Customer Service This!

It’s really just annoying and boring, all at the same time. This past week or so saw me call to change my password, just to have the internet stop working. The modem was fine, my computer was fine, but whatever Juan did at his end made it stop working.

 

He insisted that he did everything right. He insisted it was my computer. I tried to explain that I was already connected to the internet with my other modem. He wasn’t hearing me. I got fed up and told him to just cancel the service.

But of course it’s never that easy, is it? He said I had to take it to one of the major offices, return the equipment and cancel it all from there.

Sigh

One of the offices is in a mall, where I initially got connected, but it’s in a mall. it’s also two cars, which means, two public cabs. Normally I’mm all over that but I’ve been sick the past couple of weeks and was in no mood.

I decided on the office I originally wrote about, as it’s closer and I can walk. It’s a long walk but what the heck. I’ve been sick in the apartment for a few weeks.

The first thing she did was test the modem, even though I told her it was fine. Then she showed me how she could get online using said modem, all of which I believed. At one point she just got up and left and stood chatting to the woman at the reception desk. A woman, by the way, who was clearly about three minutes pregnant and stood rubbing her belly and her back. There were also pictures of a fetus scan plastered at all the desks, but I digress.

After about a half an hour, they sent me packing, complete with my modem. There was a nearly $300 fine for cancelling the service, even though I have had the service for three years.  Also, slow customer service where you are sitting down in air conditioning is absolutely fine. Take your time. Smoke ’em if you got ’em.

I tried to call a few more times but instead of transferring me to the English speaking Juan, they just hung up on me.

This morning, fed up, I sed the translator and wrote out a message of my dilemma, popped in a liquor store bag, of course I did, and simply dropped it on the kiosk counter where I pay the bill.

Sister was staring at her phone, of course she was, so I dropped it on the counter and just fucked off.  But seriously? What’s she going to do? Come tearing out of her kiosk to tackle me and make me take the modem back? No.

Problem solved.

 

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Adventures in Internet

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A few months back, my internet wasn’t working. The lights were on, but as the kids say, no one was home. I wasn’t too concerned, as it’s not common, but not uncommon, either. This was a Friday and I ran some errands and then went to relax on my bed with a book, rather enjoying the excuse of not being able to work or worry about the world spinning off its axis. Or missing out on pictures of some shit I didn’t need to see.

I ended up falling asleep and didn’t wake up until later in the afternoon. I decided to not worry until the next day and rather enjoyed myself with some wine on my balcony, watching my world go by.

The next I called my internet provider and was told they were doing an upgrade and I have to return my modem for a new, better shinier one. I packed up my modem and hiked down to the shopping plaza where I pay the bill.

I was a bit hung over and thought the free air would help. Of course, by fresh air, I mean stench of garbage and black clouds of exhaust in the heat. There was a lot of confusion trying to communicate until a woman in line got out her phone and helped us out with her interpreter’s app.

Not long after a woman came along who spoke English and she finally told me I had to go to the main office. This was the last thing I wanted to do all hungover on a Saturday morning. There was a young man in line who worked at the mall as a driver and he told our interpreter he would drive me there for 100 pesos. She said it’s a moto.

That is a motorcycle taxi.  used to take them in Sosua but I hadn’t here. I have graduated to public cabs. Anyhow, I agreed and off we went.

Holy heart attack, Batman! The weaving through the traffic and cutting between cars was quite enough to wake me up thank you very much. At one point we went between a semi truck and a van and I had to check twice to make sure I still had my kneecaps. When we got close enough to see the building he cut through a parking lot, realized it was closed and then just drove over the concrete parking blocks to get back to the main road.

I decided that was close enough and got off. I hiked up the hill to the office and was shocked to the core to see at least 60 people there. Everyone there with their modems. I took a number and then stood against the wall. Finally, a seat became available and I got to sit down for my three-hour wait, My three-hour wait. Sing it to the theme of Gilligan’s Island.

They had brought out extra chairs to accommodate everyone but people showed up with two and three children in tow. It was brutal, but I was sitting and it was air-conditioned. At one point, the young lad behind me was talking on his phone in English so I asked if he would help me when my turn came, just in case.

It was a long afternoon of waiting and waiting and I had no phone, no book and no water.

Turns out English wasn’t the problem. It was me not having my passport. It had never occurred to me I would need it. After a lot of pleading they let me off with an expired Ontario Driver’s licence.

Once I was out I was so relieved it was all over that it dawned on me I hadn’t really thought about how I would get home. I walked.

