What Opinions Are Like

You know the quote, I'm sure. I got reamed for an opinion I expressed on a list I own, MMarioKKnits. A dear friend of several years' standing asked if I were attending a fiber show this coming weekend, after we crossed wires with me thinking that she was coming to one I went to on Sunday.

The show to which she's referring is about a three hour trek - admittedly through beautiful countryside - from my home. We first met face-to-face at this show two or three years ago. Anyway, I told her that DH and I would not attend that show, because we found it very disappointing. Leaving aside that there were not many vendors, there was no where to sit and eat, or just sit, porta-potties are the only amenities, and there is ZERO shade. For your fair-skinned delicate Goddess, this was hell, boys and girls. That year everything was liberally covered in dust, but rainy weather would be difficult too, because everything is in a field and tents, with no walkways.

So in response to my friend, I said no, we wouldn't be there, it was too far FOR US to travel for a show with no seating, no shade, etc...finishing with the fact that it was small. I felt this made it clear that it was the distance for small return that was the issue, and that it was a personal choice based on those factors.

Then I got hauled over the coals. Rather than paraphrase, I'll just give you the actual response I sent to her, quoting her email. Her name is redacted just so I won't get reamed for that too. The only part to which I responded that I did not quote was where she informed me that comparing two Fiber Festivals was comparing apples and oranges. No idea why, but that's what was said...

Wow, XXX. If you're going to spank me, at least buy me dinner first!
But in the interest of fairness, I will respond politely and point by point.

> SVFF is, as you mentioned, relatively new. It was fortunate to land in
> the Clarke County fairgrounds. That means: permanent buildings, a food
> preparation area, and a seating area for folks who have purchased food.

You call it fortunate, I call it good planning. I should add that I
have no affiliation with any of the fiber shows. But I can't see how
comparing two regional fiber shows is comparing apples to oranges. They
are the same thing!

> It is also quite spread out for its size, and the bathrooms are quite a
> way from the main gate (exception being the two porta-potties I found) -

Um...no. You should have looked at the map back on your program. There
are restrooms (aside from portapotties, which require desperation on my
part - rank, cramped and hot!) at five locations at SVFF, one set of
which is just off to the left after you enter, next to the sheep barn.

> Saturday was quite warm, especially
> inside the permanent buildings. We kept trying to find places where the
> air was moving (and not the stinkbugs).

Since weather is beyond the control of any festival, as are insects, I
can't see much point in this for comparison. Fortunately yesterday was
perfect weather.

> Fall Fiber Festival (Montpelier) is a bit smaller in number of vendors,
> but it is also not spread out all over the place. Once you get to the
> tents, it is easy to walk from one to the next.

Once you do get to the tents...quite a hike from where I had to park.
There were far fewer vendors, what they had was very limited, and I
reiterate, there was no where at all to sit down, not even so much as a
few hay bales. There is NO shade anywhere, and as a very fair-skinned
person, I was quickly miserable to the point of illness.

> Some vendors have been
> coming for years and obviously think it is worth it, and we look forward
> to seeing them every year.

Good for them. I'm glad they and you enjoy it. What I said was it was
not worth the trip to my husband or I, traveling the three hours there
to spend effectively maybe an hour looking at what little was there.
Then turning around and driving three hours back...however much we
enjoyed getting to meet (my friend).

> As for dust - we've been having plenty of
> rain this week and Friday promises to be dry and sunny, so the weekend
> should be quite nice.

Trouble is, there are no walkways there. If it's rained, you'll get
muddy. It it's dry, you'll get dusty. It's just not a great venue in
my opinion.

> The portapotties are quite accessible.
>
See above. Ick.

> There are
> honest -to-gawd sheepdog trials all weekend (not just demonstrations).

Nice, but not why I attend fiber festivals.

> I look forward to FFF every year and I hardly find it "miserable".
>
Good for you.

> This was my second year at SVFF (and you should have at least mentioned
> the deluges we experienced last year, btw).
>
I didn't go last year. The person I had planned to attend it with died,
and I hadn't the heart. At least much of the venue is undercover,
though. If it 'deluged' at FFF, I'd be afraid cars (and shoes!) would
get stuck.

> To me a fiber show with good vendors is a spiritual experience
> and I go to as many as I can.
>
I think spiritual experience is stretching it for me, but I do enjoy
them. I certainly have moments when I cry "O, God"...like yesterday
when I first felt the black alpaca yarn I bought.

> But I appreciate each one for what it is
> and I don't dump on another festival that obviously offers what people
> are looking for.
>
XXX, I spoke for myself (and my DH) about why we wouldn't be there.
After traveling so far to go, I was dreadfully disappointed. They
didn't offer what _I_ was looking for, either in product or amenities,
and I hardly purchased anything. If you feel that an honest opinion -
and facts where it wasn't opinion - is dumping, I have to disagree. I
hope you have a great time there.

So, I was polite, yes? Oh, goodie. And yes, I'm just anal-reten...I mean, desirous enough of being accurate to count vendors for both shows this year. The one I attended is has 86. The other has 55, so my perception is not off. I should add that many of those vendors are duplicates from the two shows I have already attended this year, so pretty much, I've seen their wares.

Yet again, I don't understand why people have to get all huffy over a matter of opinion. She's happy with the show? Wonderful. But that's no reason why I should think her experience trumps mine. She has not, to this point, responded to me. I'd just as soon she didn't. I have a new set of idiots to deal with at work today, but more on that later.

The Nerve

Sometimes, even your Goddess cannot believe the gall of people. Truly. And today is one of those times.

Back in December, another area photographer called me. A client/friend had asked him to do a restoration job, and as he got into it, he realized it was beyond his admittedly limited skill set. He brought it to me. This was supposedly the only copy of a woman's mother and son together. This picture mattered, a lot.

