What the heck is up with t-shirt companies? I saw an actual t-shirt today that said "I'm adopted just look at my parents." Is that supposed to be funny? Apparently its made by a group of idiotic morons at a company called David & Goliath. Apparently, Not my cup of tea, Time is money and Sink or swim were all taken as company names because they douche bags couldn't come up with a better name that David & Goliath. I don't know if Immaculate Conception, Virgin Mary, Moses, and Adam and Eve were already taken. I will look into that.
I mean, there are some things you can make fun of. You can make fun of the girl who shakes her ass when she walks. You can make fun of almost any musician or actor who decides to do something dumb. I admit it, I have made fun of Pitbull (dude looks more like a rat terrier) among others. You can make fun of "reality" tv stars - Operation Loser, er, Repo, is always a good target. But as I have said before, there are some things you don't make fun of.
Skin color? Nope. You don't do it. Religion? Only if you want a fight. Sexual orientation? Um, only if you are an unfunny Tracy Morgan. Disabilities? I guess if you are a loser. And birth status? Nope.
Seriously, you think its funny to make adoption jokes? Are you going to make twin jokes too? Or maybe, a better question, are you going to make fun of foster kids? "I'm a foster kid...just look at the number of homes I have lived in." NOT FUNNY! Maybe you can make fun of kids with no parents too? "I have no parents and someone bought me this idiotic shirt." Wait, maybe we make fun of the kids put up for adoption who weren't actually adopted? "My biological mom tried to place me for adoption, but no one wanted a baby born addicted to heroin."
You see, there are some things that should be sacred. I guess in our culture they aren't. And I guess if you have to sell some piece of crap t-shirts that look like they were made by a douche who probably lives at home, then that is fine. By the way, Todd Goldman in Florida, your shirts SUCK ASS. You probably think Jewish jokes would be funny too. After all, its clear you have the sense of humor of a 4 year old who doesn't know right from wrong. I mean, that heat and humidity clearly have screwed up your brain so that you still find kindergarten humor funny. How about you grow up and come up with something funny?
By the way, all of the profits you made from this shirt, Douchebag and Greedy, you should donate to the Dave Thomas Foundation. Maybe do something positive for adoption, which you seem to think is funny. Its not. Its a great way for people who can't have kids to have a family. And its a great way for kids and babies to get a family. I guess you would rather see those kids end up in institutions or dead? Maybe you should think before you make some more idiotic piece of garbage t-shirts. These shirts are so bad you shouldn't even donate them to a 3rd world country. We should burn them all - in your piece of crap family room. Oops, in your parents piece of crap family room.
Now back to your regularly scheduled shows............
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
On Being a Trial Lawyer
So today seems to be bash trial lawyer day. I don't know if its a national thing, but its happening in California. Summary of why: the California Supreme Court made a ruling that insurance companies say would cost them $3 billion per year. And suddenly folks have realized that trial attorneys work on a contingency fee so we would get 1/3 of that. Its a rough number. But lets say it is right. (I think all of the numbers are BS and made up, but I will work with it.)
So I am a trial lawyer. What does that mean? It means I sue people. Yep, that's right. I sue people. And I don't care if people think its a derogatory term.
First, lets just understand that trial lawyers are not all the same. We have short ones, tall ones, fat ones, thin ones, ugly ones, handsome (pretty?) ones, smart ones, dumb ones, idiotic ones, geniuses, good ones, bad ones. When you say "Oh, they are the trial lawyers" its not like you are talking about a tribe of headhunters from the Amazon who all do the same thing. Its not like we are all 6'2, blonde hair, green eyes. We aren't the freaking Nazis. It would be like saying teachers, professors, radio talk show hosts or ANY OTHER FREAKING JOB!
Oh, and we aren't all liberal. Not every trial lawyer believes in social programs. Not every one is pro choice. Not every one wants to see communism take over. (Something we will get to in a minute.) At the same time, not all of us are pro-small business or tax cuts for the rich or anything like that. In fact, some of us (not me) are rich and want tax cuts for the rich while others of us are middle class and think the rich shouldn't get tax cuts. You can't lump us in as a group.
Second, we aren't bad. Suing people, in and of itself, is not bad. Yes, frivolous lawsuits are bad. You want to talk about frivolous lawsuits? How about suing individuals for $500 in court when you know that you served them improperly? How about one business suing another over a $1,000 contract dispute when the attorney fees are more than that to file the dang thing? How about suing an individual when you have been told of identity theft and there is an active police investigation? Yep, all of those things happen.
I sue people. I admit it. I sue businesses too. I send them a letter before I do it. No one has ever been sued by me and said "Damn, I had no idea this was coming." They may have said "Damn, I didn't know he was serious." But they all knew it was coming. I may not win every case, but I investigate it and make sure its got merit. Then I go at it. Its my job.
Oh yeah, its my job. Lets talk about that. Being a trial lawyer is not my identity. I am not "Jonathan Stein, trial lawyer." I am Jonathan Stein, dad, father, coach, person, human. As a matter of fact, if I had to give you 10 words that describe me, trial lawyer, lawyer, attorney, counselor at law (which is an idiotic name) or anything of the sort would be at the bottom of my list. You see, my job does not define me. It is part of me. So don't give me all this crap that I am a trial lawyer. I am a person. Sometimes I do good things, sometimes I do bad things. That applies to every aspect of my life. I am not perfect nor do I claim to be. And that goes for my career as well - I make mistakes, but I am a trial lawyer, not a perfect lawyer.
Third, trial lawyers are entrepenuers. Not all of us. Some work for big firms, but its probably less than 5%. Most of us work for ourselves or in small law firms. We are small business. We employ people. We provide jobs. We also only get paid when our clients get paid. Let's be clear: WE GET PAID WHEN OUR CLIENTS GET PAID. So I work for free until that time. Oh, and don't tell me when I am done I didn't earn it. I worked for free. You go to your boss and tell him not to pay you until you complete a job and he makes money on it. You don't want to do that? Yeah, well, that is what we do, every single freaking day.
