{{ $image := .ResourceGetMatch “neverland.jpg” }} this afternoon. It was beautiful, magical, and fantastic. At a time when we both needed an escape we found one. The voyage to Neverland was a perfect antidote to our current predicaments, real and imagined. A perfect holiday movie.
Go see it with the one you love.
In a stunning, if only because it is nearly 2005, example of how not to provide customer service I give you Cingular Wireless. Today I tried twice, to upgrade my cell phone to a newer model. For those of you not familiar with how this particular shell game works, you only get a new phone with all the nifty features by agreeing to extend your contract for 1, or 2, or more years. Buying the phone outright is possible too, but they are outrageously expensive.
Most carriers allow you to upgrade after you’ve had your current phone for 6 or 12 months; I’ve had my Motorola v60t for over 2 years.
Hire Teenage Boys, They’re Good For Customer Relations
At Cingular location number one we were treated to a 60 minute wait. The sole employee was working as quickly as possible on a father and daughter sale. Both were converting from older AT&T phones to new models. During the course of the hour we managed to overhear enough to learn that her coworker was always late. Finally a young man, who was unshaven and mildly sweaty, wearing a ball cap, dirty tee-shirt, no name tag, an an attitude stumbled into the store and said, “Can I help someone.” Not only late, but woefully lacking in social graces.
After telling him I wanted to trade up, he went and got the new phone and then started to lecture me about the rate plan. He asked which one I wanted and I said I wanted to keep the one I had. Loudly and snidely he said, “The new phone uses GSM and yours doesn’t so you can’t.” He produced a brochure and I picked on that was close to my current plan. After he accessed my account online he discovered that my current plan would in fact work if I wanted to keep it.
A further access of my account turned up a mysteriously large outstanding bill that he said had to be paid before I could get a new phone. He said this loud enough for all the other customers in the store overhear. Gee, I feel better now that you’ve scolded me about the rate plan and embarrassed me needlessly in front of all these other customers.
In the midst of his “conversation” with me he queried his coworker to see if she had clocked him in. When she said no, his response was (again at volume), “Shit!” Classy all the way.
Returning home I called Cingular Customer Service and talked a very helpful gentleman who discovered that my phone had been improperly configured when we moved in July. Hence it was using the wrong towers and I was getting roaming charges for local calls that weren’t roaming. Almost $100 worth in the most recent billing cycle. So the overly large bill was their fault too.
Change the Rules Early and Often to Keep Paying Customers Happy
Venturing out to try this exchange again, at a different retail location, I discovered that when Cingular botched the transfer of my service from Illinois to Kansas, they also reset the “service date” for my equipment to July 2004. So instead of having a phone that was eligible for exchange, I have one that it is, as far as Cingular is concerned, 5 months old. No new phone for Christmas. Not only was I not told about this gotcha in July, I wasn’t told that they were extending my contract by 12 months just because I moved.
So I still have a 2-year old phone. But I only have 7 months to go before I can switch to another service provider. In one day I discovered that they have been over billing me for local calls, that they extended my contract without telling me, and that they reset my service date so I can’t get new equipment without telling me. With the exception of the Customer Service representative on the phone, the sales people I dealt with were brusk, if not downright rude to me.
I guess they want me to take my money elsewhere. I’m happy to oblige.
Sometimes, when you aren’t careful, life throws you a curve ball. In and of itself, a curve ball isn’t a bad thing, the context of the moment and what you do with it determine its ultimate impact on your life. Take our situation for example. Michele and I have spent the past week or so getting ourselves prepared for one of two futures: (a) I get a contact in Illinois and we move back there and pick up the life we left behind in June, or (2) I don’t get the contract in Illinois, we stay here and have a major financial meltdown (including the lose of our house and the investment it represents), and we start over at ground zero. After all that we’ve been through recently I think we both were beyond caring what happened. (We actually tossed around a third option, that of getting a couple of high-limit credit cards - having a blowout trip to Europe - and then ending it all. Joking about ending our lives is a pressure relief value. Honest.)
