The Fantastic Life Adventures of Kat Glimmer!

Day in the Life of the Library (Ninja)

2009-07-28T08:09:00.004-04:00

I learned through my pal Oodja's blog that there is something super neat-0 called the Day In the Life of a Library .
I've modified this slightly to fit my Ninja title, but here goes!

8:00 AM ~ Arrive at work, affix Big Red to my head (my hard hat) and begin my construction work obstacle course. My library is under construction, set to open in the fall, so daily entry involves balancing on boards, crossing through moats, hurdling sprinkler systems and back hoes, as well as stepping in mud. Today was no exception, with the added bonus of needing to take a circuitous route to avoid walking under scaffolding and ladder. I'm very superstitious.

8:30 AM ~ the day begins! Check in for our daily "RFID" schedule. We are tagging our entire collection in anticipation of self-check out. I am a "leader" since I am the only person here who has been through the RFID process before at a former library system.
Click through emails.
Make coffee!

9:00 AM ~ settle in to birth the book babies. As the cataloging librarian, I'm responsible for inputting new non-fiction and fiction, and today is a big author day! The Girl Who Played with Fire has been released, and I need to input copies for our MAIN library and six branches. Our reserve list is over 300 for our network, so time is of the essence!

11:00 AM ~ My RFID shift will begin! We're affixing tags to the back of books, and then scanning the tag into the computer to essential duplicate the barcode and information. A physically demanding task, so it's broken up into hour-shifts so we don't exhaust our poor librarian backs.

1:00 PM ~ Website Design Meeting time! To coordinate with the grand opening of our library, we are also rolling out a new website. As the social network guru (go ahead, have a chuckle, those of you that know me well), I'm the vision behind some of the "fun" library features like Twitter, bookmarklets, blogs, Facebooks, and the like. My end goal? To start a virtual book club.

2:00 PM ~ Did my phone just ring? Damn, I thought I turned that thing off!

3:00 PM ~ Blog time! I write the staff blog, and today I'm giving an update about the construction, parking at the library (we currently have to walk from about a mile away, if we choose to get discounted parking at a city garage), and other "fun" library events. Today, I'll probably insert some information from the ALA Conference in Chicago.

4:00 PM ~ Time to wrap up my day by printing spine labels for the book babies. From here, they'll be plasti-cleared, and boxed up to be sent out to branches for our patrons to enjoy.

In here, there will be 1,000 other little questions. Where's the tape? Why does this Dewey look funny? Have you seen the Poetry books? What DVDs did we get in this week? Can you order me a bacon book? I take it all in stride! Because really, being a library Ninja is as sexy as it looks!

Kat

Ode to Miss Scandalous

2009-06-17T09:54:00.005-04:00

ODE TO MISS SCANDALOUS
(Happy Birthday, Beeatch!)

We call you the quiet one
But I really know the deal
At New Kids back in O-C-T
Joey M. dun made you squeal

And your shoes are rather pretty
Your wardrobe makes you fly
Your hair is still quite perfect
Pedicures still make you cry

You're always up for an adventure
Road trips, wine tours, the like
We like our spas and hotel rooms
We steer clear of camping and hikes

I'm so luck you're my BFF
Through Rain, Or Sleet, or Shine
And through thick or thin, young or old
We have to keep @thediva in line!

Happy Birthday, Miss Scandalous! We're not getting old, we're getting BETTER!
XOXO

Portrait of a Library Ninja

2009-06-12T10:19:00.010-04:00

"So, you're a librarian?"

This question is often posed to me in the quizzical sense, and usually those who pose it (minus those who are replaying some sort of pRon fantasy in their head) are asking because they are truly interested. What made you become a librarian?

Since I've moved, and we'll loosely call my new place of residence a more literate and academic sphere, I've been greeted with the misconception that I often encounter when noting that I'm a librarian. This "ideal" is that I became a librarian because I'm devoted to the preservation of classic works of literature. That my goal in my career is to harbor these cherished works and to pass them along to future generations. That I've read Anna Karenina and Madame Bovary and can instantly convey the tragic nature of their protagonists as well as cite biographical data on their creators. I'm here to tell you - I'm not this librarian. And as there are many around me who fit this bill, I, generally am not sorry. All of this is important, albeit somewhat dated, librarian work, and I leave this task to be filled by those who do it best.

So what kind of librarian am I? Well, I'm the librarian who sits for two hours at a computer with a computer illiterate senior as she fills out her application for social security. I'm the one who engages with a homeless Vet as he relays his experiences of his "previous" life. I help the recovering alcoholic find the "manual" he needs to complete his AA course, and when the depressed woman walks up to me and tells me she's considering contemplating suicide, I'm the one who reacts with appropriate measures.

I realized early on that I have a tolerance for mankind that is both blessing and curse. Where others get squeamish, I tend to shine. I have a high tolerance for body odor, can be screamed at for extended periods of time without losing my cool, and know the tell-tale signs of danger when it's present. I can sometimes see the question behind the question, and can offer my assistance in a manner that is non-judgemental and helpful. In this, I hope that I'm making an impact on someone's life, and beyond just the tween who thinks I'm "cool" for knowing Justin's Timberlake's discography.

This is not to say that staying in touch with literature is not important: I read reviews on books and every flap cover I can get my hands on, in the hope's that I can recommend or suggest works to the variety of individuals I help. I retain a good amount of knowledge and most of my friends are aware I'm a good "recommender" if nothing else. But if you're looking for that "traditional" librarian - I'm not it. I'm of the Ninja Variety, and far be it from me to deny the special gifts of patience and tolerance I've been given. And hey - if I get to use my special karate chops every now and again, then I consider that a bonus.

That's why I'm a librarian. And I love what I do.

Look into the Light

2009-04-28T17:11:00.007-04:00

Massachusetts is a cult. I think you all should know.

I was born here. Right in the run-down former mill town of Lawrence, Massachusetts, emblazoned with the designation of being the "Stolen Car Capitol of the World". Around the age of 8 Ma and Pa Glimmer felt the need to jump the border to New Hampshire to avoid some taxes and buy a new house with a big plot of land. I didn't come back ... until now. And I've learned the hard lesson: once you leave Massachusetts, they are very unwilling to let you return.

My first indication came when I went to file my taxes. I was "rejected" as a new resident because I had the audacity to E-file. Not here, New Resident, they warned me. When you are "new", you must file a tax return ala Cave-Man and send in your taxes chiseled into stone. A blood sampling and DNA test are also required. While I was still scratching my head on this one, I changed my name (don't worry, to all of you, I'm still Glimmer). THIS is when my massive oversight was caught - I had, indeed, lived in Massachusetts before and - what's this? LEFT THE STATE? How DARE I! So the "Department of Revenue" (Mass gives their government offices other names to make sure they are really confusing to "outsiders") decided to ACCEPT my taxes, but hold my HOSTAGE refund. I'm still trying to get it back!

Next, was my trip to the RMV (that's "DMV" for all others, see what I mean?). The first trip went fine but a return trip subsequently had me flagged for a speeding ticket I received 13 years ago. Now mind you - this ticket had long since been PAID. But, the RMV "flags" you and does a little song and dance to remind you that *they* know you're a naughty driver, and so now do ALL the people behind you in line.

And, let's talk about the tickets. I mean - really? Not one parking ticket in my life and I'm up to like three or four since moving here. One because I was too close to a curb (how far away from the damn things are you SUPPOSED to be? Are they fragile or something?) and the other for not being able to decipher yet another cryptic parking sign that somehow contained instructions for all four seasons and a nuclear meltdown yet didn't manage to allude to matter at hand.

I get it Massachusetts! I promise never to leave the state again unless he's rich, owns a yacht, knows "a lot" is actually two words, and uses bacon ad both a noun and a verb. But in the meantime, please don't torture me with any Jury Duty, more obscure taxes (excise tax? what does THAT do?) or for the love of god, more parking tickets (I fear you're not listening on this last part). I'll attempt to be a good Mass girl, observe an actual "yield" sign like most of your other residents do (note: drive really, really fast), not make fun of your toll booths (I mean, advertisements? are you serious?) and not complain about any of the local sporting events (Nomar! What happened to Nomar!).

Your truly and with lots of love,
Kat Glimmer

Love and Hate

2009-02-11T08:20:00.011-05:00

Colette and I spend a great deal of time analyzing which planetary alignments are forming and what their outcome will be for us. We believe that when Jupiter was in retrograde, that's when an infestation of rodents (and one bunny) descended open on our home. When Mercury was spinning, that's when all of our technological appliances = fail. And at the end of December, when Saturn eclipsed a bunch of her moons, we turned on the oven in the house for almost five days straight ... in a ROW!