Why does this matter? Two reasons. First, if I were to file frivolous lawsuits I wouldn't make any money. Think about it. If I spend $400 to file a lawsuit and work 100 hours on it, and there is no merit to it, how much money do I make? I lose $400 plus 100 hours of my life that I can never get back. Ever. Gone. Poof. Vanished. So why would I take a frivolous case? I wouldn't. DUH! Second, it means I better have some idea what I am doing. I have to evaluate a case and figure out if it makes financial sense. In other words, just like you guys out there selling, I have to take things where I can make money. Isn't that capitalism?
This, of course, is why trial lawyers are not pro-Communism. Under a communistic system, we wouldn't have jobs to make money. So don't call us commies, or whatever the hell idiot expression Michael Douchebag Savage uses. (And yes, he is a douchebag who makes money because he can yell. He hasn't had an original thought in 20 years.) So stop that nonsense.
There are people who are now ashamed to be called a trial lawyer. Years ago, the Association of Trial Lawyers of America changed their name to the American Association of Justice or some such nonsense. Look, I am not in the justice business. I don't make money on a justice. Justice scares me. I don't know what it is. Call me and tell me you want justice and I will tell you I can't take your case. Sorry. Maybe it sucks. But I can't use 1/3 of justice to pay my bills. Oh, and how do you know when you get justice? Is it an eye for an eye? Is it cutting off the hand of a thief? I don't know, but I don't want 1.65 fingers. Sorry.
I quit ATLA when it changed its name to AAJ. (By the way, say ATLA and then say AAJ. Like they are words. AAJ is not a word. It sounds like you are puking.) I quit because I don't want to run and hide from what I am. I am a trial lawyer.
I could have graduated from law school and done something else. Despite being told by a young associate at a big law firm that I wasn't smart enough to work in his firm, and despite being told by my high school guidance counselor not to apply for college because I wouldn't get in, I think I could hack it there. I could have gone to work for a big law firm and made six figures out of law school while working 100 hours per week. It was a possibility. Hell, I graduated top 10 from law school. Its not an issue.
But would representing millionaires and billionaires be enjoyable? No. I don't like it. I also don't want to sit in a library all day doing research or writing memos or things like that. I don't want to report to 5 people who never let me do anything. I am a trial lawyer. Its what I do. Its part of me. It is not me, but part of me.
And, quite frankly, I am good at it. I can stand in front of a jury and convince them, at least for a few hours, of my viewpoint. I can get them to see my client as a person, a person who has been injured or hurt. I can get them to understand why my client is entitled to what I am asking for. I have never seen any of my closing arguments. And I don't want to sound cocky, because goodness knows I need help and am still learning, but while the other attorney in my last trial was the managing partner of some fancy Orange County law firm, she had to read her closing argument and I stood up and spoke from the heart. Its what I do. Its what we do. We represent real people who have real problems and need real solutions. And those solutions come by filing lawsuits.
I am a trial lawyer and I am proud of it.
So I am a trial lawyer. What does that mean? It means I sue people. Yep, that's right. I sue people. And I don't care if people think its a derogatory term.
First, lets just understand that trial lawyers are not all the same. We have short ones, tall ones, fat ones, thin ones, ugly ones, handsome (pretty?) ones, smart ones, dumb ones, idiotic ones, geniuses, good ones, bad ones. When you say "Oh, they are the trial lawyers" its not like you are talking about a tribe of headhunters from the Amazon who all do the same thing. Its not like we are all 6'2, blonde hair, green eyes. We aren't the freaking Nazis. It would be like saying teachers, professors, radio talk show hosts or ANY OTHER FREAKING JOB!
Oh, and we aren't all liberal. Not every trial lawyer believes in social programs. Not every one is pro choice. Not every one wants to see communism take over. (Something we will get to in a minute.) At the same time, not all of us are pro-small business or tax cuts for the rich or anything like that. In fact, some of us (not me) are rich and want tax cuts for the rich while others of us are middle class and think the rich shouldn't get tax cuts. You can't lump us in as a group.
Second, we aren't bad. Suing people, in and of itself, is not bad. Yes, frivolous lawsuits are bad. You want to talk about frivolous lawsuits? How about suing individuals for $500 in court when you know that you served them improperly? How about one business suing another over a $1,000 contract dispute when the attorney fees are more than that to file the dang thing? How about suing an individual when you have been told of identity theft and there is an active police investigation? Yep, all of those things happen.
I sue people. I admit it. I sue businesses too. I send them a letter before I do it. No one has ever been sued by me and said "Damn, I had no idea this was coming." They may have said "Damn, I didn't know he was serious." But they all knew it was coming. I may not win every case, but I investigate it and make sure its got merit. Then I go at it. Its my job.
Oh yeah, its my job. Lets talk about that. Being a trial lawyer is not my identity. I am not "Jonathan Stein, trial lawyer." I am Jonathan Stein, dad, father, coach, person, human. As a matter of fact, if I had to give you 10 words that describe me, trial lawyer, lawyer, attorney, counselor at law (which is an idiotic name) or anything of the sort would be at the bottom of my list. You see, my job does not define me. It is part of me. So don't give me all this crap that I am a trial lawyer. I am a person. Sometimes I do good things, sometimes I do bad things. That applies to every aspect of my life. I am not perfect nor do I claim to be. And that goes for my career as well - I make mistakes, but I am a trial lawyer, not a perfect lawyer.
Third, trial lawyers are entrepenuers. Not all of us. Some work for big firms, but its probably less than 5%. Most of us work for ourselves or in small law firms. We are small business. We employ people. We provide jobs. We also only get paid when our clients get paid. Let's be clear: WE GET PAID WHEN OUR CLIENTS GET PAID. So I work for free until that time. Oh, and don't tell me when I am done I didn't earn it. I worked for free. You go to your boss and tell him not to pay you until you complete a job and he makes money on it. You don't want to do that? Yeah, well, that is what we do, every single freaking day.
