Good Customer Service

I had an interesting conversation with my dad the other day.  We were discussing the completely lousy customer service we had each recently experienced in two different cities at stores belonging to the same national chain of crappy tire & hardware stores.  During the conversation, I told my father that one of my coworkers, who lives in yet another city, had told me on Friday about a very positive and helpful experience she’d had at the same chain in her local town.  My dad commented, “Wow, you don’t hear that too often.” 

This is what made the conversation so interesting:  We found it remarkable that the store provided good customer service!  It left me reflecting later on the fact that the service at this particular chain has degraded so much that we accept poor service and bad attitude as the norm and remark on it when we receive good service.  Has our world devolved to this? 

My late best friend kept a gratitude journal for years.  Each day she would jot down something for which she was grateful, even if sometimes it was only that the day was finally over.  She was visiting me in my new rural locale a few years after I moved out of the big city (where she lived) and I brought her to town to shop.  There is a Sears store in the mall in the small city of 27,000 or so that is a half hour from my home.  My friend was able, with some assistance from the clerk, to find what she was looking for and decided to buy it.  As she paid, the clerk offered her a smile and wished her a nice day.  I had shopped at this Sears several times and so I thought nothing of this until my friend grabbed my arm as we left the store and said, “She smiled at me and I think she meant it.”  She was completely thrown off because the clerk smiled, made eye contact, wished her a pleasant day…and meant it.  My friend actually decided to write about this in her gratitude journal that night.  Having lived in the big city, I completely understood why.  Interactions with strangers are so brief and impersonal, often without eye contact, and often not even all that polite or pleasant. 

I know that stores need to know when things are not going well for their customers, but stores also need to know when things are going well.  Pick up a pen (or your computer keyboard) and write a note to the store’s management.  Let them know that you’ve received exceptional (for these days) service, on which date you were at their establishment, and exactly who helped you in such a positive way.  It’s these outstanding staff that can turn your lousy experience into a positive one that leaves you smiling and these people deserve recognition.  Don’t forget to smile back at them, say thank you, and wish them a pleasant day too…and mean it. 

Gingerbread Happy Times

Time has cycled around to November again.  My husband is still off work and although long-term disability runs out in a few months, the honest truth is that I don’t believe he’s anywhere near ready to go back to work yet.  Still, he’s going to make the effort.  After all, we can’t live on nothing and my salary, while good for the area, is nowhere near enough to go it alone.  I do worry about making a nice Christmas for our young son, I can’t help but be thankful for what we do have.  We are all healthy (relatively speaking that is), we do have a roof over our heads, and we have extended family who love us. 

Since it’s going to be a carefully budgeted Christmas, I decided I would be making gifts for those we usually give to.  This list gets smaller every year out of necessity, unfortunately.  So instead of rushing out to the stores and trying to find just the right thing, I decided that gingerbread would be perfect.  My son agreed. 

On my last payday I bought the biggest bag of flour I could find, together with the other needed ingredients.  This weekend the little guy and I are going to make gingerbread.  I have told him that since Christmas is still a few weeks away we would only make the gingerbread at this point.  We will freeze it and then a week before Christmas we will spend a day making it all into gingerbread houses.  I think we can design a relatively little house that will go together fairly quickly.  It will be a lot of fun for the both of us and as he is approaching ten years of age, I know our days of spending quality time together are likely dwindling. 

If I get time before Christmas gets here, I will also make some hard candy.  Who knows, maybe we could fill the little gingerbread houses with candy.   

Granny Square tutorials

I found this blogger's site last year I think it was.  Her tutorials on joining granny squares of same sizes, as well as joining squares of different sizes, are thorough.  There are lots of pictures and coupled with the explanations, you'll be doing this in your sleep in no time.  Thanks for the great tutorials!

things to make and do: granny square tutorial part 3: joining squares of the same size

Small Town Living

Small town life can be wonderful.  It should be community...people caring about their neighbour...meeting friends at the local fair or the grocery store.  For people who have grown up in a small town, that is what it is.  However, there is another segment of the population that lives in most small towns.  Some of us choose to leave the clutches of the big cities and move to small towns in anticipation of being part of a community, of raising our families in a clean, wholesome environment. 

We did just that.  My husband left the city and has lived in our small-town area since the mid 80’s and when we met in the mid 90’s and decided to move in together, I too made the decision to leave the city, sell my house, quit my job and all my volunteer work and move here where I had no immediate job prospects, no friends, and no volunteer work.  I met my neighbours, enjoying saying hello or sharing the occasional beer across the fence.  I got involved with volunteering in my community, canvassing for Heart and Stroke, as well as the Cancer Society.  I volunteered with other organizations as well.  And, of course, I started sending my resume around.  A visit to the local EI office gave the sad news that I could expect to earn about half of what I’d earned in the city.  Wow!  That was a shock, but cost of living is a little more reasonable up here.  Besides, I had a husband to share expenses with anyway. 

