Anna Hates Customer Service

Customer. Service. I am paying you, I am your customer. It is your job to serve me. I'm not asking for something ridiculous, here. I don't call Apple, for example, and ask the service representative to fold my laundry, make me dinner and wash my feet with her hair. I'm starting to think though that those kinds of requests might get better results since the people who work in customer service seem to know the least about the company they work for of anyone ever.

My brother works in customer service, actually, and he's pretty good at it. But that's probably because he ACTUALLY HELPS PEOPLE. I spent over an hour on the phone with Sprint today, and talked to three different people in various "departments" before they could tell me that they couldn't, in fact, help me over the phone. This seems like something that should have occurred to any one of these three people at some point during an excruciatingly long conversation, but no, it didn't. So then I went to the store, where the Sprint employee "helping" me called, I presume, the same moronic employees, and this time, was able to tell me they couldn't help me within 30 minutes. So at least that's an improvement.

Perhaps more unnerving though than the fact none of the three people on the phone, the one being consulted by the third, the guy at the store, the person HE was on the phone with, or the other 7 people working at the store doing nothing -- a total of 13 useless employees -- could help me switch my current phone number to another phone, was the series of inane questions they asked me. No, I don't know how long my new boss of 2 weeks has had this cell phone plan, we don't tend to chat about things like that. And no, oddly, I don't know the password my dad set up seven years ago when he bought my brother and I our first cell phone to keep in the car. Fine, ask these ridiculous questions, as long as they don't get too personal, I don't really care. But what bothers me is that when I said "I don't know" to every irrelevant question I was asked, it wasn't a deal breaker! It wasn't, oh, sorry, then we can't help you. The fact that I couldn't answer these questions DIDN'T SEEM TO MATTER AT ALL. Maybe that computer screen in front of you, useless Sprint employee #5, says: "If that question didn't get 'em, type a little bit more, then ask a fourth time for the number they're trying to switch! Sucker!"

Unbelievable. I was given a similar run around by US Airways last week, and a Genius Bar employee once showed me how to give my iBook the computer equivalent of the Heimlich maneuver in order to pop its video chip back into place. This is unacceptable. At least the Genius Bar employees know a thing or two about Macs and why worthless iPod version number eleventy billion has mysteriously died again; in the case of every airline I have ever utilized and this new endeavor with Sprint cell phone plans, however, I would settle for an "Only Half Retarded Bar." Then at least I could use my douchebaggy Blackberry that I don't even want. Ugh.

K Hates Larry the Cable Guy... What's a stronger word than hate?

So Cy, when you posted that article about Indiana, you linked to a picture of a big man with a cutoff shirt, who some may know as “Larry the Cable Guy.” Larry is a “comedian” who plays a redneck and says stupid things like “Git-R-Done” and “I don’t care who ya are, that there’s funny!” and has been a staple of the Blue Collar Comedy tour. Larry’s down home, country-cookin’ style of comedy resonates with real hard-workin’ Americans a.k.a., the NASCAR watchin’, fun-lovin’ kind who voted for Hillary in West Virginia. I’m going to let that description stop that right there, but you get the point. I, unlike Sen. Obama, am going to leave guns and religion out of this.

Larry the Cable Guy has found his comedic market in A-merr-ica. His shtick works for him. Larry’s not as good as Jeff Foxworthy or even Bill Engvall, but he’s made a name for himself and made some good money off of it. Just because he’s successful doesn’t mean I have to like him. In fact, I hate him, and hence why I’m writing this. Larry’s act is stupid, banal, and unintelligent, and every time I see him on TV it pisses me off. For example:

Christmas Carols that talk about immigrants, "retards," and farts; awesome! I’m not going to get on a high horse about being insulted and whatnot, but come on, that’s just a terrible excuse for comedy. You gotta make fun of "retards" twice??

And then, the worst part is the stupid ass catch phrase. Seriously, “Git-R-Done?” What the fuck does that even mean? Are you cooking a steak? Cleaning all those old tires from your front yard? Making sex to your sister? Wait, you’re not doing any of those, you’re telling a joke! Worse off, when your joke is not funny, you say something stupid like “Git-R-Done” to make people laugh. And then they do! Is every single person in every one of your audiences drunk?

