Warning, this is a rant. I'm not wanting my blogging to turn into a series of diatribes, but whats the point of having a blog if you cant vent some spleen from time to time?
"Your call is very important to us. We are experiencing an unusual call volume. Please continue to hold for the next available representative."
We've all heard it, and we all hate it. I'm not covering any new ground here, and no one reading this is likely to say "gee, Andrew, what's your beef?" But I think these message bug me for a slightly more esoteric reason that most.
We're all busy and none of us likes to wait on hold. That is true for me as well. However, the thing that bothers me the most is the patronizing and untruthful language that is used. The phrase that kills me is "We're experiencing an unusual call volume," (or similar.) We all know that's a lie. Its particularly a lie when you try calling at 9am on Monday, give up, call again at 2pm on Tuesday, give up, call again on Wednesday at 4:45pm, give up and finally wait the full 32 minutes when you call on Thursday at 10:30am. The first time you might believe it. But there's no way they're experiencing an unusual call volume every time you call all week long. The truth is that they haven't hired enough telephone representatives. The truth is that they are spending their money somewhere else. Maybe their allocation of resources is absolutely correct! Maybe hiring more telephone representatives is not the best way for them to spend their money. Most recently I experienced the dreaded "unusual call volume" while trying to reach the courthouse in Oakland, California. What if the message had said, "We're sorry, but we're spending your limited tax dollars hiring police to walk the streets instead of staff to answer the phones."
The truth is that all businesses and the public sector balance costs and benefits and decide how to allocate their funds. My local courthouse is a monopoly, so I cant choose to shop elsewhere. This is not the case with most commercial enterprises. When I can't get through to Krups to ask about my broken blender, I resolve to never buy another Krups product ever again (and I haven't!) When I called Leviton to ask a question about a light switch, a human being answered on the first ring. I didn't know what to say. I wasn't ready. I had assumed that I had at least 10 minutes to get my stuff ready. Now I am buying only Leviton products for my new house. When businesses balance the cost and benefits of hiring customer support staff, do they accurately account for intangible customer "good will?" I suspect not.
Which leads me to my next bitch: "Your call is very important to us." No, its not. Its not! Really. My business may be very important to you, and you may need to take my call to acquire or retain my business, but the call itself is not important to you. You don't know why I'm calling. You don't know what I am going to say. Maybe its important, maybe its not. Maybe I'm bored and lonely and calling because I like to get abuse from customer support representatives :-) In any case, "your call is very important to us," is patronizing BS and it bugs me.
So what do I want to hear? Well, some companies do get it right; "Thank you for calling Acme Widgets. Your call will be answered by the next customer service representative. You are caller number.... 4.... in the queue. Your expected wait time is approximately.... 7..... minutes." Thank you, thank you, thank you! No BS about unusual call volumes or the importance of my call, and an indication of my wait, so I can go put a load of laundry in the wash, or whatever. True, I still have to wait 7 minutes, but I don't have to be infuriated while doing so.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Fire
California is on fire.
There are currently over 1000 fires burning in the golden state. The sky over my home in Oakland has been gray with smoke for the last three days. My thoughts go out to all those whose lives have been touched by the fires and to the firefighters working to contain the blazes.
People worry about thieves. They worry about being robbed. But fire is the worse enemy. When thieves burglarize a home, they take the television, the cash, the jewels. While those jewels may contain irreplaceable family heirlooms and gifts given by loved ones to demarcate special moments, fire takes all of those and more. Fire takes the love letters. Fire takes the photographs and the film of the first baby steps. Fire takes grandma's recipes, the favorite works of art, the children's finger paintings and the handmade sweater. On top of all that, fire takes the familiar place in which one would like to shelter while recovering from the loss. Worst of all, fire has the potential to take life itself.
Twice during my five years living in Colorado, fire came so close to my home that I could see it. Twice I went through the "lifeboat drill" - what do you take with you in your "lifeboat" when the ship is sinking. I filled up my car with love letters, photographs, tax records, computers, and favorite works of art. It is gut wrenching, walking through the house, choosing what you are going to save and what you may never see again. The objects of highest monetary value get left behind to make room for those that are truly most precious.
Twice the fires came within 2 miles of my house, and twice they were stopped. The phone never rang with that dreaded call to evacuate. Still, that lifeboat exercise became one of my reasons for leaving Colorado. So where did I move to? A place that not only has fires but earthquakes as well. Sigh.
There are currently over 1000 fires burning in the golden state. The sky over my home in Oakland has been gray with smoke for the last three days. My thoughts go out to all those whose lives have been touched by the fires and to the firefighters working to contain the blazes.
People worry about thieves. They worry about being robbed. But fire is the worse enemy. When thieves burglarize a home, they take the television, the cash, the jewels. While those jewels may contain irreplaceable family heirlooms and gifts given by loved ones to demarcate special moments, fire takes all of those and more. Fire takes the love letters. Fire takes the photographs and the film of the first baby steps. Fire takes grandma's recipes, the favorite works of art, the children's finger paintings and the handmade sweater. On top of all that, fire takes the familiar place in which one would like to shelter while recovering from the loss. Worst of all, fire has the potential to take life itself.
Twice during my five years living in Colorado, fire came so close to my home that I could see it. Twice I went through the "lifeboat drill" - what do you take with you in your "lifeboat" when the ship is sinking. I filled up my car with love letters, photographs, tax records, computers, and favorite works of art. It is gut wrenching, walking through the house, choosing what you are going to save and what you may never see again. The objects of highest monetary value get left behind to make room for those that are truly most precious.
