Category Archives: Crappy Jobs

Why Trusting Your Gut Can Go Badly – A Sheriff’s Tale

Once upon a time, there was a lowly HR assistant, newly tasked with hiring several manual laborers for a factory. The factory was located in a poor neighborhood with not many good jobs available. Most of the people in this neighborhood were semi-literate, under or improperly nourished, and all were affected in one way or another by the neighborhood’s high crime rate.

climbing-resume-stackThe only thing good about this scenario for our lowly HR assistant is that on the rare occasions she did have jobs open, she had many applicants for them — so many, in fact, that she often had stacks and stacks of applications on her desk without having spoken to the applicant or without being able to put a name to a face.

Such was the case with Billy. She happened upon his application one day and, on paper, at least, he seemed okay. The job was packing and lifting boxes. No one needed a neuroscience degree and it was clear Billy didn’t have one, but his app looked like he’d had steady work and could do the job. At the bottom of the application was a section marked “For Employer Use Only” and it listed out the various positions available. The site had off-duty sheriffs providing security virtually round-the-clock, but the big qualification there was that you had to BE a sheriff. Billy, like many applicants, didn’t understand that this bottom portion of the application was for the lowly HR assistant to mark on when sending his info to payroll. That’s how she’d let them know that he worked in the factory and made $8 an hour. A lot of applicants, semi-literate, mixed up this part and put what they wanted to make at what position. Billy had put down that he wanted to be the sheriff for $9.00/hr.jiFfM

That should’ve been my first clue, but I’m naive and try to give people the benefit of the doubt. Plus we needed bodies — not geniuses, just bodies. I lined up about 6 interviews and one was Billy. He came in and when I saw him, I immediately called the interviewing manager and apologized. Billy looked ready to collapse from malnutrition. The one tooth remaining in his mouth was on its last legs. When I asked him what he was applying for, he actually said he wanted to be sheriff. He thought we’d give him a gun maybe?! I have no idea. I’m all for helping out someone who is hungry and willing to work, but Billy just had this air of “WTF?” around him that I couldn’t shake. He was NOTHING like he seemed on paper. It was like he floated into the office on a leaf, just going wherever the wind blew him. He was a ‘no’ vote from this judge immediately, but we did the interview anyway.

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I have no idea what kind of voodoo Billy worked on that hiring manager, but he must’ve made a good case for himself or appeared even more needy than he did to me, because he was hired. And apart from the 3 heart attacks he faked at work, even having ambulances called only to tell him he had a “pulled muscle” (the medical equivalent of ‘quit wasting my effin’ time’), he kept plugging along. He was eventually fired and I think it was because he kept up these incidents and it was decided the work was too strenuous for him. I think. I have kind of blocked it out. That took place within my first 2 months at this particular job, and Billy was nicknamed “the Sheriff” from that very first day. I was judged for inviting him in for an interview despite NOT being responsible for hiring him. On paper he looked good. On paper, my gut really liked him. Even when I told his manager not to hire him, he went with HIS gut and his gut overruled mine. We all like to think we know people but we don’t. We’re guessing and flying blind. Sometimes it goes well. Sometimes the ambulance pulls up to yell at Billy to quit wasting their effin’ time and all you can do is roll your eyes.

If we’d had a way to test Billy beforehand, that might not have happened. Granted, for such a blue-collar situation, not all tests will be applicable, but an emotional maturity assessment sure would have been nice for Billy and for the guy who told all the older black ladies they wore too much makeup and he’d like to…do things to them, but only with a bag over their heads. A better way of weeding out the undesirables would have saved us some turnover, some training costs, lots of paperwork on both those fellas (and a few others) and made work much more boring…in a good way.

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SmartRecruiters has developed an Assessment Center that would’ve been a big help back in the day. It lets you check an applicant’s skills, references and behaviors. For my particular company back then, behavior would’ve been my biggest need. Today it would be skills. New position, new company…new needs. These are all available at the assessment center and can lead to vastly improved hiring over just a resume. From an article on SmartRecruiters’ Talent Assessments page:  ”In fact, academic research (Schmidt and Hunter 1998) shows resumes are one of the worst ways to select candidates. Combining interviews with assessments improves accuracy of hire by over 3x (.63 correlation with work performance vs. .18 correlation without testing).” Imagine that! Three times better hiring through basic skills and behavioral testing before hiring.