At least Larry’s fellow Blue Collar cronies Foxworthy and Engvall have a point to their stupid catch phrases, “…You might be a redneck” and “Here’s your sign.” Those are almost as trite, but at least they have a point, like “If you get your nipple bitten off by a beaver, you might be a redneck.” “Git-r-done” has absolutely no point, except people laugh at how stupid Larry sounds when he says it. What does that translate to in English, “It is completed?”

You know what makes me hit the hater-ade even harder? Larry the Cable Guy is not even a real redneck! He spent most of his teenage years in West Palm Beach! Some of his earliest comedy is shitty standup under his real name, Dan Whitney! Don’t believe me, watch this:

Wow, Dan Whitney is not funny. Neither is Larry the Cable Guy. You fake being a redneck, make fun of defenseless minorities in front of an audience of red state NRA-ers, and sling around three syllables that make you sound even more uneducated than the people you mock. Larry, you suck, you are not funny at all, and I hate you.

K

Candice hates people who wear Bluetooth headsets all the time

Don't get me wrong, I think bluetooth headsets are great for particular purposes. Sitting in traffic, for instance, is a great time to whip out that earpiece with the blue flashing light and jabber away while simultaneously cursing the people who stopped to stare at the accident ahead.

However, WHY THE HECK is there this entire breed of cyborgs (HA!) that insist on wearing the stupid things everywhere they go? While shopping, during lunch, during dinner, during meetings... while taking a dump. Honestly - who are these people that think that a) they are so important that they are going to get that many calls in a day and b) they are incapable of holding a phone to their ear? It is one of the most annoying things to see people talking to themselves, or think that they're talking to you, only to find that they're just letting their friend know that Kenny Chesney doesn't believe in marriage (true statement). Do these people wear them to bed? While they're "getting intimate" in the bedroom? Why-oh-why do your hands need to be so free exactly?!?


And, it looks totally stupid. Do you really want to be known as "Bluetooth guy" for the rest of your life? If there's one way to up your douchebag appeal, may I humbly suggest this route.

Candice hates most people on planes

So Monday mornings suck for me. I mean, they suck for most people, but most people don't generally have to go to the airport at an ungodly hour, get verbally abused by angry, angry security personnel ("CONSOLIDATEEEEEEEEEEEE"... which means put your purse inside your backpack before I'll check your ID, but then when I'm not looking just take it back out and go through security as per normal), and then sit in a tiny seat on a wobbly plane with a bunch of other angry Monday morning travelers.

Now, most of the the time I just sleep through the flight. I'm asleep before takeoff and I wakeup on landing. However, there are the days where you need sleep the most - these are the days where you are guaranteed to get none at all.

Let me introduce you to the categories of people on planes who make my life miserable.

1) The oh-I-didn't-know-about-liquids cave dweller.

Seriously, it's been 2 years, there are signs EVERYWHERE in the airport, and your five year old can tell you the rule. Quit bringing economy-sized bottles of Nair and antifreeze on the plane! For every second that elapses while they have to re-run your bag, explain the liquids rule to you, and tear your neat packing job apart while they investigate every bottle that is over 3oz... I am envisioning making you drink a concoction of every liquid you attempted to smuggle on board today as a punishment.

2) The behind-your-seat toucher.

The behind-your-seat toucher is that person who sits behind you who is constantly grabbing your seat when they get up or sit down, putting things in the seat back pockets, raising and lowering the tray table, and occasionally digging their knees or feet into the back of the chair. The worst kind of behind-your-seat toucher will even have the gall to take their shoes off and wedge their stanky foot up on your armrest, thinking you won't notice. Well guess what - I NOTICE EVERYTHING YOU ARE DOING BECAUSE THAT SEAT YOU'RE TOUCHING IS ALSO MY SEAT THAT I AM CURRENTLY SITTING ON, AND TRYING TO SLEEP ON. THANK YOU.

3) The gawrsh-darnit-I've-never-been-on-an-airplane-but-I-sure-love-vacations traveler.

These are the people that just LOOOVE to talk to you even though you clearly have a book in hand, or headphones in your ears, which indicates that you have something better to do than hear about your trip to Aunt Betty's house with the rest of your loopy family who makes great carrot cake because they grown their own carrots. Seriously. STOP TALKING TO ME... I DON'T CARE! I would rather listen to radio static than talk to you, which is why my eyes are closed... and yet you continue to talk...

4) The seatbelt-extension-required traveler.

Self explanatory. Armrest invasion and loss of personal space ensues.

5) The Spring Break vacationer.