Fast forward to last week. I went down to the plaza to pay my bill at the kiosk and the lad there pointed out he didn’t have a computer. I went away and came back a few days later to find the kiosk gutted and a note on the front. The only part I could make out was ‘sorry for the inconvenience’. They aren’t.

The closest place for me to pay the bill is at the main office, which is not convenient. At all. I’m not walking all that way and it’s two cars to get there and then two more to get home.

I went to pay my phone yesterday, a different company and asked the lad there if he spoke English. He did.

Long story short, they two lads that were here to do my installation spent a lot of time picking cat hair out of their eyes, noses and mouths. But at least I will be able to pay the bill across the street.

Interesting side note. They called me today to confirm my address and all that, and I missed the call because I had no idea how to answer my phone. I got a new phone in July and this is the first call I had. Sad, lonely cat lady.

Just My Work Rant

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It’s been five months at my new job and I still have it! My average was always about three. I’m saved because I don’t share office space with them. Man, oh, man, would that suck!

Our office is Facebook. As most of my co-workers seem to be 20-40, they love to share on Facebook. Mostly, they love to brag, kiss-up or cry. 

Cry because someone was mean to them. And by mean, I mean corrected them. So desperate for us to pat them on the back and kiss their boo-boos. 

The bragging, as far as I can tell, is the need for more pats on the back for doing their job. ‘I just wrote an article!’ Jezuz wept. 

The kissing-up drives me nuts most of all. ‘Just a shout-out to the great quality control team, you’re all so wonderful… *insert ass-kissing noises*’  

I’ve been getting really pissed off with one of the QC people. She’s not on Facebook, or at least, not on the page. I imagine her as her worst. She sends my stiff back all the time with suggestions. 

Initially, I would do it but then I started to realize she was likely just trying to get her numbers up. There are monetary awards for highest producing on each team.

She also has no idea how to politely give a critique. I have, in fact, been considering filing a complaint about her. She has been downright rude and hurtful to me, and I’m not exactly thin-skinned. We hate her. 

Last Sunday, after a very slow week, she sent back one of my articles with one of her asshole suggestions. I returned the article with a comment, ‘No Thank You.’  Get. This. She fucking complained about me!

Well! That got me fired up. I thanked them for the information and then sent a blast right back, with all the crap she’s been pulling over the past few months. Ha! In your fat Iowa face! (I have no idea where she is from. I’m sure she’s a lovely girl with people who love her.) (Not the point)

All the comments we make are stored, so the content manager went through them and got back to me later. She actually apologized to me and said her and the head content guy would be addressing it, as her language was in fact, inappropriate. Ha! Take that, you insipid cow!

Usually, her comments would suggest she lives a very sheltered life, likely safe in the arms of Jesus. Good for her, but not on my work, you don’t. 

I wanted to go to their little Facebook ass-kissing party with a few home truths but refrained. It’s enough she’s probably crying int a pint of ice cream. Well, so what? She made me drink.

I make it a point to avoid the page and yes, I could just leave but it’s our communication system.   I took it off my newsfeed and only check it for updates, but it is mostly a sea of selfies, pictures of where they are writing from (brag) self-congratulations and crying because someone called their work shit. (I’ve seen some, it is)

I don’t usually last long reading the comments and posts. As soon as I see one of the aforementioned offenders, I’m out. Usually with an ‘Oh, Shut Up” or ‘Oh, Fuck Off, Already” Then I go back to my regularly scheduled life.

Overall, I love the job. They hired a bunch of new writers, perhaps expecting a lot more work, maybe clearing off some of the less productive ones.  I can’t go to the Facebook page and say what I really want, so I’ll do it here. As long as I can make a living without getting fired for telling some twat in Iowa to get fucked, we’re fine.

Comma, Bitch.

As all my money has dwindled away, I have been looking for work online. Living where I do, with regular power outages, it’s difficult to commit to anything where I need to be online for certain scheduled times every day. The best solution is writing.

I have been to college a few times, so I understand writing essays, reports, detailed assignments and whatever else that entails. I’ve also taken several writing courses, mostly ‘creative writing’, all of which I enjoyed and a few I actually found helpful.

Writing for sites online is a different thing all together. When I first started I had no idea what I was doing but after a few tried, managed to get the hang of it. I had merely did an online for ‘working online’ and found a few sites that we free to join. These sites are set up for all interested parties to bid on projects and then you just wait and hope for the best.

