November 9th, 2004

ieee coin

Unique Phone Moments

I do my fair share of monitoring (for quality assurance purposes, hee), and that gives me more than my fair share of Unique Phone Moments.

Phone Goon: "Hello?"
Respondent: "I can't hear you."
Phone Goon: "Can you hear me now? Is this better?"
Respondent: "Hello?"
Phone Goon: "Can you hear me?"
Respondent: "Hello?"
Phone Goon: "Can you hear me?"
Respondent: "Hello?"
Phone Goon: "Can you hear me?"
Respondent: "Hello?"
Phone Goon: "Can you hear me?"
Respondent: "Hello?"
Phone Goon: "Can you hear me?"
Respondent: "Hello? Hello?"
Phone Goon: "Can you hear me?"

Lather, rinse, repeat. By the end of the night, not only had I cracked up over this, but my co-worker at the computer next to me had, and also Pink Shirt Guy, who had wound up seeing same monitor report.


At another point in the evening, I tuned in just as the respondent tried something new and innovative.


Phone Goon: "Hi, I'm just this guy from this cute little company, and we do surveys and stuff."
Respondent: "Hi. Nice talking with you, here. Have you heard of PrePaid Legal?" *Note: PrePaid Legal is a multi-level program, one of those things that's like a pyramid scheme, except with useful products and/or services for even those at the bottom of the pyramid.*
Phone Goon: "I don't think so."
Respondent: "Would you be interested in learning more about it?"
Phone Goon: "I don't think so. Anyway, we're doing this survey, and it's about this stuff, and -- "
Respondent: "Since you said that to me, I'll say this to you. I'm not interested."
Phone Goon: "But sir, I'm not selling anything. You were trying to sell me something."

I cracked up.
Incidentally, if you want to look into PrePaid Legal, look up digitalambience, because he's into that.


Also today, I got a better badge-holder, the kind with the clip. I asked Pink Shirt Guy if he could find one for me, and he searched around and then asked the Not-So-Old Lady Monitor, who was able to dig one up for me. And Cute Chick Monitor found me a spare red lanyard. I now feel like an actual member of the team. (Almost all the supervisors have matching Census 2000 swag red lanyards that their name badges hang on.) I have a cunning plan: the cunning plan involves the official company logo images from the official company website, The Gimp, the color printer at home, a better photo of me, and some font-matching. Right now my name badge has two unattractively squashed photos of sunflowers, a bad digital photo of me, the company name, and my name and job title. My ideal name badge has non-squashed different company logo photos, a better photo of me, and the same information. My ideal name badge is also a little sturdier, and laminated.

The cunning plan is to use the current badge, the one that looks halfassed, on the red lanyard, as my Official Badge and also my Spare Badge. I would then wear my Ideal Badge dangling from one of my many pretty necklaces of stone chips. I've been wearing the garnet for a while; I think it's time to swap out to fluorite.
  • Current Mood
    validated
twilight, Fairbanks to Phoenix, two worlds

Desert-change

It has rained for the past few days; it dried up today. I already miss the rain. I thought aloud to my senior bondmate about Seattle. Unspoken: "...and I want to take you with me." He probably heard it anyway. I like the rain.

The car wash that was on the corner was fenced off before the election, and political signs started hanging there. That car wash had the obnoxious alarm on the token machine that would blare three notes intended to sound like a continuous siren, an audible illusion as annoying as the optical ones where your brain tries to see it both ways at once, and often fails. At least you can close your eyes; the siren could be heard from my apartment to the grocery store, for most of the seven minute walk. The other day, it had been smashed into rubble, and there were men and dumpsters cleaning up; now, the lot is vacant. Soon, things will begin to grow there. I see the trees behind it, now. I like the trees.

The resturant in the strip mall, La Casa Loca, was closed down. It dried up like all things do in the desert, and blew away without notice. There's a new sign up, announcing a new resturant there (coming soon!), and there has been painting within.

The sign that had been on their window, the sign about the dollar margarita night (I always thought of going, but never did) was painted by one of the guys from the Studio, the one who was into mysticism and somewhat flaky. I always grinned, to see his name, and thought of Joan Eunice's husband the painter, because of the associations with sign painters. I wondered what was happening, when they stripped the sign off the glass, but I didn't think very hard. And then they were closed. The Little Fayoumis called it "the music place," because Wednesday night was karaoke night, and that was always going strong when we walked past to get to my evening class.

There is still the hole in the fence around othercat and ralmathon's apartment complex, a hole placed so that students can pop out and go to school without having to have a gate-clicker, scale the fence, wait for a car, or mangle the car-gate. The car-gate hasn't been off its railings once since the student-hole was opened. Hmm. There is a chaosphere spray-stenciled on the brick wall, and another chaosphere on a power box near work. The neighborhood is getting interesting.

I am a Local, now -- the son/delivery driver at the little Chinese resturant on my corner was driving out as I was coming home, and he and I nodded and waved to each other. I have a Neighborhood. I support local businesses. Some of my neighbors are co-workers. I've been here long enough to get the feel of the sidewalks in my feet, to grin at the family drama of the ever-present grackles, to giggle when I scare the little doves. One of the eucalyptus trees I pass by daily gave me a wand.

For all that, I'm easy to transplant still, just as long as you let me keep enough of my roots and give me enough water...