OMG I'm like soooo totally excited for Cancun! I'm gonna like, lie on the beach and tan myself all day, and then go to Senor Frogs , Fat Tuesdayand a foam party at night! I can't wait to hook up with a random dude and not remember it the next day all while romping around in pits of foam with drunken strangers who release strange liquids and solids into it! Wahoo!!!! Spring Break 2k8!!!

6) The learn-your-seating-area-goddamnit hapless traveler.

I don't know how many times it needs to be said, or how freaking obvious the "large bold number on the front of your boarding pass" is, but people - seating areas are there for a reason! If airlines didn't pander to the needs of snooty business travelers they'd actually have to compete on other factors, like low prices or quality of service. Please! Since we can't have those, just let us have that one advantage of boarding first and taking up all the overhead space before you lowly non-elite members board. Either you honestly don't understand the concept of seating areas, or you're that asshole that tries to board anyway hoping that the gate agent doesn't publicly humiliate you for trying to board with the 1K fliers.

Once in a while this happens, and it annoys me. When it happened this morning with a tour group of 20 old people dressed in matchingly clashing Hawaiian print shirts, mom jean shorts and socks with sandals, I just about punched somebody. Instead, I rolled my suitcase over one of their feet as they stood scorned to the side of the boarding line. And then I wrote a blog post.

Cy hates that he grew up in the stone age

I was checking out hulu.com during my lunch hour today (because I didn't feel like actually talking to anyone), and much to my pleasant surprise, they added the first thirteen episodes of Exosquad, one of my favorite cartoons from when I was a kid. Nerd time: Exosquad tells the story of an interplanetary war between humans and neosapiens, a genetically engineered slave-race that eventually overthrew their masters, conquered Venus, Earth, and Mars and then became the very oppressors that they had once sought to overcome. This show was the balls. And despite being a cartoon for kids, it also tackled mature themes like racism, politics, and the horrors of war. But mostly it was awesome because of all the sweet mech-on-mech combat action.

But here's my problem: When I was a kid, this show was on at 2:30 in the afternoon, and I didn't get home until 3:30, which meant that I never got to watch it. I saw six episodes during my entire childhood, and still remember how much I loved it to this day. That's how good it was. And every time I successfully pretended to be sick (there were a lot of times that were unsuccessful) just so I could stay home and watch it, I got so excited that, had I been capable of it at the time, I probably would have climaxed the second the opening title sequence started. This was the case with a lot of my favorite shows. Well, not the climaxing part, but me not being able to watch them. Conan the Adventurer was on at 9:00, long after I left for school, and Highlander: The Animated Series was on right after it. The live action Highlander series wasn't on till 11:30 on Sunday night, and I used to get in trouble for sneaking out of my room in the middle of the night to watch it.

This never would have been a problem if technology wouldn't have been so retarded and progressed just 15 years faster than the leisurely pace it set for itself. That's right science, I blame you. If my parents would have had a Tivo or if I could have watched all of these shows on my computer, do you have any idea how happier my childhood would have been? Do you think I'd have a blog where all I did was complain angrily about inconsequential trivia?! Fuck no! Actually science, just thinking about this has made me so angry, I'm this close to joining Bush and declaring war on your ass. You better pray to whatever god will listen that 10 years from now I don't discover that I could have been teleporting around this whole time if you'd only had your act together. Because if that happens, your free ride is over.

Caley Hates Sweeping Generalizations about States

I must admit I’m a Hoosier (meaning: I’m from Indiana), and yeah, I went to Northwestern with you Cy. I got out. I was born and raised in a small “suburb” of Indianapolis, and I think I just reached my limit of being told I’m from the “South of the North.” Northern state pomposity gets a bit tiring, especially when I recall William Faulkner or Mark Twain. Though I live in Ireland now while I am working on my master’s dissertation, I recall with fondness the wide open spaces of my home state, apart from the chaos of Chicago and the inevitable urban/liberal elitism you so succinctly represent.

Have you spent any time in Indiana apart from pit stops along I-65? You can pick up some nice fireworks and pornography along the highway, but that’s hardly representative of the entire state. I suppose we should all prefer your Midwest state, Minnesota, which boasts former governor Jesse Ventura. Also, Gary is the well-known armpit of America, not Indiana, and that’s basically south-side Chicago isn’t it? Indiana cannot be held responsible for the actions of underpaid steel workers.