I made a few mistakes along the way, the biggest was allowing the person wanting to hire me to contact me outside the site. The sites I was using – one I still am using- have their own pay system. This is because they take a percentage for the usage of the site.  I didn’t  understand that this wasn’t allowed, and the first few times I did it, it worked out fine. I got the money in my PayPal account

There was one person who hired me and wanted to contact through Skype. I did, and the first article I wrote, I sent through the freelance site. He actually ‘yelled’ at me, by yelled I mean he was furious that I was late and that ‘he didn’t work this way …’. I explained I sent the article, did he not check the messages?

I should have just cut my losses and went back to the site, but I didn’t know. Plus, they were offering a far higher wage than most, so I didn’t want to just throw it away. We carried on for a solid week, then I started to ask about money. He said he would pay the middle and end of the month.

I said that was fine, but as I had already done quite a bit of work, would he consider just paying for what he had received. He wouldn’t. He also kept sending me work. I said I would do it once I was paid.

Another aspect I found fishy was there was always someone there online on the Skype. Always. Sometimes the messages were very clear, sometimes they were clearly from someone who was not native English. I didn’t get paid and ended up having a big falling out with the freelance company. They also bawled me out and said I still owned them their take. What?

Last week I was accepted on a job from a woman who paid well and seemed to even have a sense of humour. I was wrong. I did an example writing, which she paid me for and then she critiqued it to the bone. She had a real thing about commas. She sent me a message back that frankly was all commas. It made me itch just reading it. She was really upset about double spaces between sentences and a long list of other things.

When she sent me the next assignment I told her to poke it up her ass, which she promptly did. The contract was ended and the payment made and then she had the gall to demand a review.  I gave her a review.

 

Too Heavy

 

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I was walking home with groceries this morning, heavy ones and in my mind I said, ‘My life is too heavy’.  Then I tried really hard not to cry.

Truth is life has been very heavy lately. I’ll try not to make this all ‘sitting in the garden eating worms’ but sometimes a little self-mewling is in order. It’s financial, isn’t it. I’m out of money in a country I can’t legally work in and don’t speak the language and likely won’t learn much Spanish because statistically, being over forty greatly reduces that as a reality and as I’m over fifty I’d be happy to remember the grocery list I wrote ten minutes for I left for the store without it.

But it gets you down. Last month I had to borrow two hundred pesos from my only friend here, (Nobody likes me, everybody hates me… sing along if you know it) just to have water for the week. I actually went several weeks without cash, in the bank and on hand. I had spent the very last of it, the bits I’d been hoarding on cat food and litter. I also had to carry it home, which was brutal.

I’m looking online for work, really my only option, but it’s bits and pieces. I use several websites but recently had a falling out with one of them. I got offered a job, and the pay was good, very good, in fact. Not just for this website, but in general. The guy wanted to chat through Skype, but only instant messages, never laid eyes on him.

He came across as a bit of a prick but I persevered. I got the first assignment, finished and set it to him thought the website where he hired me. It was a job writing articles and for those of you who have done or are doing it now, it’s horrendous. Mostly, I want to punch my own spleen out. The job was up to five articles a day, finish it, do the next one.

I never heard from after  the first one and then the next day saw him on Skype and asked what was going on. He immediately started in on me about how I was way too late and he didn’t work like that and blah blah shut the fuck blah.

I pointed out I had sent the article within an hour of getting it the day before and if he would kindly stop swing his cock about and maybe put it back in his purse he would see said article in his account inbox.

He said we both had a bit of a misunderstanding (he) but we soldiered on. I did a few of more articles, some were fine, a few of them just a nightmare, but I got through them. I was sending them to him through Skype but also through his account on the actual site, and using their system of tracking my hours. The last one I sent wouldn’t go in to his account and when I checked it, it said it had been closed.

Super.

I contacted their ‘chat’ customer service do-ma-jiggy, to find out what’s going on. It’s at this point I’ll mention that;

a) I’ve had wretched service on this particular site before

b) I’m fucking mad

c) there is no alcohol in my house

I live in a third world, or developing country and customer service here is ghastly but still makes theirs seem like silver service.

This twat I’m talking to immediately started blaming me and telling me I was at fault and then things just got all white and hot and it spiraled in to several ‘fuck yous’ (mine) and then I got an OFFICIAL FIRST AND FINAL WARNING and I asked her to poke that up one of her smelly hairy holes as well and then they took the whole five dollars out of my account. I mean, really.

To top it off, because that’s not enough, they sent me an electronic invoice, just to show me the money I could presumably poke up one of my smelly holes.

I started to walk/run in the early mornings. I started a few months ago. It’s mostly really nice, somewhat quiet, not too much traffic, I see the ocean and other walkers/runners and beautiful scenery but also rats and dead animals and garbage and that is really hard to take.  Mostly the dead animals.

My body is getting lighter.  My life is getting heavier.