The photo had adhered to glass in a frame, and then the glass was broken. Gentle Readers, do NOT put photos behind glass unless you have the photo matted so that the glass isn't touching it. The least moisture, the photo emulsion turns to glue and you'll never get it unstuck. Then you'll be calling me, and I'm gonna have to charge you because I have this nasty habit of eating.

Ordinarily, I give an quote and require half down, but since this was a friend of a colleague, I didn't. Idiot me. I quoted two hours work...and as always put in a lot more...and the cost of a print. And I did the work, and was very pleased. I called the photographer and told him the job was done.

That's when he told me that another family member had given her a copy of the photo for Christmas. I was screwed, and so was he, for the time he'd put in on it. I've stewed over it a bit, but figured I had no recourse.

And now today. I posted a new photo on Facebook of some image enhancement I'd done. I'll show you in a minute. I tagged a friend in the photo because it was done at her dance studio. And turns out, SHE has a friend who looked at the photo in my work album, and also saw the before and after of the broken-glass-I've-been-stiffed picture. You guessed it (or should have!) - it was her mother and son. So she has the nerve, gall and presumption to ask me if she may tag herself in it!!!

Un-flippin'-real. I know my eyes bugged out because there's mascara on my monitor screen! I politely wrote her back, saying that since I hadn't been paid for the work she referred to as "beautiful" and "amazing," I was uncomfortable allowing her use of it. She says that oh, gee, she was never told by the other photographer that it was ready. :::head to keyboard::: I replied with an oh, gee back at her that since he knew she'd obtained another copy, he probably figured it was fruitless. I added that I was not too happy to be out my work and the print cost.

Now, this woman KNOWS she didn't pay for this work. Can you imagine her having the cojones to ask me to use it? Especially given that SHE HAS HER OWN FREAKIN' COPY OF IT????

I've said it before, I'll say it again, people are idiots. Including me doing the work on spec. :-(

On a happier note, here's the image I played with. Kind of a grunge/fantasy light thingy!

"Polite-ing to Death"

That, for those of you that haven't seen it before, is a Southern-ism. Whereas if you angered someone in NYC they'd rip you a new one, in the deep South things are different. Especially with the ladies. If someone, especially someone with a whip hand over you, is unfair or rude, you "Yes'm" the hell out of them. Everything is said in a tone of deep respect, not a word out of place, leaving the angry person no ground upon which to stand. (I know that is grammatically correct, but English is so awkward that way, basing so much on Latin rules when it's not really a Latin-based language. But I digress.)

So why do I mention that technique? Because customer service in all walks of life has resorted to it as a means of dealing with a consumer, irate or not, and to be honest, I am sick of it.

As an example...today I received an email from my younger sister, B. I had drawn her name for Christmas this year. With four kids in my family, spouses and adult grandchildren, we went to this system several years ago. Much more sensible. Said sister lives in Georgia.

The day before we did the drawing, my other sister J and I were shopping in Kohl's. She spotted some serving pieces in a snowman theme, and remarked that they would be perfect for B, who apparently has a snowman fetish of which I was heretofore unaware. When I drew B, I knew what to get.

Rather than go to the store and pack it all up myself, I went online - how I do 90% of my gift shopping, btw - and placed the order. I wanted to send it early because a) it was on sale; b) I had the money; and c) not much sense giving a holiday item that will be immediately put away. So I placed the order, and watched the tracking to see when she'd get it.

The cheapest shipping option was Fedex, but the kind where they get it there, then give it to the USPS to deliver. This seems to me like a Montague trusting a Capulet with their goblet of wine, but there you have it. Since no one was home to sign for delivery, they had to go pick it up at the Post Office. And one of the two pieces I sent was shattered. Not broken, decimated. B. called Kohl's to report it and they said they would credit my card.

Naturally, I still wanted my sister to have the piece I sent, rather than the pieces it became, so I called customer service, using the number on my email confirmation. Which did not take me to regular customer service, but to Kohl's charge card service. I don't have one, don't want one, and if you own a store card that you don't pay off every month, you're insane. Their rates are usury, pure and simple. But they kindly connected me to the correct department, and I got a rep right away, a rarity that I found pleasing. And even better, I spoke to someone in the USA.

And got Polited. I wasn't upset when I called, I know that doo-doo happens, but this is the way we're all treated now. Everything was over-enthusiastic. Provide your name, and you'd think you just went potty on your own for the first time. Confirm your address and they're practically orgasmic. When I called Sprint awhile back, everything was "Thank you sooo much for that information!" The woman I spoke with at Kohl's was very nice. Don't get me wrong. She got the item re-ordered for me, and was delighted to find it was on a deeper sale and I would save two whole additional dollars. She exclaimed over the adorableness, and informed me she should order one (I was forcibly reminded of the Target lady on SNL!). She told me of her deep longing to visit Georgia, and thrilled to tell me there would be no shipping. All very sweet.

And it made me irritated where I wasn't before. Yes, I know, you're thinking it's perverse of me. However, I prefer to deal professionally. I'm not adverse to a little schmoozing of clients when there is a relationship there, as in our business. But with luck, I won't speak to Suzy Sunshine again. No relationship to develop. Instead, a call that could have been completed in half the time was elongated by all the verbal ego stroking.

I'll grant you, it's preferable to the surliness I was on the end of on another call today. Another company with whom we have no business, nor would we, attempting to fax our voice line. After six of these in rapid succession a few days ago, I looked up the number on Google, found their voice line (no, you really don't want to mess with me) and called. Spoke to a young man who was properly apologetic and guaranteed to take care of it.

