That “Out Of Warranty” Treatment – Don’t Get Me Started!

Corporations design all products to break or breakdown the day the warranty ends. This is a given. And I’m positive that they have several people in several laboratories working around the clock to find the exact moment (whatever it is) when what you own or about to buy will become something worthless to own. I get that this is how they make money on all of us on their extended warranties and/or convincing us when we come in with something broken that instead of fixing it we should just buy the newest thing instead (at triple the price). I get it, I get it, I get it. What I do not get is the difference in treatment you get when you have something in or out of warranty. That “out of warranty” treatment – Don’t Get Me Started!

As I’ve written about previously, I own a Mini Cooper. It’s a 2004 so last year the full service warranty was up however as I am a complete rule follower (sucker) I have taken it for all its needs back to the dealer where I bought it. I have vowed that I will find a cheaper mechanic to work on it but I’m worried that if the non-dealer mechanic screws something up then it’s going to void something else and then I’m going to have a red and black planter on my hands instead of a car. And so I paid the almost $200 to get the oil changed – I know, I know. So yesterday I start the car up and one of the six million warning lights on the console come on. At a stop light I furiously pull out my manual from the teeny tiny glove compartment and see that the light is a warning light for the brake pads. Okay, I know I’m tough on brakes so I figure it’s time to get them replaced. I call the dealer. Now for those of you who don’t know, Minis are made by BMW but when you call in and say that you’re a Mini driver, they immediately tilt their head back a bit and look a little further down their nose at you. And so they transferred me to the special Mini service department. (You know, the one that doesn’t give you a loaner car or makes you sit there telling you it’s “almost” done until your warranty has run out and they can charge you even more money) When the “Mini Woman” answers the phone she is full of energy, vigor and delightfulness. I explain the light has come on, ask her when I can bring it in and she continues on in her best happy homemaker cooking show voice.

Her: “Have you had your Mini serviced here before?”

Me: “Yes, many times.” I reply, getting sucked into the delightfulness.

Her: “May I have your name?” she asks. I hear some clicking on a computer and as if there was a metal wall crashing down, her entire voice changes. “Hmmm. That’s a 2004 Mini Cooper?”

Me: “Yes” I say trying to keep the happiness in my voice.

Her: “Well, when are you looking to bring it in?”

Me: “I don’t know, I guess as soon as possible.”

Her: “Well, we don’t have any time until Thursday or Friday.”

Me: “Okay, well, I guess Friday. Is it going to be okay that I drive it for the next couple of days until I bring it in?”

Her: “Sir, I’m definitely not comfortable telling you to go ahead and drive it. Here’s the name of the service person assigned to your vehicle…Alan HJIUASdawd…”

Me: Cutting her off, “I’m driving right now so I can’t take down all this info. Can you email it to me or something?”

Her: In complete disgust, “Ugh, well what IS the email?”

Here’s the deal. She loved me, adored me, practically wanted to have my children before she looked and saw that my car was (horror of horrors) four years old and out of warranty. I’m not saying this car cost me a million dollars but it was no Yugo either so a little service wouldn’t kill them, would it?

This reminds me of the time we went to the Waldorf-Astoria hotel in New York. We had driven up from Delaware and got to the front of the hotel at around 2am. There was a large black man in full doorman regalia sitting just outside the door in the cold air of the night. He looked half asleep and a little crumpled. We stopped in front of the hotel and rolled the window down to ask where we could park the car (a Land Rover so once again, not a Yugo or AMC Pacer). After asking, he asked, “Are you staying here?” When we replied that we were, he straightened up to about five inches taller, unfolded his white gloved hands and in a voice that would have made you think he was playing the role of a doorman in some Broadway show, with all his teeth gleaming he said, “Welcome to the Waldorf!” and then he waved his arm gallantly to show us where to park in the parking garage around the corner. (I think it’s important to note that the room we got using frequent flier miles so it cost on $18, while the parking for one night cost $165)

My point is that in or out of warranty, it shouldn’t make a difference when it comes to how you treat people. Especially with cars, I mean come on I’m going to actually pay millions to get brake pads on while the guy with the 2008 Mini isn’t going to create any revenue for them at all. Don’t I deserve a little niceness? Don’t I deserve more than that “out of warranty” treatment – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/That-Out-Of-Warranty-Treatment-

Americans And Their Holidays – Don’t Get Me Started!

