2nd Star to the Right :: Neverland. I think I want to live there.

And you thought the story had a happy ending.

Such silliness. We are talking about the Evil Empire here people. There are no happy endings with them.

Part I, Part II, Part III

Part IV
Monday night is CSI:Miami night. I know, don’t laugh. I dig David Caruso.

But guess what? My cable is out again. AGAIN. A quick phone call to the Evil Empire’s Customer Service line scheduled another appointment for the next evening. They were kind enough to find an appointment for me after normal work hours, so I wouldn’t have spend another waiting around my house during a four-hour window for the cable guy to show up.

Tuesday night, I arrived home in plenty of time to meet the technician. Hmm. 5:30. Normally, I would be watching That 70’s Show. And then reruns of Friends. And Seinfeld. But what’s this? I have pictures! I have sound! I have cable!

A little before seven, a technician called. He had been out in my area earlier in the day and had stopped by. You know, just in case I was home. Which I wasn’t. But that didn’t matter now – I had cable!

“Uh, yeah, when I opened up the box, I found your line un-hooked, so I just hooked it right back up again. You probably got un-hooked when someone was trying to steal cable.”

“Wow. Stealing cable, huh? So. Will that happen again?”

“Well, I hope not.”

“I hope not too. Isn’t there something that can be done to prevent it?”

“Well, sometimes we put a lock on the cable box.”

“That sounds like it could be some help. Is there any way I can request that you do that for me?”

“Oh. Well, I already did.”

“Really? You’re my hero.” I really said that too. Scout’s honor.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I listen to the news in the mornings as I go about my routine and try to make it out of the door on time. Wednesday was no exception.

I even had cable when I woke up that morning. Crazy, I know. But whatever goes up, has to come down, right? And come down it did. Wednesday night when I returned home, I was without cable again. Fifth time in as many days.

Evil Empire does employ a wonderful man named Robert. He escalated my call. I now have escalated request status. ER 255822.

I guess you only get escalated if you go five days without cable. Three and four days without cable aren’t enough. I was promised a follow-up call from his supervisor the next morning.

“Thank you for calling the Evil Empire. We’re sorry. All of our associates are busy right now. Please hold and your call will be answered in the order in which it was received. We value you as an Evil Empire customer. ”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

When I was finally able to speak with someone I was told that a supervisor or a technician dispatcher would call me back within an hour to schedule an appointment with me for later that day. Which is something they didn’t do. And I got another escalated request. ER 255908.

10:48 AM. They’ve got exactly one hour. I’ve asked them to call me on my direct line at work because my cell phone doesn’t always work inside the building.

11:48 AM. I get a call on my cell phone. It’s a technician or a technician dispatcher. He didn’t identify himself except that he works for the Evil Empire. He has an opening between 5 and 7 that night.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be home until at least six. I don’t get off work until five and with the weather like it is today, it’ll take at least 45 minutes to get home.”

“Ok. Six then.”

“Six tonight. Thursday, March 25 at 6:00 PM?”

“Yeah.”

“Great, thank you. I’ll see you then.”

On the ride home, I discovered a voicemail. See, my cell phone doesn’t always work inside my building. Did I mention that already?

It was from a technician. A technician that had been at my house at three that afternoon. A technician that had been at my house at three that afternoon during an appointment that had been set up without my knowledge.

“Thank you for choosing the Evil Empire. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Pamela. I’ve got a problem. A big problem. And I’m officially making it your problem. See, a technician was at my house at three that afternoon during an appointment that had been set up without my knowledge. And I’m a little afraid that the appointment I did set up isn’t going to happen. And oh yes, I STILL DON’T HAVE MY CABLE.”

ER 256266.

My appointment was scheduled for Saturday at 11:00 AM.

8:51 AM | allison | # |

Part III, in a continuing series. Don't forget about Part I and Part II.

And just in case you were wondering, I'm still without my digital cable. Day 10 and counting.

I bet you know how this one is going to end.

Part III
Exactly one week later, the cable went out. The casual flick of clicker only yielded the dreaded snow. Every channel was the same. Snow and more snow. Static. Fuzz. Whatever you want to call it.

“Are you available between 12:00 PM and 5:00 PM today?” the Customer Service Representative asked me.

I could cancel my planned trip home. I could do laundry instead. And I really, really need to vacuum the apartment.

“Yes.” An appointment was scheduled. I would wait for a technician to come out and fix the problem.

When I got out of my shower, I turned the television on. It’s a habit that comes from many years of living alone and wanting some sort of noise to cover the silence of one person moving about.