Uh-huh. Got six more today. After the first two, I called them, and this time got a young woman. She informed me that I would need to speak with the young man again, and he would have to call me back. I suggested that while I wait on that, she could walk herself to the fax, or call wherever it is, and ask them to knock it off. She got very snippy, told me I'd have to wait for the call, and hung up on me.

That sucks as customer service. If he does call, I'll rat her out in a heartbeat...after all, they are harassing ME, interrupting my work, so what right does she have to be pissed at me for asking that it stop? I didn't use any rude words, or raise my voice. And if they don't call me, you can be sure I'll be on the horn to them soon.

But on the up side, at least I didn't feel like I was covered in sugar syrup when I got off the phone. Not a good feeling for a diabetic. :-)

Doh!

One of the types of photography we do in our business is sports, including action work. Usually we go out, take pictures of the kids playing, then have the edited shots printed, and take them to the field and sell them toward the end of the season. Once we've sold at the field, we also put the images online to garner additional sales. This isn't just good for us...think of the bitterly divorced parents you know - Dad snaps up all the pictures before Mom can get there, and you KNOW he's not sharing. Or Grandma lives at the other end of the country but wants to get pictures too.

We hand out flyers as we shoot telling people what we're doing. We enclose flyers in the envelopes with the pictures we sell too. It tells them specifically that the password-protected photos will be available online after a certain date. So of course we get the semi-literate dweebs who call us three weeks before we even sell the photos, complaining that they cannot find them online. Yeesh.

But today the DH shared an email that had us both in stitches. A lady wrote in, wanting to know how to find the football pictures of her son online. The DH sent her a list of instructions, ending with "enter the password shown." The woman writes back a few days later saying she still can't get into the pictures, because the website wouldn't accept the password when she typed in "shown."

I laughed till I cried, but that wasn't the kicker. Oh, no. As DH checked the rest of his email, he found an order from her! Can't you just SEE the lightbulb going off, and her desperately wishing she could retrieve her prior email?

I can, and it's absolutely made my day. LOL!

Unsocial Networking

I don't tweet. Just couldn't care less, and don't think that I'm so important that you all need to know what I'm doing every moment of the day. But I do enjoy the interaction of Facebook a good deal. It lets me know what family is up to. I've reconnected to classmates that I've not seen in more years than I'm going to tell YOU. I get to follow what's happening with Scottie-owner friends.

All good. I even manage not to get too exasperated with the never-ending fantasy game updates; after all, I can turn most of them off. I find real life is enough for me, but I don't judge...much...those who cannot live without pretending to have a zoo or be a Mafioso.

So why are we kvetching today, children? I'll tell you - you knew I would! I am sick unto death of two things. First, the Debbie Downers (tip of the hat to SNL). You know them. Every post is something hugely negative. I don't mean simple things like my car just died, or my kid is sick. I mean EVERY post is, "Why are people so mean?" "I'm always messing up." "My boy/girlfriend is trampling my heart so I'm going to post on here so everyone knows what a nasty person they are." The DH has one niece that is perpetually posting these please-feel-sorry-for-me posts, way beyond normal teenage angst. Not that she's the only one. I have had to be privy to the marriage ups and downs of a Scottie person I barely know, and certainly don't want to know any better now. Enough with the pity parties! Few people will care, and your incessant negativity will ensure they've had enough of you all too soon as well.

The second thing is worse, in my opinion. And as we all know, it's my opinion that counts here. These are the people who think they're being clever by posting cryptic messages. I don't mean the wildly fanciful ones; I love those. For example, last night my sister posted that she was challenging the Bermuda Triangle. That's funny. Nope, I mean the kind of thing I faced this weekend.

We had a lovely Sunday with the DH's family. His mother and eldest brother had birthdays this month, and we got together at Mom's house to celebrate, and appreciate her new sun room. I gave her the QAL and it was a success. Food good, lots of laughter and all the siblings were present. Really nice.

Then we got home, and opened Facebook. The oldest brother's girlfriend posts that she is 'tired of getting the cold shoulder.' The DH's sister posts that she 'is glad the party is over and everyone got along...at least on the surface.' Huh? Neither of us detected any tension. Mom was a bit quieter than usual, but there WERE ten people there, after all. As far as we could tell everyone had fun.

So we asked. Both of them. What was going on? What's the problem? AND THEY WOULDN'T TELL US!!!

Now, post what you like, folks. But do not play these little passive-aggressive games with me. I'll just get furious with you. And you won't like me when I'm angry. I responded to both of them that I hope they had fun throwing this crap out, and refusing to explain, so that everyone else gets to worry fruitlessly.

If you have a problem, put on your big girl panties and deal with it directly. Don't make everyone who's friended you on Facebook have to put up with your whining snideness. Because people can remove you as a friend....and you won't know. And how passive-aggressive would THAT be? Bahahahahahah!

Greed

As some of you know, the origins of this blog lie in my inability to suffer fools gladly. Unfortunately, there are just so dang many of 'em out there, and way more than my share (pretty sure) find their ways into my life and business. Today we had a prime example.

Every year, we do pictures for several local dance studios. For two of them we do the traditional posed costume pictures, and for them and a third, we do action pictures. We take them during dress rehearsal and sell them to slavering parents who circle our sales table as if they were Great Whites and the photos were delicious chum. We refer to this as the "feeding frenzy," and cupcake, lemme tell you, it can get ugly.

