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Another writing day bit the dust today with only about 500 words done, because I spent most of the time actually updating my pathetically lame and outdated security stuff on the computer. I actually bought a copy of McAfee Internet Security and got the thing installed. Then I spent a lot of time cleaning up the hard drive, and then scanning it, and then downloading updates to the software I’d just installed, and then scanned again, and then set up my firewall settings, and then reconfigured my internet answering machine to work with the new stuff and….on and on. Important stuff, but I didn’t get much writing done, obviously. But I learned some stuff about the machine that I didn’t know, and I did some lovely thinking-in-circles about a certain plot development in the book and trying to decide if I want to do it or not.

Talk about your boring posts….

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In my Dayquil-induced haze last night, I ended up watching a reunion-show for that old chestnut from my youth, That’s Incredible!. Man, I feel unclean. I should have known they’d find some excuse to let John Davidson sing, and sure enough, his voice is still one of the worst I have ever heard. He managed to reduce “One More For My Baby (and One More For the Road)” to something nearly unrecognizable. And I don’t know what medical procedure he has undergone, along with Cathy Lee Crosby and Fran Tarkenton, but Vladimir Lenin’s corpse has aged more than these people.

But at least they replayed the one segment I’ve always remembered from that show: the creepy, six-foot-six Yoga guy who managed to get himself squeezed into a two-foot square glass box.

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For future reference, I have listed below every single one of my thoughts on the Kobe Bryant fiasco:

By the way, the above also constitutes all of my thoughts on World Cup Soccer; the price of yellow tulips in Jackson Hole, Wyoming; and whether Intellivision had better games than the Atari 2600.

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TBOGG and Jim Capozzola have posted a couple of fine experiences in customer service they’ve been lucky enough to experience.

The strangest CSR experience I’ve ever witnessed was not even something that happened to me. It happened when I worked for Pizza Hut. At one point, the company decided to implement a 1-800 customer service line, under the theory that people not inclined to “voice their concerns to a member of our management team at the point of sale” (i.e., “complain in person” — gotta love that Business English) might instead wish to complain to an impersonal operator on a telephone hotline, and those operators were authorized to give the customers gift certificates as they saw fit or, perhaps, even pass the contact on to an Area Director for further resolution if it was really horrid.

Well, one day a shift manager I worked with had the unfortunate experience of having a person who was clearly “three sheets to the wind” come in and try to order a pitcher of beer. Quite properly, she denied the request, and the customer stormed out; later, the customer called the complaint-line to report that she had been denied service. The 1-800 operator, who actually worked for some third-party call-center to which PH had outsourced the whole operation, showered this customer with gift certificates and whatnot, and if I recall correctly the Area Director was referred in this case — all because the Shift Manager in question had done her job correctly. The poor woman was utterly incensed because, in her eyes, this was as if the company was not backing her up.

I’m not sure what the moral here is, but it illustrates some of the pitfalls of business today. Outsourcing is a fact of life, but surely it says something about what companies today think is important when they’re outsourcing customer service. “We value you as a customer and we value your business, so in the event of a problem, please feel free to call this number and talk to someone who not only doesn’t actually work on our company’s payroll, but is in all likelihood not even in the same state as you — and might even be in a different country entirely, since a lot of these jobs are going to India these days.”

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This just in: Akira Kurosawa’s RAN is an amazing damn film.

I’ve already requested The Seven Samurai and The Hidden Fortress from the library. (You just have to love big, metropolitan library systems where each branch is part of one, giant shared collection, and where you can thus request materials from anywhere in the library system, have them delivered to your local branch, and then take ’em home.

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I had my first experience with Internet hackery yesterday, in the form of the worm du jour. So I got to spend much of my day downloading and installing patches and doing all manner of other wonderful, scintillating stuff — instead of writing, of course. Between that and my attention being constantly drawn to the mucous draining into my throat, I got nothing of note accomplished yesterday. Damnable hackers.

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The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

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