Yesterday was another “President’s Day” and so many had the day off work, school, from banking, mailing and whatnot. I was not one of them. And you know what? I’m okay with the fact that I didn’t have the day off for a holiday that frankly I just don’t understand (and I’m sure I’m not alone on this one). I get why we need to celebrate the day we declared our independence and I get honoring a man like Martin Luther King, Jr. but it just seems to me that once they started creating these mega-holidays (holidays that encompass more than one person, place or thing) that they just lost their punch along the way. I think we’re supposed to be celebrating George Washington and Abraham Lincoln’s birthdays all on one day, isn’t that what it’s supposed to be about? Perhaps the reason I really don’t know is because it isn’t commercial enough. Maybe we need the retailers to jump on this holiday. Maybe we need the fake wooden teeth (made out of wax like remember the old wax lips that were so much fun to wear around but come on who ever wanted to eat or more to the point chew them? They tasted like crap!) or for Lincoln they could make stove pipe hats (akin to New Years Eve hats) with a hat band that says, “I Freed The Slaves…Sort Of” I guess my whole point is that everyone around my office was quite disappointed about not having the day off for President’s Day and I just have to wonder about Americans and their holidays – Don’t Get Me Started!

Around my office many were offended. That’s right, offended to not get the day off…with pay. They kept asking up until the very last second on Friday and even yesterday it would seem they were trying to still get the day off, take a longer lunch or leave for the day a few minutes early. I get liking to have time off and no one can deny that we as Americans take work way too seriously and work more hours than anyone since my Jewish ancestors built the pyramids (the only thing stopping them from working longer hours was that they couldn’t work by night or maybe it was that Hyme’s deli that opened near the mud pits – who can really say for sure?) But the people around my office were incensed about having to work on a so-called holiday and it made me get even more rebellious from the throng. You see I doubt any of them have any idea what went on or what the celebration was supposed to be, they just knew that J. C. Penney had some swell “door buster” savings if you got there the first two hours of the day. If the retailers really wanted to help out, they’d make customers name at least one president before getting the 20% off of the plasma TV screen that was marked up three times anyway.

I just wasn’t about to buy into the holiday victim role that everyone seemed to be subscribing too. It was all too, I don’t know, Eyore from Winnie The Pooh for me. You know, people saying things like, “My cousin, he’s a postal worker and he even has the day off. Oh bother.” Come on, with everyone using electronic mail and FedEx do the postal workers really work that hard anymore? The last effort my carrier put forth was to leave me an envelope asking for $.13 she had paid on my behalf so some circular I didn’t care about wouldn’t be returned to the sender. (As if I cared but as a matter of record, I left her a quarter!)

Two points to be made here. One, I can’t stand people who immediately cast themselves as victims because they don’t get everything they want exactly when and how they want it. And two, I agree we as Americans work too hard but if we weren’t so busy caring about having a nicer car than the people who live next to us, thinking we can get rich when we become famous as the next American Idol or worse, making gazillionaires out of rappers and Britney when we wouldn’t even want to sit next to them at the free clinic for fear of what we would catch, then we wouldn’t need to be working so hard or need so many official holidays. Holidays should be special, not just a day off. So (get ready for my Oprah moment, in three, two…) make your own holiday when you need it. Take that “personal” day off work or even just take one day next weekend that is all about you. Celebrate yourself whether your boss gives you the day off or not. And for you people who make and maintain the holidays, let’s either celebrate things when they happened, know who or what we’re celebrating or decide not to celebrate them anymore. Don’t put Washington on top of Lincoln (because from the looks of it we all know Lincoln seems more like a top). If you want to celebrate these men for their accomplishments, either give them their own days or just put them on a stamp! Americans and their holidays – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Americans-And-Their-Holidays-

God Only Knows What You’re Talking About, All I Can Do Is Stare At Your Nose Hairs – Don’t Get Me Started!