Dance parents can be some of the most seriously entitled people (And what does your Goddess say about that, boys and girls? Right...no one is entitled but me. And today, the DH. It's his birthday.) that you'd never want to meet. Let's face it. By definition, most of these people have fairly substantial money. They pay for the classes, and judging by the remodeling one local studio owner just did to her home, they pay handsomely. And she earns it, don't get me wrong! They pay for costumes, where one silly, but cute, little hat can cost $25. Just the hat! Add shoes, tights, unitards and usually several iterations for different classes. Then there's competitions, extra lessons...let's just say that the pictures they purchase from us are just a small drop in the bucket.

Which is why, to my mind - a relatively good mind, all things considered and don't ask what things, it's none of your business - it's ridiculous for a few of them to behave as they do over these action pictures. Let me fill you in on how these work. Our photographers shoot the actual dances, aiming to get a few pictures of each child in each costume. Sometimes this is difficult. In very large classes, not everyone gets to the front. Often a picture where one child is centered will have a couple other dimpled darlings on either side.

After our first time selling, about ten years ago, we had to set up rules. Since these are one-of pictures, we tell the parent that they may only purchase a picture if their child is centered and in focus. If you cannot tell which child is the focus of the picture, we will tell you, and our ruling is final. This prevents greedy parents buying pictures because their child's elbow is in it....and oh! How I wish I were kidding! I have had parents call me from the field, wanting me to chew out my employees for not letting them have a photo. Guess what folks? Won't happen. I back my people 100%.

So last night, our most senior employee and an assistant were selling photos for one dance studio, while the DH was shooting at a reception for the local high school baseball team that just won state champions. Our employee warned us this morning that he had a grandmother who threw "a hizzy" (his words) because he wouldn't let her take a picture. Why? Because said picture was of the dance studio owner doing a major leap across the stage, with a group of children seated on hay bales behind her. This woman's child happened to be seated in the crowd on the bale! So of COURSE the picture was about her, not the featured dancer, right? Wrong. As it was, the woman went away with fifteen photos, for which she paid the amount we set for the 13 to 20 photos range. Now understand, these photos are also available for purchase online. Since they aren't mass-printed like the ones we sell on location, they do cost more, but she can get that shot if she really wants to.

Cut to today. Same woman, as we later find out, calls. We have action shots from last year. Usually excess are destroyed after six months, but through an oversight, these weren't yet. Our employee mentioned to several parents that they were still here if they didn't get to see them last year, hoping for some extra sales. When this lady calls, she tells us that since she bought in the up to 20 price range, she wants to come in to look at last year's work and get the additional pictures to "make up to twenty." She further tells the DH that the employee told her she could do this, and she is on her way in.

What? I think not. This guy has worked for us for 8 years, he knows that we don't combine deals across years or different jobs. For example, you cannot buy pictures from football and expect to combine them with baseball and get a price break. Never been done. So we call him up and ask what he ACTUALLY said. Nothing of the kind, of course. He told her he was just an employee and couldn't make deals. All he did was write on her envelope the number of pictures she bought, the amount, and his initials. No promise of anything else. Nor did he agree that we owe her more pictures so that she gets to the upper end of that 13-20 range. And he informs us this is the person who had the fit last night. Greeeeeeeaaaaaaaaat.

Woman arrives, and DH goes out to wait on her. He clarifies to her the policy on whose picture is whose, and the pricing structure. He tells her, very politely, that she got what she paid for, and if she wants additional photos, she'll have pay for them too. She maintains an even voice tone, but she is ticked and letting him know. According to her, the honor of our company is on the line. Our employee promised and wrote his initials to prove it. Of course, no promise is written on there at all. She would not have driven an hour and a half (later she admits she drove 20 minutes out of her way) and from another state without his word having been given. The DH points out after looking through her envelope that she even managed to snag another child's photo without being spotted, but doesn't take it from her, probably because he values his fingers. Remember the chum analogy.

As I walk down the hall from the office to the kitchette, she's holding forth about how she has a management position in DC (oh, there's an endorsement) and she knows a company should treat a person better, because "you don't know who they are." She also tells the DH that he is not living up to HIS expectations! Really? And you know what they are how, exactly?

I come back up the hall, and interject that she's right. We don't know who she is, but we do know our employee, we know he knows our policies and she doesn't, so out of the two, we know who probably misunderstood. She wants to know if I think she's making this up. I reply again that I feel she misunderstood, but that I know she was not promised what she thinks she was. She tells me she would not have driven all this way without being told that, and I informed her in polite terms that that was kinda the definition of "misunderstood." With what I felt was admirable restraint, I omitted the "DUH" I felt the situation called for. I'm sure you're proud.

Then she capped it with a threat to badmouth our company on all the social networking sites and the internet. I reminded her that libel laws were alive and well. She has absolutely nothing promising her anything, and while I also refrained from saying it to her, her greed-induced misunderstanding is not our fault.

The most fun part of it all was after she and her companion left. I turned to the DH and opined that she spent more in gas to come here than she would have saved getting the five extra pictures she mistakenly felt she was owed.

Now I can say it. "DUH!!!!"

Glass Houses

I'm in a lather today, and not because my legs need shaved. They do, but that's a different story. No, today is a personal matter, so I'm going to share it with all of you. :-)

As many of you know, my father-in-law passed away last May, leaving behind his wife of fifty years. While their daughter lives local to their mother in VA, their sons live in two of the surrounding states, and in Chicago. Not a 'whip around the corner and check on Mom' kinda sitch. So my DH has been very good about calling his mom more frequently, and we've gone down to see her more than we did when my FIL (Father In Law, if you aren't familiar) was alive. It's a bit over an hour through lousy traffic and bad roads to get there, and being self-employed means we have a smidge less time than the 9-5 crowd, but all in all, we're not doing too badly by our lights.