So, it appears our lives are encountering a bit of the "crazies" yet again. In light of this, I bring you this post: Things Colette and I Love and Hate

We Hate:

Verizon. Their complete incompetence has left me without stable Internet connection for the entire time that I've lived in Boston. There incestuous relationship with Direct TV has caused constant billing issues. And their customer support, while polite and well meaning, is utterly useless.

Direct TV: We need to call once every three or four days to have a phone agent "reboot" our cable box, usually as we are settling down to watch the all important Jon and Kate Plus Eight. Additionally, the purchase of a "movie" through Direct TV requires a complicated system of wires, a secret pass code, a rocket ship, and some Necco wafers. Yeah, we don't understand it either. So help us if they dare to interrupt the The Hills ...

Facebook. Oh, Facebook, you wacky social network you. Thank you for updating our "relationship" status and causing a whirlwind of misguided ideas to all of the Interwebs. Thank you for your brilliant "photo tagging" which causes us to need to be on constant alert from those pictures from ten years ago when we first tried Goldshlagger. And thank you for your vampire kisses, tramp stamps, green little patch invites, and the like. Really, our days could not begin without them

Squirrels - Ninja Fucker kind or otherwise. We know you believe in karma, you little rats you. And we're *watching* you.

We Love:

Our Wii. Many a night has passed with Wii Cheerleading on the brain. When we miss the gym, we Wii box. When we have too much wine, we play Wii trivia. Yes, we are two single females. Yes, there are no children in sight. Yes, we use the Wii to lure unsuspecting men to the home in the hopes of seducing them into performing some light home repairs in return for some Wii Tennis. We are not ashamed. NOT ASHAMED!

The Tent: If, as an adult, you have not had an opportunity to sleep in a tent INDOORS, you are sorely missing out. Tents provide security from late-night attacking rodents, as well as a warm exterior, pretty colors, and complete comfort! If you come to the Benoir/Glimmer house, our tent(s) are wired for sounds and electricity. And of course, since we are PRETENDING to participate in an outdoor activities, we can count this as our nature allotment for the year.

Shovels: If you come and visit Benoir and Glimmer at any point during the year, you will find us armed with our favorite weapon of choice: the shovel. The shovel is a multiple-purpose and handy weapon. Thus far, we have used it to beat the crap out of: A box of Cheez-It's, some old mail, a trash bag we assumed had a mouse in it, and our neighbors car when she wasn't looking. Pretty soon, CB and I will be launching a nationwide contest to "Pimp My Shovel", as soon as MTV picks up the rights. You heard it here first!

High Fiber Wheat Thins: Mmm... yummy.

So, there you have it folks - the first installment of "Love and Hate" from yours truly! Stay tuned for more as winter turns spring, and more exploits are sure to come our way.

The Chipmunk Chase

2009-01-08T08:12:00.013-05:00

My phone rings at 11:11, and I see that it's @colettebenoir. Now, keep in mind, Colette and I live together, but our house is big and it's not uncommon for us to call each other. I have just settled into bed after a few glasses of wine, but CB is breathless: "Kat, there's a chipmunk in the house!". "A what?". "A chipmunk!".
Now, I haven't lived with CB very long, but I have been made aware that in no way, shape or form does she like rodents, reptiles, birds or insects (this was demonstrated when she held @Kittyrocks up to a spider once, apparently so Kitty could disintegrate it with her X-Ray eyes). However, I am amazed that I did not hear Colette scream from the living room (screaming "Kat Glimmer", btw, lest my real name confuse me) where the Chipmunk, amusingly called "Alvin", made a brief appearance before Colette's shrill scream scared him back out of the room.

Now, really - you have to be around CB and I long enough to realize our plans of action are usually without much forethought or logic, but are generally terribly amusing. When I came down the stairs, I was instantly whisked into our living room with the door shut.

Plan #1 was to barricade ourselves into the living room to avoid Alvin and any potential peers. I'm not sure how long we were going to stay there - until the local delivery places got tired of passing us food through the window, or until one of us eventually would need to report to friends or family. But, I'm pretty sure that Plan #1 would have come with barricading ourselves in should we not have moved on to Plan #2. I was just glad that if we had to barricade ourselves in somewhere, it was the room with the Wii.

Plan #2 was to Locate Alvin. Kitty had long since run off, probably convinced her two Mommies were having a mental breakdown, so she was of no use to us at this time. So, CB and I took to being stealthy. There's just one problem: Colette was convinced that we had not just a chipmunk on our hands, but a super-ninja chipmunk that was going to jump from the walls onto our heads ala bad comedy movies. If you're around CB long enough, she's terribly convincing, and before long we were walking around the house like the walls were moving in on us.

Plan #3 was to Knock Alvin Unconscious. We had segregated his possible location to our cubbard closet. Now - it's a big closet, but CB pointed out that Alvin probably had a taste for trail mix, and alas, this was his happy home. So, we begin to attempt to peg Alvin with a votive candles. I should insert here that the votive candles were only used after CB exhausted our supply of large, pillar candles, and I extracted the candelabra from her hands - mid throw. This was all being done while CB stood on the dining room table, and I on the floor. When Peg Alvin with Votives didn't work, we moved onto to ...

Plan #4: Shovel and Trash Picker. Again, we worked this plan out as we went along. Apparently, I was going to catch Alvin by the tail (do chipmunks even have tails?) with one of those long-handled trash pickers, while CB bopped him on the head with a shovel. I only wish you could have seen us - me, yielding my trash picker like a sword in battle, and Colette, yielding her shovel like she was a cave man clubbing her dinner. At this point, and near hysteria/exhaustion, CB got a wind of braveness and decided to take the shovel and bash all of the contents of our closet. I can only liken this to Fatal Attraction For Rodents. This, I must say, was incredibly amusing, and I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. But alas, she had to be stopped when the shovel got too close to the wine bottles.

Plan #5: Hope Alvin Leaves on His Own. Knowing that our attempts thus far were going to be futile, we decided to retreat for bed and hope that Alvin would find his own way out, or be eaten by one very lazy Kitty. Of course, since we have a stealthy ninja chipmunk, we had to "guard" each other's trips to the bathroom, lest Alvin come running in and want to flush the toilets for us. Then, we closed our bedroom doors and lined the underneaths with clothing, etc so that Alvin wouldn't make us any nighttime visit. Oh - and our bedtime weapons of choice: Me, with my Trash Picker Sword, and Colette with her Shabby Chic Shield.

Alas, if anyone has any advice on how to battle a ninja chipmunk, CB and I are all ears! Also, should your new year's resolutions involve any cardio vascular activity, please come to our house for the Chipmunk Chase! We'll even let you pick your own weapon.

Diva-Time!

2009-01-06T11:36:00.005-05:00

Here's a birthday poem to the one, the only, Miss Diva Rockin!

DIVA-TIME

There once was a lass named Kera
Who loves lip gloss and ponies and shoes
She morphed into a Broad named Diva
And often Tweet'd from the loo!

I met her in a pancake place
She served her swill with flair
I knew for sure, when I first laid eyes
My new BFF was there!

She liked her fun and adventure time
Diva really played the part
As I got to know her more and more - I felt
The Groove was in her Heart!

Big Daddy, Sade, Podcasts and Breaks
The memories are out of sight
I f only we can get Miss S to sing
For an Afternoon Delight!

As you turn a year older, the remember-whens
Bring smiles to our face
I look forward to making so many more
With my favorite Be-Atch in the Human Race!

Happy Birthday, Kera!
*gigantic hugs*

My First Blizzard!

2008-12-19T08:18:00.006-05:00

The snow is coming! Hooray! Looks as though I may very well have a "White Christmas" for my return to Boston. Ever since getting chased out of Florida by Hurricane Fay, I fear bad weather follows me wherever I go. So, it's no wonder a blizzard has arrived. I'm just sad we don't get to name them, like the hurricanes.
So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to brave the grocery store last night to gather up some hurricane "supplies". I turned on that "news" that @missscandalous is always telling me to watch, and there was all this talk about what you need in the event of a storm, power outages, etc. So, off to Shaw's I went.
Now, probably a normal, organized person would have brought a list with them, and purchased supplies actually pertinent to a brewing blizzard. I see the following items being necessities to an impending storm: shovels, salt, water, canned goods, plastic utensils, car scrapers, etc. All those things sound really practical and important - but let's face it, they aren't a lot of FUN, are they? And the Casa de Colette and Kat is all about the fun! So, here are the supplies I deemed appropriate for an impending storm:

* A paddle with a string and rubber ball attached to the end
* A new Wii game (I sure do hope we have the Wii on a generator)
* A poinsettia (don't eat it, @kittyrocks!)
* All the fixing for root beer floats (IBC = YUM!)
* Spam, in case @colettebenoir and I feel really adventerous
* Stamps you lick
* A brand new deck of UNO
* Four bottles of wine (this was the first stop. Let's face it - none of you who know me are really surprised)
* A latch-hook kit, in case CB and I want to go back and work on those Girl Scout badges we never finished
* Twinkies, because they last for hundreds of years!
* Bubble Bath
* a new lipstick

So, as you can see, while you may be fed, clothed and warm for your blizzard, you won't be having the Par-tay @colettebenoir and I are putting together! You can DM me for a special invite, and we'll see if maybe you can sled your way over to our comfy pad. Hey - can one of you bring some brownies?