So no longer having a vested interest in our future, we were sitting ducks for the curve ball that I was tossed yesterday. I was approached about employment from an unlikely source. This employment would tip the scales on living and working in Kansas City from being marginal to being rather good. Before this approach was made, when we weighed our options, returning to Illinois came out on top as it avoided the major financial meltdown at the cost of a dead-end employment situation. Staying here had a dead-end employment situation AND a major financial meltdown. Factoring in this new employment overture has changed the whole equation. No longer does staying here have a dead-end feel to it employment-wise. Sure, we’ll still have a financial meltdown, but we lived through those before.
Our carefully cultivated nonchalance about our situation has been torn, exposing the truth once again. The truth is we are invested in our future but we are so tired of all the chaos and turmoil surrounding it that we allowed our false personality to construct a lie we could live with in the short term. We all construct little lies about reality in order to filter the world to meet our needs. When you start to live the lie is when trouble begins. This curve ball forced us to look at the lie we were succumbing to, and it gives us a chance to turn away from rocks its siren song was leading us towards.
My understanding of classic literature and religious teaching tells me that purgatory is a place where the newly dead go to atone for their sins before being allowed to enter heaven. While my personal spiritual belief system doesn’t include the concept of sin or even heaven for that matter, I find myself in a living purgatory currently. Wednesday my father called me to say that my mother has been diagnosed with lung cancer. It has already spread far enough (i.e., both lungs) that cure is no longer a possibility. The treatment will only control and attempt to contain its spread. Put bluntly, my mother will in all likelihood die from lung cancer.
I have always known that my parents would eventually die, and that I would have to deal with the aftermath of those events. And in the past few years I have become acutely aware that as they both approached age eighty, that they were also approaching the end of their lives. Intellectually understanding this concept and emotionally incorporating it are two very different things. When my father said mom had cancer, and that cure was out of the question, all the intellectual preparation went out the window. This is now real. In an attempt at black humor, “This is not a drill.”
I spoke briefly with my mom Wednesday evening. She is currently in the hospital to expedite the initial round of tests that will determine the type and extend of cancer she has. Once that determination is complete she will start chemotherapy and radiation treatment. Physically, other than shortness of breath caused by a blockage in one lung (the tumor), she isn’t sick. That will rapidly change as her body suffers the ravages of the chemicals and radiation used to contain this disease.
Even now, after knowing about her cancer for a couple of days, it is still surreal to me. I hear the words, and I know they carry an awful importance with them. But the meaning hasn’t truly registered yet. It isn’t that I don’t understand what cancer can do to a person, or the impact of it on a family, it is that I don’t want to face this particular process yet again. My sister died of leukemia, my niece was born with neuroblastoma (which, thankfully was fully removed in time to save her life), my mother has had 3 rounds with breast cancer, my cousin has Lymphoma (treatments are going very well), and now my mom has lung cancer. To say that I have an intimate knowledge of, and hatred for, cancer would be putting it mildly.
I’m sure that the coming days and weeks will bring with them the entire spectrum of emotions and fears, hopes and realities. What I am not sure about is how I am going to cope with this on top of everything else current in my life. Purgatory exists right here on Earth.
I feel as if my future and my life is hanging by a thread today. After months of waiting and hoping, it appears that I maybe given an opportunity to return to Illinois and work on a contract there. This would allow us to retain our house, and the considerable financial investment it represents. It also gets us out of the stressful situation of living in an apartment. Neither of us is thriving in the closed, dark, intrusive atmosphere of community living.
I know that coming to Kansas saved our lives. The situation last spring was getting desperate and we had both reached the end of our individual ropes. Coming here removed us from the quicksand situation we found ourselves in after I lost my contract in March. The circumstances around that job loss left me reeling, and destroyed my confidence. Not finding employment for almost 100 days only contributed to my downward spiral. Michele, too, was getting rejections to her employment overtures. Although we both felt forced to move to Kansas (as evidenced by our waiting until two days before my job started here to even start moving), I think we both feel like being here gave us time to heal ourselves mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Now we are ready to take life on in earnest again. We are ready to remount the horse and give it another go.
And so I submitted my name to several employment opportunities in and around Springfield. The most promising long-term engagement would have seen me as a manager of a brand-new development department for a small company in town. Their current development work is outsourced and they wanted to bring it back into the fold to regain control. I was very excited about the possibilities this job represented for me. It was professionally challenging and would require personal growth on my part. It was also something that would last for years, perhaps long enough to see me retired. After a promising initial phone interview there were delays and more delays. After almost two months of waiting and being patient the recruiter finally admitted that an internal political struggle had broken out, and that the new position was, apparently, hopelessly mired as a result.