The problem? My SIL (you can work it out, right?). She is partially employed in a church pre-school program, has one kid in high school and one 20 year old who's employed full-time and living at home. She was a huge help in straightening out Dad's estate, the bit that needed done, and on her falls the responsibility for going to doctor appointments with Mom. Not that Mom can't drive perfectly well; she can. But it suits the SIL's chronic martyrdom to schlepp Mom to this stuff, then fill everyone else in while simultaneously telling us how difficult it all is, and by the way, we don't do enough. Every email tells us what we NEED to do...call Mom, visit Mom, send Mom a card.

I have resented this all along on many levels. First, the SIL is now paying back for a LOT of help over the years. She has, by her own admission, never had to hire a babysitter. She's had enough free meals to stock a restaurant. None of her brothers have had these kind of benefits. To my mind, aside from the natural duty one owes good parents...and these are very good people!...she owes considerably more.

Second, these men are all in their late forties/early fifties. I honest to God don't think they need their baby sister to tell them how to have a relationship with their mother. It's neither her place, nor her business. And third, it's counterproductive. No one likes to be nagged!

This has been chaffing my tail for awhile, but for me, it came to head last night. About 10 minutes before I got out of class, the DH posted on Facebook that he was sitting in the car, listening to tunes and waiting for me. She posts back that he "should call his mother; she misses his Wed. night calls."

What? He has called her precisely ONCE on a Wed. He usually avoids that, knowing she's at church on that evening and being unsure when she gets home. She snipes back that Mom is home by 8, same as he called before.

For your smiling, even-tempered Goddess, this is the final straw. But of course, this isn't my sister. My one sister who would act like this, I'd have no compunction about ripping a new one. Not fair of me to cause a rift in a family that I only married into, right? So I posted a comment, saying, "Hey, knock it off! I'm the only one that gets to nag him. :-)" The smile softening it, of course. Ha.

This morning she posts back that it is 'not a nag, just a suggestion.' Really, sweetie? I don't think so. A suggestion happens once. When every email and text and message ends with a 'do this for Mom', it's flippin' nagging. I'm here to tell you.

But you know what? I am VERY good at suggestions. I have a few for SIL. First, get a life. Okay, a little non-specific, but this woman does nothing that isn't circumscribed by church or family. Second, quit babying your children! Her 20 year old daughter who works full-time is still living at home, which a lot of people are in this economy, but to the best of my knowledge she is not paying anything toward her upkeep. And get this...she doesn't DRIVE! Mommy takes her to work and everywhere else she goes. SIL says she wouldn't want her daughter to try driving if she's scared to...even with a free car that Grandma has upgraded from. Of course she's scared; she's spoon fed it, because if she drives, she's out from Mommy's control. Growing up means putting on your big girl panties and dealing with it. Although a pretty young woman, she's never had a boyfriend. Mom and Grandma take pride in the fact that she's not interested in boys (not girls, that's not it); I say it's freakish for a woman her age.

THEN I would suggest she take her 14 year old son to an obesity specialist. The boy has back boobs and waddles, I kid you not. His parents constantly undercut his diet. I've been at a restaurant with them where he tried to substitute a salad for fries on a meal. When the waitress said she could add a salad, but not remove fries from the cost, his dad said to bring 'em anyway, and then both he and his son ate them all. I've seen the kid polish off a whole basket of dinner rolls without one word from his folks.

But let a teacher mention that maybe he's too heavy and needs some help, and Mommy raises holy hell and gets said teacher sanctioned, losing a year of raises. For speaking the truth! He has no friends, and no social life outside church. His uncle the EMT has speculated that the boy will have diabetes soon if he doesn't already, and it will be a miracle if he gets out of his twenties without a heart attack. I suggest that with the rampant hypochondria she and these kids have, maybe she should pay attention to the real issue.

I also suggest that instead of bitching that her husband ignores her, she quit dressing like a frumpy Puritan, try some lipstick and a smile occasionally, and do something to expand her mind. Her only conversation is bragging on her kids and gossiping about church folk. I'd ignore her too. The man works very hard and is a sweetheart; cut him a break.

I suggest too that you use the spa gift card your brothers gave you for all the work you did when Dad was dying. Maybe they have a treatment to pull the pole out of your ass.

See? I told you I was good at suggesting! I feel much better now. :-)

PAI Friday

We're in the studio alone this morning, the DH and I. SuzyG is off galivanting with others from the direct sales company with which she is affiliated, and we're quietly getting things done. Okay, the DH is getting things done. I'm goofing off on Facebook sending a Friend from History to Jake. I felt he deserved the Marquis de Sade, mostly due to my sick sense of humor rather than any proclivities on Jake's part....of which I'm aware. But instead I sent him Rasputin, seeing as how he was just re-elected president of the local university history honors society despite claiming not to want the honor again. I think he cast a spell. I'm sure he's capable of it.

BTW, he sent me Mary Shelley, the woman who dreamed up Frankenstein and his monster. I choose to believe it's because she was an intelligent, creative woman who was ahead of her time. If it's something to do with the subject matter, well, let's just say that Jake is safer with my chosen interpretation.

Anyway, nice and quiet, until we hear someone clomping up the front steps and across the porch. DH goes out to greet him. Have I mentioned the staff as a whole tries to avoid having the Office Goddess deal with the general public? I, of course, am bemused as to their reasoning. Sure I am. So, this man says he has pictures to pick up, under this or this name, and that we've called him a few times.

I should think we have. The pictures have been here, and paid for, for SEVEN MONTHS! Mind you we have orders that have been here, again, with the money already spent, for years. As the DH goes into production to pull the order, I hear the guy comment that he was here at nine, because "he expected we would be open at nine."