I’m a strong advocate that only people from Indiana can mock Indiana. I certainly do, as when pointing out the subtle naming of neighbouring “Whitestown” to visitors or marvelling at the size of our churches. But, intelligent people have come out of Indiana and a good number of Democrats too. Kurt Vonnegut is one of our own (RIP). Sweeping generalizations, while certainly your speciality, seem especially ironic when applied to our supposed racial prejudice. So lay off Indiana will you? I’m scared for Obama too (with the other Democrats Abroad).

Cy hates the fact that Indiana has a say in who gets to be president.

This election year, thus far, has been the most irritating and frustrating period of my adult life so far. It's been way worse than looking for a job out of college, actually working at that job, and then trying to get out of that job, combined. And if your name isn't Brit Hume or Wolf Blitzer, then you probably agree. From the blatantly shifting media bias that celebrates certain candidates, then demonizes them, then celebrates them again, to the complete disregard of actual, substantive issues in favor of petty personality-based political reporting, it's all been so infuriating that I've been having trouble pinpointing the one thing that bothers me the most. Until now: Indiana.

Most presidential primary seasons, this is never an issue for me. Usually, by this point everyone I could possibly imagine wanting as my president is gone, some pompous douche nozzle has the nomination wrapped up, and we're just waiting three months for what could pretty much pass for the worst episodes of "My Super Sweet 16" ever: The Republican and Democratic National Conventions.

This year, however, things have taken a disturbing turn. It looks like Obama is going to win North Carolina, but Indiana is a different story: Either he wins and Hillary loses a great deal of steam, while support for her remaining in the race dwindles; or (the more likely outcome) Hillary wins and this continues ad nauseum while John McCain cruises by in the background, taking potshots at both candidates while they're still focused on taking down each other. Either way, Indiana's outcome today will have a massive impact on the shape of the presidential election, and its effects will likely be felt all the way into November. That scares the shit out of me.

Aside from Indianapolis, which has it's own problems (as do all major cities), Indiana is pretty much a cesspool of ignorance, racism, cut-off flanel shirts, camouflage hats , and really bad facial hair. So, basically, it's a state full of Larry the Cable Guys. And if that doesn't horrify you, I don't know what will. What's worse is that Indiana doesn't have the excuse of being in the South. I expect that kind of crap from Georgia and Tennessee, but not a fellow northern state! They were one of the first states to respond to Abraham Lincoln's request for volunteers to fight for the Union during the Civil War, and now look at them: they're shamelessly aping the exact same people they helped defeat. If you're going to act like a wanna-be state, pick a state worth ripping off like Minnesota or Oregon. Don't pick Arkansas, you idiots.

Alas, here we are, and regardless of how I feel about the armpit of America, they pretty much hold the fate of our country in their hands. And if things turn out the way I'm hoping they do, I know that I will owe at least a small debt of gratitude to Indiana, and that thought might disturb me even more than the alternative.

K Hates Kerry Wood... wha happened???

Ten years ago.
May 6, 1998.

A young Mike Kinsella was probably sitting in Geometry or Latin class during his freshman year at Benet Academy in Lisle, IL. Like most other fans of the Chicago Cubs, the spring of 1998 was more of the same. Gracie was getting old, Sammy had yet to go nuts with Big Mac, and the Cubs were somewhat of an afterthought. The Bulls were marching along to the three-peat repeat, led by the greatest player in the history of the NBA, this planet, and all universes.

That's right, Scottie Pippen.

On May 6, 1998, a paltry 15,758 people decided to go to Wrigley Field and watch the Chicago Cubs take on the mighty defending NL Central Champion Houston Astros. As Lee Elia had said fifteen years prior, "The fuckin' nickle dime people that show up? Those mother fuckers don't even work! ... Eighty five percent of the fuckin world is working, and the other fifteen come here. A playground for the cocksuckers..." Well on that day, Lee, those cocksuckers would see something that they could talk about on the playground for the rest of their days at the teeter-totter.


The Astros had quite a lineup that day. The Killer B's (Biggio, Derrek Bell, Jeff Bagwell) were at the top, with Moises Alou, Ricky Guitierrez, and a young studly catcher named Brad Ausmus smattered throughout.


We all know what happened next. 27 up, 27 down. 20 strikeouts, 0 walks. The only glitch was a shoulda been error on Kevin Orie that was ruled an infield hit. Cubs Win, Holy Cow! Kid K was born, and the Cubdom got excited. Really excited, like stupid over the top excited as only Cub fans know how to do.

