Posts tagged shit
Howdy, sports fans!
Wow, been a long time, huh? Sorry ’bout that, I’ve been a bit of a busy man here lately.
So, what, you may ask, has been going on with ol’ Buck?
Well, on the positive side, my eldest son decided to spend spring break with me here about a month ago, instead of heading to the beach with friends for a drunk-fest. I guess my not giving him the money to be that stupid played one part in the equation … and I dare say the fact that he doesn’t share my unquenchable thirst for said nectar of the gods probably played even more of a role there too. [grins]
Ah hell, who am I kidding? The boy loves me!
Well, that, and the fact that my house is infinitely closer to the university his girlfriend is attending than his mom’s house is! :o)
Speaking of houses … as some of you know, the Spousal Unit and I lost ours here recently . J’yup, La Casa del Buck is now a fully bank owned property upon which we are no longer allowed to step foot without a representative of the bank present.
Buuuut …. apart from losing my house (and the associated tropical garden, pond, etc. etc. etc.), putting my dog, Sparky, down after 10 years of loyalty, laughs and friendship, and a myriad other matters of which you probably do not want to be bored with, things are well with me.
Of course, there ARE those who DO want to hear more of the dirty, juicy details of my life … and I have two words for people like you: PISS OFF!
Sadly, many are the liars, gossips, meddlesome idiots and garden-variety, non-confrontational bitches who cross our paths in life. Funny thing is, one friend in my life who readily admits that she is easily offended and considers herself “a ditz” (which I do not agree on), is about the only one of my friends who will pull me aside and speak her mind. She’s the only one who has taken something I’ve said or written the wrong way, and has directly approached me about it. Heck, my own wife doesn’t even do that! People like that are a gift, folks … I’m tellin’ ya!
Anyhow … sorry for being so seemingly caustic, but there’s a lot of things and certain people in my life who have really worn me down to my last two functioning nerves … both of which are completely beyond raw at this point.
Again: ANYHOW … might wanna click on that pic above; I STILL cannot make sense of the dude on the skateboard!
My son and I had a BLAST while he was here! Shockingly enough, we played a lot of Golden Tee. And by a lot, I mean a LOT. Well, for us at least.
Day one: he lands at approx 1300 hrs; the Spousal Unit and arrive shortly thereafter. I reminded The Boy that a group of top-notch GT players were assembling in Springfield that same day and asked if he was interested in meeting them and possibly learning a thing or two. To wit, his response was very much in the affirmative, with extreme prejudice and enthusiasm.
So … I drive our asses almost an hour to the other side of the beltway only to find more than half the group totally schnockered and ready to call it quits for the day.
Ya know what they say, though, dontcha? Ya can’t say you’ve been drinking all day if you don’t start first thing in the morning.
As it turns out, one of the country’s top players, BillyMac, was in attendance and was still bordering on more than moderately sober. He, a friend of his, Neil, my son, spousal unit, and I made our way to another establishment in Springfield and enjoyed a few games together. As it turns out, I really didn’t get any input or advice from BillyMac, which was frustrating, as that was my main purpose of the trip.
Well, there WAS one moment where he did pull me aside. He said, “Doc, you realize your wife’s a better player than you, right?”
“Yeah,” I said with a smile, “she has her games! We taught her too well and created a monster in the meantime.”
BillyMac shook his head and went on, “I don’t think you’re understanding me: I’m not trying to put you down, but she’s an inherently better player than you are.”
To say I was flabbergasted would be sort of gay, so I’ll merely say that I was — for a rather rare change — speechless.
My son and I enjoyed a fantastic week of relaxing, talking and even got some travels and adventure in along the way.
Last week my dad and I took a short hiatus from home and spent a week at Hilton Head Island in South Carolina. It was nice … and it was the first time we just took off and had that long of a father-son break from home. Twas a great week of good food, just the right amount of beer, and lots of laughs and relaxation ensued. My plans to play golf everyday, however, was thwarted by a near terminal case of retardation. For whatever reason, EVERY SINGLE THING I’ve learned in my weekly golf lessons the past month completely escaped me. I do not believe I have EVER been more discouraged with that game than I was last week.