The Wonder of Magic Eight

2008-12-16T10:31:00.005-05:00

So, Magic Eight and I have been spending a lot of time together in a past few weeks. I've had a lot of questions of the Universe and it's wry, but charming, sense of humor, so why not turn to the authority on the subject? Below is just a sampling of questions I've asked Magic Eight (and for those of you I'm throwing under the bus with me - hey! thanks!).
Note: A reminder that I'm using the special, High School Musical Magic Eight Ball

Will I ever win the lottery? "Don't Count On It"
Will I make a turkey for Christmas? ""Ask Again Later"
What are the chances that my divorce will be final before I turn 40 (please note: I am currently 33): "Sounds like a winner" (yeah, I noted the irony in this answer, too).
Is @georgebing thinking about donuts right now? "It is certain"
Why does my office always smell like stale cookies? "Call Back Friday @ 3:30"
Will @thediva send me a sexy text this morning? "It's Hard to Believe"
Will I find money in my Magic Pants today? "It's Hard to Believe"
Will @colettebenoir ever beat me in Wii Boxing? "Not Another Word" (uh oh! I better get practicing).
Is @kittyrocks asleep in her food bowl right now? "Stick to the Status Quo"
Do I think about sex more than the average teenage boy? "It is certain"
Does Tom-Tom love me as much as I love it? "Sounds like a winner"
Will @thediva and I manage to record another Broad Cast before the year's end? "It's Hard to Believe"
Is my uvula really that ginormous? "Not another word"
Will I get to go to Iceland this year? "Signs say soarin'"
Will I be spending Christmas day gambling? "Call Back Friday @ 3:30"
Is there a pedicure in my future? "It is decidedly so"

Yes, this is how I base the majority of my life decisions. Does anyone need any answers? Let me know!

Ode to Colette Benoir

2008-11-17T10:39:00.008-05:00

Ode to Colette Benoir

I met you in the Second Life, a happy virtual place
Your charming chat and and bubbly self was really just my pace!
You listened to my podcasts, said you were a fan
"Wow, for real"? Diva and I thought. "You sure you're not a man?"

Your love of voice and stripper poles, I knew you were my kind
We traveled round that virtual world and never gave a mind
When hell broke loose in real life land, you offered up a room
"Why yes", I thought, and came to Boston, riding on my broom

Roommates we are, fun times we have, I'm glad the chance we took
It doesn't seem to matter, that neither of us can cook
You opened your heart and life to me, your home and your yard
I even now can overlook your lack of library card

And on your special day, when age 29 repeats
I wish you all the best 'cause you rock and can't be beat!
Here in Twitterland and Blogsville, I just want to say
You had better have one hell of a Kick Ass BIRTHDAY!

Happy Birthday, Colette Benoir!

*mwah* ~ from Kat and Kitty

The Parking Debacle

2008-11-10T20:19:00.007-05:00

For someone who drives so little she only has to fill her gas tank every three weeks, I've had quite a parking debacle this month. I see now why people rely solely on public transportation to get to and fro, and I plan on doing the same. Circumstances this past couple of weeks have forced me to drive into work a total of three times. THREE times. That opens us up for any number of debacles, Gentle Readers. Where shall we begin?
The city I work in is notorious for having ZERO parking options. Well, if you don't live there anyway. There are a limited number of public garages, and I am "off" the main drag a tad. So, the first day I need to drive into work, I figure that one of the meters usually available to me across the street from the library will be open. Right? WRONG. Library Ninja doesn't take into account that it's ELECTION DAY. People are parked and voting like mad, so there are no parking meters! My powers of stealth have failed me bad. So, I make my way to Scary Parking Garage, where I snag one of the few remaining spots. This goes well until I go to leave. Guaranteed a discounted rate by a hanging tag I procured from the City in another debacle, I go to leave and am SCOLDED for not having properly filled out all the information. Oh no- parking tag is not good enough for Parking Lady! One must fill out their license plate number, tag number, social security number, names of all your grammar school teachers, and count backwards from 1000 while hoping on one foot before you are allowed out of the garage. There was literal finger pointing - I kid you not.
When my next driving adventure arrives, I am better prepared. I arrive earlier, case out parking spots better, and find the perfectly allocated meter spot. Too good to be true? I parallel park for the first time in 10 years, and after three attempts, I have achieved a MASTER parking job. I am so proud of myself, I comment to a passerby, who thinks I'm nuts or don't get out much. Then, I go to feed the meter, only to realize that even though I have put close to $2.50 in quarters in said meter, it is still only reflecting 30 minutes of time. Oh no? Oh yes. I am in a 30 minute spot. MAXIMUM. I have achieved parking nirvana only to have to MOVE MY CAR back to Scary Parking Garage and get reprimanded, again, by Parking Lady. I walk to work, defeated.
Parking debacle continues to today, where I again try for the metered spot. I find one right across the street from work. It's a front spot, so I only have a car behind me. I ensure that the meter is for more than 30 minutes - check. I feed meter to maximum - check. I note time when I will need to come back and feed meter - check. I am prepared. I am happy. I have won! Until... I go to feed meter. Man who has just parked car walks up to me, curious. "That's my meter" he says. Huh? How can this be? He looks at my car and says, "oh, that's not a spot. I bet you have a ticket by now. See the sign?". Sign? Who the hell reads all these signs? This city is tattooed like a college girl on Spring Break. How can anybody READ all these signs? But there it is - "no parking to corner" with a big, giant arrow. I have, essentially, parked in a non-spot, and paid someone ELSE's meter for four hours. Yes, yes I have. And, to make sure I have the ice on the parking cake, there is a shiny red ticket waiting for me on my windshield. $30. Not counting the $4 in parking I paid for someone else. So, I slip the ticket back underneath my wiper, and amble back to work. Looks as though I've bought this parking spot for the day, huh? Now if only it came with a wash.

The Dating Game

2008-10-21T08:00:00.008-04:00

A friend asked me recently how my return to the wonderful world of dating was going. "Amusing", I answered. And really - I can not describe it in any other way. Now, I'll admit that by virtue of my quirky (yet utterly charming) personality, I tend to attract those that are a tad off-kilter. But, if an assessment of my current dating experiences forms a picture, then it would definitely look like one of those Rorschach inkblots in the shape of something phallic. Feels free to criticize, but I am taking a moment to provide my faithful reader's with Kat's List of Dating Do's and Don't.

Do arrive on time, or somewhat close to on time. If you are going to be late, call, text, twitter, sky write or send a smoke signal. Just let me know.
Don't ever break out the "air drums" or "air guitars".
Do tell me about yourself, but don't tell me your life story. A girl likes a little mystery, and if your life story involves anything related to communes, a year of not-showering, several illegitimate children or outstanding warrants in any states, its probably best we not move forward.
Do divulge ahead of time any information on your restraining order, and then DO promptly lose my phone number.
Do take a hint. "Please leave me alone" actually means just that.
Don't assume that one glass of wine is ever going to be enough for me. The most economical bet is really just to order the whole bottle.
Don't wear all one color. And please, no T-shirts, especially if they have an 80s hair band name on them.
Do realize that I will probably forget your name. Don't get offended. Accept that in the spirit of imagination, your re-naming by me is really a rite of passage
Don't tell me to "try it, I might like it". I'm a Scorpio. I won't.
Do go in for the good night kiss. Don't try too hard if I step on your foot instead.
Don't talk too much about your mother, your cat, your Ex(es) or your blankie. I won't return from the restroom.

I'm sure they'll be a sequel to this series ... so stay tuned!

Angry Kat!

2008-10-13T21:34:00.003-04:00

It's been a busy couple of weeks for Kat Glimmer! Adjusting to my new fantastic life adventures has taken patience, ale, and capitol! So, what have I discovered about my return to New England?