Oh, really? Because everytime we leave a voice mail, and he's admitted to getting several, we state that we're open from 10-6, Tues. through Sat. That information is also posted on the parking lot side, and the front of the building, is on the voice mail message at the studio number, and is on our website. Secretive about our hours we are not. We don't do a traditional 9-5 so that people who do can come by after work and ...gasp!...pick up pictures. Actually, a lot of area shops don't open till 10, probably for the same reason.

DH ignores the comment, which is why he's out there and I'm selecting a friend for Jake. I hear him hand the man his photo order, and the guy remarks, "That doesn't seem like much!" Um, dude? You ordered three pictures back in JULY, and you're getting three pictures. They didn't atrophy over time, we didn't deduct pictures for a storage fee (hmmmm! note to self to look into that!), and if you think it doesn't look like much, maybe you should order more photos of your dimpled darling dancer daughter.

I was doing a slow burn. Actually, maybe this is why Jake got Rasputin.

Change of topic....

A small worrisome note...we're not sure where our feral kitty, Twilight, is. Yesterday morning he wasn't acting like himself. He didn't herd Jack, his favorite Scottie, nor did he leave his nest in the alpaca-fur-mulch in the front hedge area, not even for food and fresh water. When we checked on him, he looked at us sleepily but didn't budge. I joked that perhaps he'd been catting around the night before. Witty, no? No? Okay, have it your way.

But last night he didn't greet us by rolling around on the walkway as he usually does, and although food had been eaten, there was no sign of him at all. This on a very cold blustery evening, where he'd normally be scarfing down the kibble for warmth. This morning, still no sign, and the food was untouched.

So the DH, big softie that he is, and I are pretty concerned. If the weather had warmed up considerably, I'd say he was off hunting more interesting things to eat, but it was brutal last night, and the couple nice days we did have, he was still around. Maybe he's moved on, but it seems odd when he has steady food and water.

*sigh* I'll let you know if Twilight shows back up.

Pearl Before Swine

I'm so upset that it's infuriating, which means you, my loyal minions, get to hear about it. This will be long, so get a few Super Bowl snacks early and settle in.

First some deep background. About twelve years ago, after having spent our honeymoon there, the DH and I decided to take my girls and my mom to Disney World for Christmas. We had a great time. The DH and I are especially fond of Epcot, and when we were in the Japan pavilion, we tried a bit of a gamble they had. You pay a small amount, pick an oyster, and you get whatever pearl is inside. You can see it here. I did very well out of the deal, getting a lovely silver-gray pearl that was about 7.25 mm, a nice size. I didn't care for any of the settings they had for it, so I carried it home and waited to know what I wanted to do with it.

A few years ago, I saw a necklace that I knew was similar to what I wanted to do with my pearl. It's three moons, full in the center, waxing and waning crescents to either side. Like this without the dangle bit. I wanted the full moon to be the pearl, and to have it set in silver. I just didn't know anyone to do it.

Forward a bit to last year. I found a seller on Etsy who was selling OOAK (one of a kind, if you aren't familiar) silver set onyx earrings. They were lovely, distinctive, and reasonable, and now they are mine. If I wear black, I wear these. I liked some of her other work too, and got a circle with a couple meaningful phrases for the DH for his birthday, to wear with his cross necklace. I ordered it in plenty of time, which was good, since she was backed up with Mother's Day orders.

So at the end of the summer, I approached....let's call her Twinkie because it will amuse me no end...Twinkie about doing my necklace. She said that she hadn't worked with a pearl before, but her 'mentor' knew how to do it, so she could learn the technique from her. I asked for a sketch, we hashed out some specifics, and after reminding her a couple of times to send me the sketch, I approved her drawing and agreed to her quote. I mailed the pearl to her in September, and Twinkie promised the necklace for the first week in November. It was my birthday gift to me.

I kept waiting to hear that the pearl had arrived safely; I knew the package had, but not that the pearl was okay. Twinkie had promised to tell me. After a week, I emailed to ask, and oh, yes, it was intact. Yay. I settled to wait.

And wait. Excuse after excuse. Her kids are sick...this was multiple times over months; must be the most unhealthy brats out there. When she missed the deadline, she was working on the how to do the setting; I should be patient. Then Christmas orders for wholesalers put me on a back burner; I should be patient. Then it was that this is very fiddly work, she can only do it when the kids are asleep; I should be patient. Then she needed different materials; I should be patient. Understand that at times weeks or a month would go by with no update from her and promised dates going by, but when I would email asking what was happening, I was being impatient and needed to understand the artistic process.

Meanwhile, I could see new pieces going up on her Etsy site, which ticked me off no end. She took my commission, couldn't get it done, but could do other work? So I wrote, again, and asked WTF? I said that I felt she needed to be more disciplined, because I had been more than patient, and she had made a commitment. I pointed out that I work in an artistic field too, so I knew what it entailed. She tried to bug out, offering to send back the pearl. I told her no, I'd waited this long, I liked her work, and I wanted my necklace. She committed to not working on anything else. Great...we're back on track.

Finally, at the beginning of last month, Twinkie tells me she has the cutout work done, and is concerned about the piece tilting forward on the chain. I suggest a solution (really? I have to think this through?) and she sends a picture of the necklace on her son. Looks fine. A little chunkier than I'd envisioned, but I like it. It just needs the pearl to be set. She's working on the the beading and I should have it in a week. Can I go ahead and pay for it? As soon as I see a photo of the finished piece, I reply, I'll be thrilled to pay. I should have that picture by the end of that weekend, says Twinkie.

No picture arrives. I wait a week, and email....from here I'll give you actual emails, because if I didn't read them, I wouldn't believe them myself. On Jan. 16th, I get this from Twinkie:

"Every time I log onto my computer, I forget to email you!!! Finally remembered!!!