SmartRecruitersLogo“We are adding science to the art of recruiting,” said SmartRecruiters’ Founder & CEO Jerome Ternynck. “Our Assessment Center recommendation engine will encapsulate the performance and review of every assessment to present the best test for each position and company type.” And that’s what they can do for companies that recruit. Imagine what they could do for companies that are bombarded with applications all day long whether they have openings or not! You could really hire THE ABSOLUTE BEST. It wouldn’t matter if you could put a face with a name before you called each applicant. The applicant would self-select from the pack in the testing. You could avoid being the lowly HR assistant (or manager, director, recruiter) who hired “The Sheriff” and avoid that shame and embarrassment for years to come!

The Day HR Got Real – My Worst Day on the Job

I love Louisiana and, in particular, Baton Rouge. I love LSU even though our governor, Bobby Jindal, seems dead set on stripping all its funding and turning it into a Diesel Driving Academy with a football team. I gripe about mosquitoes the size of handbags and how I can’t walk outside my door in the summer without my hairdo going full-on Kotter in two seconds, but the music, the art, THE FOOD, and the culture all make up for that, especially our culture of collaboration. People here help each other and look out for one another.

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In that spirit, here are two blogs from other Baton Rouge HR gals that I’d like you to check out today in addition to mine. These ladies have helped me and taught me things. They have made me laugh on bad days and been happy with me on good ones. Their blogs are interesting and funny and educational. You’ll love ‘em. They’ve collaborated with me here on the #BRHRCarnival. Today we’ve talked about our worst day in HR. I think a counter-post about our best day will probably happen too. Mine revolves around turkeys, so there’s a teaser.

HR Schoolhouse by Robin Schooling and HR Tact by Christine Assaf

Also in the spirit of collaboration, Robin Schooling is attending the National SHRM Conference in Chicago soon. A kickball game has been organized with prominent social media personalities playing to raise money for Share Our Strength: No Kid Hungry. Robin will be representing Louisiana and we want her to raise lots of money! If you’d care to, please check out the link and sponsor her.

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Now, onto the blog. Thanks for sticking with me through the housekeeping!

The Worst Ever, No Good, Very Bad, Horrible, Awful Birthday

My worst moment in HR was Friday, June 20, 2008 around 3 p.m. How do I remember the exact date and time nearly 5 years later? For starters, I have an awesome memory. Also it was just a SUPERBLY terrible day — that just so happened to be my 29th birthday. The first one. The real one.

I had started work at this company on a Monday, and you can see here that my first day was pretty bad. The whole week was like that. In the past, I had done some HR assisting and payroll at a small organization with less than 300 employees. When we first took payroll in-house and I began doing it, it was a difficult transition that often took me a few days to process. After a few years I had made the process so efficient that I had streamlined myself right out of a job.

I started this new job with Huge Corporation X on a Monday. I didn’t get a computer till Tuesday. On Wednesday, I was given a huge stack of folders, each containing info for a field office around the nation and told to pay around 900 people with vastly different pay structures…some hourly, some exempt salary, some non-exempt salary, some with shift differentials, and some who were paid per project/visit. I did the best I could and had minimal help from others to make sure I wasn’t paying anyone millions of dollars, but for the most part – I was thrown to the wolves.

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On Friday, my birthday, the results of my wolf-toss would become clear. I was told that for an organization with around 15K employees, half of whom were paid one week and half the next and so on and so on, that payroll was never perfect and Fridays were more like working in a call-center where people would call to complain about their checks. Sometimes they would speak to their actual payroll processor, but we were also required to help others that we did not personally pay. Sometimes they had legit concerns and a visit or their OT had been left off. Sometimes they were just new and didn’t know how to read their statement. With all these pay structures, it wasn’t hard to sympathize with that.

This one lady, though, she was different. I can’t remember her name, so I’ll call her Susie. She was a branch manager in South Carolina. She was one of my 900 people. When I got to work that morning, I had a voicemail from Susie. Being an hour ahead of us, she’d already been in the office and was astounded and PISSED that her check had only been for $87. I called her back and tried to work out what happened but, not fully understanding the system, I mostly just sat there while she yelled at me. I told her I would move Heaven and Earth to try and help her. I got my boss — even she couldn’t figure out what had happened.