~ Ten Years in Florida left me with some serious inadequate footwear. I mean, when it rains here, it rains for DAYS, not minutes, like I'm used to. A trip to Kittery and the self-professed shoe guru, @Missscandalous, has remedied this situation. I hope ...
~ Lanes are kind of a "suggestion" when it comes to roadways. I guess its a little like coloring outside the lines - when you're driving, just pay attention to what's in front of you, and not what's on the side, or behind you. You are in the lead, after all!
~ When dating in Massachusetts, there is a good chance that the man you are going out with will be named "Joe" or "John". This will come in very handy when you forget your dates name, so just default to one of these two names, knowing that the odds are very good you'll hit your target.
~ Never, ever joke about the loss of a sport team. You'll be instantly excommunicated to some nearby, non-New England state, like Maryland, with no hope of a pardon.
~ In a continuation of her fetishes, Kitty has taken to some very main stream pop. While the Pussycat Dolls definitely make her shake her tail feather, so to speak, I think her *real* heart lies with the some old school Bel Biv Devoe ... "now you know".
~ I downloaded New Kids on the Block's latest album. Yeah? What's it to ya?
~ I now own an electric blanket! I seem to remember some old urban legend that electric blankets cause warts ... or was that kissing frogs? One can never remember.
~ People are still wearing sandals here. Seriously. It keeps the pedicure industry going.
~ An alarming number of "green" people have started to follow me on Twitter. I wonder if they know I'm harboring my secret hatred for the staff bike. Perhaps they are spies, come to check on me ...
~ Verizon is the devil.

I'm sure I'll have more ponderings along the way, but wants to keep you all up to date. Just remember - if you see me, be sure to lie to me and tell me that this fall weather lasts until February. I mean it.

Born Again

2008-09-29T13:14:00.005-04:00

I'm pregnant.

Again.

Happens close to five days a week. In addition to shortened gestation periods, I also give birth. Monday through Friday. To litters. Litters of new books. And I love it.

When I explain to people that my job is as a "cataloging librarian", I am usually greeted with a quizzical look. Unless you work in this field, you have probably never heard of the term "Marc Record", don't know the biographical history of Melvil Dewey, or sing the daily praises of Charles Cutter. However, if you've ever BEEN in a library, or better yet, remember your fifth grade lesson on the fabulous Dewey Decimal System, then you know that each book is carefully annotated with complex codings in order to ensure it a proper home on the shelves. That's where I come in.

My litters of new book often arrive still smelling of fresh ink. Sometimes, the pages are still stuck together, and I know that I'm the first person who has had the chance to open this book. I consider this the breathe of life. I read almost each and every flap cover, and give it a cursory once over for misprints, strange pagination, or other weird ailments. Usually, a book caught early can be resuscitated through the wonders of the "no charge replacement". But, a book with a birth defect caught too late can spend an entire lifetime with its disease. And after a brief time, there is no cure.

Once I have ingested the personality of my newborn, I need to assign it a proper home. You see, I'm merely just a foster mother - the guardian responsible for finding it proper placement in the many stacks and branches our library holds. I carefully consider the content and themes of my baby, often consulting with neighbors and peers to see where the placement of similar personalities has taken place. For really difficult children, I sometimes need to consult with the mothership - more commonly known as the Library of Congress - to see where they have placed similar children of the same origin. Once I have arrived at a decision, my infant is stamped with a name, or as we professionals like to call it, a "call number". Chances are for most of the books, it is the same call number it will have it's whole life. Some quick computer coding, a barcode, tape, and my newborn is off to begin her life among the stacks. She'll never be as pretty as the day she left my hands, but all I can do is hope that she'll withstand the masses needing only little repair along the way.

Alas, I am more than just a Book Mother. I am also the Book Grim Reaper. My cubicle often doubles as a graveyard, and when the Messenger of Death delivers upon me a book in such a sad state that it cannot be repaired, it is up to me to wave my scythe and put my book out of its misery. Sometimes they are old and tattered. Sometimes they were young and poorly made. Occasionally, they have fallen victim to an abusive lender (oh, I long for the day I can get my hand on one of THOSE people ...). Either way, they are euthanized with care and concern, and the hope that their words touched someone in someway, no matter what the subject matter.

In any given day, that's what I do. I take pride in my work and knowing that because of my effort, someone - somewhere, is finding what they needed. Maybe it's the book that changed their life. Maybe it's the book that gave them hope again. Maybe it's the book that made them smile when they hadn't all day or all week. I'm the Book Baby Mamma, and I love it.

In Between Days

2008-09-08T13:07:00.002-04:00

For the first time ever in my life, I am "in between jobs". Thanks to a hiring process straight out of the 1800s, my new employer alloted several weeks before I start my new position. This worked out well for my transition to Boston, and I have had three weeks of unadulterated unemployment bliss, during which I have run many a chore and accomplished a lot.

Now, having three weeks of "alone time", you tend to learn a few things about yourself. Here goes:

1. My technological un-savyness extends far beyond new media and the various hot topics of the daily Twitter crown (Chrome? Blip? huh?). Case in point: I've just discovered I have zero idea on how to operate the garbage disposal here at the house. At least, I think it's a garbage disposal ...
2. I really can carry on an extended conversation with a cat. Kitty and I have daily coffee chats, and I feel like we're really starting to understand each other. If only I could get here to clean her own litter box ...
3. I really can eat a Steak and Cheese sub ever day! I've never considered myself much of a "sub" person, but boy are they yummy, and there are sub places everywhere.
4. I am perfectly capable of amusing myself. I haven't turned on the TV except to what the train wreck that is New York Goes to Hollywood (VH1) and the occasional History Channel special. It appears my entertainment tastes run the gamut from one extreme to the other.
5. Printer Cartridges, Verizon, and Bank of America are all in an evil plot to "get" me, with a little American Express thrown in on occasion.
6. I will never be able to properly spell "occasion".
7. I can survive without coffee

So, I start my "employment" next week. I am debating if I want to participate in the Battle of the RMV this week, or save that for six months down the road. Six months down the road is in the lead right now.

Cheers!
Kat

Subway Etiquette and More

2008-09-03T15:38:00.003-04:00

Progress, People!

Thanks to my new electronic boyfriend, Tom-Tom, I have managed to only get lost TWICE this week. Tom-Tom was an excellent purchase, especially since it talks to me in a male, British voice that indulges a fantasy I won't be getting into in this blog. There is the minor problem of being able to read Tom-Tom while driving at the same time, but what relationship isn't fraught with communication issues? I'm sure Tom-Tom and I will be able to work it out.

I have ventured into the fabulous world of the "MBTA" (that's Boston's Public Transportation system for you non-Mass folk). I have to admit - their website is pretty good, even though I still can't figure out which bus seems to run up and down the mountain that I live on.

However, I have to comment on a strange and developing Subway Paranoia that I seem to be developing. It's the Seat Movers. Now, I'm respectful of people's personal space. I don't take up more than just my seat on the subway, and I keep my belongings on my person. I shower daily (sometimes twice!) and even wear a light perfume which is not overwhelming in scent. So why do people sitting next to me get up and move seats? I mean, I'm not talking WIDE open seating. I'm talking they go from sitting next to me, and go and sit next to someone else - in some instances, what I would consider to be a less desirable seat mate. Am I not adhering to some subway etiquette that I'm not aware of? Maybe I smile too much or look friendly? Perhaps I need to offer gum to my seat-mates in an effort to make peace so they don't abandon me for the person across the way. What's WRONG with me? HELP!!!!

In other Subway news, I saw not one - but TWO individuals playing with their Rubik's Cubes on the subway. I think I want one, and for those of you itching to buy me a present, my birthday is coming up.

OK - off to make my second trip to buy a printer. I made a trip over the weekend to the "phantom" Burlington Coat Factory in Cambridge. And today, I walked into a Staples that - oopsy- wasn't actually open yet. Signage, people - SIGNAGE!

Take Two,
Kat

Yum, Yum, Gimmee Some

2008-08-29T13:59:00.005-04:00

The moment it touched my lips, I knew we were going to have a long lasting relationship. It was so sweet, soft, and juicy. I could smell it from the doorway, and I knew that it would be mine. Yes, you have consumed me, authentic steak and cheese sub, with the light mayo and extra tomatoes. We shall be as one.

Living in the land of "Disney" for so long pretty much beat any original food thoughts out of my head. So to have a real "sub" that hasn't been produced ala Quizzno's or Subway is a treat in and of itself. It almost makes up for the fact that apparently due to my "accent" (????), I had to say the word "jalapeno poppers" six times before the gentleman on the phone new what I was ordering.

So, I can check "eat real food" off of my list for this week. I've learned three new Red Sox players. I've used "wicked" at least once daily in a sentence. And I've actually learned the name of the Boston mayor, and the location of the six nearby "packies" for emergency liquor supplies. I'm figuring I should rotate them so I don't become a regular.

I have mostly unpacked and the house is in semi-decent shape anticipating @colettebenoir's homecoming. I even broke out that "iron" contraption - the one that makes the steam and makes things less wrinkly - and even used it! Now, I have come to the realization that I:
a. Don't own a sweatshirt
b. Don't own a pair of winter "shoes"
c. Need to buy a Park-ah and probably a rain jacket
d. Have no idea how to close this window

Anyway, here are some as-promised photos from the road trip.

I'll be updating this Blog Mission Statement soon enough.

Home on the Range!

