Sunday, July 01, 2007

extended wait times




inquiringmindswanttoknow
Going to the grocery store is usually an exercise in human folly, which can be fun if you take it the right way.
While waiting for the checkout line to diminish, I looked at a People magazine. They said the authorities believe Chris Benoit killed his wife and son before he hung himself. That is more efficient than if he killed them before he did himself.
I had some fun in the modern world Friday. Two boxes of plotter paper needed to go to a company at a "Class A" building in Alpharetta. Since they are involved with oil pipelines, security is a big deal. I pull up in front of the building, where I parked the times was there before. After pulling the cart out of the truck, pulling two boxes of paper (the boxes weigh 52 pounds each) and putting them on the cart, then the guard comes out and tells me to take it to the loading dock.
I go to the back of the building, load the paper on the dock, walk around the dumpster to the ramp leading to the dock, and walk up. I load the paper on the cart, go to the door, and push a button on a call box. The voice on the callbox says that someone is on the way to let me in. After a few minutes, some people coming back from lunch come in the back, and one of them shows me to the security desk...which was about 20 feet from where I parked originally. The guard (not the same one who told me to move to the back) gave me a badge, and the man who showed me up led me through some doors, and then left. I asked someone where the contact was, and he said take a left, then take your first right, then take another right and he will be in a cubicle. I sort of follow those directions, go to a cubicle with the contacts name etched in a piece of plastic, and go into the cubicle behind that. There I find the contact playing a guitar. His acoustic guitar had an electric pickup going into a little box, which he was listening to with headphones.
The contact showed me where the paper went and escorted me back to the dock.



weapologizefortheinconventience

First the party was lovely, but I started to get tired and look for the door. On my way out, the host and I discussed the Chris Benoit affair, and the impact that a mentally challenged sibling can put on a family. This is an intensely personal subject for me, and put me in a rotten mood.
One manifestation of this situation with me is touchiness about Jesus. The Christians who shove Jesus in your face, without concern for the impact it has, are selfish, evil people. Of course, it is all OK, because Jesus forgives them.
I start to photoshop the backlog of pictures here, but my heart isn't in it. Check the internet one more time, and its off to bed we go, and maybe tomorrow will be a better day. Wait a minute, user name and passwords are not verified. I can't get on.
I try again, with the same results. I type the password into the box, same results. Go to another way to log on, same results. After a few minutes, it is obvious there are some issues here.
I call the help line of the ISP. It is busy. The next few times I call it is busy, until I get through. After going through the menu, I get to a point where I am listening to insipid saxophone jazz. A voice comes on..."We are experiencing extended wait times. We apologize for the inconvenience." This is at 12:56 am. The saxophone plays for a half hour, interrupted every fifteen seconds by the voice… "We are experiencing extended wait times. We apologize for the inconvenience." I pace the house, look for the earpiece for the cell phone, and am grateful for recently added minutes to the pay per view phone. "We are experiencing extended wait times. We apologize for the inconvenience." The emotionless female voice is a bit louder than the saxophone jazz, and REALLY GETS ON MY NERVES. I go in the front yard, take my contact lenses out, and start to work on an image. "We are experiencing extended wait times. We apologize for the inconvenience." Finally, after a half hour, the line goes dead.
I call the help desk on the land line… “due to technical difficulties we cannot transfer your call”. I go to bed.
Sunday morning, I get up, dreading the help desk ordeal I know is coming. Before I take the plunge, I try logging onto the internet. The log on happens automatically, like it almost always does.
Did this morning really happen?




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