bigstock_Angry_Woman_in_Comic_Book_Styl_25804979Then more calls came in from other branch managers in South Carolina, and I noticed a few other people taking calls and looking at me. My 900 people were largely paid incorrectly (mostly little errors, but a few biggies, like Susie) and that was due to a lack of training. Susie and these branch managers, though, no one could figure out where I had gone wrong. She called repeatedly throughout the day alternately yelling and crying that her mortgage payment would be automatically withdrawn from her bank account in 2 days and she couldn’t believe this was happening. I was devastated and she was WELL BEYOND devastated. Eventually I discovered the problem. Susie was salary, non-exempt, and did not fill out her timesheet correctly. Huge Corporation X required all salaried employees to do a timesheet and automatically fill in 40 hours. Non-exempt employees, hourly or salary, filled it in exactly and were paid for overtime. Susie had received her overtime only.

When I told Susie this, she protested that she was not a salaried employee. She insisted she was hourly. Turns out the company had made her salary that same week and not told her, so she filled out an hourly timesheet that was overlooked by the computer because she was now a salaried employee. Not my fault, but that doesn’t matter to the woman in South Carolina weeping about her mortgage and utility bill. My heart was broken. We cut her a check and overnighted it and everything was ok but still, I felt her stress. I was going through some financial troubles of my own at the time and I sympathized with her and felt so guilty, even after I found out this wasn’t my fault.

The first week at a new job is mentally EXHAUSTING in the same way that driving a long distance is exhausting. Sure, you’re just sitting there, not digging ditches, but you’re tired when it’s over. You’re on alert and can’t relax, ever. Plus this place sucked. Plus I was super-PMS-ing and turning 29. I know it’s cliché but 29 and being a payroll specialist and having people screaming at me was NOT part of my life plan back when I was so bright-eyed and fresh-faced at a boarding school for gifted kids and going to be the world’s first supermodel/astronaut/vibrator-tester. My life was not supposed to turn out this way! We got Susie all squared away and then it all just hit me, all at once.

So then, I start to cry. Just little tears at the corners of my eyes, lump in my throat, biting my tongue to distract myself and not lose my shit completely. I’m doing ok. I WOULD HAVE BEEN TOTALLY FINE, but then the super sweet girl across from me notices and “Awwww…what’s wrong?” and I’m all “I’m fine. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m ok.” and thinking to myself that this is like when you’re nauseated…don’t make me open my mouth or I’m gonna lose all control. She goes and gets a supervisor. By the way, the ENTIRE DEPARTMENT was female. What do girls do when someone is crying? Huddle and focus and make it a million times worse, that’s what. I became an ugly, tear-stained, snotty and blubbery mess. “Everyone’s been *hiccup* screaming at me all day and *sniff* I don’t know what *sob* I did wrong and *hiccup* it’s my *hiccup* birthday and *sob* I just need *sniff* a minute. I’ll be ok.”

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giftedBy this time it was 3:30 and they let me go and clocked me out at 5. Thanks Huge Corporation X. Twenty something dollars totally makes up for a day of abuse that will haunt me forever. When I showed back up on Monday (my next mistake), everyone was all “We didn’t think you’d be back.” and I was all, “Me either.” and they had no idea how serious I was with that response. It was one of those moments when you summon all your personal strength and courage and persistence and apply it in the completely wrong direction.

I was, by no means, in charge of anything on the day HR became real for me. I didn’t even work in HR; I was in payroll. This wasn’t me firing someone or announcing layoffs. This wasn’t about giving bad news or any other ways in which HR can be terrible. This was when I learned that HR was a big deal — because when it’s done so blatantly wrong, it can really destroy a company’s image and an employee’s self-esteem. I learned on that day that EVERYTHING Huge Corporation X did was the total opposite from what I wanted to do in my career. The interviews, the hiring, orientations, training, everything was so glossy and pretty and sparkly on the outside and it was a box full of crap on the inside.

A transparent box inside a Tiffany box...that's the ideal.

A transparent box inside a Tiffany box…that’s the ideal.

HR is not about the bows on the package. It’s a transparent box. You might not like everything in the package at any job, but it’s clear and it’s straightforward and it’s not a pile of shit hidden in a Tiffany box, you know?

I called my mom that afternoon from the grocery store and told her how I had screwed over the entire state of South Carolina and countless others. It was kinda funny by that point, since I knew it wasn’t my fault. I’ll never forget. She asked, “Well, what are you gonna do the rest of the day?” and I answered, “I’m going to buy a frozen pizza, a key lime pie, go home, fall into a food coma, watch TV and go to bed.” That was exactly what I did and it was awesome. Not a huge birthday spectacular, but definitely the most memorable birthday of my whole life.