2008-08-25T10:01:00.002-04:00

Greetings Readers!
I have arrived safe and sound in my new home in the South of Boston. After receiving a frantic call that my movers were coming on Sunday (yes, SUNDAY!), I had to bolt from the home of @thediva and book it to Mass. Other than two hours of traffic on the TappenZee bridge (spent watching my Tori Amos video collection), my ride was uneventful. Although I have to say - Connecticut is a much bigger state than I remember!
So, I am refamiliarizing myself with "Northern" living. For those of you that don't know, I grew up on the Mass/NH border but have lived most of my adult life in Florida. Here are some observations I have made thus far about my return to the North:

* GAS STOVES! Apparently, not only do they still make them, but people still have them. I vaguely recall something about a pilot light and a match, but I think I'll wait for @Colettebenoir to get home before attempting that one
* HILLS! My poor Florida-raised Corolla almost went into shock when she went up the side of the Mountain we live on. Poor thing. Wait until she sees snow for the first time.
* DRIVING! So, street signs are kind of an "optional", take-them-when-you-can-get-them thing. I ventured for a ride into Cambridge yesterday, and got lost two miles from home. GPS is being invested in - the sooner, the better.
* ROUNDABOUTS! I can see these having been fun on a horse and carriage, but throwing a bunch of cars in there? Bad idea. And they still build new ones!
* STAIRS! They are EVERYWHERE!
* STOP AND SHOP ~ You're still the ugliest grocery store on record.
* LIQUOR LAWS ~ I mean, seriously? Is this one of *those* states? I better stock up on wine.
* PARALLEL PARKING ~ Believe it or not, I actually used to be good at this at one time. But, I'm thinking I'm going to need a little practice.

So, I'm enjoying my current state of unemployment until the new job begins. It's going to be spent figuring out my public transportation options, buying comfortable walking shoes, and walking up the mountain once a day to ensure I don't have a heart attack on my way back from the commuter rail sometime. Until then - cheers! It was a very fun road trip and I'd like to do it again someday - minus the ghosts and the TappenZee wait.

Alexandria & More!

2008-08-23T12:40:00.002-04:00

Next stop on the Fantastic Road Adventures of Kat Glimmer was Alexandria, Virginia!
Alexandria was recommended by a friend as a great place to stop if you want to get into Washington without all the "fun" of having to drive into Washington. The traffic there did not disappoint: I was stuck for almost an hour to go two miles. But, once in Alexandria, it's a perfectly lovely "cosmopolitan" little town. The streets are lined with shops and pubs, most of which carry the name "tavern". Live music was everywhere and even though I was there on a Thursday, I think I had invaded the town's date night. Unfortunately, my pub food was just so-so, but I give the musician a thumbs-up!
So, since it appears I can't go anywhere without some gem of catastrophe, my hotel lost power for close to two hours. It was actually more than just the hotel - it was the entire city block. The Hampton Inn graciously issued me a flashlight but did not seem to understand my remorse at having again missed the opportunity to watch Pretty Woman all the way through (that movie and Footloose - I have never seen in their entirety!). I took that as my chance to go to bed, and get my first, full, ghost-free night's sleep in quite a few days.
The next day I ventured onto the DC Metro. Once I overcome the incredibly confusing and archaic pass purchase instructions (c'mon people - more pictures! Take a nod from Denver), I purchased by pass and was off on my Space Mountain-like journey. Since I'm a fan of subways, I will say that the DC Metro was VERY clean, albeit VERY dark. Not sure if perhaps those two are connected in some way.
My stop at the Library of Congress was absolutely magnificent. I really can't believe I have never been before, and it was an absolutely FANTASTIC, interactive, and moving experience. Go ahead- laugh at me - I don't care! I didn't get shushed once while I was there, and I never could figure out how to make it into the "big" reading room, but the view was spectacular. I can cross one more thing off my "list".
I have now arrived safely at the home of @thediva where I am being forced into an involuntary fast. Should the never ending shower actually curtail at some point, there is the promise of bacon and pedicures (bacon pedicures?). Since the movers have completely reneged on their agreement to deliver their furniture by Tuesday of next week (I display zero shock at this), I've got time before I roll into my final destination of Boston. I should be arriving tomorrow, unless the lure of Foxwoods gets me on my way ...

Raleigh Ramblings

2008-08-21T10:59:00.002-04:00

OK, so technically ~ I'm not IN Raleigh. I'm in Rocky Mount, which is a town that appears to be comprised of nothing but hotels and chain restaurants. In truth, I'm not even sure that I'm going to be driving through Raleigh - but any blog reader of mine wouldn't truly be about semantics, would they?
I survived yesterday's road adventure, dead tired from spending my last night in Savannah wondering if the damn haunted TV was going to come on again (it didn't by the way). Then, thanks to the very nice valet, my car lights were left on, draining my battery. After "Bubba" (no joke) gave my car a jump (and leered at me in a way that suggested it wasn't the only thing he was thinking of jumping), I was off and running.
As previously tweeted, don't ever have to pee on South Carolina. There were very little stops on the stretch if I95 I was traveling on, and I was grateful to have waited until North Carolina for that second cup of coffee. Also, South Carolina is completely devoid of signage. Now, the simplicity is beautiful in many respects, but at the same time, girlfriend would like to know if she's even close to the speed limit, you know what I mean?
I was able to meet up with a friend and have dinner last night here in Rocky Mount, and the company was lovely and much appreciated. Today, I venture to Alexandria, Virginia. My timing kind of sucks and it appears as though I'll be wading in right about rush hour. I may just have to detour along the way (although there are no South of the Borders to look forward to) to put me in a tad later.
Tomorrow - it's off the the Library of Congress!

Scrumptious Savannah!

2008-08-19T11:38:00.005-04:00

How many of YOU can say you're being chased by a Hurricane? Mother Nature and I have long since had some bones to pick with each other, but I give her credit: this is a new one for me! After having returned from Vegas, still slightly hungover and completely jet-lagged, I was greeted with the news that I needed to get the HELL out of Florida! STAT!

I write to you from the Marshall House Hotel in Savannah, Georgia. My "quaint" little room comes complete with flat screen TV, large armoire and view of the central street below. Reputed to be "haunted" (and featured on the Travel Channel), my TV turned on by itself at 5:45 this morning. I'm going to imagine, very hard, that it's because there is an alarm set on it. I don't want anyone telling me any different. My plans for today include taking a Harbor Tour because what better time to be out in the boat then in the midst of an impending hurricane!

So, I have learned a few things about Road Tripping in my brief experience thus far. I figured I would share them with all of you (along with some pictures, once I get the damn camera cord out of the car).

You can never have two many Slim Jims. They are the best road trip "meal" - ever!
I would forsake chocolate for my XM Satellite Radio. Go ahead - revoke my estrogen card.
Even though I passed several "reputable" gas station chains, I always seem to end up at the unknown, unbranded ones. "Billy Bob's Gas & Go" promises the "charm" of questionable bathrooms, shifty-eyed loiterers and gas pumps that don't actually take credit. But - they have the best Slim Jim selection around!
When I sing in the car, my voice is beautiful. And I still know the words to every Stone Temple Pilots song.
I'm still distracted by shiny things. I actually pulled off the highway because I saw a shiny purple bra in the window that I just HAD to have! TMI? Too bad.
I should have replaced my windshield wipers prior to leaving Florida
I may be the last person on Earth who actually uses the hotel shampoo and conditioner
I never remember to pack Q-tips (but the hotel provided them!)
I love hotel robes in an unnatural way
Valet Parking is the BEST, even if I still don't know what the appropriate tip is

So, that's Kat's Road Trip Revelations so far! Tomorrow, it's off to Raleigh.

Kat's Cross Country Adventure

2008-08-07T15:52:00.001-04:00

Hey there Blog readers! Remember me?

Yeah, I’ve had a lot going on, so poor Kustomer is King has gone by the wayside while I’ve included in some new life adventures. I may refocus the blog. I may just post random things here. I make no promises, and I commit to nothing.

So, my reason for writing today is to bring you Kat’s Cross Country Adventures. I’m moving to Boston, as most of you know, and am gonna take my sweet-time getting there. My five day trek brings me across most of the Eastern seaboard, and, barring getting lost somewhere around the DC area, puts me smack into Boston at the end of August.

Here’s where I’m going. I’ll try and provide some pictures from the road, assuming I can function an action digital camera after years of disposable fun. If I’m going to be in your neighborhood… let me know! I’ll even let you buy me a beer.

August 19 – Leave Orlando, Arrive in Savannah Georgia. Eat Friend Chicken and take a Ghost Tour. Hang out in a park. Get very sorry I ever ate the Fried Chicken.

August 20 – Roll in to Raleigh (NC). Lament that I’ve passed up the chance to stay at South of the Border. Avoid getting a speeding ticket. Comment on how many trees the Carolinas seem to have. Look for George Bing to pass me some donuts.

