What's the Number for the Fashion Police??

One of my hobbies is taking photos of people. Stupid people mostly. Unfortunately, most of them are work-related, so I can't share them with the world in general (although they are usually fun at staff meetings). It's too bad, because there have been some real doosies...

I think one of the more serious plights in our society, which often goes overlooked, is the startling lack of full-length mirrors. People of all ages seem to suffer the same affliction. Without a full-length mirror, how are people supposed to know that they look like their wardrobe was arranged by a seeing eye dog? Sure, Lassie does a great job letting you know little Timmy is stuck in the well or that terrorists are conspiring to kidnap the boyscout troop, but I wouldn't let her pick out my clothes.

Anyhow, I took this photo while waiting in the security line at the airport on Friday morning. Try to imagine for a second the thought process that must have taken place... She pulls out two or three different outfits, spends five or ten minutes deliberating on which one she really wants to wear, and this is what she decided on...


REALLY?!? How bad were the ones she decided not to wear?? I've made no secret of the fact I'm not on any best-dressed lists anywhere, but I don't recall a time when any of these components were in style. She looks like Richard Simmons got in a fight with RuPaul. I should be careful because someone could read this and get offended because they have the same outfit in their closet too. If this is the case, I apologize. Just let me know where I can send you your full-length mirror...

Back off, Sparky!

As I was packing for my Edmonton trip this week, I noticed that my work pants had a small hole in the seat. I'm not sure how long it has been there, but apparently I spend a lot of time parked on my tushie because I lose more pants that way. I thought about reinforcing the butt of all my pants, but the stitching would probably look tacky...

Anyhow, back to the story. I had to buy another pair of pants when I got to Edmonton and stopped in at Moore's. Don't worry, I had another pair to wear during this transition phase. I walked in, avoided eye contact with all the salespeople, walked straight over to the pants wall, quickly scanned for the 36x36's, and had already a pair in my hands before Captain Commission came over.

"Need a hand with anything?"

"Nope, I've got it already." I showed him the pants I was holding, hoping he'd go away. No such luck.

"Need to try them on?"

I'm standing two feet away from the changing booths, I think I could find my way over in a pinch. "No, they're the same size as the ones I'm wearing now."

"Well, I guess you don't need me." chuckle, chuckle...

That was the general idea I've been trying to convey. Memo to me: 'work on being less subtle.' He started walking away, freedom at last! But he was just taking a breather for round 2.

"We have some fall jackets on sale."

Ummm, congratulations? I'm trying desperately to find the 'off' switch for my social filter, but to no avail. Fall jackets, seriously??

"The outer shell zips off and you can wear the inside as a sports jacket."

Oh good, because having the zippers on the sports jacket won't look tacky at all! And it's the itchy wool, my favorite! I know I'm not on the front line of fashion. I don't think I'm even in the fashion line, period. If it weren't for Dawn, I doubt I could make it out of the house with matching socks. Seriously, she's the one who opened up my world to wearing colored dress shirts, and I only bought the blue & light grey shirts because she assured me they'd match. Then she told me I couldn't wear a black shirt with black pants. That confused me... Anyhow, no one has ever come up to me and said, "You know, a sports jacket would really work with your shirt and tie look..." and I've had strangers come up and say some really weird things.

I politely told him I wasn't looking for jackets and walked towards the checkout. I made the mistake of slowing down momentarily in front of the tie display and he started to salivate again. I shook my head to say to him "don't even go there", when what I was really thinking was "I'm using my heat vision on you, why is your head not exploding?!?"

A Happy Ending, Eventually

I received a response to the email I sent to National Rentals customer service, and they told me I had to phone a toll-free number because my email didn’t have enough information. I had to drive up to Calgary this morning, so I figured I’d call them while I was on the road. The story had a happy ending, but it was quite a ride getting there…

I phoned the number they gave me, which ended up being the tech support line. The guy answered the line and asked for my employee ID number. I said it probably wouldn’t help him since I’m not employed by his company.

“How did you get this number?”

“Customer service said I need to call here about comments I had submitted a few days ago.”

“What is your reservation confirmation number?”

“I’m driving and I don’t have it with me.” You’d think I’d be able to pull a number like 189272589 from my memory, but apparently not.

“Do you have your driver’s license?”

“Yes, hold on a sec…” It’s always fun trying to dig a wallet out of your front pocket while driving.

“Please hold.”

Before I could draw breath, there was a click followed by what could easily be classified as the worst hold music on the planet. I envisioned everyone waiting in line at some music counter, and apparently after all the elevators and dentist offices were done getting what they wanted, this was all that was left. To really get the full effect, try to imagine gathering together about ten of the people who show up to American Idol auditions in the hopes of being on TV for a few minutes knowing full well they can't sing. Now, put them in a recording studio and have them do covers of popular songs. And instead of having guitars & digital keyboards, give them xylophones and 4th grade recorders as backup. Then the duet with the chimpanzee playing the bagpipes...

After about five minutes of wanting to drive into on-coming traffic rather than listen to the hold music, he finally came back on the line to tell me he had someone from the customer service department on the line to help me. When he was satisfied I was in good hands, he left the call. I’m not sure how the phones work over there, but apparently everything runs through his phone extension. When he hung up, I got a dial-tone on my end too. Less than helpful.