Why does this matter? Two reasons. First, if I were to file frivolous lawsuits I wouldn't make any money. Think about it. If I spend $400 to file a lawsuit and work 100 hours on it, and there is no merit to it, how much money do I make? I lose $400 plus 100 hours of my life that I can never get back. Ever. Gone. Poof. Vanished. So why would I take a frivolous case? I wouldn't. DUH! Second, it means I better have some idea what I am doing. I have to evaluate a case and figure out if it makes financial sense. In other words, just like you guys out there selling, I have to take things where I can make money. Isn't that capitalism?
This, of course, is why trial lawyers are not pro-Communism. Under a communistic system, we wouldn't have jobs to make money. So don't call us commies, or whatever the hell idiot expression Michael Douchebag Savage uses. (And yes, he is a douchebag who makes money because he can yell. He hasn't had an original thought in 20 years.) So stop that nonsense.
There are people who are now ashamed to be called a trial lawyer. Years ago, the Association of Trial Lawyers of America changed their name to the American Association of Justice or some such nonsense. Look, I am not in the justice business. I don't make money on a justice. Justice scares me. I don't know what it is. Call me and tell me you want justice and I will tell you I can't take your case. Sorry. Maybe it sucks. But I can't use 1/3 of justice to pay my bills. Oh, and how do you know when you get justice? Is it an eye for an eye? Is it cutting off the hand of a thief? I don't know, but I don't want 1.65 fingers. Sorry.
I quit ATLA when it changed its name to AAJ. (By the way, say ATLA and then say AAJ. Like they are words. AAJ is not a word. It sounds like you are puking.) I quit because I don't want to run and hide from what I am. I am a trial lawyer.
I could have graduated from law school and done something else. Despite being told by a young associate at a big law firm that I wasn't smart enough to work in his firm, and despite being told by my high school guidance counselor not to apply for college because I wouldn't get in, I think I could hack it there. I could have gone to work for a big law firm and made six figures out of law school while working 100 hours per week. It was a possibility. Hell, I graduated top 10 from law school. Its not an issue.
But would representing millionaires and billionaires be enjoyable? No. I don't like it. I also don't want to sit in a library all day doing research or writing memos or things like that. I don't want to report to 5 people who never let me do anything. I am a trial lawyer. Its what I do. Its part of me. It is not me, but part of me.
And, quite frankly, I am good at it. I can stand in front of a jury and convince them, at least for a few hours, of my viewpoint. I can get them to see my client as a person, a person who has been injured or hurt. I can get them to understand why my client is entitled to what I am asking for. I have never seen any of my closing arguments. And I don't want to sound cocky, because goodness knows I need help and am still learning, but while the other attorney in my last trial was the managing partner of some fancy Orange County law firm, she had to read her closing argument and I stood up and spoke from the heart. Its what I do. Its what we do. We represent real people who have real problems and need real solutions. And those solutions come by filing lawsuits.
I am a trial lawyer and I am proud of it.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Fathers and Sons
Let me preface this by saying I don't understand the relationship between mothers and daughters. I am neither mother nor daughter. So I can only talk about what I know. Yes, I know. Sometimes I just make crap up and some of its funny. Some of it is insulting. I get that. But this is about something I know - fathers and sons.
The relationship between a father and son is......................something. Special? Sounds too cliche? Different? Probably, but different than what? Unique? Probably. After all, mothers and daughters don't have all of that testosterone running through them. But there is something about that relationship.
So tonight I was at Rubio's to get dinner. There were two sets of fathers and sons that I saw. Father and Son A were there for dinner. As they walked in, the son was on his Crackberry. Dad held the door for the son. (Just so we are clear, dad was in his early 60s and the son was late 20s.) The son was standing in line in front of the father. The son walked up to the cash register to order. Dad stood in line. The son then ordered his dinner. Then he paid. Then he walked to a table. Then dad walked up and ordered. Paid. Sat down at the table. They called the son's name and he went to get his food. Then they called the dad's name and dad got his food.
WTF is wrong with this kid? Kid is probably not accurate. WTF is wrong with this mid 20s douche? He isn't even good enough to be a douche bag. Your dad is around for like 40 years of your life. Maybe. When he is gone, he is gone. That's it. Of your 40 years, maybe 20 are years when you can do something cool with him.
Those first few years are formative, or something like that. But you can't take dad to dinner. Then you go through that 10 to 18 range where you may not want to be seen with dad, you dont want to hang out with him, and even if you do, you can't afford to treat him. So dad spends his money on you. Great, its his "job" I guess. Then you are 18 to 24 and in college and poor, probably because you spent most of your money on alcohol - or worse. Then at about 25, you are finally working, have some money and can take dad to dinner.
Now you get the chance and YOU DON'T PAY? What is wrong with you? You had a Yves Saint Laurent wallet and you don't pay for dinner with pops? By the way, what man carries Yves Saint Laurent? Seriously? What's next? Are you going to wear UGG boots? Are you going to put on some lipstick? Sorry, off the point. You dropped $100 on a wallet and you don't buy dad dinner? Are you freaking serious?
Then, after I order, I sat down and waited for my food. I look up and there is a dad and his son in his late teens, early 20s. It was hard to tell and the kid was big. It looks normal and then I notice dad is feeding his kid. Yep, the kid was special, different, unique. Whatever you want to call it. Dad needed to help his kid eat. The kid needed dad. You can bet your butt that the kid would have loved the opportunity to do something for dad. But he can't and he won't. And that won't change.