But this is taking yet another potential turn towards the morose, so let’s move on, shall we?
So, off to find something to do with my day, I suppose. Tomorrow is Mother’s Day … enjoy it. Show your mother some love, won’t ya?
Lookin’ like I’ll join Mama-Buck and her daughter for church and then hopefully off to Baltimore to see Mike Keneally and Bryan Beller perform. Weird but beautiful music, indeed!
Peace off, beaches!
You may recall my c-Net styled review of the HTC Touch Pro; if not, I highly encourage you to take a few minutes to hop over to that page and read it now.
Assuming you have the time. Which, if such is not the case, then I really don’t understand why you visit this site in the first place. I mean, verbosity is our thing; it’s what we do! To say that we, in the writing of our bloggings here, are anything other than overly verbose would not only be redundant and senseless, it would be downright unnecessary and devoid of wit.
Oh, you’re one of those that are just here for the pictures, aren’t you???
Silly maggot …
Ok, are the rest of you back from reading the review?
Yum, yum … you can just taste the bile, can’t ya?
Well, that was was November 5th, a mere 64 days after I’d acquired that fetid work of the underworld. The adventure had only just begun …
It is now late February and I have continued to endure this … this …
the non-profane eludes me at this moment
I am still the “proud” owner of this little marvel and it still is — lucky me — my primary communication device, of the portable electronic variety, of course. I have, though, attempted to change that on more than one occasion. I guess I should probably address the matter of why it is that it has taken me so many months to finally change my fate:
I visited the local purveyor of Verizon phones at a franchise storefront here in town several weeks after I’d made the fateful mistake of committing to this “smart” phone. My first visit saw me dealing with the younger gentleman that Ron, the owner, has in his employ. I forget his name at the moment, but I walked in, introduced myself and set my phone on the counter.
He furrowed his brow a little and asked, “First gen Touch Pro?”
“Uh … yeah.”
I chuckled, “And as if that weren’t bad enough, this was the ‘upgrade’ to my previous phone which was a first gen Chocolate.”
“Seriously?”, he asked.
“Yeah … am I not just the luckiest dog on the porch?”
We proceeded to talk for a brief few minutes before he said that I really needed to talk to the boss-man. It took me a few days to carve out the time to make it back to the store in the hopes that his boss, Ron, was there. Because the Spousal Unit and Ron have a history, I tend to drag her along with me on these visits. I mean, what can it hurt, right?
We returned a few days later …
I opened the door for my lady and as I followed her in I put on a big smile on my face and nodded, “Heya Ron! How’s things?”
He smiled back, “Goin’ good, man! How have you guys been?”
In total Matrix / Neo style, I mentally dodged the small-talk bullet and cut to the chase: “Dude, I really … desperately and seriously … need your help.”
He shot me a surprised look; not surprising given the opening lob of drama, “Well, we’ll see what I can do. What’s the problem?”
“This,” I said in a playful attempt at feigned anger as I slammed The Brick on the counter.
“Oh,” he said, seemingly unaware that this device was any different than any other PDA / Smart Phone in his inventory, “and what seems to be the problem with it?”
As it turns out, the explanation I gave was actually the germination phase of what would eventually become the cNet styled blogging about this same device that I linked you to earlier. To say that he was a little taken back would be an understatement, but he did laugh with me along the way a few times. The Spousal Unit, however, seemed a tad exasperated at times. Seems my occasional outbursts of manic energy are a touch uncomfortable for her sometimes. I hope it’s not that I embarrass her; that’d be sort of a bummer.
But we don’t have time for such musings this morning. I have a house I need to finish packing and a move I need to make the final arrangements for.
At the end of our pleadings he intimated that he was powerless to do a thing. He did, however, explain that if we took it to a corporate store they would most likely just declare my unit defective and give me a replacement model.
I smiled, as this was my desired outcome.
Ron shook his head, and not in the affirmative, “No, I mean they’ll send you the same model.”
“Oh no,” I blurted out, “No, no, no, no, NO! Dude, that will not do!”
He shrugged his shoulders in a way that I would soon suspect was a calculated and learned trait possibly passed down through corporate sales training sessions at Verizon.