I had to call the tech support line again, explain why I was calling tech support instead of customer service, and this time asked for the number for customer service in case I was disconnected again. He managed to transfer me to the right department without hanging up on me.

Long story short(er), customer service was very helpful. They gave me a credit on the difference between the Silverado and the evil Ranger, as well as a credit for the fuel being less-than-full. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to have anything resolved. I guess previous experience with various customer service departments have left me bitter towards the whole process. And after all the hassle of being transferred to different departments and the fact that the customer service department didn’t even give me the right contact phone number, I thought for sure this train was going to derail. But hats off to (I wish I could remember his name), he resolved the issue promptly and was friendly about it.

National Car Rental

...or 'Gary learns to pre-book his car rentals for the long-weekend.'

Sometimes little details escape my notice and I have to learn lessons the hard way which would be otherwise obvious to the general public. The most recent lesson was "Plan ahead when booking a rental car so close to the August long weekend".

I had to be in Vancouver on July 31st for a staff meeting, so I went online on the Monday to book my flight and rental. Apparently, not enough time in advance. Budget Rental, my tried-and-true, had no cars available by this time (Doh!), so I went to National because they also have an outlet at the airport.

When I checked National's line-up, the "1/2 Ton Extended Cab - Chevrolet Silverado or Similar" was cheaper than any of the cars, so I booked that one. I'd rather drive a truck than a car anyway, so I need very little prompting in that department.


What I got was not quite as advertised. I got off the plane, made my way over to the rentals desk, and had to pry the booking agent away from some very important conversation with her co-worker. She wanted to get rid of me as quickly as possible, and I wanted to get to the office so I didn't feel I had the time to stop for chit-chat. She gave me the paperwork and handed me the keys to...


...a Ford Ranger, which in my estimation is nothing similar to a Silverado. There's no way you can tell me the Ranger is anywhere near equivalent to a 1/2 ton extended cab. The Ranger has more in common with an El Camino than it does with a Silverado.

And to add insult to injury, it didn't really bother them that the tank was about 1/8th below full. If I don't bring it back full, I have to pay as though the staff personally drilled for and refined the oil, and then carried it to the truck in approved containers while riding on the back of a camel. Not a bad money-making scheme if you can get it. Charge people pretty much double the pump price if they bring in the vehicle less than full, then send it back out again without actually filling it up again so you can either 1) get the new driver to fill it up, or 2) charge him through the nose for not bringing it back full.

The guy who checked over the truck when I brought it back cared even less than did the lady at the desk in the morning. We'll see what the corporate customer service department has to say about the email I sent them this morning...

I'm Not Completely Useless...

...with tools.

Thanks to the help of family and friends, we're finishing off the "new basement" (or 'the guest wing') this summer. When it grows up, it'll have two bedrooms for the girls, an office, and a play area.

These are our "Les Nessman" walls. Trying to visualize how everything will look when we get the real walls put up. At this point, the girls are already fighting over who gets which room.

Jesse is the brains behind this endeavor. In retrospect, we probably should've had the basement floor dug lower...

Jesse did all the framing. I have a strict policy not to interfere when the structural integrity of the house could potentially be comprimised... Just to be safe, we went on a three-day business trip to make sure I couldn't help with this part. When you mess up in shop class, you just drill a hole in the top and call it a candle holder. When you mess up on the framing, you have to explain to your daughters why they can't have doors on their rooms like other kids do.

A shot of the future office.

The mini-mud room. Just want a place where kids can hang up their coats and come in the basement without freezing everyone else in the basement.

Wiring has begun. This is where I came in. I ran the wires, then Jesse showed me how to wire in the outlets and the light fixtures while he continued working on the framing. There are four plugs in each of the girls' rooms, five outlets in the playroom, four double outlets in the office (I think we have four powerbars running in the office right now), three phone jacks, and I put in two network plugs so we don't have to run network cables around the room.

Gary learns a valuable lesson in wiring... Don't nick the wires or you have to replace them. Apparently, exposed wiring is a fire hazard. Fortunately, it was only about 8 feet of wire, and not the one running all the way back to the panel.

Wiring is done, now to insulate the office. This is more for sound-proofing than for environmental control.

The office from the inside. We're going to line the walls with tar paper before doing the drywall to help further dampen the noise which will be coming in.

I don't want to jinx anything, but I think I'm catching on to the whole electrical wiring thing. We'll see what happens when it comes time to wire in the bathroom fan downstairs...

Not a Good Sign...

On Friday evening, Dawn and I went out to a movie with Michael & Jenie, leaving 10 kids with 2 babysitters. The evening's stellar customer service moment came at the concession counter. I placed my order, the total came to $8.91, I handed the girl a $10 bill, then pulled a penny out of my wallet with the intention of making the transaction easier. Sadly, this was not the case. She had to void the transaction and ring it in again so she could punch in $8.91 from $10.01 instead of just $10.00. And it got better... She gave me $10.10 in change.

"I gave you $10.01, how am I getting $10.10 back?"