Years ago I watched (in hysterics) a comedian by the name of Kathy Ladman go on about her father’s eyebrow hair. She said that sometimes they would look at him and he was so crazed looking (thanks to the wild brow hairs) that they would say to him, “Dad did you just invent something or did you just take a nap?” Now we all know that as we grow older hair leaves many of the places we’d like to have it and yet appears in great abundance in areas where we’d prefer not to have it at all. Almost every Sunday when I’m at my parent’s house for dinner (good Jewish boy that I am) I can take only so much and then I must trim my father’s eyebrows because they are what I imagine Kathy Ladman’s Dad’s looked like after his nap. I’ve only cut him once doing this and yet he still brings it to my attention every time I come at him with a pair of scissors. But this blog is not about my father or my hair situation. No it’s about a woman I met last week at a conference. She was very exuberant and excited about what she was telling me about but I have to admit that I was thinking to myself, “God only knows what you’re talking about, all I can do is stare at your nose hairs.” – Don’t Get Me Started!

You see, like it or not, the sexes are different. Men are expected to sit on sofas in their underwear with their hand down the front of their pants all the while having wooly hairs sprouting from their ears, underarms, noses and many other locations (except their heads where they are most likely experiencing male pattern baldness). But you women, we hold you to a higher standard. We’ve been spoiled by seeing you showered, shaved and FDSd within an inch of your life. So when a Courtney Love shows up on the scene or women from foreign lands with hairy legs and pits, well, let’s just say we’re a bit put off. I know it may not be fair but I have to tell the truth. (Where’s Bill Cullen when I need him?)

The thing is that I find no exception for anyone who doesn’t see hairs growing out of their nose and take immediate action. Doesn’t matter if you’re a man or a woman, you should know better. And come on, does this woman really not get that as delightful as she may have seemed (in her Capri length pants from oh so many seasons ago and brightly colored top) that it all gets negated when you’ve got a national park coming from your nose? Honestly, I walked away from that conversation not remembering her name, what she had to say or anything else. I guess I couldn’t see the forest for her trees. (Okay, bad joke)

I know, I’m “a gay” so things are a little different for me. Once a week I push back the cuticles, nip around the edges of my nails for stray skin and then after using a high powered nose hair clipper, I go back in with a cuticle scissor for the final clean up. The reason I do this is that I want to look my absolute best but also because I get it when someone is staring at something that they shouldn’t ought to be when you’re in conversation with them. From years of having spiky hair, I noticed when the focus of people would go from my face to my hair. I knew they were wondering what had possessed me to wear my hair this way and that I could tell them they were on fire but they’d never notice from looking at my hair. We’ve all had conversations with people who seem to get bored with the topic or our face and begin to look in the general vicinity for something of interest to focus on, yes?  

But at least my hair actually WAS interesting (see my hair on the right hand side of this page - keep scrolling, you'll know when you get there). The same can not be said of nose hair. Nose hair is not interesting. In fact it’s almost as not interesting as this blog now that I’m re-reading it. So let’s all move on, shall we? But keep clippers near because you don’t ever want to be the nose hair person. That’s actually what I called her because I so couldn’t remember her name. I said to someone, “Hey, did you see Miss Nose Hair? So sweet but I have no idea what she said because of all that hair coming out of her nose.” In response, my pal said, “Yeah, I know exactly who you’re talking about. Have no idea what she said…nose hair, nose hair and then we went to nose hair for our vacation. That’s all I got.” So don’t be this woman (or man). Trim away. Otherwise people will be saying, “God only knows what you’re talking about, all I can do is stare at your nose hairs.” – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/God-Only-Knows-What-Youre-Talking-About--All-I-Can-Do-Is-Stare-At-Your-Nose-Hairs- 

That’s Why God Invented Rear-View Mirrors! – Don’t Get Me Started!