It sucks. It sucks for dad. It sucks for the kid. Oh, don't give me this nonsense about how dad is doing something noble. Dad is being a dad. Trust me on that. And trust me - it sucks. I know my oldest son is never going to call me up and ask me to dinner. I know he isn't going to call me up and tell me about his new job. I understand that. I get it. And I deal with it, but it sucks. It sucks a lot. And those of us who are fathers of sons who are special know it. Some of us can admit it. Not everyone is that stage.
But you can bet that those of us who have been through this do appreciate our relationships with our fathers more. Well, as long as they are there. And when we don't have our dad to call anymore, we appreciate those relationships with our sons. I appreciate my two other sons more. I expect more from them as well. And fair or not, that is how it works.
But to all of you punks out there who carry Yves Saint Laurent murses or purses or whatever the hell it is - you sure as hell take your dad to dinner and pay for it. There are a lot of fathers and sons out there who will never experience that so man up and do it. Or turn in your man card you piece of crap.
The relationship between a father and son is......................something. Special? Sounds too cliche? Different? Probably, but different than what? Unique? Probably. After all, mothers and daughters don't have all of that testosterone running through them. But there is something about that relationship.
So tonight I was at Rubio's to get dinner. There were two sets of fathers and sons that I saw. Father and Son A were there for dinner. As they walked in, the son was on his Crackberry. Dad held the door for the son. (Just so we are clear, dad was in his early 60s and the son was late 20s.) The son was standing in line in front of the father. The son walked up to the cash register to order. Dad stood in line. The son then ordered his dinner. Then he paid. Then he walked to a table. Then dad walked up and ordered. Paid. Sat down at the table. They called the son's name and he went to get his food. Then they called the dad's name and dad got his food.
WTF is wrong with this kid? Kid is probably not accurate. WTF is wrong with this mid 20s douche? He isn't even good enough to be a douche bag. Your dad is around for like 40 years of your life. Maybe. When he is gone, he is gone. That's it. Of your 40 years, maybe 20 are years when you can do something cool with him.
Those first few years are formative, or something like that. But you can't take dad to dinner. Then you go through that 10 to 18 range where you may not want to be seen with dad, you dont want to hang out with him, and even if you do, you can't afford to treat him. So dad spends his money on you. Great, its his "job" I guess. Then you are 18 to 24 and in college and poor, probably because you spent most of your money on alcohol - or worse. Then at about 25, you are finally working, have some money and can take dad to dinner.
Now you get the chance and YOU DON'T PAY? What is wrong with you? You had a Yves Saint Laurent wallet and you don't pay for dinner with pops? By the way, what man carries Yves Saint Laurent? Seriously? What's next? Are you going to wear UGG boots? Are you going to put on some lipstick? Sorry, off the point. You dropped $100 on a wallet and you don't buy dad dinner? Are you freaking serious?
Then, after I order, I sat down and waited for my food. I look up and there is a dad and his son in his late teens, early 20s. It was hard to tell and the kid was big. It looks normal and then I notice dad is feeding his kid. Yep, the kid was special, different, unique. Whatever you want to call it. Dad needed to help his kid eat. The kid needed dad. You can bet your butt that the kid would have loved the opportunity to do something for dad. But he can't and he won't. And that won't change.
It sucks. It sucks for dad. It sucks for the kid. Oh, don't give me this nonsense about how dad is doing something noble. Dad is being a dad. Trust me on that. And trust me - it sucks. I know my oldest son is never going to call me up and ask me to dinner. I know he isn't going to call me up and tell me about his new job. I understand that. I get it. And I deal with it, but it sucks. It sucks a lot. And those of us who are fathers of sons who are special know it. Some of us can admit it. Not everyone is that stage.
But you can bet that those of us who have been through this do appreciate our relationships with our fathers more. Well, as long as they are there. And when we don't have our dad to call anymore, we appreciate those relationships with our sons. I appreciate my two other sons more. I expect more from them as well. And fair or not, that is how it works.
But to all of you punks out there who carry Yves Saint Laurent murses or purses or whatever the hell it is - you sure as hell take your dad to dinner and pay for it. There are a lot of fathers and sons out there who will never experience that so man up and do it. Or turn in your man card you piece of crap.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Sears
Dear Sears:
F--- you. Seriously. Oh wait, I am sorry. Sears doesn't exist. Dear Searsholdings: F--- you. Your customer service blows. Big time. I could get better customer service from my dog. Now granted, my dog is smarter than your average dog, but he is still just a DOG! Do you not understand what customer service is?
You see, I went to your store to buy a dryer. Why? Because you said you could deliver it and install it the next day. Isn't that part of your advertising? I don't get it. So, fine, you tell me you can install it the next day. Great. I buy it for over $1,000. I am not sure if you are aware, but its a freaking recession. Do you know what that means? People don't spend $1,000 on dryer's. That could explain why I was the only one there buying anything!
So no call on Sunday night as promised. I mean, how am I supposed to know when you are coming if you don't call? Monday morning at 7:30, someone calls and will be out between 1:30 and 3:3o. Not perfect, but fine. I need my dryer - hence buying one and spending money on you delivering it and setting it up! But fine. We make it work. Dude shows up at 2:30 and is done in about 5 minutes.
Today, we go to use said dryer and it doesn't work. Now I am not a dryer expert, but it should work IF ITS BRAND NEW! But this doesn't work. So I break out the manual and try a few things. Oh guess what, you didn't set it up right.
So I call. First guy tells me I called the wrong number. He gives me a different number. Then I get a guy who tells me that I need to have the installation guy come back out. Um, if he didn't do it right the first time, why on earth would I want him to come out again? Seriously. You mean that the guy who couldn't do it right the first time should come back out and not do it right the 2nd time, but I should trust him to do it right this time? Yeah, I think not.