Twice the fires came within 2 miles of my house, and twice they were stopped. The phone never rang with that dreaded call to evacuate. Still, that lifeboat exercise became one of my reasons for leaving Colorado. So where did I move to? A place that not only has fires but earthquakes as well. Sigh.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Graffiti
I've been thinking a lot lately about the apparent human need to record one's thoughts. Or maybe the goal is to declare one's existence. Or am I mistaken? Might it be a "need" to communicate, not a need to record?
Blogging is, of course, today's obvious example. In a bygone age it was writing in a diary or a journal. Going back further, could one claim cave paintings as part of the same inherent drive?
Writing for profit (literature and journalism) feel like something different, though having met many writers, it is clear to me that the internal need to write drove these people to careers in writing, and, for most it is that need to write, more than the profit motive, that keeps them in the field.
I was sitting in Greens Restaurant in San Francisco earlier this week trying to "eat with intention," when these thoughts came unbidden into my mind. I wanted to write them down, which is one of the reasons that I started this blog. Why did I want to commit my thoughts to "the page?" Having no idea who might read this, or if it will ever be read (given the millions of blogs in the world,) it seems likely to be more about the writing and less about the communication. Coincidentally, the next night I was at a dinner party for writers. A non-writer spouse-attendee asked me why I write. My response was that I mostly write to get things out of my head so that I don't have to think about them anymore. This was not a flip answer. My thoughts have a tendency to spin and spiral inside my uncarved block until I get them the hell out of there.
I wonder about people who are illiterate. Do they feel a desire to write down their thoughts? Does being illiterate make that a non-option, so they don't even think about it? Does illiteracy lead in any way to graffiti? Graffiti can certainly be a creative expression, but more often it feels to me more like an expression of existence, "I was here." I'd be curious to see if there is any statistical relationship between illiteracy and graffiti. Perhaps in my next lifetime (or the one after that,) I'll need to plan on being a sociologist.
Blogging is, of course, today's obvious example. In a bygone age it was writing in a diary or a journal. Going back further, could one claim cave paintings as part of the same inherent drive?
Writing for profit (literature and journalism) feel like something different, though having met many writers, it is clear to me that the internal need to write drove these people to careers in writing, and, for most it is that need to write, more than the profit motive, that keeps them in the field.
I was sitting in Greens Restaurant in San Francisco earlier this week trying to "eat with intention," when these thoughts came unbidden into my mind. I wanted to write them down, which is one of the reasons that I started this blog. Why did I want to commit my thoughts to "the page?" Having no idea who might read this, or if it will ever be read (given the millions of blogs in the world,) it seems likely to be more about the writing and less about the communication. Coincidentally, the next night I was at a dinner party for writers. A non-writer spouse-attendee asked me why I write. My response was that I mostly write to get things out of my head so that I don't have to think about them anymore. This was not a flip answer. My thoughts have a tendency to spin and spiral inside my uncarved block until I get them the hell out of there.
I wonder about people who are illiterate. Do they feel a desire to write down their thoughts? Does being illiterate make that a non-option, so they don't even think about it? Does illiteracy lead in any way to graffiti? Graffiti can certainly be a creative expression, but more often it feels to me more like an expression of existence, "I was here." I'd be curious to see if there is any statistical relationship between illiteracy and graffiti. Perhaps in my next lifetime (or the one after that,) I'll need to plan on being a sociologist.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Pho
Recently I watched the movie "How to Cook Your Life," a documentary about Zen Cooking (more about that later.) Coincidentally, the current issue of Edible East Bay had a number of articles about Zen Cooking as well (more about that later too.) In each case, the main thrust was about "intention" - cooking with intention, eating with intention, living with intention. The subject of "How to Cook Your Life" says, "if you are going to eat, eat." In other words, when you eat, just eat. Your focus is eating. But more intentionally, experience the food, the ingredients, the sun that grew the plants, the soil, the rain. A very "terroir" idea. And very hard to do.
Not coincidentally, earlier this week I ate at Greens Restaurant, a Zen Vegan place in San Francisco. So, I have been trying to eat with intention. It is a good thing to do. I enjoy it. Though I'm not sure enjoying it is the point.
Today at lunch I had Pho Bo Tai Gau [Vietnamese rice noodle soup with beef stock ("bo") and rare beef and well done brisket ("tai" and "gau".)] The restaurant was crowded and noisy, and I had some interesting observations on the other diners, which I may share subsequently as well. I was trying not to be observing others, or the place - I was eating with intention - focusing on the food alone. I noticed that the rice noodles were too processed to allow me to experience the rice - they gave me no sense of something that came from the earth. By contrast, the fresh green basil leaves which I added to my bowl were very vibrant and alive (literally.) I could feel the sun that had fallen on the plant. But the beef made me sad. As I ate it, I experienced the short and painful life of the cow. This was a feedlot cow. It lived an uncomfortable life, and for it the sun was a blazing presence - there was no shade to escape the hot sun that baked it and the hundreds of other steer in its lot. It stood on bare, parched soil and fresh and dried dung. Its death was terrifying and grim. As I ate with "intention," experiencing the sun and soil that created this animal that I ate, I found that I could only taste the shit in which the animal had stood. For hours afterwards my mouth tasted like dung and dust.
Perhaps eating with intention right after reading Michael Pollen's The Omnivores Dilemma isn't such a good idea.