August 21 – Wade into Washington. I’ll probably get hopelessly lost, and call on you, DC area friends, to come save me (are you reading, Tycho Spyker?). Visit the Library of Congress. Geek out at my Mecca. Buy an overpriced T-shirt. Ask if there really is a President’s Book of Secrets, ala National Treasure 2. Observe a moment of silence.

August 22nd – Diva-land! I’m coming to Jersey for super snuggles. Oh – unless for some reason Atlantic City is on the way. Then I’m totally scrapping my visit to Diva. Sorry, sweetie, but it *is* Atlantic City. Wanna join me?

August 23rd – Bonkers for Bean Town! I’m here! I’m here! Colette Benoir has bravely left me the key, and I’m promising only to have Miss Scandalous over for the first, oh, week or so.

Probably right about the time I’ll be rolling into Boston is about the time I’ll wish I had purchased some sort of GPS system. But Christmas is coming…

So, that’s the Adventures of Kat with a big **** that plans and dates may change! And hell, if I really like it in Atlantic City, I might take the whole weekend.

PS – I’m currently taking wagers on what state I’ll get my speeding ticket in. No cross country trip is complete. Any takers?

Delta, My Frenemy

2008-03-12T13:50:00.004-04:00

Ah, Delta Airlines.
We have had a love/hate relationship since the start of (travel) time. We are like the friends who are really nice to each others (inter)face, but then behind our backs, talk a whole lotta smack. If this were high school, we would have already stolen each other's boyfriends, slept with each other's favorite teachers, and scribbled over our faces in the Yearbook.
But I digress.
It seems no matter how I try to avoid it, Delta always provides the best deal to the parts of the country I travel (usually, the Northeast). I've got their sky miles, and like their online booking engine, more so than Travelocity or Orbitz. Once, Delta offered me a $200 credit for taking an EARLY flight that got me to my destination ahead of schedule. And - they are the only airline that proactively offers TWO bags of peanuts, knowing that one is, well, just not enough.
But there's where the happy story ends.
Delta, for reasons known only to the airline scheduling gods, changes their flight schedules with record speed. In booking a flight to Hartford yesterday, I have already received two, yes TWO, notices of a change in itinerary. In 24 hours! This reminds me of the Christmas of 2002, where Delta canceled my flight home only AFTER I had been dropped at the very busy, and nearly impossible to get to Logan Airport (BOS). Their reason? Not enough pilots. And, don't even get me STARTED on the luggage disaster of 1998, when my bag arrived wrapped in duct tape to my local airport (fyi: read your airline contacts - they cap that compensation!). I'm still reeling from the make-up case loss in Ontario, Ca 2005 (that Sephora lipstick was discontinued, dammit).
Yet, like a bad soap opera, I keep coming back for more. You're the habit I just can't quit, Delta. You are the airline I can not avoid. I think we'll continue to keep slapping each other around until we - well - learn to like it. Or until I learn to change my name on the passenger manifest.

Dell Woes, Part Two

2008-02-11T11:58:00.000-05:00

I am a big believer in virtual karma, so when I blogged previously about my friend Diva's issues with her Dell computer, I should have figured that it would come back around. And it did. This week, I went through yet another power cord on my year old Dell Computer. Now, I'll preface this by saying that in general, I have been happy with the purchase of my Dell laptop. Other than an inexplicable noise that emits from the CD drive (I call it "virtual flatulence"), it performs well and has provided little to no software issues. It is, however, a power whore. In a year of owning this laptop, I have gone through ONE battery, and TWO power cords. In a YEAR!
My most recent call to customer service was pleasant, although I have a few pointers for the congenial yet misguided phone representative. The first: please don't overuse my name. Calling me "Miss Kat" in every sentence is distracting, and reminds me of that fourth grade saying, "that's my name, don't wear it out". Two: Yes, I know my warranty is up. Thanks for checking, but a reminder that I should have purchased the extended plan is probably not the most appropriate when I'm about to shell out extra dough. Three: When I am peeved about going through yet ANOTHER power cord in a year period (which seems to be one too many, is it not?), it's not really the best time to try and upgrade/sell me on a new computer. I know it's probably your job, but why don't we work on getting this one to perform correctly for a bit, shall we? Lastly, when you said you would "overnight" the new power cord, I didn't really expect next day delivery. But, um, a week? I hope that I was not charged extra for this "overnight" delivery, because that is going to result in an unpleasant phone call we really both want to avoid (PS - I took your name, Dell Phone Agent! And I'm not afraid to use it).
Wish me luck, readers! And if that power cord doesn't come by tomorrow, pray for the unsuspecting phone representative who gets my return call...
Update: Power cord arrived today. *sighs of relief* for all.

Dirty Tricks

2008-02-03T11:31:00.000-05:00

Greetings gentle readers,
It's been an eventful week in Customer Service Land, with Queen Kat's Krafty Kustomer's attempting to pull out their best "dirty tricks". Dirty Tricks can be defined as those actions customers take to attempt to REALLY piss you off when they don't like your answer or service. Case in point: I was holding a customer accountable for a $30 bill recently. After several painful and long conversations, the customer reluctantly agreed to pay, but decided to do so as annoyingly as possible. So, they entered my establishment, and presented me with a jar of pennies - $30 worth. Now, this could have pissed me off, but I decided I would play along with the customer, since he had initiated the game. I accepted the jar of pennies, and proceeded to count them, very, very slowly, in front of the customer prior to issuing a receipt. Oh - and did I mention I got distracted on a few occasions and had to start over? Pity.
One reader wrote in with a story about how a parent entered her store with her two whiny, foul-mouthed, and general ill-behaved children. After several minutes of harassing other customers, the older child stuffed a toilet with toilet paper and rolls, resulting in a $500 plumbing bill for the shop owner. The kicker? The oblivious parent called to demand a $.10 refund for having been "overcharged" at the establishment. The shop keeper's smart response? To tape her $.10 to the plumbing bill, in the event that she ever came to collect her "debt".
The lesson here? Dirty Tricks don't work. They really just give those of us in the 'Biz fodder for great stories, and well, blog posts. They provide us with amusement, and frankly, give us a reason to laugh. On second thought, keep the dirty tricks coming! *Winks*.

The Evil Tree

2008-01-22T13:25:00.000-05:00

Ah, the evils of the phone tree system. Here, I reference my BFF the Diva and her most recent blog post which details her excruciating experience with the Dell Computer Support Line. I can't relate, as I'm no longer allowed to call Dell Customer Support. It stems back to what I deem to have been a minor incident involving some letters I wrote to Dell that resulted in a visit from the FBI...

But anyway, here is Diva's Blog Post.

*Hugs* @ The Diva. We've all been there

PS - anyone know what happened to the Dell Dude? You know, "Dude, you're getting a dell?"

Transfer Time!

2008-01-21T14:23:00.000-05:00

Breaking news from the Queen Kat front:
In March, I am being transferred to a non-customer service area! That's right! I'll be spending a whole year AWAY from the customers. My employer is tucking me away in the basement, where my clients will be packing tape, shredders, stickers, and an occasional larger-than-average bug. While this in general is good news, I have to say it brought to mind that song "Self Esteem" by The Offspring:

Now I know I'm being used
That's ok because I like the abuse

Is it possible that (gulp) I might actually MISS customer service for the time that I am gone? Should I have my peers and coworkers yell at me on occasion so I don't lose my touch? Even more shocking, my new position will require interaction with vendors who want to sell me stuff. That's right - folks - I'm going to get brown-nosed! Wow - so surreal.
But don't worry - I've still got fodder for this blog for many, many entries to come!