Then I am put on the phone with a woman who sounds like she is in India. Oh wait, she probably is. She tells me that she can't get someone out for a few days. Do you not realize that I paid for next day installation, not next day partial installation? Seriously, if I wanted it installed wrong, I would have done that myself. Its that freaking hard? I tell her I need someone today. She says I have to speak to the manager.
You would think this is progress. WRONG! She apparently meant the manager on duty of the store where I bought it. How is this person going to help me? Well, first she tells me that she is on a cordless phone and can't hear me that well. I ask her if Sears has any phones with cords. Apparently, her phone is so bad that she can't even hear this! After a few more minutes of her having a phone that apparently routes through Timbuktoo, she hangs up on me. UNREAL!
So I call back. I get told that someone is looking into it and will call me back. Guess what? No freaking call back. What do I do? I call them. I am not sure if they know this but when you have 4 kids you make a lot of laundry. How are we supposed to live without a dryer? I know. The laundromat. Yep, that is why I spent $1,200 on a dryer - so I could go to the freaking laundromat.
So I get this woman who now tells me the number I was given to call is wrong. Of course, she sounds like she is in China or Malaysia or some place where they don't have proper phone service. She is going to transfer me. I swear I am not making this up. She transfers me - and it rolls right back to her. How the hell do you do that? Seriously, you transferred me, it rang, I got the message that I had called Sears and it goes back to you? Are you joking? So I told her I still needed someone who could help. She transfers me again.
This time I get some dude on the phone. At least he sounds like he is in the US. But he tells me that it sounds like they didnt vent the dryer before sending it out to us. So it will require them to pick it up, take it back to the warehouse, vent it and then bring it back to me. This could take several days. I explain to him that I didn't drop $1,200 on a dryer to have it take a week and if they couldn't fix it, that they could take it back. His actual response: "That is fine with me." Really? Its fine with you. Then come pick it up.
Oh suddenly I am serious. OOPS! Bad call on his part. I don't bluff on that crap. So it turns out that a brand new one will be delivered - tomorrow, and VENTED! What kind of shmucks deliver a dryer that isn't vented? Oh, they are supposed to call me between 6 and 8 tonight to tell me what time they will be delivering it. Want to bet that doesn't happen?
Of course, he is sending me a coupon for 10% off my next purchase at Sears. What are the odds of that happening? Slim and none. Why would I spend my hard earned money on your products when it took me an hour to get this cleared up? Do I have idiot written across my head?
F--- you. Seriously. Oh wait, I am sorry. Sears doesn't exist. Dear Searsholdings: F--- you. Your customer service blows. Big time. I could get better customer service from my dog. Now granted, my dog is smarter than your average dog, but he is still just a DOG! Do you not understand what customer service is?
You see, I went to your store to buy a dryer. Why? Because you said you could deliver it and install it the next day. Isn't that part of your advertising? I don't get it. So, fine, you tell me you can install it the next day. Great. I buy it for over $1,000. I am not sure if you are aware, but its a freaking recession. Do you know what that means? People don't spend $1,000 on dryer's. That could explain why I was the only one there buying anything!
So no call on Sunday night as promised. I mean, how am I supposed to know when you are coming if you don't call? Monday morning at 7:30, someone calls and will be out between 1:30 and 3:3o. Not perfect, but fine. I need my dryer - hence buying one and spending money on you delivering it and setting it up! But fine. We make it work. Dude shows up at 2:30 and is done in about 5 minutes.
Today, we go to use said dryer and it doesn't work. Now I am not a dryer expert, but it should work IF ITS BRAND NEW! But this doesn't work. So I break out the manual and try a few things. Oh guess what, you didn't set it up right.
So I call. First guy tells me I called the wrong number. He gives me a different number. Then I get a guy who tells me that I need to have the installation guy come back out. Um, if he didn't do it right the first time, why on earth would I want him to come out again? Seriously. You mean that the guy who couldn't do it right the first time should come back out and not do it right the 2nd time, but I should trust him to do it right this time? Yeah, I think not.
Then I am put on the phone with a woman who sounds like she is in India. Oh wait, she probably is. She tells me that she can't get someone out for a few days. Do you not realize that I paid for next day installation, not next day partial installation? Seriously, if I wanted it installed wrong, I would have done that myself. Its that freaking hard? I tell her I need someone today. She says I have to speak to the manager.
You would think this is progress. WRONG! She apparently meant the manager on duty of the store where I bought it. How is this person going to help me? Well, first she tells me that she is on a cordless phone and can't hear me that well. I ask her if Sears has any phones with cords. Apparently, her phone is so bad that she can't even hear this! After a few more minutes of her having a phone that apparently routes through Timbuktoo, she hangs up on me. UNREAL!
So I call back. I get told that someone is looking into it and will call me back. Guess what? No freaking call back. What do I do? I call them. I am not sure if they know this but when you have 4 kids you make a lot of laundry. How are we supposed to live without a dryer? I know. The laundromat. Yep, that is why I spent $1,200 on a dryer - so I could go to the freaking laundromat.
So I get this woman who now tells me the number I was given to call is wrong. Of course, she sounds like she is in China or Malaysia or some place where they don't have proper phone service. She is going to transfer me. I swear I am not making this up. She transfers me - and it rolls right back to her. How the hell do you do that? Seriously, you transferred me, it rang, I got the message that I had called Sears and it goes back to you? Are you joking? So I told her I still needed someone who could help. She transfers me again.
This time I get some dude on the phone. At least he sounds like he is in the US. But he tells me that it sounds like they didnt vent the dryer before sending it out to us. So it will require them to pick it up, take it back to the warehouse, vent it and then bring it back to me. This could take several days. I explain to him that I didn't drop $1,200 on a dryer to have it take a week and if they couldn't fix it, that they could take it back. His actual response: "That is fine with me." Really? Its fine with you. Then come pick it up.