It only took 14 months to find my first job and a year and a bit later that company relocated to...yes, the city!  I once asked that boss how it was that I got the job and not his wife’s cousin’s friend’s neighbour.  He told me that it was because he was in desperate straits since his prior assistant had left with almost no notice and he really needed someone who could hit the ground running.  Since then I’ve had a couple of short term contract jobs, but mostly it’s an exercise in futility looking for work.  I have top-notch skills that are very transferable.  When I left my last position in the city (to move here), my boss offered a promotion, my own office, and more money to keep me.  The problem is that the same ‘community’ I’m so willing to embrace, doesn’t feel the same way about me.  When an interview (and there have been precious few of them) starts out, “Are you related to...” it’s pretty much guaranteed the job will go to some underqualified relative or friend of a relative of someone who works at the company.  Someone who will take two years to learn a job I already know.  Nepotism.  Companies don’t really want to hire the most qualified person, they want to hire their favourite relative or favourite employee’s relative.  Not only that, but a company in one town won’t necessarily hire someone from another town...especially when someone from their own town might need a job. 

Despite that, we’ve made friends.  Not surprisingly, these friends are mostly outsiders like ourselves.  They come from cities originally too.  While the neighbours are friendly, we can never be true ‘friends’ because my husband and I will always be those folks from the city that bought the old Smith place.  People in small towns are complacent.  They couldn’t be bothered expending the effort to actually get to know a newcomer.  Why should they?  They’ve known their friends since they were in diapers.  Perhaps they never actually learned how to make friends with a stranger.  And I’m pretty sure nobody would plan a benefit dance to help us out of any financial jam.  I volunteer in my community and participate in community events, but I know from experience that if I miss a meeting or two, there won’t be a phone call or someone dropping by to check on me.  

Our son was born here.  Maybe that will give him an "in" as he gets older.  Perhaps not.  Perhaps he will be...tainted, as it were...by having parents who are not from here.  After all, small town means small minds a lot of the time and he will ever be the son of "those people who bought the old Smith place".  On the other hand, this apartness (yes, I made up that word) may be what allows him to eventually leave this place and spread his wings in the big wide world.  I've seen so many young people around here who have no ambition to leave and in many other cases, those who go off to university or college only to return afterwards.  Time will tell.  

So while we are part of the community, we are not of the community.  Sadly, after more than a dozen years of living here personally, I fear that this will still be the case when I mark my 25^th, 40^th, or even 50^th year of living here.  

2012...The Year That Was...

Difficult! 

It started out with me recovering from surgery to my right foot following a bad fall.  Just when things should have been getting better, my husband suffered a very serious injury at work.  Oh, you can't see anything wrong, but mental injury is, in a lot of ways, worse than anything physical.  With my physical injury, at least we could say, "According to the x-rays, I'm improving."  With post-traumatic stress disorder, the injury is invisible and the road to recovery is long and never easy. 

But on the plus side, I've learned lots this past year.  I learned that trying to use the system fairly only gets you jerked around.  I've learned that people you thought of as friends, aren't really.  This realization comes slowly as the phone stops ringing and calls and messages go largely unanswered.  My son has suffered through all this too. 

I also learned that sometimes people come into our lives at a time when we really could use a friend.  They may only be there for a short while but have a huge impact.  I've learned that I really do work for a great company and have a terrific boss.  She's been fantastic with thoughtful advice and guidance.  In fact, all my coworkers have been really supportive.  I've also learned that something I've always believed is true: Our biker friends really are family.  They've been very accepting of my husband either not being around or his being there in person occasionally, but not really in spirit.  They quietly accepted his need to leave shortly after arriving, or his need to just sit in the corner and not associate.  And they've been sympathetic ears for me to talk to.  I also learned that my dearest friends are so wonderful I feel unworthy.  People like them make world a better place.  Their unquestioning generousity of heart leaves me humbled to call them "friend". 

For all the crap that was 2012, I go forward on the strength of the amazing people that have not only been there for us, but show no sign of budging anytime soon.  At a time when my usual rock is a crumbled pile of pebbles, it's nice to know I've got other rocks to lean on.  Thank you to each and every one of you.  Love you all!  Let's grab 2013 by the horns and make it better. 

Am I Alone in the Universe?

