People, Places and Things

What's on for November?

Recovery. This month I plan to take it easy. What about you? If you had one word to describe your plans for November, what would that word be?

Read Lisa Moore's "February"

I love Lisa Moore's writing. I recently read her latest novel "February" and I wept from the first page until the final page. It is a beautiful love story.

There was a point when I was reading the book that I remembered something my son once wrote for a school project. He wrote "I am sad my grandfather died." It took me a moment to realize that he meant my father, a man whom he never met.

The lesson of sharing stories about deceased loved ones is a lesson I learned in my 20s from a former boyfriend (and like Lisa Moore, a Newfoundler) who felt as if he knew his own father---who died when the former beau was still a toddler---from the stories his mother told, and retold, him and his brothers and sisters.

I hoped that my son would know my father in small ways, so over the years I've shared bits and pieces of his life with the grandson he never knew.

It's so much more than this, but the main narrative thread in "February" tells the story of a woman whose husband has died when the oil rig Ocean Ranger sank, and recollects the bits and pieces of her life with the man whom she loved as she comes to terms with her grief.

Read it.  

We lost one of the good ones

My friend Jimmy died. He was an awesome musician, a great neighbour, and a really special person to us.

What I think about now is the entertaining stories Jimmy told about his days playing Vegas. One that springs to mind is a hilarious bit he did about meeting Mel Tillis (who was unaware that Jimmy stuttered) and the confusing, muddled conversation they had.

We lost one of the good ones.

In a June 2007 post, I wished Jimmy Fraser happy birthday: http://durhamregion.typepad.com/people/2007/06/happy_birthday_.html.

Missing out on Hallowe'en

Fever's down. Sinus congestion and a sore throat. Still fatigued. And I missed Hallowe'en.

I usually shell-out, but didn't want to pass along this virus to any of the cute little ghosts and goblins that might show up at my door, so I lay on the couch in the basement, with the dog at my feet, watching CSI reruns. 

We've been sick for a week here at my house, so there wasn't the usual pumpkin carving and walkway decorations. The place was pretty barren compared to previous years.

We hadn't planning on being home this year because of a(n away) hockey game, and at first, I was sort of pleased not to have to go to the trouble of digging out the plastic bin from the basement, as I have for the past 15 years, and spending a week finding the right spot for all the Hallowe'en decorations I'd collected. Decorating for Hallowe'en is something that I look forward to almost as much as decorating for the Christmas holidays.

But as the week wore on, there were none of the usual signs of Hallowe'en around my house; no glass pumpkins burning the in the windows, no carved pumpkins on the porch, no gravestones in the garden. There were no candies in black and orange ceramic bowls, no extra Reese Peanut Butter Cups stashed in the freezer.

Sure, I had the flu, but everything was so different this year.

And I have egg on my kitchen window to prove it.

Despite my best efforts, including standing in line for four hours to be vaccinated at our local mall, I am at home. Sick. With nothing to do but rest and hydrate.

And if this is a "mild" case, I'd hate to have a severe case of pH1N1.

See? Writing about it at work all day, it was too much on my mind. Well, either that, or it was my sick co-workers who insisted on coming into the office despite the Public Health Agency of Canada's recommendation to stay at home until all symptoms are gone.

An Apple a Day?

In response to an online survey I answered (hey, Apple solicited my feedback), I got a telephone call from a rep at the survey firm looking for a copy of the letter I sent Apple about my recent purchase.

The next day, I got a call from an Apple rep about a case number, which means, I guess, that my complaint has been officially logged and now an employee is required to follow up with the cranky, letter-writing lady about her expensive purchase.

You can understand my hesitancy about calling back, though, can't you?

Back in the day, companies who really cared about their clients took the time to respond in kind.

i hate to sound like an idiot, but ...

twenty four inches is really big.

I'm second-guessing the intellect behind a decision to purchase a 24" MacIntosh computer.See High in the Sky, Apple. 

Buyer's remorse? I'm undecided. Perhaps it's more to do with the s-l-o-o-o-o-o-w-w-w-ness of the Web browser.

How was your weekend?

I am think that I am going to have to start lying about my weekends, so that I have something else to say in response to the standard Monday morning office greeting, "How was your weekend?" Because I always say the same thing:

Homework, housework, and hockey.

High in the sky, Apple

My hopes had little to do with pie, as the little ditty goes, but everything to do with my new Apple computer purchase.

It's the marketing of the Apple computer, I'll admit. The television ads support what Mac users have been saying for decades. And they've set expectations for customers high, maybe too high, and maybe even out of reach of their employees.

For example, how would a trained Customer Service Rep (and possibly an aspiring Genius) respond to an inquiry about a recent Mac purchase by a customer who forgot to include a special code in order to receive a corporate discount?

Here's how.

When asked if I should cancel the order and repurchase it with the required code specific to my employer, the friendly, but painfully inept CSR, offered to adjust my invoice.

Throughout our telephone conversation, she continued to apologize for not being able to find the information she needed(despite my urging that she search her computer for a list of CANADIAN firms because THAT'S where she'd find my employer listed); she insisted that I didn't need to provide my employee number and code, refused to provide written confirmation, and assured me that I could find the adjusted invoice online.

The trouble with customer service like this is that there's little to no surprise that no action was taken because beyond repeated apologies for keeping me on-hold and for being unable to find information that she be at her fingertips there's little to show for the interaction.

The computer's been shipped. And I've been billed sans a discount.

While I tried to share my experience with Apple, the website was so difficult to navigatethat I guess I must have sent the email to the wrong email address because some dude from "sunny Texas" responded about my recent iTunes purchase.

Huh?

While my Apple experience has again proven that companies are interchangeable when it comes to service, I am afraid to admit---for fear of being disappointed, again---that I still have expectations the product will prove itself superior.

+image courtesy of Apple Inc.

What's up for October?

Leaves. Frost. Allergy relief!

Second, unpaid job in midlife is unexpected

A friend recently asked me what is the funniest, most surprising or unexpected thing about being midlife. “Midlife????!!!” I responded. “Who says I’m midlife?”

A fellow writer, a friendly Texan, who was creating an online community for women of the mid-life variety, was looking for an entertaining, preferably humorous, but brief quotation about mid-life to post alongside my picture on her website, but my mind went blank. Then it went in a million directions.