Oh suddenly I am serious. OOPS! Bad call on his part. I don't bluff on that crap. So it turns out that a brand new one will be delivered - tomorrow, and VENTED! What kind of shmucks deliver a dryer that isn't vented? Oh, they are supposed to call me between 6 and 8 tonight to tell me what time they will be delivering it. Want to bet that doesn't happen?
Of course, he is sending me a coupon for 10% off my next purchase at Sears. What are the odds of that happening? Slim and none. Why would I spend my hard earned money on your products when it took me an hour to get this cleared up? Do I have idiot written across my head?
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
People
I went to DMV today. I spent about 2 hours there. Have you ever spent two hours at DMV? Its not the waiting that is interesting. The waiting sucks. The rules are dumb. Its the people. People are fascinating.
I walked in. The security guard was wearing a tie and dude was probably in his 60s. He had a high school degree. He enjoyed his job, even when he had to carry the heavy boxes. Then there was the lady who inspected my car. She had finger nails longer than my fingers. Her parents owned a 68 Chevy and they couldn't maintain it anymore. Sit, watch, listen, learn. Its amazing.
Then it hit me. Here I am at DMV. I dressed up - shorts and a t-shirt. With the 20 people I interacted with, some in line, some employees, I probably was more educated than all of them - combined. That's not to brag. Its not my style. I don't care if they have a 5th grade education, an 8th grade education or a PhD. I like talking to people. You have to like them to do what I do for a living. And these people are happy. Genuinely happy.
Not all of them were happy, obviously. But there was the guy who had injured his leg and had a limp. The guy with the hat, long hair and fanny pack laughing about his morning. The woman who came to the US but didn't have her state ID. They were smiling and happy. They had lived their dreams - or at least fake it better than most.
And here I was - wondering, thinking, pondering. Had I lived my dreams? Did I reach my goals? I was 14. My dad took me to one of his co-workers homes. Her husband flew Blue Angels. If you are a male about my age, there are very few things cooler than the Blue Angels. They rank up there with the Harlem Globetrotters. (If you don't like the Globetrotters, stop reading now. In my late 30s, they still make me laugh - a lot.) We talked about it and he gave me some tips. He had graduated from the US Naval Academy. Very impressive. Yet, when I was in high school I sucked as a student. I didn't want to suck. No wait, I did. I wasn't very good, I wasn't very motivated and I didn't care. Guess what? You don't go to Annapolis if you don't have good grades.
Then I was 15. My dad had a friend over from the big corporate office on the East Coast. (Is East Coast capitalized or is it east coast? I don't know - and don't think I care.) I was walking upstairs and we were talking. I told them I was going to be a millionaire by 30. Guess what? Not even close. At 30, I was still figuring out what I wanted to do with my life.
I had other dreams - professional soccer player, corporate CEO, risk manager. Fun ones, I know. None of them were reached.
I don't know that it matters. I am happy with where I am. Husband, father, contributing member of society (except for this blog). I have a roof over my head, food on the table, the love of my family, good friends. Do I really have anything to complain about? Probably not.
Back at DMV (do it in your best Superfriends voice), I looked to my left. There were 2 women and 6 kids. Not little kids. Probably 16 through 19. They were special. They were clearly different, but I am not sure they knew it. I don't know that they cared either. And I watch them sit there, smile, and not notice anyone next to them. And I realize that is it for them. This is their quality of life. I am sure their parents didn't sit around and say "I hope Billy grows up so he can go to DMV with other kids like him as his weekly outing." I know I don't say that about my own son.
I guess it hit me that some of us are lucky, pretty damn lucky. We have the dreams. We have the ability to have these dreams. We know what we want - or what we think we want. We can achieve great things - if we want. These kids don't have that. They have the joy of one day then the next. The days are all the same. None of these kids was going to grow up and become President or even the security guy at DMV. This was it.
I realized today that we need to be thankful for not only what we have, but for what we can have. Don't aim low and hope you reach it. Aim high and reach for what you really want. If your kid wants to be President, don't tell her that she can't. Tell her what she needs to do to get there. We need to remember that life isn't always what we have, but its also what we can have, what we dream of having, not cars, houses and "stuff" but flying Blue Angels, finding a new planet, discovering some unknown life.
I walked in. The security guard was wearing a tie and dude was probably in his 60s. He had a high school degree. He enjoyed his job, even when he had to carry the heavy boxes. Then there was the lady who inspected my car. She had finger nails longer than my fingers. Her parents owned a 68 Chevy and they couldn't maintain it anymore. Sit, watch, listen, learn. Its amazing.
Then it hit me. Here I am at DMV. I dressed up - shorts and a t-shirt. With the 20 people I interacted with, some in line, some employees, I probably was more educated than all of them - combined. That's not to brag. Its not my style. I don't care if they have a 5th grade education, an 8th grade education or a PhD. I like talking to people. You have to like them to do what I do for a living. And these people are happy. Genuinely happy.
Not all of them were happy, obviously. But there was the guy who had injured his leg and had a limp. The guy with the hat, long hair and fanny pack laughing about his morning. The woman who came to the US but didn't have her state ID. They were smiling and happy. They had lived their dreams - or at least fake it better than most.
And here I was - wondering, thinking, pondering. Had I lived my dreams? Did I reach my goals? I was 14. My dad took me to one of his co-workers homes. Her husband flew Blue Angels. If you are a male about my age, there are very few things cooler than the Blue Angels. They rank up there with the Harlem Globetrotters. (If you don't like the Globetrotters, stop reading now. In my late 30s, they still make me laugh - a lot.) We talked about it and he gave me some tips. He had graduated from the US Naval Academy. Very impressive. Yet, when I was in high school I sucked as a student. I didn't want to suck. No wait, I did. I wasn't very good, I wasn't very motivated and I didn't care. Guess what? You don't go to Annapolis if you don't have good grades.