“We’ll be back with more coverage of the first round right after this break!” It was an announcer at the NAACP basketball tournament. Incredible! It was a miracle! I had my cable back! Hurriedly, I dressed; my planned trip home was back on. I would call to cancel my appointment from the car.

I spent the day shopping with my mother. I had a lovely dinner with my family. We ate, drank and were merry. Literally. So much merriment, in fact, that I forgot to call and cancel my scheduled appointment with the technician.

And when I returned home, I was punished for my forgetfulness. The cable was out again. Fuzz, snow and all the rest.

Sunday morning, up early again, I placed another call to a Customer Service Representative.

“Thank you for calling Comcast today. How can I help you?”

“Hi. My cable is out. Again.”

“I can help you with that. What exactly is the problem?”

“My cable is out. AGAIN.”

Low and behold, an appointment was available for later that same afternoon! And this after I had been adamantly told that appointments were never, ever scheduled for the same day as a call.

I was joined at my home by a service technician later that same afternoon. And of course, by the time he arrived, the snow and fuzz were gone; I had a picture again. But he was cute and I flirted and he double-checked all the line levels and made sure everything was hooked up correctly for me outside.

“Everything looks to be ok. It looks like you have all new equipment. And it looks like an audit team was out here recently too. There are new tags on everything.”

“What’s an audit unit?”

“Basically, the just come out and make sure that everyone who has cable is paying for it. You could have gotten disconnected when they were checking.”

“But wouldn’t they have hooked me back up when they were done checking?”

“Well, they should.”

Enough said. I watched Cold Case. And Law & Order: CI. And Crossing Jordan. And reruns of What Not To Wear. And the end of Catch Me If You Can. It was couch potato heaven.

8:47 AM | allison | # |

By request, Part II. You should read this part first.

Saturday, March 6, an MDU unit arrived at my home at the appointed time. He spent an hour working and was able to establish a cable connection in my home. Hooray! In mere moments I’ll have free reign of more than 100 channels!

But wait, what’s this? No little box? No remote control with a million little buttons to push and click to my heart’s content? As he was preparing to leave, I asked him where the digital cable box was.

“Yeah. I don’t do that. I just do the wiring. Someone else will have to come out and install the digital cable box.”

“Someone today?”

“Yeah. No. You’re going to have to call Evil Empire Customer Service and make an appointment to have another technician come out.”

Another phone call. Another appointment. Another technician.

If there been any level of communication at all within the customer service department, I should have been informed of the need to schedule a separate technician after the MDU unit guy when I spoke with a representative on Thursday. I was not informed, however, and had to make yet another phone call on Monday, March 8.

I have since made an appointment to have digital cable installed in my home on Saturday, March 13 – TWO FULL WEEKS after the initial installation should have taken place.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Saturday morning arrived and I was up early enough to meet the technician at the earliest appointed time. The technician was scheduled to arrive between 8:00 AM and 12:00 PM. I waited. And waited. And waited. You can probably see where this is going, can’t you?

12:00 came and went with no sign of the technician and no call from anyone, the technician or otherwise, to let me know when I could expect him.

I finally called the Evil Empire’s Customer Service line to find out that status of my technician.

"The tech hasn't called in. There are no notes listed on your account," I was told.

"But he's already late," I said. "How will I know when he's going to be here?" Their solution? The customer service representative’s supervisor would call me within an hour's time to let me know when I could expect the technician.

Fabulous! More than an hour after the absolute latest pre-scheduled time I should have seen the technician, I could expect a phone call telling me an approximate time that I could expect him.

He showed up at 1:30 PM and finally, miracle of miracles, installed my digital cable box. I was now with cable.

The supervisor, in case you were wondering, never called.

A long, drawn out story with a happy ending, right?

I should be so lucky.

2:48 PM | allison | # |

An open letter to the Comcast Corporation. In a few parts.

Part I
My contact with Comcast, hereafter known as the Evil Empire, began on February 19, 2003, when I called to establish service for my new apartment. At first, I was very pleased to with everyone I spoke with – the representative whom I spoke with was friendly and helpful. The technician that arrived at my new apartment to start my service was not only on time, but also early.

Unfortunately, he was not able to hook up my service due to wiring problems within the building itself. Understandably, he was not equipped to make any necessary repairs. His dispatcher informed us that an MDU unit would contact me within 72 to make an appointment to handle the problem. I confirmed that I would not be responsible for any charges incurred in the repairs of the wiring.

An MDU thingy means, by the way, multiple dwelling unit. I live in an apartment building. With lots of other people.

“So, I’m not going to have to pay for the MDU unit to come out here and fix whatever needs to be fixed?”