. . .
We all shook hands and said our goodbyes. Seeings how we frequent the same watering hole it only makes sense to keep things on the up and up. And besides, Ron’s actually a hell of a nice guy.
As we drove away I resumed my irritable ramblings.
“Oh my god, what is it with me? Will foul luck and misery follow me all the days of my life?”
.. and …
“Are you shitting me? I cannot believe I am stuck with yet another piece of shit phone for two years!”
… and it continued along similar lines …
Being the fearless, 6 foot tall Scandinavian woman that she is, the wife interrupted me at one point, “If you can handle keeping it long enough, maybe they’ll discontinue it and you’ll get an upgrade to whatever replaces that one.”
I stopped and nodded at the obvious wisdom of her rhetorical question. The image of the two Monty Python-ish cartoon characters from the semi-recent Guinness commercials popped into my head as I blurted out one simple word in a poor Irish accent: “Brilliant!”
Later that evening I visited the Verizon Wireless website. I had been there several days earlier and there were scant few customer reviews on my particular phone (HTC Touch Pro, just in case you forgot). Now there were suddenly hundreds of them! Evidently, there were a whole buttload of those pending approval / moderation and someone must have just clicked on “release/approve all.”
I dare say I cannot ever recall seeing a lower customer rating than what I was staring at. The fact that I did NOT grab any screen captures ticks me off! It was absolute pandemonium! Apart from the rare comment / review by a customer who had obviously just crawled out of a cave and left these comments the same day they purchased this phone, the rest was one angry, vitriolic response after another.
This served as the watering phase of the aforementioned germination process that ultimately blossomed into the blogging that was my own review of the HTC Touch Pro (linked above).
If it was named T H C instead, I’d like to think that all of this would at least make a little more sense …
Anyhow … I came back to the Verizon Wireless website some days later to grab some of the fresh vitriol to use as fodder for my own blogging.
But it was all gone! All references, except for the most benign tech support issues, were completely purged from the site! Not a single customer review. Not a single link to a Discontinued Model, which was still their habit.
Nossir, this sucker just up and disappeared like a thief in the night!
Several months pass and, man, have I got to tell ya … it has been downright nightmarish dealing with this damnable device.
One thing that I will say to its benefit is the fact that it is amazingly durable! My take on this being an effectual weapon was spot on!
Hey, don’t be hatin’ … if you were paying the insurance and you KNEW that you were — some how, some way — getting that thing eventually replaced because it was not only a lemon of a product as a whole, but your particular unit was clearly defective beyond that … yeah, you tell ME you wouldn’t occasionally fling that thing across the room or into a cement wall!
But anyhow …
Along comes February, and the insane back-to-back blizzards! While visitations of the various beasts of the snow migration were a wonderful distraction, everybody around me was growing increasingly impatient with the same words constantly bursting from my lips multiple times an hour: “I hate this fucking phone!”
I printed a copy of the blogging I’d done about the Touch Pro, grabbed it, jumped in the truck and made our way across town to once again beg of Ron’s mercies. I handed him the print out and said, “After I leave and you’ve got some dead time on your hands, you ought to give this a read; I think it’ll give you a decent laugh.”
He nodded as he glanced at it. “So, how can I help you two today?”
“Dude, is there anybody that you can call at corporate to put in a good word for us as a preferred customer?”
He shot me a look that almost hinted of, Whatchu talkin’ bout, Willis?
“Dude, after more than ten years as customers and my wife’s insistence that we primarily deal with you? I think that just about makes anyone in my shoes a preferred customer.”
“No,” her interrupted, “no, that wasn’t it at all.”
“So,” I said with an exasperated sigh, “there’s nothing you can do, not even put in a call on our behalf?”
“Naw,” he said as he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, “that’s really something that just has to go through corporate.”
We clarified which locations closest to us qualified as “corporate.” He suggested that I go to the one in Ashburn as he’d had some really pleasant dealings with some of the staff there.
As we shook hands and said our goodbyes he added, “Good luck, man. You may have to press the matter pretty hard if you want anything more than an in-kind replacement.”