Then I was 15. My dad had a friend over from the big corporate office on the East Coast. (Is East Coast capitalized or is it east coast? I don't know - and don't think I care.) I was walking upstairs and we were talking. I told them I was going to be a millionaire by 30. Guess what? Not even close. At 30, I was still figuring out what I wanted to do with my life.
I had other dreams - professional soccer player, corporate CEO, risk manager. Fun ones, I know. None of them were reached.
I don't know that it matters. I am happy with where I am. Husband, father, contributing member of society (except for this blog). I have a roof over my head, food on the table, the love of my family, good friends. Do I really have anything to complain about? Probably not.
Back at DMV (do it in your best Superfriends voice), I looked to my left. There were 2 women and 6 kids. Not little kids. Probably 16 through 19. They were special. They were clearly different, but I am not sure they knew it. I don't know that they cared either. And I watch them sit there, smile, and not notice anyone next to them. And I realize that is it for them. This is their quality of life. I am sure their parents didn't sit around and say "I hope Billy grows up so he can go to DMV with other kids like him as his weekly outing." I know I don't say that about my own son.
I guess it hit me that some of us are lucky, pretty damn lucky. We have the dreams. We have the ability to have these dreams. We know what we want - or what we think we want. We can achieve great things - if we want. These kids don't have that. They have the joy of one day then the next. The days are all the same. None of these kids was going to grow up and become President or even the security guy at DMV. This was it.
I realized today that we need to be thankful for not only what we have, but for what we can have. Don't aim low and hope you reach it. Aim high and reach for what you really want. If your kid wants to be President, don't tell her that she can't. Tell her what she needs to do to get there. We need to remember that life isn't always what we have, but its also what we can have, what we dream of having, not cars, houses and "stuff" but flying Blue Angels, finding a new planet, discovering some unknown life.
Monday, August 1, 2011
My hometown
(With apologies to Bruce Spingsteen who wrote about my actual hometown.) Okay, so it isn't quite my HOMETOWN. But I live here dang it. And I am sick and tired of people bashing my town.
Today, it was called a ghetto. A ghetto? According to Merriam Webster, a ghetto is "a quarter of a city in which members of a minority group live especially because of social, legal, or economic pressure." I don't know the exact ethnic breakdown of my city, but I looked it up. Its 46% white, 18% Hispanic, 26% Asian, 11% black and the rest is other, whatever the hell that means. How exactly are you other? Anyway, the median income is $83,000 per year and only 6% of the population is below the poverty line. Okay, only 6% as if its a small number. Its too big, but lets be realistic: 6% is not a bad number. For comparison purposes, Sacramento has about 20% of its population below the poverty line and the median income is about half of Elk Grove's median income. Just so we are clear: under no definition can you call Elk Grove a ghetto.
Sure, Elk Grove has changed. When I moved here back in 94, it was predominantly white. Oh wait, it still is, you idiots. Its 46% white. Sure, I guess that is technically under half, but its close enough to say Elk Grove is mostly white. Simple. Not even anything to discuss. Is it as white as it used to be? No. But how is that a bad thing? I am not sure if you folks are aware of this, oh I am using folks in a very general sense, but the world is not mostly white either. I would rather my kids, who by the way aren't white, grow up in a world where they see people for people and not by the color of their skin. Sure, its a cliche, but how bigoted do you have to be to think that its a bad thing for a city to get more diverse? In 2011, when a large number of families aren't all white, or black, or yellow or red or purple, why should our city be? If you want all white, move to freaking Antarctica - or Arkansas. Either way, its not here.
Then it was called a "nightmare." I didn't even have to look this up. I know what a nightmare is. You want a nightmare? Go spend 6 months in Afghanistan or Iraq. Go try to express your religion in Tibet or China. Go try to eat in Ethopia. I know We are the World is no longer on the radio except at Christmastime, which by the way, not everyone celebrates, but there is still a famine going on over there. Try living in this country with no job, no money, or a felony conviction on your record. Try growing up with a mental illness so that you cannot interact with people like "normal people" can. Those things are nightmares.
Elk Grove has issues. Sure. So does freaking Beverly Hills with a murder last year. We had two guys drowned in pools in the last 10 days. We had a hold up of a stop and rob or a check cashing business or some such nonsense. Yep. It happens. And in my hometown there were fights between the races, people pulled bats, knives and guns in the 60s and 70s. Yet, for some reason, no one thinks of it as a nightmare or a ghetto. Ah yes, those folks are much more tolerant.
Just so we are clear, I don't find Elk Grove perfect. I think the city council bickers too much. I think some people are on power trips. I think the parks aren't the best. I think some people drive too fast. I KNOW some people are too judgmental. But I do what I can.
In the meantime, the whiners and complainers do what? NOTHING! Oh wait, they whine and complain. Here is what I don't understand about these people. If you don't like something, you can sit on your fat ass and complain or you can try to fix it. How do you fix a city? You run for city council. Look, if my front door is broken, I can either complain about it or fix it. How is this any different? If my city is broken, or I perceive it to be broken, I can either complain or do something. Whining on the internet that my city is broken is not fixing it. Its whining. Its bitching and moaning and complaining. I guess it may help you feel better, but its so unproductive.
I admit it - I have whined and complained. Go back and read through some of these. I bitched about people who suck, I complained about cancer when my mom died. But you know what - then I manned up (or womaned up). I dealt with people who suck. (Sorry you have to wait for the book for that.) I put together a fundraiser for cancer. Is it a cure? Nope. Does it make things better? Yep. Its not that hard.
If you dont like my town, go run for city council. Go join a committee. Go DO. Don't whine. Don't complain. Do or shut the f---- up. Is it really that hard?
I like my town. I have friends who are blue collar, white collar, red collar. (I don't know what red collar is, but maybe they work in a red light district?) I have friends who are rich and some who struggle. I know PhDs and people who didn't graduate high school. I talk to people who speak English weller than I do (I know that isn't right, it was a freaking joke) and I talk to people who speak English as a 2nd or 3rd language. And you know what? I like them all. It makes my life interesting. It makes life fun.