There I was in a parking lot with a zillion errands to run and much less patience than the time I had to complete everything I needed to get done. This is no surprise as I don’t come from a long line of patient people. In fact just the opposite. But having patience is not really what this is about. This is about sitting in my car behind a woman in a very large SUV who was (I suppose) trying to choose what row to go down to park her vehicle but instead of choosing any lane, she chose to stop dead, parallel to the stores and talk on her cell phone. In complete denial or being oblivious to the world around her, it was all about what was in front of her, the choices she would make of where to park – as the cars lined up behind me. And as I laid on the horn (to the delight of the people behind me and the disgust of the “parker” – she could hardly be considered a driver as she was not doing any driving) she flipped me off and tore down the next aisle where I can only assume at some point she parked her behemoth of a vehicle. I don’t care that she was angry with me nor do I have any resentment toward her but come on people, that’s why God invented rear-view mirrors – Don’t Get Me Started!

As I parked and went into the first store of many, I began to think about how often I look in the rear view mirror. I think I look in it quite a bit – well, at least more than the woman who was in front of me in the SUV. But I also began to think about what had just happened and I wondered if this woman ever looked in her rear-view mirror? How many times have you been behind someone who is only looking ahead of them? Whether they’re driving forward or backing out of a space? Well, I’ve seen a lot of these people and I just have to wonder where all the arrogance comes from that they feel as if they don’t have to look around or consider that there is a world and/or people around them?

I’ve talked about it before but there have been several medical studies done that state the current generation of teens and twenty-somethings have too much self-esteem. I have to admit there is a large part of me that’s a bit jealous. For those of us who have constantly struggled for acceptance, the idea of too much self-esteem seems as foreign to me as I don’t know, putting mayonnaise on a corned beef sandwich. But is it too much self-esteem or just plain rudeness that makes people stop where they shouldn’t be stopping or pull out in front of traffic, thinking only of themselves and their needs? I really don’t know which it is but dear Lord it’s annoying as hell.

The warning for all these people is that you can’t always look forward. Sometimes you have to look behind you in order to be able to understand what you’re looking at in front of you. It’s the preparation for your life that continues throughout your life. And though some may say I’m taking this whole thought process too far, stick with me for a moment because the more I thought about it, the more I began to think about the whole, “If we don’t remember our past we’re doomed to repeat it.” Okay perhaps a bit too far but is it? You’ll have to decide for yourself.

I don’t ask a whole lot from my fellow man but a little common courtesy does go a long way. Whether you’re holding the door for someone or just taking a glance in your rear-view mirror to make sure there’s no one behind you before you pull out of that parking space I think those of us who do look in the rear-view mirror (physically and metaphorically) would sure appreciate it if the rest of you assholes would do the same every once in awhile! That’s why God invented rear-view mirrors – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Thats-Why-God-Invented-Rear-View-Mirrors- 

 Sometimes You Have To Be Your Stereotype (Part One) – Don’t Get Me Started!

I know some people will say that you should work against your stereotype. And for the most part I would say that’s how I’ve lived my life however some recent turns of events made me let go of being afraid of being considered a stereotypical Jew and instead I embraced it. My best friend in the world (whom I wrote about in “My Best Friend’s WeddingS – read it here – scroll to the bottom of the page… http://www.somelikeitscott.com/somelikegay2.html ) was a girl with no religious affiliations whatsoever but when she fell in love and married her first husband (who was a Jew) she not only converted but also was Bat Mitzvah. Which for some may think is going overboard but my pal who has always been an overachiever it was no surprise to me that she and her husband almost ended up running the shul in a matter of minutes of joining. That said she also almost immediately acquired a capability she had never had before…to be a real Jewess in every sense of the word. No longer my sweet Norwegian friend I’d known since high school; if we weren’t served in a timely manner or there was something wrong with the food, she became what I lovingly called, “Mrs. Weiss” for that was her married name and when she went into that mode believe me you, she could do better than the Jews from New York or Boca, she was indeed a force to be reckoned with. I always made fun of her and also was a bit embarrassed by it until recently when I myself had to become a Mrs. Weiss. Sometimes you have to be your stereotype (Part One) – Don’t Get Me Started!