Would you like to share your HR horror stories in the comments? I’d love to read them and so would the others from #BRHRCarnival. Check out their blogs and them come back here and wallow in the comments!

Have a great weekend! Zumba on Monday at 7:30 — think happy thoughts for me! – HRGF

I’m a Big Ol’ Liar – Orientation Guest Post Instead

I know, I know.  I said “the Plan” would be coming out today BUT…

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a) The weekend got away from me and I haven’t written it yet.

b) My guest post was published!  I want to tweet about that and get that some notice first.  SmartRecruiters, and in particular Lexie Forman Ortiz (@LexieFO), took a chance letting me write for them AT ALL, let alone about a topic that isn’t about recruiting.  The least I can do is plug that as much as possible.

 

Here’s the link to the SmartRecruiters blog:

http://www.smartrecruiters.com/blog/5-tips-for-getting-new-employee-orientation-right/

Please enjoy.  ”The Plan” will be revealed later in the week.  Cross my heart!

Prevent Mistakes or Let Them Happen? – Also Dogs

Poor A.J. Clemente.  He had the worst first day on the job EVER, recently, when he accidentally said some curse words over his microphone on the local news.  That’s a pretty big mistake in the world of mass communications, so I understand why he was let go.  I feel bad for him because he was probably so nervous, etc. but it was the right decision.

dogs2.jpgAlso in the context of mistakes, I’ve been thinking about my dad’s dogs.  (I swear I have a point here.  Don’t leave me.)  My dad has loved Boston Terriers (or Boston Terribles as they are sometimes affectionately called) since he was very young.  Almost every dog he’s ever had has been a Boston, though we did have 2 poodle/mix strays come into our lives during my childhood.

dogs1Bostons are some of the most awesome dogs in the world.  I have never seen a mean Boston; they are almost annoyingly friendly.  They love attention and affection and will lavish you with kisses and licks till your pants get so stiff from drool they could stand by themselves.  They are small enough to be lapdogs, but too big to be annoying purse dogs.  I have had 3 fully grown Bostons jump into a chair with me once but that balancing act didn’t last long.  They are super fun to aggravate with a laser pointer or play tug of war with a rope.  And if you can get them in the right position in the bed (always a struggle because they are burrowers) they aren’t too bad to curl up and sleep with.

That being said, they are not the brightest creatures on this planet.  They do have moments of cleverness, like when they used to take my dad’s laundry piece by piece out the doggy door and leave it all over the yard.  That was amusing.  But more often than not, I’m left looking at them and thinking “What on earth did you do that for?”

Picture1This is Rocky, one of dad’s 2 current Bostons.  He’s the sweetest dog ever and so pretty with his one blue eye.  No, he’s not deaf, just hard-headed.  He went through a phase (of a year or two) where he was marking (read: peeing) all over the house from time to time.  Not enough that it was a clear house-training issue, more like a deliberate marking.  His fave things to mark?  Dad’s shoes.

When I was staying there for a few days during my recovery from spinal surgery in 2011, I remember being in bed one morning and hearing what sounded like the dogs scratching on the door to get in my bedroom.  I ignored.  It persisted.  I ignored more.  It persisted more.  I rolled carefully out of the bed in my neck brace and opened the door to see “snow” all in the bathroom, down the hall, into the kitchen, the living room and the den.  Almost solid white with paw prints in it.  The dog had found a bag of Epsom salts somewhere and dragged them through the entire house.  The scratching was his paws (and Fanny’s, the innocent one) on the wood floors as they tried to maneuver a field of sharp rock salt granules on their bare feet.  I found him on the sofa, licking his feet and looking so guilty I could have died.  It would’ve been funny if I hadn’t had to clean all that up in a neck brace.

One day dad saw Rocky ‘mark’ the refrigerator and he’d had enough.  He put him on Craigslist.  Nothing came of it; I believe dad was just venting.  Still, that dog seems to have a hard time learning.  Dad recently started taking him outside in the front of the house since they live on a dead end road with very little traffic, and now that Rocky can mark more things out there, he does it much less in the house.  I think that’s maybe what he was doing when this happened:

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This is the back yard, but I feel like Rocky was investigating and trying to mark the new yard art, as it were.  Dad was trying to trap, and I hope relocate, a fox who had been spotted by the neighbors several times and was becoming bolder.  There are small kids and pets around there, so Foxy had to go.  Dad used a ham bone for bait.  First he caught a possum, and then he caught Rocky.  I haven’t heard the whole story just yet, but I know Rocky couldn’t have been in there for too long because Fanny would have alerted someone.  I even kind of wonder if my dad watched this happen and let it.  I don’t blame him; I love this photo.  And maybe Rocky, the hard-headed dog did learn not to meddle with everything?  I doubt it.  He’s a dog, but I guess it’s possible.