I don't need to sit around and be around people like me. In case you don't know, I am boring. And a lot of me - even more boring. The more of me, the boringness increases by a factor of 10. So if I am alone, its a boring of 1. 2 of me, makes it a boring of 10. 3 makes it a boring of 100 and so on. Sure, I would play a lot of soccer, but I would be bored out of my mind in about 10 minutes. And life would suck.
So if you don't like my town, either do something about it or get the heck out of dodge.
WOW! Such negativity. Why? What makes Elk Grove so bad? Or what makes someplace else so good? And why do you complain about it?
Okay, first, if you are going to complain, have you run for city council? That is the easiest way to make a change. If you haven't, should you really complain?
And why is Elk Grove so bad? Look at the diversity we have here. Not just racial or gender, but blue collar/white collar, PhDs, high school graduates, etc.... Be specific and don't just complain.
Today, it was called a ghetto. A ghetto? According to Merriam Webster, a ghetto is "a quarter of a city in which members of a minority group live especially because of social, legal, or economic pressure." I don't know the exact ethnic breakdown of my city, but I looked it up. Its 46% white, 18% Hispanic, 26% Asian, 11% black and the rest is other, whatever the hell that means. How exactly are you other? Anyway, the median income is $83,000 per year and only 6% of the population is below the poverty line. Okay, only 6% as if its a small number. Its too big, but lets be realistic: 6% is not a bad number. For comparison purposes, Sacramento has about 20% of its population below the poverty line and the median income is about half of Elk Grove's median income. Just so we are clear: under no definition can you call Elk Grove a ghetto.
Sure, Elk Grove has changed. When I moved here back in 94, it was predominantly white. Oh wait, it still is, you idiots. Its 46% white. Sure, I guess that is technically under half, but its close enough to say Elk Grove is mostly white. Simple. Not even anything to discuss. Is it as white as it used to be? No. But how is that a bad thing? I am not sure if you folks are aware of this, oh I am using folks in a very general sense, but the world is not mostly white either. I would rather my kids, who by the way aren't white, grow up in a world where they see people for people and not by the color of their skin. Sure, its a cliche, but how bigoted do you have to be to think that its a bad thing for a city to get more diverse? In 2011, when a large number of families aren't all white, or black, or yellow or red or purple, why should our city be? If you want all white, move to freaking Antarctica - or Arkansas. Either way, its not here.
Then it was called a "nightmare." I didn't even have to look this up. I know what a nightmare is. You want a nightmare? Go spend 6 months in Afghanistan or Iraq. Go try to express your religion in Tibet or China. Go try to eat in Ethopia. I know We are the World is no longer on the radio except at Christmastime, which by the way, not everyone celebrates, but there is still a famine going on over there. Try living in this country with no job, no money, or a felony conviction on your record. Try growing up with a mental illness so that you cannot interact with people like "normal people" can. Those things are nightmares.
Elk Grove has issues. Sure. So does freaking Beverly Hills with a murder last year. We had two guys drowned in pools in the last 10 days. We had a hold up of a stop and rob or a check cashing business or some such nonsense. Yep. It happens. And in my hometown there were fights between the races, people pulled bats, knives and guns in the 60s and 70s. Yet, for some reason, no one thinks of it as a nightmare or a ghetto. Ah yes, those folks are much more tolerant.
Just so we are clear, I don't find Elk Grove perfect. I think the city council bickers too much. I think some people are on power trips. I think the parks aren't the best. I think some people drive too fast. I KNOW some people are too judgmental. But I do what I can.
In the meantime, the whiners and complainers do what? NOTHING! Oh wait, they whine and complain. Here is what I don't understand about these people. If you don't like something, you can sit on your fat ass and complain or you can try to fix it. How do you fix a city? You run for city council. Look, if my front door is broken, I can either complain about it or fix it. How is this any different? If my city is broken, or I perceive it to be broken, I can either complain or do something. Whining on the internet that my city is broken is not fixing it. Its whining. Its bitching and moaning and complaining. I guess it may help you feel better, but its so unproductive.
I admit it - I have whined and complained. Go back and read through some of these. I bitched about people who suck, I complained about cancer when my mom died. But you know what - then I manned up (or womaned up). I dealt with people who suck. (Sorry you have to wait for the book for that.) I put together a fundraiser for cancer. Is it a cure? Nope. Does it make things better? Yep. Its not that hard.
If you dont like my town, go run for city council. Go join a committee. Go DO. Don't whine. Don't complain. Do or shut the f---- up. Is it really that hard?
I like my town. I have friends who are blue collar, white collar, red collar. (I don't know what red collar is, but maybe they work in a red light district?) I have friends who are rich and some who struggle. I know PhDs and people who didn't graduate high school. I talk to people who speak English weller than I do (I know that isn't right, it was a freaking joke) and I talk to people who speak English as a 2nd or 3rd language. And you know what? I like them all. It makes my life interesting. It makes life fun.
I don't need to sit around and be around people like me. In case you don't know, I am boring. And a lot of me - even more boring. The more of me, the boringness increases by a factor of 10. So if I am alone, its a boring of 1. 2 of me, makes it a boring of 10. 3 makes it a boring of 100 and so on. Sure, I would play a lot of soccer, but I would be bored out of my mind in about 10 minutes. And life would suck.
So if you don't like my town, either do something about it or get the heck out of dodge.
WOW! Such negativity. Why? What makes Elk Grove so bad? Or what makes someplace else so good? And why do you complain about it?
Okay, first, if you are going to complain, have you run for city council? That is the easiest way to make a change. If you haven't, should you really complain?
And why is Elk Grove so bad? Look at the diversity we have here. Not just racial or gender, but blue collar/white collar, PhDs, high school graduates, etc.... Be specific and don't just complain.
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