Even without getting the position the experience was a valuable one for me. I could see that my former confidence had returned, and that I was perhaps even more self assured as a result of the experience here in Kansas. I no longer felt beholden to some recruiter or employer to give me a job, rather I felt in charge of my destiny, and in control of my options.
Applying for a project manager position was my next option. This position would have required a daily commute of nearly 160 miles, but it felt like a doable situation. As luck would have it, my neighbor in Springfield worked for the prospective client, and ride-sharing would have eased the travel burden. This client was far more responsive in their selection process - I knew almost immediately that my resume didn’t quite match the criteria they had laid out. My disappointment was eased by two factors: (a) I really wasn’t looking forward to a 2 1/5 hour daily commute, and (2) I had another iron in the fire, one that would let me work in town at my old billing rate.
During the two weeks or so that this project manager position was a possibility I allowed my name to be submitted to a state agency as a contractual resource. This resulted in two phone interviews, which both went very well from my perspective. The client manager and I had several mutual acquaintances, and at least one mutual friend. The systems analyst who conducted the technical interview is the brother of a man I used to work with. They assured me that their decision would be made by December 13th, which is today. Of course I don’t know how quickly the consulting firm I hope to be sub-contracting for will inform me.
So I am hanging by a thread today. I feel as if the past 6 months were necessary to help be regain my confidence and self image. I know they allowed Michele to enter a new phase of her career as a college adjunct instructor, complete with an online teaching certification. We have done our penance here in Kansas and learned our lessons well. Now we wish to return to our home and straighten out our financial future. All I need a signed contract.
The waiting is hard; imaging the wrong result is easy. My fears are constant now and I really don’t know what I’ll do if this option doesn’t result in a return to the life I want.
Michele and I find ourselves in a pressure cooker these days. Staring in March 2004 when I lost my contract with the State, and continuing through today it seems like every time we turn around there is a new, seemingly out-of-control event impacting our lives. A quick chronology will bring you up to date on our trials and tribulations.
March 2004 Mark loses his contract and we are thrown into the unemployment whirlpool once again.
April 2004 Attempts at finding jobs for both of us in North Carolina fall short of success.
May 2004 Many, many resumes sent out, little or no positive return. Late in the month Mark get a call concerning work in Kansas City. Kansas City?
June 2004 Frantic efforts by myself and recruiters fail to produce work in Illinois, so at the last possible moment we move to Kansas.
July 2004 After setting up housekeeping in an apartment (yuck) we start to recover a bit from the turmoil of the previous 100 days. Michele starts applying for work in the metro area, and we join a statehouse campaign. Mark’s father is having great difficulties breathing as a result of a change in his heart medication.
August 2004 In the middle of the month, two men who started on contract the same week as Mark are let go. Fear and uncertainty are once again the order of the day. Mark is contacted about a position in Springfield less than 5 minutes from our house (which isn’t selling) there. Michele gets a job as adjunct instructor in Social Sciences at a local community college.
September 2004 Anticipation of a possible return to Illinois has us up in the air about everything. Neither of us is sleeping well, and neither of us knows what to do about staying or returning. Michele starts a certification process to be an online instructor for the community college.
October 2004 No progress on the position in Springfield continues to keep us on pins and needles. Our realtor insists that we can’t sell the house for what we wanted, but rather have to settle for $25000 less. We will have to borrow $10 - 15000 to close at this new price level. Late in the month Michele’s dad is killed in an automobile accident. A lack of communication from his second family and her brother prevent her from being able to attend his funeral.
November 2004 The continued lack of progress regarding the position in Illinois turns out to be the result of seemingly insurmountable political in-fighting at the client company. While it’s just as well for me not to enter into that kind of environment, not getting a job there proves to be a tough pill to swallow. Mark starts two other job initiatives, hoping that one of them will pan out. We feel the financially smart thing is to move back and keep the house rather then sell at a huge loss. Michele completes her certification and is now able to teach online, from home. Around Thanksgiving Michele’s mom, who had been suffering from an undiagnosed bleeding ulcer, collapses and is taken to the hospital. Our statehouse candidate is slaughtered in the November 2nd election.