Between poor Rocky in the clink and poor A.J. Clemente’s 15 minutes of infamy, it made me think about the nature of mistakes.  We all make them.  But what do we do when we see someone else about to make them?  I know Clemente’s mistake couldn’t have been prevented.  No one saw that coming.  But my dad probably saw the dog going for the trap.  When is it ok to let a mistake happen (in work or life) in order to teach someone a lesson?  Obviously we prevent small children from running into the street or grabbing things off the stove.  Obviously we check behind the new payroll clerk so we don’t pay everyone a quarter of a million dollars an hour.  But other, lesser mistakes…should they be prevented or allowed to play out?

Ignoring at all costs.

Ignoring at all costs.

I feel like I have people in my life right now who are letting me make mistakes (in a good way) and I try very hard to consciously learn from them so I don’t repeat them.  Sometimes I fear I’m going to be like that damn dog, though, and ignore the lessons.  I hope not.

Thoughts?

(Those of you who follow me on Instagram may have seen some of these pics before.  Sorry for duplicating.  Those of you who don’t are welcome to follow – hrgalfriday there too.)

Why I am 99% Against the Death Penalty

Because I wanted to kill a man.  I was pushed to that level and now I understand murder just a teeny bit more than I did before…and maybe some of those people on Death Row were pushed too.

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It all started a couple weeks ago with that (#*!&#)$_*( scanner!  Gah!  First I thought I had it plugged in wrong, then it froze a couple times, then I got everything working right…except the duplex scanning.  It would scan the front side, flip, scan half the backside, then turn into some cheap Salvador Dali impersonation and the paper, if it came out at all, was askew.  Most of the time it got stuck and I had to pull gently, but hard, in a wiggle back and forth motion to get the paper out.  And I did this about 11 times.  I fantasized about picking up this incredibly expensive piece of machinery and dropping it off the roof of the Ed Sullivan theater like Letterman used to do with stuff.  Instead, I called Hewlett-Packard.  The scanner, at this point, was 9 days old.  Mind you, I don’t feel like this was an issue with the scanner, per se.  I feel like something got bent in shipping and I just want it fixed.  Or replaced.  It’s not hard.

Like a million bouncy balls, I wanted to set the scanner free.

Like a million bouncy balls, I wanted to set the scanner free.

The first person I spoke to was Ambitesh, and he changed everything I thought I knew about myself.

My friends often say that everyone should be forced to be a waiter or waitress for a little while in their career to understand what it’s like to serve people.  I was a restaurant hostess, so I did my time there.  I’ve been told to fuck myself by a man wearing a Santa suit who arrived with his church group, party of 20, five minutes after calling to make their “reservation” and angry we couldn’t immediately seat them.  I’m good on taking crap from the restaurant industry.

I’ll take it a step further.  I think everyone should have to work in a call center.  I spent 6 weeks pretending to be “Jenny” and asking people if they might like to refinance their mortgage before the situation felt iffy and I quit.  I came home every night crying because the people were so rude, or they were desperate and really wanted my help but they lived in a trailer or an apartment and I couldn’t help them, or my boiler room boss didn’t think I’d gotten enough leads.  It is a truly horrible job and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.  Now imagine you’re in a foreign country (or Omaha, or L.A…I really don’t know where Ambitesh was) and you speak with a very thick Indian accent.  It must be so crappy to be on the phone with idiots like me all day who make dumb mistakes with their computers and have to ask you to repeat things you’re saying all the time because they don’t understand either computers or your accent.  I feel for Ambitesh, I really do.

Telemarketing and tech support is hard, you guys.

Telemarketing and tech support is hard, you guys.