*confused look*

"I should get $1.10, not $10.10..."

*disgruntled look as she takes back the $10 and gives me a loonie*

"If it's a problem, I can take the $10..."

Is math not still part of the school curiculum? Students still need to have passed a math course before they can graduate, right? Am I being unreasonable in my expectation that someone should be able to deal with an extra penny without reacting like Rainman headed towards an airline other than Qantas?

I'm sorry, Precious, but get used to having your name on your shirt...

24-hr Walmart

In the past, I held the belief that a 24-hr Walmart would be a great idea. People don't stop needing things just because it's late at night, right? Well, Monday night cured me of that notion.

Let me set the stage... Monday was our staff meeting in Calgary, then Tuesday was the staff meeting in Vancouver, Wednesday was visits to Squamish and Whistler locations with field staff, then fly back on Thursday. Well, in my haste to get on the road Sunday evening, I neglected to pack my electric razor. I don't exactly get the 5:00 shadow by noon, but after a few days it's pretty obvious I haven't shaved yet.

After I get all the post-meeting paperwork completed at about 8:30, and a great dinner (thanks to B&K), it was about 10:40 by the time I got to the Walmart by the office. Electric razor and some socks, hardly an extensive shopping list, I should be in and out and in the hotel sleeping by 11:30 at the latest. My flight leaves at 7:00, so I need to be at the airport by 6:00, so the alarm is set for 5:30.

What I didn't know is that apparently electric razors are considered dangerous because they are locked in the glass display case. The regular blades are freely available, and they don't have to be plugged in first, so this confuses me somewhat. I have an aversion to regular blades as I'm convinced I will bleed to death from all the nicks and cuts. I can cut myself with an electric razor, so I don't feel it would be right to divert the blood bank away from people who really need it.

There are two blue-vested employees standing by the display case, so for a fleeting moment I feel that karma might be on my side this time. What I didn't notice is they were flirting with two customers at the time. Do not ever underestimate the teenaged girl's ability to completely block out all stimuli which could interfere with flirting. Fine, I'll go get socks first then come back. Hopefully by then the hormones will have dissipated.

This was a great idea because by the time I got back with my socks, there was no one to be found in the whole department. I look around and see a congregation of blue vests in the seasonal department. What luck, surely my odds of success must be increased due to the high concentration of staff in one area.

"We're having a meeting right now."

What?!? So sorry for having interrupted your meeting with my burdensome request. By all means, please continue. Here's an idea, if you don't want pesky customers interrupting your meeting, oh.. I don't know... hold it in the back room where customers can't come in!!

I wandered over to electronics because it was the first place I spotted staff.

"I don't work in that department."

Really?? Apparently no one else does either! Could you perhaps use that weird phone thingy and call someone? Seriously, this should not be difficult. Back to the Health & Beauty aisle...

A blue vest walked by and made the mistake of making eye contact and had to deal with me.

"I'll go find the manager with the keys."

Again, these strange phone gizmos might help in that search. Maybe the manager could come to you? Just throwing it out there... Maybe this staff wasn't cleared on using the phone. Her security clearance probably wasn't high enough. I never saw her again to have the chance to ask her the question.

Then the meeting in Seasonal got out and all kinds of blue vests came past. One of them also offered to find the manager. I could suggest a few topics for their next staff meeting. Having worked at Walmart several years ago, I'm sure I could remember how to use the intercomm system. Anyhow, the second staff to look for this elusive manager soon became MIA. I was afraid to ask anyone else in fear that eventually I'd run out of staff as they all seem to disappear.

The most help I got all evening was from one of the stocking crew who had been watching. She called over to another staff member from half-way across the store (bless her heart, I could tell she was one to get results) and flagged them down. While this guy turned out to be A manager, he wasn't THE manager with the key to this top-security display case. He went to go get the other manager and I wanted to warn him that no one apparently returns from that quest.

Long story short, no one in the entire building had a key to the cabinet. They checked the customer service department where the keys are kept. They checked with managers. They checked with the red vests (who apparently have a higher rank than the blue vests). American nuclear launch codes are more readily accessible than the keys to this cursed display cabinet. It's only about 11:50 by this time, no real rush...

Finally, this saint of a woman stocking shelves went to the back room, found an unopened case and opened it to get my razor. I thanked her profusely and headed to the checkout lines.

One of my favorite features of Walmart is the self-checkout system. It's so much easier to be able to scan in my own items. Did you know that they section off the self-checkout lanes at night? True story. Did you also know that at 11:55, they close ALL the lanes until 12:01 so they can close the day and open a new one?

The line keeps getting bigger as we wait for the TWO tellers to get the green light to open their lanes again. The line at this time is going up the aisle towards the electronics section, but they can only handle two checkout lanes. The guy in front of me apparently heard there is an upcoming shortage on milk so he filled his cart with 4L jugs. Good, that won't take any time to scan in. Just count the jugs, scan one in and Quantity Over-ride the rest. No. She has to scan them all individually.

I have seen glaciers move faster than the staff at the tills. It was 12:20 before I walked out to my car, having been thoroughly beaten and battered by karma's cruel sense of humor. Sleep is so over-rated...