I went to get a newspaper article clipping on my two beloved great aunts about their time as two sisters who were nurses in World War II framed. It was a lovely article that talked about them going back to Normandy last year with a group of army men and laying a wreath at a ceremony there. As they are sisters, were both nurses, are still alive in their late eighties and are no bigger than my thumb, they are immediately embraced and loved by all. So how nice to have this framed for them, yes? How nice except I was stupid enough to take it to one of those craft stores, Michael’s. Let me just say I am now calling for a full boycott of this hideous store and their even more hideous employees. From the start the girl behind the counter with the gazillion colored dreadlocked hair, paler skin than a newly poured glass of milk and black eyeliner for days told me that because the article had been on two pages and was odd shaped that there would be trouble. Now one would think that with all this preparation to look so freakish that at least she’d bring some creativity to the table. Such was not the case. I protested the proposed layout of the piece but conceded once I asked, “What happens if I hate it?” and was told, “We’ll make it right.”

Three weeks later (why it took this long I’m sure I don’t know – no doubt they had to go make the paper matting by stomping paper ala the way Lucy stomped grapes on I Love Lucy or something) I went to pick it up. As I had suspected, she had done the largest frame in recorded history for a small article and there was so much extra space that it looked just awful. As she mumbled about how she said it would look this way from the beginning she told me that I needed to bring in some memorabilia to fill in the spaces that had now been created. I left in disgust. Why was I taking all this from this freak? Because I didn’t want to be perceived as being a bitch or worse, a Jew so I went rummaging for other photos of my aunts to put in. I went back and was told that I could only see the original freak girl to get it redone. She only worked days like me so there was no time I could see her until the weekend. I went the following weekend – now we’re on week four and I was told the same thing, I needed to see Freakticia who had called in sick. And that’s when it kicked in.

Quickly and efficiently my voice raised just enough for others to hear. That’s right, not only in the back of the store at the framing department but I’m sure they heard me over on the scrapbooking aisle clear to the silk flower department up front. Suddenly there were three worker bees at the counter. One guy just kept apologizing, the other guy stood there looking at me as if I was from another planet and said nothing, the third girl finally confessed that she had been the one who actually created the monstrosity but that in order to redo it would require two weeks due to the fact they didn’t keep the color of matting used in the store. Less loud and more direct I said, “Well what color matting DO you have in stock?”

As she went back to get the matting, guy one kept apologizing and guy two abruptly left the counter (no doubt seeking shelter). She came back with a matt that was one shade darker than the original. I raised an eyebrow and deliberately said, “That’s fine. Now that you have the matting, how long will it take to complete it?” and before she could answer I continued, “This has been going on for four weeks now and I just want it over. I want you to think very carefully before you answer me. When can you get it done?” As she looked at me with her red nose and puffy eyes, sniffing either due to a cold or for sympathy she said, “A few days.” “Ach!” I said. “Just get it done and call me when it’s ready please.” And with that I walked out.

I got a call the next day to pick it up. When I arrived no one I had spoken with previously was there and as I was not thrilled with it but I decided to just end this whole thing. The guy who asked me to sign for it had no doubt been warned about me. He didn’t make eye contact, didn’t apologize when I said that I still didn’t like it and he just shoved the paper for me to sign that I was picking it up on the counter.

I can only imagine the conversations that went on during my absence but I really don’t care. Nor do I care that I made a scene. Let them call me a typical Jew or a fag, I really don’t give a shit. When you pay for something (in this case, over $140) you’re entitled to have the job done right and to your satisfaction. So let them say what they may and this whole experience made me discover something else too. You feel a hell of a lot better when you’re a Mrs. Weiss than you do when you just a nebbish who walks away again so that people won’t think you made a stink or not like you. So look out world, here comes Mrs. Weiss…the second coming!!! Sometimes you have to be your stereotype (Part One) – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Sometimes-You-Have-To-Be-Your-Stereotype-Part-One-