“If those assholes want to keep my business — and I assure you, our monthly bill is more than ample — then they better do something more than offer me another Touch Pro or even the Pro2. I’d rather step back down to a simple flip-phone, demand a refund for the wasted monthly data-plan charges, and give that to my son until my contract is up and just go get an iPhone.”
He nodded sympathetically as he tapped on the print-out I’d handed him earlier, “And I promise to give this a read! See ya at Spanky’s some time, alright?”
“I look forward to it,” I said with a smile, “you know where to find to me!”
He chuckled, “By that stupid video golf game!”
“Yes,” I smiled even bigger, “the claws of the monkey that is that adult video crack machine are dug deeply into my soul.”
Some days later I reached my absolute and final boiling point with this phone. This time it was a solo venture. Being as irritable and as driven as a I was to finally get this situation resolved, regardless of the outcome, I thought it was best if I didn’t have my wife’s sensibilities and her distaste for public confrontation to interfere with the divine mission which was mine to undertake.
As I pulled in to the parking lot of the strip center within which the corporate Verizon Wireless was located, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a brief moment. Politeness, directness and calm were the order of the day. All the same, visions of a massive pyre and Viking warriors chanting at the tops of their lungs filled my mind.
I opened my eyes quickly so as to not drift too far astray with in imaginations.
As I walked into the store, I was greeted by two young ladies seated at small receptionist station-like stations. The younger one shot me a broad smile and the lady who actually greeted me directly seemed to not be having a great start to her day. She asked tersely but politely, “How may I help you, sir?”
“I really need to talk to somebody about this phone.” I gently set it on the counter in front of her.
The younger lady, to her left, leaned over and asked as she curled her nose, “Touch Pro?”
My left eyelid twitched a few times, “Yeah,” I said as politely as I could, “seems like you’re familiar with it.”
She shook her head back and forth as she raised her hand and with a smile said, “I’m not even getting started.”
I turned my attention to the lady who was waiting to assist me and went on to try and describe why this thing was not only a defective unit, but possibly the most evil thing to have cursed humanity in centuries.
She finally interrupted me, “I’m sorry, sir. You’re going to need to talk to someone in tech. Someone will call your name in a few minutes.”
As I stepped aside it suddenly occurred to me that this woman had probably pressed some sort of panic button to inform the manager on duty that a possibly irate customer was in the building. If they had a special, emergency-use-only button for the potential “postal” types, I’d imagined that that was the once she chose to press instead.
I took another slow, deep breath to once again regain my focus.
And I made the mistake of closing my eyes again …
A young man’s voice brought me back to the store / present reality, “Good morning, sir!”
I blinked my eyes a few times to shake the images out of the frontal lobe. “And a good morning to you, dude. Are you the tech guy that I’m waiting to talk with about this … this … phone.”
He shook his head, “Oh, nossir, I work with the Fios side of things here. I’d overheard you say you were in the process of moving … ?”
With a grin and a nod I cut him off, “Actually, we’re very, very happy Fios customers and — lucky me — the place we’re moving to is already wired for Fios.”
Alex — I believe that was his name, but it might have been Adam — continued to chat for a few minutes about some of the really cool new features and upgrades that Fios had recently began to roll out. As we were talking I heard my name being called from behind me, albit slightly mispronounced as usual.
It’s a stupidly simple Hungarian name, I’m surprised it gets mangled as often as it does.
Anyhow … as I turned around, I was somewhat disappointed to have gone from dealing with such a pleasant, broad smiled young man to being greeted by a perfect sour-puss of a mildly effeminate young man. Seated to his left was a young black man who, as I would learn, was recently employed by Flextronics and was under the tutelage of my fussy little tech support representative.
“My name is Shea, what seems to be the problem with your phone?”
I went on to re-explain to him the same things I had been enumerating to the young lady I was first greeted by. He was perfectly disinterested in hearing me out and continually interrupted me. The third time he interrupted he simply said, “Sir, if you would like me to take a look at it, it sounds like it easily qualifies for a replacement.”
“I realize that, Shea. I am fully and unquestionably aware that this particular unit is defective. Have you worked here for very long?”