Next thing you know, Sammy hit 20 dingers in June, Steve Trachsel and Gary Gaietti help the Boys in Blue take down the Giants in game 163, and the Cubbies make the playoffs.

This however, was about the best it got for the Cubbies, as well as the Kid K.

The 1998 playoffs were over before they started. The Atlanta Braves, a.k.a. the Buffalo Bills of MLB, treated the Cubs like a bully to their cocksucking fans on the playground; stealing their lunch money, giving them a black eye, and sweeping Riggleman's boys home with a 3-0 series win.

1999 was lost to Tommy John surgery, and 2000-2002 was marred with the failures of Don Baylor and Bruce Kimm, as well as Kyle Farnsworth falling asleep in the clubhouse. A new voice was needed; enter Dusty. In Dusty We Trusty!

I really don't have the energy to go through the Dusty Era of the Cubs. Too many bad memories, too much heartache. Too many towel drills for Woody and his rehab pal, Mark Prior. Too many "he's out for two weeks" turning into three months. Too many sore forearms turning into torn labrums. Too many pop fouls turning into too many tantrums, followed by too many phenoms imploding and too many Gold Glovers booting too many double play balls. Too many expectations turning into too many hopeless situations. Too many #34 jerseys turning into #25's, #16's, and now #1's. Too many toothpicks, too many Todd Hundleys showing up and turning into too many busts. Too much pain, too much hurt.

Wow, this has really been somewhat cathartic for me. Just in the past ten years, the number of times the Cubs have broken this fan's heart and will is too many to count. Twenty-five years of joyless Octobers is enough, I can't imagine how an older Cub fan must feel.

What I'm realizing as I write this piece is that no, I don't hate Kerry Wood as a person or a pitcher. I actually really like him. What I hate is the fact that Kerry Wood has become synonymous for the struggles and the disappointment that goes along with being a Cub fan. He deserved better than this fate; he deserved to be mentioned with Nolan Ryan, Tom Seaver, and Steve Carlton. I just hope he's on the Cubs when they win a World Series; he and Ron Santo embracing will be on my wall and in my heart forever.

Yea, that's a pretty wimpy way to end a column on a "hate" blog, but you know what, I don't care.

K Hates When NO ONE WRITES NEW STUFF ON THE BLOG!

Ok listen up people, the point of a blog is to write stuff. If I wanted to continuously look at something crusty and unchanging, I'd go to a museum or look at Ice Cold's backhair. This is a blog! A web log! A journal of some type... right? No one likes a journal/web log/blog without any entries. When I steal a look in my girlfriend's journal tonight after she goes to sleep, if there's not a new entry, I'm going to be pissed!

Let's think about everything that's been going on since April 18, when Ace made a lame-ass attempt to talk about motivational speakers. Jeremiah Wright became the most notorious minister since the Archbishop of Boston, the NBA playoffs rule, baseball has gotten going, and Hillary Clinton put money on the only female horse in the Kentucky Derby who decided to crap out and die.

Seriously, there's gotta be something you can all write about, right? Dees, write about how high school girls just don't listen to you - it's been a problem for you since 1997! Candice, I don't even know where the hell you've been. Are you burnt out from travelling all across the world too much? Your fucking elevator all of a sudden stopped transporting fatties one flight of stairs? Anna, how about you, what is your excuse? Your car is all of a sudden just fine? Your office doesn't have any more pervasive smells? DAMNIT FOLKS, THERE'S GOTTA BE SOME ANGER LEFT IN YOU! I know it's springtime, season of love, season of the birds and the bees, season of college ultimate, but come on, give me some vitriol. I need it. Please.

Cy, my dear friend, you are the most disappointing. Think about all we ever talk about when we're playing ultimate, or watching the NBA, or making fun of Mike D. You are such an untapped resource of pseudo-hatred, it just kills me to see you silent like this. This blog NEEDS you, Cyatollah. This blog IS YOU.

Anyways, I hate the fact that no one writes shit on here anymore. Just because it's nice out doesn't mean you can't take fifteen minutes to vent your shit on a blog that gets about 15 reads a week. Seriously, you can say whatever you want because NO ONE READS THIS.


Maybe this guy is right. Maybe you all are just full of shit. But the fact that we know how to use a computer means that we can write and publish whatever we want. Give me something, at least something about Buzz Bissinger...

Love,
K