“No.” There was a long pause. “No. I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so? You know what? There’s a big difference between no and I don’t think so. Maybe you could find out for me.”

Phew. Confirmation I would not have to pay for the MDU unit to make a trip out to see me.

Monday, March 1, I called the Evil Empire mid-morning to make sure that my wiring problem had been documented and appointment scheduled. I made an appointment with an MDU unit for that same day between 12-5 PM. Yipee! Cable!

Later that same afternoon, I called to check on the status of my MDU unit. I was informed at that time that instead of an MDU unit being scheduled, another technician who would more than likely have run into the same problem as the previous technician had been scheduled.

And instead of being scheduled for that afternoon as I had been told, it was for the following afternoon, March 2. It was also at this point that I was informed that I could not make appointments with the MDU unit – they would have to call me. Within 72 hours. Silly me for thinking I could have my problem taken care of quickly and efficiently. I was only paying an arm and a leg for the privelege of watching Tony off family and friends.

Tuesday, March 2, I received a phone call from a technician waiting for me at my home. He was there to install a digital cable box, for an appointment that was supposed to have been the day before. But oh, silly cable customer that I am, I went to work instead of waiting at home another whole day for the cable man to show up.

I am sure, had I been home, he would have run into the same problem that the technician who had been at my home on Saturday had run into. I was amazed that the appointment, while not expressly canceled on my part, had not been appropriately canceled after my conversation with the representative who told me an MDU unit, not a regular technician, would have to install my services.

And you should be proud of me. Up to this point, I’d been pretty good at keeping my cool.

Thursday, March 4, I placed another call to Comcast’s customer service department. After waiting the prerequisite 72 hours, no one from the MDU unit had contacted me. I asked again for any contact information I could have for the MDU unit and was told again that I would just have to wait for them to contact me.

Another thing I learned during this call on Thursday morning is that my technician’s notes hadn’t been logged until very recently, meaning my 72 hours of waiting before the MDU unit hadn’t started until Tuesday – a full twenty-four hours after it had happened.

Finally, the MDU dispatcher scheduled an appointment with me. For Saturday. SATURDAY.

Are we having fun yet? Only two more days to wait for the MDU guys to come out to my house. It’s only been a week in my new apartment that smells like day-old Indian food.

I can go a few more days with no television.

Right?

8:56 AM | allison | # |

Yikes, its been a week! I didn't mean for it to be that long. But as part of my new putting myself out there campaign, I've gotten involved in some new activities and re-kindled some old ones. And the result? I'm super busy.

There are a few highlights that I should mention.
I've joined a fun, new group. That is headed by an old friend.

My baby rolled over 100,000 miles.

I was here when it happened.

I had some fun in the office. Obviously.

Oh.

And I applied for a new job.

9:04 AM | allison | # |

Last week I went out for drinks after work with some co-workers. There was a bit of a short bus incident, but I wasn't loopy enough to forget some things that someone said. She was talking about she and her husband met and got married, both of them in their late twenties or early thirties. She lamented at how lucky she was because by that time, there weren't many places outside of work to meet people.

Relationship people.

You're too old for the bar scene; too young for the community boards of directors. I told her that didn't give me much hope; there are very few datable guys in my workplace. And I can't help but thinking about the danger of dipping your pen in the company ink.

And it all got me thinking. I'm not really sure I believe there is one person for everyone, but a group of people that you're most compatible with. And for as long as I can remember, I just assumed that when the time was right I would meet the person I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with.

But what I've already met that person and didn't know it and let him slip away? What if I won't meet that person until I'm 40? What if I never meet that person at all?

So, remember when I said I was making some changes? Well, I am. I'm putting myself out there. I'm not waiting for the "right time" because I'm not so sure that really exists. I'm being bold and assertive.

It's scary and risky and something I'm not all together comfortable with. That's a risk I'm finally willing to take.

8:28 PM | allison | # |

Not long after I moved from Houston to Chicago, a former co-worker took the plunge and also moved back to the Midwest. Since our collective moves, we've kept in touch via email. And by keeping in touch, I mean she sends me some goofy forward nearly every day.

Most of them I don't mind. Some are funny pictures or quizzes. I can deal with those. It's the jesus forwards that are annoying. I accept her belief in a higher power, but her constant evangelizing, implied or not, is getting tiresome.

More than anything, I want to tell her to stop with the jesus forwards. I want to tell her she can believe in her higher power, but please don't assume that I believe in the same one, or at all. But I know that would cause hurt feelings and I really don't want to do that. She's a kind person who really helped me feel welcome way back when I first moved to Houston.

Any suggestions?

