugged, for three and a half years. I think I should get rid of the darn thing, especially since I intend to buy another desktop in the near future.

Four years ago, I also I bought an external Zip drive and saved a lot of information from the desktop to Zip disks. I probably don’t need to transfer any more files; I’ve done without the information for the better part of four years. So, I will destroy the hard drive.

Just as soon as I figure out which thingie it is.

South Dakota is Where?

While thumbing through a style book for writers recently, I learned that Popsicle is a trademarked word. The generic term is ice on a stick. As a child, I would have defined it as ice that falls off a stick.

I also learned the meaning of the words starboard and port, which I knew were nautical terms, but could never figure out which was which. Good thing to know if I’m ever facing forward on a ship. Starboard is right, port is left. At least I think that’s right.

Unfortunately, I found quite a few typos in this edition. And, looking at a time-zone map of the United States, I discovered that South Dakota apparently is north of North Dakota.

Where have all the proofreaders gone? Probably to the unemployment office.

I'm Back and Maybe I'll Stay

I really, really intend to update my blog at least once a month during 2008. Hmm…that’s what I said last year. It didn’t turn out that way, did it?

I stopped posting last July because I got busy at work and with other distractions. I’m still busy at work, but I don’t have quite as many distractions. This year I’m determined to make the time to do better blog wise.

I think I’ll start by cutting back on the time I lurk on the Etiquette Hell website. For some reason, the posts there don’t seem that interesting lately.

See you next month, I hope.

Geography Lesson: Part II

Overheard recently in a fast-food restaurant:

Ms. A: We got a toy order today from GB. What’s GB?

Mr. B: Great Britain.

Ms. A: But isn’t that the same as the UK?

Mr. B: Yeah, I think so.

Um…no. The United Kingdom comprises England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland. Great Britain is composed of England, Scotland, and Wales. Northern Ireland is not part of Great Britain.

Got that?

Oh, You Already Get a Newspaper

Yes, Ms. Telephone Solicitor, we do. We are, after all, semi-intelligent and want to know what is going on in the state, country, and the world. But most of all, we want to read about all the nonsense that goes on in this city, if only to be forewarned and to know which areas to avoid.

Sometimes the stories are scary. Sometimes they’re entertaining. Sometimes we wonder why the newspaper even bothered to print them.

Smart-Mart Surprise

In the not-too-distant past, a customer walked into a Smart-Mart in southeastern Arizona. The man was looking for lava rocks (whatever they are). The newspaper article didn’t say whether he found the lava rocks. Getting bit by a rattlesnake probably made him forget about shopping.

Odd place for a snake, you think. Not really. Man and snake were in the garden center.

And not too many years ago, the area where the shopping center is now located was nothing but desert. Apparently, some of the wildlife didn’t get the notice to vacate.

Geography Lesson

According to an article in USA Today, a great many teenagers haven’t a clue about religions, their own and others.

The article claimed that 50 percent of the high school seniors interviewed thought that Sodom and Gomorrah were married. Um…no, Sodom and Gomorrah weren’t married; they weren’t even people. They were towns.

Okay, so some people know very little about biblical geography. Is that a big deal? Maybe not, but some people also seem to know very little about geography in general.

Years ago another publication polled high school students and discovered that many of them thought Delaware was a foreign country. And in case no one’s noticed, New Mexico has a license plate that reads: New Mexico USA.

I confess that I, too, was once geographically impaired. Until I was about ten years old, I thought Puerto Rico was an island off the coast of New York City.

Yikes!

This is just another example of someone not proofreading his or her work.

We recently received our latest rental agreement. As of April 1, we’re on a month to month basis—again.

By some miracle, the first rental agreement we received from the new owners did not raise the rent. The second one, a few months later, was for a five-month lease that raised the rent by sixty dollars a month. It seemed like a big increase; however, during the past six or seven years, our rent had been raised by only five dollars a month each year. Not a bad deal for a decent place to live in a city of this size.

The latest agreement raised the rent by another fifty dollars.

Well, at least that was the intention. The agreement didn't read quite like that. Instead of typing in the right amount, some distracted office clerk typed in the rate as $6275.00 a month.

Eavesdropping at IHOP

Three women and a man, all in their early twenties, sat in the booth behind us. They were wearing dark blue scrubs. From their conversation, we concluded that they were, or had recently been, students in a healthcare class.

One woman said, “I cheated on the test.”

Another said, “I cheated too.”

The third said, “I cheated on the test, but I didn’t cheat on the final.”

The man said, “I cheated.”

I don’t know what type of class it was, but I do feel sorry for the patients when these individuals attempt to put their knowledge—or lack of it—into practice.

I Was a Twelve-Year-Old Plagiarist

According to articles I’ve been reading in newspapers and online, some people have no compunction about passing off other writers’ words as their own.

I haven’t plagiarized anyone else’s words since seventh grade. That’s when I copied an article from the World Book Encyclopedia. The students in my science class were assigned reports on types of trees. I don’t remember if we could choose the tree we were expected to research or if the teacher chose them. Either way, I just couldn’t get excited about oak trees. As I recall, most of my classmates felt the same way about the assignment and also copied their reports from encyclopedias. Yes, I know that “everybody does it” is no excuse. But my 200 plagiarized words about oak trees did not get a six-figure contract from a major publishing house.

The teacher must have suspected that we were copying our reports from encyclopedias, but he never mentioned it or told us that we should be writing the reports in our own words.

Since then, however, everything I’ve written has been in my own words. My work is strictly mine. So, if you don’t like what I’ve written, you can’t blame anyone else.

A Belated Happy New Year

Best wishes for the new year to my family, stepfamily, friends, coworkers, and former coworkers in Arizona, Colorado, Nebraska, Massachusetts, Vermont, California, Washington State, and any other place you currently call home.

L, A, and R (PNW), I have NOT forgotten you. I miss you.

K, take care of yourself, and me know how you are doing.

M, aka “Jeremy,” remember the street I called “Thunder Road?” Part of it is a Wal-Mart shopping center now. I hope life has been good to you and your family.

It’s Almost Over

The year, that is.

NanoWriMo ended almost a month ago. I wrote over 50,000 words in 29 days, and I didn’t have to get up half an hour early every weekday morning to do it. Last year, I was taking work home and had to edit that first, so writing those 50,000 words was more stressful than it was this year. Last year, in order to reach my goal, I got up at 4 a.m., instead of at 4:30 a.m.
And, I am happy to report, this year I finished the project without destroying my computer.

Will I do NanoWriMo in 2007? I’m thinking: No. But that’s what I thought this year— right up until the middle of October.