December 2004 Michele struggles to put services and insurance into place for her mom, while fending off the crazy over-reactions of her mom’s sisters. Mark’s mom suddenly develops shortness of breath that is unexplained. The first of Mark’s two new attempts at central Illinois employment fails. The second is still pending, but looks like it could have a happen ending.
After all of this we are still deeply connected to each other, and totally committed to our relationship. That we haven’t started blaming each other or taking out our frustrations on each other reaffirms our love and respect for each other. However, the unrelenting chaos has taken a huge toll on both of us. Two weeks ago my neck locked up and it was days before I could move it without pain. Michele has suffered through a severe psoriasis outbreak. Neither of us has slept well in months. We know we are depressed, and our reserves are spent. The only thing getting us through the days anymore, outside of contact with each other, is routine.
Mind-numbing routine is the drug that is saving us. Knowing that there are ordinary things that need doing gives us focus and purpose at a time when we feel helpless and utterly out of control. Saturday we drove nearly 500 miles in a big circle just to get away from it all. The “routine” of long-distance driving felt better than an unstructured day at home. Sunday we made a cake and cooked dinner together, a long established routine for us. Today we are both into our weekly routines, although Michele’s week will be without class to teach for the first time in four months.
I’m not sure how much longer routine can sustain us. I know that the momentum of moving and getting setup in a new city has long since been used. Without routine we’d be dead in the water, figuratively and maybe literally as well. My hope is that my efforts to regain employment in Springfield will return us to a situation that is less stressful, one that is familiar and feels like home to us. My unspoken fear is that no return to that life will be the last straw for us.
This posting is being created entirely from my desktop. Using the brand new software goodie from Ranchero, MarsEdit I can develop postings from my computer using a Mail.app like interface and upload them to zanshin via an XML remote procedure call interface. How utterly cool is this?
A while back I read an article that described 14 characteristics of fascism using the likes of Hitler, Mussolini, and others as examples. What was chilling about the piece were the parallels to present day America. You can read my Fascism Scorecard, and see for yourself.
Yesterday I stumbled across this sermon by Davidson Loehr, a Unitarian Universalist minister in Austin Texas. It is the clearest, and consequently most chilling, explanation of America’s descent into fascism.
I urge your to read it and pass it on to your friends.
Last June I installed ShortStat so I could see who was visiting zanshin and from where. At the time we were on the verge of a cross-country move and when the initial setup failed to work I put it on the back burner.
In September after most of the dust from the move had settled I had time to debug my ShortStat installation and discovered I had a PHP functions files called “functions.php” and ShortStat also had a “functions.php” file. Once I renamed my instance everything worked like a charm. So even though I installed ShortStat on June 21st, I didn’t start collecting statistics until September 11.
In the three months since ShortStat has been active on zanshin there have been 10,113 site hits from 2171 unique visitors. That’s on pace to be over 40,000 page views in a single year. Wow. Now I realize that some portion of these page views are automated robots; in fact 37 percent are “crawlers” of one form or another. Still that leaves better than 6370 non-crawler page views in three months time. Or roughly 25,000 pages served to humans in a years time.
It just boggles my mind that my thoughts will be viewed twenty-five thousand times this year.
With the help of this Spywareinfo article about referer spam, and Joe Maller’s blacklist I have hopefully put an end to the increasing number of referer spam my site and my wife’s site experience everyday.
The Spywareinfo article explains it all much better than I could. I would only add the suggestion to backup any .htaccess file you find before altering it, just in case. An earlier, less informed, attempt on my part to lock out the spammers actually resulted in my site being unavailable to anyone in any format. Oops.
This now brings to 3 (or 4, depending upon how you count) measures I’m taking to rid my sites of electronic graffiti. I’m using “deny” rules in my .htaccess file to ban IP addresses from accessing my site, I’ve added “rewrite” rules to block specific referers and specific types of referers, and I’m using BotWhack from Eric Goldberg to filter unwanted entries from my Referer list.
Even with all of these tools in place I know that I’ll continue to get referer spam. My hope is to move my site out of the “low hanging fruit” category so that fewer opportunistic referer spam tools find me.