The Voyeur

2008-01-07T17:07:00.000-05:00

I am *the* Customer Service Voyeur. It's true. All the years in this industry have brought out some demented fascination with mankind, and I know this takes "people watching" to an entirely new level. What is a Customer Service Voyeur, you ask? Well, for one, it's a person who stations themselves near the Guest Services Desk on a cruise ship, like I did on a recent trip on Royal Caribbean. Sure, there's drinking, gambling, entertainment and more on a cruise ship, but I find the most fascinating show usually takes on the Main Deck, with people dressed in crisp white suits and twisty ties, and involves a queue and stanchions. For some reason, cruising brings out the most bizarre of customer service complaints. Having actually worked on a cruise ship on a few occasions, I have seen requests from guests that boggle the mind and spirit. These include one women who insisted the kitchen make her fresh squeezed carrot juice on a daily basis, or some bizarre, skin-related growth was liable to take over the left side of her face (her husband looked on, embarrassed, and I could tell he was not prepared to commit to this lifetime carrot juice fetish). I saw another women berate a poor steward because he was not able to produce "Epsom salts" at the speed of light to assist with her aching heinie (yes, insert "ass" joke here). When the poor, male steward could not comply, the women insisted they swing the ship to the next port of call and procure some, because that's what good customer service is, is it not? (I would have shuttled her in a dingy to Cuba, but alas, only the captain of a cruise ship can make these decisions). And, my personal favorite, the cruise line guest who got himself blitzed in Cozumel and missed the ship entirely. Special arrangements needed to commence to board at sea via the hull of the ship, and I had the fantastic opportunity to see this guest (who was traveling with his family), presented with the customized "bill" for the additional services rendered not only by the cruise line, but also by third parties, in delivering his hung-over body back to the vessel (helpful hint to all you tequila lovers: It's not cheap). My favorite gem from this most recent trip occurred when a relatively young women approached the desk, bill in hand, and broke out in tears over a charge for a bottle of wine that she absolutely did not order, absolutely did not drink, and absolutely was NOT paying for. As she berated the patient steward about the incompetence of the ships billing system, her voice grew louder, her sobs higher, and her pitch started to draw the gaze of those nearby (simple non-voyeurs). About ten minutes into the interaction, when the poor steward had already fetched some tissues, the women's incredibly helpful husband arrived to collect her. Oh - and did I mention he was kind enough to bring the wayward, and empty, wine bottle with him? So, next time you're out and about, grab a good book, station yourself near the customer service desk, and collect some blog posts for Queen Kat. You'll be amazed at the free, virtually untapped entertainment available at your finger tips. Be sure to email me your observations at Kustomerisking@yahoo.com .

I'm Tagged! Eight Random Things About Me

2007-12-03T20:20:00.000-05:00

Ok, so this post actually doesn't have anything to do with customer service, but I was "tagged" by my fellow blogger and BFF, TheDiva Rockin. Never one to leave a call unanswered, I am returning the tag with this blog post: Eight Random Things About Me. Hey, can't hurt if we all get to know each other a little better, can it? Here's some randomness at it's finest:

1. I have a paisley birthmark on my stomach
2. I understand Spanish well enough to know when someone is talking crap about me, but they'll never know it
3. Despite having a Master's Degree, I am the worst speller you'll ever meet (grammar is not so hawt, either).
4. I order ice cream sundaes and only eat the whipped cream and sprinkles
5. I was almost arrested in Italy for failing to pay my way on a Roman subway
6. I've never balanced a check book or bounced a check
7. I can usually Name That Tune in three notes or less
8. I'm ambidextrous (and yes, I had to look up THAT spelling for this post).

Fellow bloggers & friends: Consider yourself tagged as well! What randomness do you have going on?

Tis the Season

2007-11-30T09:08:00.001-05:00

The holidays are fast approaching, and most of us are filled with that yuletide cheer. Christmas means a few of my favorite things: eggnog, snow, presents, bells, shopping and spiked punch. But, for those of us in the service industry, it also means the return of the yearly dreaded service interaction. I call it the "holiday spirit". I've worked in my current position for five years, and can document the increase in customer "complaints" are this time of year. Perhaps they are trying to tap into some of my holiday cheer? If so, they are barking up the wrong tree with Queen Kat! Anyway, here's some helpful holiday tips for customers to keep in mind:
* Because it's the holidays does not mean we are going to wipe your slate clean of all monies you may owe. The cable company doesn't give me a free month just because it's "Christmas", and I won't, either
* If you have no intention of paying what you owe, that's fine. But there is absolutely no reason that you need to call and tell me this. If your hope is that by telling me you won't pay your bill, it will magically disappear, you really should see a shaman or a magician.
* Please don't use "the holidays" as an excuse. It taints what is intended to be an otherwise fun filled and relaxing time of year, and they shouldn't be used as a way to write off forgetfulness or stupidity.
* Calling me "Scrooge", "Satan", "Grinch" or the "anti-Christ" during this time of year only makes me chuckle, so please expect this reaction.
So, Happy Holidays to all of you out there who truly appreciate what this time of year is meant to be about. And for those of you who don't - tsk tsk! I'm on to you.

A Time to Give Thanks

2007-11-23T12:52:00.000-05:00

Today is "Black Friday", the day after Thanksgiving dedicated to shopping, sales, and the ultimate display of capitalism. My heart goes out to those of you in retail today, as I'm sure a day full of early mornings, coupons and long lines has got to be the ultimate test of your customer service skills. I dedicate this post to all of you, Retail Servants, with a recap of "things" Queen Kat is thankful for.

I am grateful that no sale or special has ever motivated me to get up at 4am and wait in line at a store - I don't care HOW cheap that plasma TV is advertised
I am thankful that Walmart does not appear to be offering the $29 DVD players this year, disappointing many a middle-aged woman who was hoping to wrestle for the ultimate bargain. For the safety of the American public, we thank you, Walmart.
I am ecstatic that my neighbors have resisted the lure of the large, inflatable and obnoxious Frosty the Snowman lawn ornament, as I'm sure this would lead me to participate in some graffiti or mischief I have thus far refrained from.
I am grateful I am no longer a clerk in a women's clothing department. I once worked for a large department store chain called Filene's, and was charged with dressing room duty. I realized then the concept of "hangers" was lost on most of the patrons, and was even chastised by a manager once when I insisted upon giving a lesson as to their usefulness to a particularly sloppy customer.
I am thankful I don't have to explain coupons, expiration dates, specials, signs, or other "bargains" to the argumentative customer who doesn't understand that I'm working a job that barely pays above minimum wage, and most likely comes with little to no benefits.

Most importantly, I am thankful to NOT be working in retail on this very special day. But we salute those of you that are! Know that most of us that have been there, and we will try and remember our shopping manners, even after shoving an 8 year old out of the way for latest Elmo doll.
Cheers!

A Reflection (of sorts)

2007-11-08T10:30:00.000-05:00

It's a relatively quiet Tuesday evening, and I think I'm going to pass my entire day without one dreaded service interaction, when I get the call: "Kat, we have a bather". A "bather" is a person who is using our public restrooms as their own personal day spa, a no-no for our institution. Truthfully, I can't say I care all that much WHAT people do in there, but alas, my job is to address the matter. Off I must go, to again tell someone to put their clothes back on.
Put their clothes back on? I take a moment to reflect. At one point did my professional career take a turn to where this has become part of my job responsibilities? Let's take some time, readers, and explore other matters Queen Kat can't believe she's had to deal with.

I've asked a grown man to please stop crying about missing a certain costumed character in a theme park
I once had to tell a man to pull up his pants, as he wasn't aware they had fallen to his ankles
Last year, I had to deliver legal paperwork to a pissed off man in handcuffs who had just been arrested for punching a bus driver. Since he looked like he was going to bite me, I put the paperwork on the ground and slide it to him using my foot.
I had to tell a ten year old boy that "eat me" was, in fact, not a term of endearment.
I've had to tell a woman that her body odor was so pungent, that she needed to leave the building due to the concern it was raising with other customers (should probably rethink the bather rule above - perhaps we've got a contradiction here)
I had to tell a family of four that throwing bread crusts on the restaurant floor was, in fact, not acceptable behavior
I've had to plunge a toilet, something I've never even done in my own house.

So, readers, it's your turn to reflect: what are your prize career moments? Leave a comment, or shoot me an email at kustomerisking@yahoo.com. I can't wait to hear them, as I'm sure some of you can top mine!

The Mad Otter

2007-11-04T14:37:00.000-05:00

For this week's post, I share with you a cautionary customer service tale. Years ago, I worked the front desk of an upscale resort hotel for a large theme park company (I won't mention their name because they tend to be a bit sue-happy, but let's just say the Big Cheese is a guy whose name rhymes with "Hickey House"). Working at a classy hotel presented it's own unique set of challenges: namely, my modest upbringing of Motel 8's had left me unprepared to deal with a clientele who specialized in disposable cash. But, what I was even less prepared for was this following encounter I had, which occurred about three months after my employment.
I was standing attentively at the desk, waiting for the next "Guest" to approach me, when a young man, about 25 and dressed respectively in pressed khakis and a Lacoste polo, approached the desk. I'd seen his type before, and figured he was looking for a Golf reservation, a few extra towels, or directions to the nearest strip joint. It turns out his inquiry was none of the above:
Khaki Guy: "Excuse me, Miss - but are you aware that your moat has a Mad Otter?"
Silence.
Khaki Guy: "Miss - the Otter. You really need to do something about the Mad Otter."
Truthfully, he had lost me at "moat". Since when did the hotel have a moat?
I looked around, first assuring that this young man was speaking to me, and when I was assured that he was, I donned my best "Oh, Aren't you Just a Really Cute and Funny Guy" smile, and made a small laugh at his joke.
He looked at me - perplexed.
Khaki Guy: "This really isn't a funny matter. Somebody could get hurt. Can't you call someone?"
Uh-oh.
Now, I was beginning to understand what I was up against. Khaki Guy was the most stealth and dangerous of all customer service types: Crazy Guy Disguised as Clean Cute Nice Guy. I had encountered this prototype only a few times, and I had been as unprepared for those encounters as I was for Khaki Guy now. Mad Otter? We had a live one on our hands.
Since Khaki Guy would not leave until I assured him some response to our dangerous otter epidemic, I picked up the phone and dialed our back room. Relaying the "mad otter" situation to my coworker on the other end left him wondering if I had lost my mind, and I knew I'd have some explaining to do later, but it appeased Khaki Guy and sent him scurrying back towhatever asylum he came from.
The moral of the story: Beware of the Mad Otters. They will sneak up on you when you least expect it, and you'll have a hard time distinguishing between the Cutesy Patron and the ones that are just plain crazy. To prepare, always be ready to think on your feet, and attempt not to aggravate the situation. For example, I was incredibly tempted to ask Khaki Guy what made the otter "mad", but it would have prolonged an already bizarre encounter. Lastly, always play into the deranged fantasy. It makes the encounter go smoothly and calmly, until the guys with the straight jackets arrive.