9:53 AM | allison | # |

This morning as we pulled into the train station, my friend pointed out a gentleman standing next to our seat. He was wearing a pair new khakis. I know they were new because he still had the little sticker on them that labeled the size of the pants. 34 waist, 36 length.

We giggled for a moment. And then we ran into a dilemma. Do we tell him or let it go? I was torn; do we let it go and giggle about it the rest of the day or politely tell him about the size label on his right thigh?

We ended up debating for too long and he got lost in the crowd as we all filed off the train. I hope that someone in his office was kind enough to let him know.

And if not, I'll be looking for Mr. 34 waist on the way home.

1:33 PM | allison | # |

Oh. And I'm going to Vegas, baby!

In 263 days.

Not that I'm counting or anything.

9:24 AM | allison | # |

I've done something recently (read: this morning) that's going to result in some changes in my life. It's not the move and I'm not quitting my job. Although a new job would be nice. But I just got all this extra PTO and I'm not quite ready to give all that up.

I digress.

I think my decision is a good thing and I'll tell you all about it sometime soon. I'm taking a risk I don't take often and it feels a little liberating to do it.

I'm taking charge. I'm taking the bull by the horns. And all that other fun stuff.

Wish me luck.

9:21 AM | allison | # |

Ok. So I've worked some things out.

The apartment still blows and smells like day-old Indian food. Except on Fridays when it smells like fish. It's Lent, y'all.

But living there is going to help me get this:

.

I know. It's beautiful isn't isn't it?

I have the best family and friends EVER. They would so kick your family and friends' asses. Trust me. They go to movies with me when I freak out in the middle of the living room floor. They call me two and three times a day to make sure I haven't had another freak out. They send me beautiful roses from my Big House-bound idol . They give me hugs. They make it so I don't feel bad when I suck down my drinks too fast and end up feeling like I should be riding my own special bus.

Which, in case you were wondering looks like this:

I've been a bit of a basket-case lately, which is totally un-characteristic of me. And I think it freaked some people out, including me. That rarely happens, so when it does, everyone gets a little worried.

But I've pulled myself out of the funk. I'm my usual, cheerful self again.

And today, I'm likely to be even more cheerful than usual. One of my co-workers had a little run-in with the gas pump this morning and let me tell you, that cinnamony-spicey candle she has lit in her cube isn't going to cut it.

8:53 AM | allison | # |

It's not you, it's me. I'm just going to be quiet for a while, ok?

Ok.

12:00 PM | allison | # |

I'm back. My old apartment is bare and empty. My new apartment is so full I can barely get from one room to another without stubbing a toe or smacking my knees into something. The moving part is done.

My new place is...

Well, it's my new place. I don't like it. The building smells like day-old indian food. My shower has the hot and cold water backwards. I have an avacado mini-stove. The screen in the living room is falling out. It smells like day-old indian food. The carpeting is dark brown. My cable isn't hooked up.

Have I mentioned that it smells like day-old indian food?

Up until this point in my life, whenever I have to make big decisions, like moving or switching jobs, I do a lot of work up front before I make a choice. I do a lot of research. I make lists. I talk it over with friends and family. And then I do more research and I make more lists. And then and only then do I make a decision.

99.99% of the time I feel like the choices I make are the right ones for me. I make the best choices I can using all the information I have available. I did the same thing this time before I moved. I signed up with placement agencies, toured what seems like dozens of prospective apartments. I sat down and made a new budget. I toured more apartments and researched possible locations. Then I sat down and made another budget.

I found a place closer to family and friends and will help me save a little money each month. Everything looked good.

And then I moved. I recruited friends and family to come over to my nice, spacious apartment, load up a truck and help me move to a small, dark, day-old indian food smelling apartment. And you know what I did when everyone left that night? I cried. I cried because I wanted to be back in my old apartment. I wanted to immediately pack everything back up and put it back where it belonged in my old apartment. I wanted to leave everything in boxes because if I unpacked, it would mean that I really lived there.

I cried because I had begun to second guess myself. And I never second guess myself. Mostly because I do so much work up front. I almost always know that the decision I've made is going to be the best and the right one for me.

I feel unsure and unsafe in my new apartment. I get a sick feeling in my stomach the moment I open the front door and get that first whiff of day-old indian food. I dread walking up the three flights of stairs to the tomb of my new home.

I've tried to make it my own. I've done what everyone said - I put pictures up on the wall. I put my clothes in the closet and hung my pretty shower curtain in the ugly green bathroom. I put my plants in the windows and watched my dad hang my curtains. I did everything I was supposed to do.

And I still don't want to go home.

4:38 PM | allison | # |