I started this blog about a year ago as I was recovering from surgery.  Initially it was to give me something to do besides watch television during the long days of immobile recovery.  My stats tell me that my blog does get visitors, but for some odd reason it is only very rarely that anyone leaves a comment.  Should I ask for comments or are my rantings just so boring or out there that people are speechless?  Yikes…perhaps it’s only one person… 

I don’t suppose that I’m alone in the universe, in fact the evidence that at least one person checks in on me now and again tells me I’m not.  However, sometimes events can certainly lead you to the conclusion that you’re alone in the world.  Now, I’m actually an optimist at heart, although at times I get the lost, abandoned feeling.  I think that’s normal.  I do believe that things get better and there’s always a bright side; I couldn’t survive otherwise.  Life truly is all about choices and I choose to be happy for the most part.  Life’s too short to be otherwise. 

Many years ago I heard a Zig Ziglar speech where he commented that whenever he hears someone say they’re having the worst day, he always thinks “Compared to what?”  He believes – rightly so – that you’re going to spend a lot more time dead than alive and should be happy for each and every day.  If you don’t believe that, just try missing one of them!  Don’t ask me what else he had to say, but that one nugget has stuck with me almost 20 years now, so the impact was profound on me at the very least. 

It’s interesting when you think back on the things that stick with you for a lifetime.  I don’t remember too much about fifth grade except that my penmanship was finally good enough to earn my very first ballpoint pen, I had a very tall teacher named Miss Stork, and she had a quote written at the top of the blackboard in permanent marker that said, “If something is worth doing, it is worth doing well.”  That quote kind of goes hand in hand with another one I saw years later that goes, “If you don’t make time to do it right, you will make time to do it over.”  Profound.  Impact. 

Oh, and that moment when you think you’re all alone?  Look around and see how many you actually have in your support circle.  Family, friends, and sometimes even co-workers are there for you in many ways.  Like the bank commercial says, "You're richer than you think."  Isn't that the truth? 

Descent Into Madness - A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a young man who went off to the Armed Forces School of Electronics.  He studied very hard and graduated second in his class, being rewarded with his choice of postings.  He served several years in the military before leaving to seek his fortunes elsewhere.  A few years later an old buddy from the air force recommended the man come work with him at a high-tech company.  So the man moved to the small rural area and started his career at this high-tech company. 

The abuse from management started almost immediately and because upper echelons in the corporate world tend to place greater value on opinions of management, this man was labelled a troublemaker by his abusive, alcoholic boss.  Time passed, years in fact.  The man continued labouring under a succession of managers, several of whom continued the cycle of abuse.  By now he had acquired very specialized knowledge of the highly exclusive technology employed by the company and with his many years making contributions to a pension plan, he felt that leaving would be extremely difficult. 

So he bought a house and started renovating it.  Then he met a woman and they got married, finishing their renovations together.  A few years later, a son arrived.  The family moved out to the countryside to a pretty property on the water, with lots of room for a growing boy and his dog to run around on. 

Things were great at home, but the abuse continued at work.  By now the man had come to realize that his company was, for all intents and purposes, a corporate breeding ground for abusive management.  He carried on, managing to remain employed with the company throughout several rounds of layoffs and having the organization sold twice.  Over the course of his career with this company, he became something of a “terminator” in that his coworkers tended to transfer difficult problems to him because he had the ability to find solutions to the hardest technical issues.  With the introduction of new hardware at certain points, he took it upon himself to learn all about it and then created Saturday morning “classes” where he taught his coworkers how to serve clients with this equipment. 

Due to the climate of nepotism that pervades the cliquish / clannish area in which they live, the man’s wife – who came from “the city”, as did he – found it difficult to obtain full-time employment.  She’d even applied to the company he worked at, having two interviews for positions that were later given to less qualified friends or relatives of the individuals either conducting the interviews or senior executives of the organization.   The man’s income was sole support for a family of three and all that goes with home ownership.  

At long last his wife obtained a full-time position.  She was quite happy in her job until an accident necessitated six months off while she recovered from surgery.  After sick benefits ran out, unemployment benefits kicked in for a few weeks.  During her convalescence, the man’s latest and most vindictive boss called him in for the annual review.  A few minutes into the discussion the man finally had his fill of abuse.  He snapped.  He left the boss’s office, grabbed his stuff and left.  This was in the middle of winter and the last thing his company (or anyone) should have allowed to happen was an extremely upset person to get into a car and drive.  The trauma of his meeting with the boss still fresh in his mind, the man found his car spinning in circles on the icy roads.  Somehow he managed to sit in the car for a few moments and then work his way home.  

His surprised wife was curious as to why he’d arrived home hours before his normal time.  He was not talking, seemingly unable to communicate to her what had him so obviously upset.  A couple of hours later it was time to pick up their son from the school bus, but the man appealed to his wife to come along for the ride because he was too upset.  She hobbled out to the car on crutches and quickly discovered she had to direct where he was going.  This was how it went for the next day as well.  The day after that she had to direct him to a city three hours drive away so she could see her surgeon for follow-up.  She worried when she even had to tell him which way to turn out of their own driveway.  He should not have been driving at all but she was still wearing a cast and not allowed to drive yet.  