The Power of Passive Aggression

2007-10-28T20:47:00.000-04:00

I had the wonderful opportunity to spend this past weekend in Boston with my two BFFs, Kera and Kelly. Since we only get to see each other a few times a year, I am reminded (thanks in large part to the Taxi Cab drivers of Boston) about Kelly's wonderful use of Passive Aggression when dealing with those in the customer service industry. I present to you this case in point: after waiting for several moments at the Seaport for a cab to stop, one finally does. Upon entering the cab, we advise that we need to be dropped off at our airport hotel (which is, probably, five miles away at most). The cabbie, upon hearing the airport destination, starts to ho and hum, and advises us that because he's off the clock in 30 minutes, the airport is too far of a ride for him. Now, Queen Kat & Kera, not sensing the ridiculousness of this statement, start to get out of the cab. But before we do - Kelly breaks out one of her finer passive aggressive moments. She tilts her blond head to the left and says, "well, we don't need to go by way of Connecticut". Then, she dons her best Broad smile, and the cabbie is both utterly enchanted and afraid. He takes the fare, and we are instantly delivered to the Airport Hilton in under 10 minutes.
Passive aggression is a technique that I have not mastered: frankly, I'm far to direct too be considered "passive" in any of my mannerisms . But, for consumers like Kelly, it is a highly successful and effective technique. In some cases, your target doesn't know if you are kidding or serious. In examples like the one above, they are not willing to find out or take the chance. The utter confusion of the passive aggressive attack hits the weak spot of the service provider, and before you know it, they are providing the denied service simply because they don't know how to respond. So, I highly endorse the Passive Aggressive maneuver (and Kelly may even be available for a lesson or two) with a reminder of the following points: consider your audience, practice perfect delivery of the aggression, and remember to smile. You will always meet with success.
(and, a special thanks to Kelly, a.k.a. "Miss Scandalous" for being a grammar fiend and my new blog editor! *Kisses*)

I Wear The Pants

2007-10-22T22:36:00.000-04:00

Recently, I had the following customer service encounter. This, my dear readers, is an example of having some Customer Service "fun". Some situations are just too good not to take advantage of.
Scene: Young, male customer does not wish to pay his account. After twenty minutes of circular argument via the phone, he pulls this gem out of, well, his pocket:
Queen Kat: Sir, you'll need to pay your account. There are no adjustments.
Customer: Listen, lady, you listen to me: I'm wearing the pants.
Queen Kat: Excuse me?
Customer: The pants, lady, the pants. I'm wearing the pants.
Queen Kat: Umm... which pants are you referring to sir?
Customer: THE pants, lady, which is why you're going to remove my fines.
Queen Kat: Are those like the Travelling Pants?
Customer: What?
Queen Kat: Never mind. Sir, I'm not sure what your pants reference has to do with your bill. I'd be happy to take a Visa and settle this now.
Customer: Lady - when I say "I wear the pants" that means you do what I say.
Queen Kat: Sir, I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand where this conversation is going. I, too, am wearing pants.
Customer: But you're not wearing THE pants. Now, remove my bill!
Queen Kat: Sir, are you insinuating that soon, you WON'T be wearing any pants? Because I'm afraid we're not that kind of call center.
Customer: What?
Queen Kat" You're desire to discuss your pants leads me to think that soon you won't be wearing any, and in that case, I'm afraid I'll need to end this inappropriate phone call.
Customer: But...
Queen Kat: Good day, sir, and good luck and your pants.

He he he he ....

Props to the Presentation

2007-10-19T14:59:00.000-04:00

I was, by all accounts, a shitty waitress.
This is the first, but not last time, you will hear this in this blog.
In college, needing to sustain a five-time a week beer habit and occasional desire for new shoes, I sought out a waitressing job. How bad could it be, I thought? Throwing plates of food in front of people, wiping down tables, and collecting fat tips? Sounded fun! So, I ventured out and obtained employment at the bottom ladder of all eating establishments: the open-all-hours breakfast restaurant. (Think "IHOP" for the poor man). It was everything I had dreamed of in my vision: grease and syrup, stingy customers (two-for-one nights is a future blog), and dirty silverware.
But soon, I noticed that I wasn't bringing in the same money as the other waitresses. Now, I'll readily admit that I have had a lifetime problem with authority, and an inability to convincingly kiss ass. But, I was efficient, prompt, attentive - what gives? Why was I constantly being given prayer cards instead of actual cash?
The answer came to me one day, almost a year after employment. My BFF Kera, a very GOOD waitress by all standards, was arranging a plate at the galley. She always amazed me - taking time to scoop the butter ever so gently into it's little white cup (we were too cheap for those fancy prewrapped butter packs). Then, Kera selected the least-rotted of all the orange slices, and assembled it with a sprig of crisp parsley. Once satisfied with her arrangement, she gave her plate a little smile, and then whisked it away to the hungry table. Now, I had seen Kera do this ritual a thousand times before, and it was one I never understood. I never touched those oranges or parsley - in fact, for my first month of employment, I thought they were intended for some "special" I had yet to be introduced to. I slapped my butter directly on the plate, thinking I was doing "the man" a favor by skipping those pesky white cups. And I couldn't be bothered with accouterments like steak knives or soup spoons - I mean, the regular ones worked just fine, if you worked a little harder!
But that day at the galley I realized something - those little extras I wasn't participating in were making the difference to the customers, and in turn, to the tips. Kera's tables looked so happy when their food was served, and occasionally, they even said "thank you". So, I decided to give it a try: slapping orange and parsley together instantly brightened up a dull plate of eggs and bacon. And to my surprise, I realized something rather shocking: people would actually eat the plate flare! That possibility had never even occurred to me. So, I started to put butter into the cups, wipe the excess syrup off the little containers, and even throw in an extra napkin or two. Low and behold - my salvation become less of an issue, and I started rolling in the cold, hard cash.
I'm older now, and I have a finer appreciation for presentation than I did at the rather clueless age of 20. I take a moment to appreciate a plate garnished with a cantaloupe slice, or an adult beverage adorned with some pineapple. I like the big soup spoons, and am thankful when a server actually bothers to stock the yellow sugar packets, not just the pink and blue.
And to all you customers out there, I hope that you take a moment to appreciate this, too. Not every server is going to bother, or understand the fine art of plate presentation, so give props to the ones that do. And, to those of you that leave prayer cards (and you know who you are), I say this: thanks for the "inspiration", although it probably wasn't the result you intended.

The Principle of the Matter

2007-10-15T22:49:00.000-04:00

It's 4:30 on a Thursday afternoon, and I'm just about to wrap up another week. From a customer service standpoint, this week has been a good one: I've avoided yellers, screamers, sighers and the dreaded criers for the entire week. But alas, as I'm just starting to shut down my office applications, my phone rings. On the other end of the receiver, the least favorite of all the customer service prototypes awaits me: Mrs. "It's the Principle of the Matter".
Now, I suppose I have some principles. Let's see, I never double dip, I only use the F-bomb when the children present are over the age of 12, and I've haven't killed anyone (yet). Those are principles, right? Well, if they are not, someone will probably have to EXPLAIN what these customer service principles are, because I just don't get it.
To me, "It's the Principle of the matter" is the most unoriginal of all the excuses. I also believe it's the most misunderstood. For example, a customer once told me that as a "principle", I should knock $1,000 off the price of a family vacation. His reasoning: He had more children the most vacationers. Huh? As a "principle", was I supposed to introduce him to family planning at some point in his life? My latest "principle" patron felt that I should waive the cost of her rightfully-assessed library fines because HER daughter lost the book. Her reasoning? Well, we have more books, but of course.
Now, come on now, Customers! We servants appreciate some originality in your excuses. The "principle" is trite, misunderstood, and misused, and while your think your big words scare us, they just serve to bore me. I end this post with a big *yawn* to you "Principle" People - no points for creativity because we've heard it before!