I got my new materials on Wednesday, and have been working like crazy! I'm almost done - I anticipate having your piece photographed over the weekend so we can finalize our transaction and I can mail it out on Tuesday (Mon is a holiday, otherwise it would go then!).

Thanks AGAIN for your patience - I'm having a ball working on your piece and I REALLY hope that you like it! :-)"

The Tuesday to which she is referring was Inauguration Day. I heard nothing more, and finally yesterday, I emailed her:

"Okay, so shipping on the 20th apparently didn't happen...where are we?"

Late evening, Twinkie sends:

"I emailed you since I got the new material in...apparently you didn't get it? This new material is something that I've not worked with before, so I'm learning about it as I go along. I had to do 2 test settings with it before I dared to do the "real" one...all of this takes time. I have put in a LOT of hours on your piece...I am doing the best I can. Customized pieces that are TOTALLY different than one's 'normal' body of work take time. Please be patient with me...it really is the best I can do! Some days I just DON'T have the patience to work on tedious things...my kids are around while I'm working, I'm constantly being interrupted, etc. and when you talk about working with a flame, if I don't have the utmost concentration and capacity to work, it could result in a TOTAL meltdown and then I have to start over from square 1 and that would take LONGER!

Again, please have patience with me - I am really enjoying working on your piece - I am doing the best work I can, but it does take time! I will have it done soon! I really will!!"

There was no email. Nothing in my spam folder, and no reason for me not to get it, as I've gotten everything else. Now, keep in mind, this has been going on since September. The work is only different because she hasn't worked with a pearl before, but she's done other settings...I own some! So I respond:

"No, I hadn't received anything after being told it was a couple days away
from shipping.

I have to say, I think I've been very patient, given that I was supposed to
have this three months ago."

Twinkie's reply:

"Yes, you have...but as I explained...working with new materials, doing a custom job with a "stone" that I have not worked with before....you MUST be patient! Metalsmithing is a complicated and delicate craft! I asked you before if you want me to send the pearl back and I still will do that. I just can't keep getting totally stressed out when I get your emails - it's affecting my nerves! I am ALWAYS under the gun and I don't want to start NOT ENJOYING what I do because of the stress.

Again, I will ask you, even with all the time that I've put into your piece, do you want me to send back your pearl? If not, then you will have to be patient with me a bit longer! This project is SO MUCH MORE tedious and labor intensive than I EVER imagined! I CANNOT work like a machine - it is all "finesse work"!!!!!! Please believe me that I'm doing the best I can!"

At this point, I'm pretty pissed. I am REALLY good at reducing people, verbally, to a quivering mass of jelly and nerve endings. I'm a bit ashamed to admit I really, really like doing it. But I don't. Instead I send this:

"Okay, I am feeling scolded here, and honestly have to say, that takes nerve. I get emails telling me a couple days...a couple more, that you're working on nothing else...then I hear NOTHING, and *I* am chastised for not being patient?? I waited two weeks after the last email I received to even ask!

I cannot imagine why you're stressed. At least you know what is going on. I keep being left in the dark, and having to ask. I understand the intricacies of craft; we do it for a living. But I keep my clients informed if something comes up.

No, I do not want it back. I've invested months of waiting, and I don't want to have to start all over again. Just please keep me up-to-date."

This morning I awake to find this:

"This is obviously not working out for either of us. When you ask someone to do something that is totally original and totally different than their body of work, it is NORMAL for that piece to take months! The fact that I thought I could get it done sooner was unrealistic, but obviously you are not flexible enough to work with that.

After consulting with my husband, I have no choice but to send your pearl back because I am literally stressed to the max in dealing with you. If you cannot understand why I am stressed about working with you, then I'm sorry you can't see it. But I WON'T be harrassed like this any longer. You are hurting the way I feel about what I do and I won't sacrifice what I love to deal with you.

I'm sorry this didn't work out, but I will have your pearl in the mail to you as soon as I can."

I'm not sure how this is totally original...she didn't have to design the piece, after all. And I simply cannot believe the tone of this email. Could she BE more martyred? And she'll return my pearl 'as soon as she can????' I'm livid...and I sent this:

"So, in other words, you bit off more than you could chew, and rather than admit that, you're blaming me.

I have been more than patient, and you know it. You have made excuse after excuse, I've said, "Okay, I understand," you give me date after date when it will be ready, and then I'm evil when I wait for weeks and finally ask why I still don't have it, when the last thing I heard from you was that it was about to ship. Geez, the nerve of me. I'm told it's just shy of ready to go, I hear nothing, and wonder what has happened. How callous of me!

Your over-emotionalism is ridiculous. Either you're a pro, or you aren't. I have not harassed you AT ALL, and you know it. I've given you more than five months WITH the pearl, and that was after having to ask time and again to see a design. Face it, you try to use artistic temperament and family issues to cover the fact that you don't have the discipline to do what you have chosen to be your work. If you want to be an artist, wonderful. If you want to be a WORKING artist, you need to meet deadlines. It's not harassment to expect that from someone who presents herself as a pro.

If I do not have my pearl back, intact, by the end of the week, I will be contacting Etsy. I probably should anyway, to let them know my experience with someone who promises to do custom work, because I'd hate to see someone else fall into this trap."

I know this has been a long post. I suppose partly I want to be validated. Partly I want to vent. Partly I wanna rip her head off.

Now I'm back to the start, after wasting months. Anyone wonder why I'm gonna remove her from my Favorite Sellers?

Definitions

A couple in the Midwest found that the courthouse was all booked up for their wedding. So, they chose to get married in a Taco Bell, spending about $200 all told for the ceremony and reception.

When they were asked why they chose, of all places, a Taco Bell, they said, and I quote, that they "had spent a lot of quality time there."