For four days he lived on coffee and cigarettes.  He was barely speaking and when he did, it was incoherent.  He was quite literally vibrating.  He had not slept more than an hour a night since arriving home from work four days before.  His personal hygiene habits disappeared, forcing his wife to remind him to brush his teeth and bathe.  

So the man’s wife eventually forced him to drive them to the emergency room where he met with the mental health team.  Within days he went to his own family physician who quickly got the man into counselling.  He was on extended sick leave from work, but at least his wife was back on part-time hours.  They had some huge financial holes to climb out of since she’d been receiving only about 40% wage from the unemployment sick leave benefit and now his own salary was dropped by about 25% as a result of not having shift premiums or overtime.  

It’s interesting how you truly do find out who your true friends are when you’re in trouble.  His company forbade staff from having anything to do with him.  He’d been there for 28 years and only one person – a woman no less – had the balls to stand up and speak out on his behalf.  

Now the real games began.  He couldn’t manage the stress and trauma that having to deal with anything caused.  His wife intervened on his behalf.  When it became apparent that he would end up starting a claim for long term disability, they asked his company to provide the necessary forms.  Then they asked again.  And again.  And still yet again.  When the form arrived, they were overwhelmed by two things:  (1) how much information and documentation was required, including doctors’ reports; and (2) how little time they had to pull it all together and send off to the LTD insurer.  As an added bonus, now they needed to ask the company for the plan number because despite sending a full page letter detailing what to provide, where to send it, and to get it done in less than a week, they did not include that minor bit of information.  

Repeated calls and email messages to the human resources department were apparently ignored.  The day before the documents were due in another province, the wife told her husband to get on the phone and not hang up until he’d spoken to a live body and received the necessary information.  As soon as he managed to get the information, he raced to his wife’s office in order to fax all 65 pages to the LTD carrier just under the deadline.  His company, who claimed they wanted him to get better, didn’t realize their shenanigans were only making him worse.  

With another drop in pay expected for him as he now went onto long term benefits, the family was clearly struggling.  This added to the man’s stress levels.  His wife did what she could to reassure him that as a couple their relationship was solid and she wasn’t going anywhere.  Their son had a hard time understanding why his dad suddenly didn’t want to play with him, read books to him, or even seemingly even spend any time in the same room with him.  The little boy felt the loss strongly, often asking his mother why daddy didn’t love him anymore.  She did her best to explain to her son that daddy loved them both very much but that right now his heart and his head weren’t communicating very well.  She said that daddy needed them to love him even more. 

The months wore on and the man lost about 50 pounds.  Being Diabetic, this was the last thing he needed but his eating habits were off.  If his wife wasn’t home to prepare meals, he often forgot to eat, making dinner his first and only meal of the day.  In fact, she still had to regularly remind him to bathe and use deodorant.  At least he could make short drives to familiar places (like the doctor’s office) on his own. 

The summer faded away and still the man’s company failed to provide answers to some of their ongoing questions.  This included the request for a letter of employment that had originally been made in the Spring.  The family could not afford to maintain their home and made the painful decision to sell and move back into town.  They’d need the employment letter to obtain financing on a new residence.   As Autumn started, a letter arrived from the LTD carrier that they had reviewed their file and decided the man was well enough to return to work.  The couple were curious about how such a determination came about when the only items they had on file were those bits included in the initial application.  

Here’s where the couple discovered the consultant hired by the carrier to interview the man had apparently been feeding them a long line.  She had gotten the man to admit that he might be able to work somewhere other than his company (and why are they taking the word of a mentally ill individual anyway?) and this went into her report despite the fact that the man’s wife had added the caveat that just getting a job somewhere else was not going to effect a miracle cure.  Aside from that, his company had given specialized training for specialized equipment over the years any kind of job that would utilize the skills he possessed would require his wife to quit her job and their son to have to change schools as they would not find such work in their local area.  They would be forced to relocate to another area of the province away from family and friends.  This consultant pretended sympathy while providing the carrier with a report that would assure his term on LTD would be short.  

While they were happy to hear they could appeal the decision, the situation raised a whole bunch of new questions which only the man’s company could answer.  His wife rarely has any luck getting a live person on the phone and when she manages to get any kind of response by email, it’s always a variation of “we’re looking into it and will get back to you”.  It’s the stock answer she receives whether she’s asking about the letter of employment, or anything to do with pension and benefits, or even about where the record of employment was that should have been mailed months ago when they stopped paying her husband.  

And in the meantime, each setback is truly a setback as her husband sinks further into depression.