That being said, he’s an a$$hole and I wanted to kill him.  The first thing he did was sigh a whole bunch in that “I can’t believe I have to talk to this idiot” tone that set me off immediately.  Then he told me that the printer was top of the line and therefore it was impossible that it was broken.  Then, “This printer doesn’t even HAVE a duplex scanning function, Ma’am.”  Silence.  He goes to speak with manager.  “Like I said, you cannot duplex copy from this machine.”  I wasn’t trying to duplex copy, I was scanning.  “This machine doesn’t do that.”  Silence.  ”Manager” again.  “Oh yes it does.  Let me take over your desktop now to check some things.”  He did.  He checked nothing.  Then he got angry at me and told me to QUIT PRANK CALLING THEM AND WASTING THEIR TIME.  When I asked to speak with his manager, he pretended to go get someone who sounded exactly like him (faker!) and connected me to the “complaint department” which I’m pretty sure was just the phone off the hook in his cubicle while he went to lunch.

Something inside me changed that day.  In my mind’s eye, I saw myself taking his stupid Britney Spears headset, wrapping the cord around his throat and jamming the ear and mouth thingies into his eyeballs so I could wiggle them around inside his skull.  I was so pissed, and nearly ruining my boss’s 2008 tax documents in this debacle was not helping.  I called another number at Hewlett-Packard and I got Charles.  Speaking with Charles was when I realized how vile I had become.

My ideal murder weapon of choice.

My ideal murder weapon.

Charles said they could send another document feeder but first I’d have to go through 17 steps with him and prove it wasn’t software-related.  When I refused this on the basis that him altering 1′s and 0′s and electrons in my laptop wasn’t going to fix the bent piece in the document feeder, he got upset.  (To be fair, I was already upset so he was just catching up.)

At this point, I became the a$$hole.  I became Ambitesh.  I told him that I was very active on Facebook, had my own blog, and that I was a Twitter celebrity.  I said I would bash HP from then until doomsday if I didn’t get another effin’ document feeder ASAP.  In truth, I hate FB, I love my blog but it’s new and we’re still building a platform of readers, and I’m nowhere near a Twitter celebrity.  I have no idea why I said it.  I was just so angry that lies and spittle were ushered forth from the darkest depths of my soul.  Charles, if you’re reading this, I’m very sorry that I lied to you.  You were a prick and your solutions made no sense whatsoever.  I didn’t appreciate the runaround, but that was no excuse for me to impersonate Ashton Kutcher or Laurie Ruettimann or genuine Twitter celebs of any variety.  My bad.  Also, when I told you I had just gotten off the phone with an a$$hole in India (most likely), that was Ambitesh, and if this makes it into his performance review, I won’t cry.  That part was accurate.

I feel even worse about my deceit, naturally, now that I realize I have upset the tiny version of Harry Potter.

I feel even worse about my deceit, naturally, now that I realize I have upset the tiny version of Harry Potter. Maybe I could convince him Ambitesh killed his parents.

I had to go have a drink cool off a while after this – remove myself from the situation.  I decided that if Hewlett-Packard wouldn’t help me, I’d go to the source and call Amazon.  Amazon doesn’t have a phone number that I could find specifically related to returns, so I called some other department and got Victoria.  Oh Victoria.  She was sent to me by Jesus or Buddha or my shrink or something.  I was on a metaphorical ledge at that point and she talked me back down.  First off, she located the order even though it was my boss’s account and I had none of the required info.  We pieced it together.  She worked some magic and sent an email on our behalf to the 3rd party seller who should be getting back to us any day now.  Actually they’re a little late, but I’m not worried because Amazon is everything that HP is not.  They are willing to listen.  They are willing to help.  They don’t accuse you of prank calling and wasting their time when your $700 brand new piece of equipment that your boss purchased on your recommendation instead of buying herself an iPad turns out to be broken!

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I’ve calmed down now.  I no longer want to murder Ambitesh and I’m sorry that I had those thoughts, however fleeting, and possibly not serious.  But I do wonder just what lengths I could be pushed to under the right circumstances.  I don’t believe in the death penalty in most cases.  I think it’s swift justice for torturous crimes and it’s too good for people, mostly.  But also now because I wonder…were they on the phone with bad customer service when provoked beyond all limits of the human psyche?  Did they not have a Victoria to talk them down?  Hear me now world, if I’m on a jury, I will never convict anyone given those circumstances.

Though I will not kill him, if I do ever meet Ambitesh anywhere in this life, I will trip him.  In front of his kids.  And I will laugh and laugh.

Oh yes, that little bastard will be shamed in front of his spawn!

Oh yes, that little bastard will be shamed in front of his spawn!