I'm thinking the newlyweds need the definition of 'quality' explained to them.

I'm just sayin'.

HoneySugarBabyDarlin'!

I'm a fairly reserved person. I flatter myself that I'm intelligent enough to talk to anyone who can talk to me, but I'm lousy at drawing people out. Most of all, I am NOT a touchy-feely kinda gal. I remember when I first started college, eons ago. I went from Maryland to Mississippi, to what was then an all-women's school. I was shy, and a bit scared...so shy I didn't ask anyone where to find the campus laundry to pick up the duffel bag I needed to procure for laundry services. I just made other arrangements. That gives you an idea.

So when I went to my first meal at the campus cafeteria, I was stunned. All these young women who were returning after the summer were exclaiming, screeching and hugging all over the place! This was definitely not my style. I grew to deeply love the school, and made a niche for myself during my three semesters there before the first not-so-DH got assigned to England and I had to leave. But I still wasn't a big person for the over-emoting that was very popular there.

Years later, I'm still not. I hug very dear and/or very old friends, and some family. The DH and my offspring. That's about it. I do not call anyone by terms of endearment unless they are in those categories, either, or they are elementary school aged. Nope, no 'hons' out of me, even if I did grow up outside Baltimore (no, I don't say Balmer, either). I won't refer to you as sweetie, or sugar, or any other sticky things. Even if I know you.

So please tell me why it is that people who've never seen me before in their lives call ME all kinds of pet names? Waitresses call me darlin'. Drive-thru attendants call me honey. Store clerks, even in fairly upmarket shops throw in a few 'loves' too. And not once, but over and over, like a nervous tic. One of the most bizarre was a patient when I worked in the behavioral health field, an elderly man who kept calling me 'little girl' and got most offended when I pointed out that, given that I was in my late 30s, I really didn't care for being called that. Well, okay, he was a patient there for a reason.

I do not like it. It sets my back up. I'm definitely not so formal that I expect to be called Mrs. XXX, or even Ma'am , but I don't want to go to the other extreme either. I do not like the implied intimacy, or at times, the condescension of these endearments. I'm not sure if they think the uber-friendliness will get them a bigger tip, or a larger sale, but I'm here to tell you....uh-uh. I do like the custom with which I was raised, where children call their elders Miss (or Ms.) or Mr. First Name. It's respectful, but it's not cloying, and I still do it on rare occasions for someone much older than I. Not that there's that many of those around any more.

And lest you think it's just my regular snarkiness, the DH feels the same way. He is the sweetest, kindest man the good Lord ever planted on this planet (think Mr. Rogers on a glucose drip) and he doesn't want to be dumplin'-ed or snookie-ookumed any more than I. We save our pet names for when they have meaning.

Oh!...and don't call me Shirley! :-)

Celliquette

Last Saturday, we took pictures of a large family group, some of which have been clients for years. Nice folks, the ones we know, but I did have a bit of an issue. There were several small children in the group, and while most of the adults were in another room setting up a viewing appointment, only one adult male and a few older kids were watching the little ones.

Now, we keep a candy dish on the front desk. It usually has sugar-free mints in it, me being diabetic and also not wanting to contribute to any sugar rushes on the part of the kids we photograph. But for the holiday we added a few peppermint Kisses, and the tiny Tootsie Roll Pops. You're ahead of me here, I know. While the older kids were great at making sure little ones didn't play on the stairs, they did nothing to keep them out of the candy dish. They made more regular trips to it than a pig does his favorite wallow. The second youngest decided to make a fell swoop, and when she started cramming her fourth piece in her hand, smiling slyly at me like I was a co-conspirator, I said I thought she had plenty. Wiped that smile clean off her face. LOL At this point the previously full dish was half-empty, and when the littlest one came back (and the adults were back too, but paying no attention) with an unwrapped lollipop in her hand, and having had several pieces already, I said honey, I think you've had enough.

Big mistake. In trying to prevent a kid from ODing on candy, I provoked a meltdown. To the accusatory stare of her mother, I watched the kid collapse in tears and bury her face in mom's legs. I explained I was trying to be helpful, all the while biting back the desire to say if you watched your spawn, I wouldn't have to be the police. DH told me the kid had several meltdowns during the sitting too, so I think it's just her modus operandi.

I told you that to tell you this. :-)

Today, the same family has TWO viewing appointments to accomodate the large number wanting to see the pictures, and their various schedules. Unusual, but okay. Several folks show up at the appointed time and go in to view the pictures.

Where I sit at my desk, I can hear anyone coming up the front steps and onto the porch. I do hear someone come up, but then nothing. Odd, thinks I, and get back to the strenuous game of Spider Solitaire I'm playing whilst I await the order upon which I will next work. Quite a few minutes later, I hear the door open. SuzyG, receptionist extraordinaire, is at lunch, so I go out of the office to wait upon whomever.

And find a man yakking on his cell phone. I ask if I may help him, and he tells me he's one of the people who should be in the appointment...twenty minutes after it started! He then continues yapping on the phone. I tell him they are in this room, displaying the door with my best Vanna White hand gestures. He walks past it, down the hall. I correct him, cracking the door open and saying to those inside that another family member is here. He waves at me irritably, giving me the universal "Don't interrupt me" motion with his palm out facing me.

Oh, REALLY? Are you here in OUR business to do YOURS? One older gent peeks out at him, and he apparently then goes in the sales room. I say apparently because I left the hall rather than continue on to get the large knife in the kitchen to surgically remove the phone from his ear. Then I hear him come out, jabber a bit, and go outside again. Fine. Be outside and talk. Only it's cold, and he doesn't stay there, going in and out four times. Guess he thinks heat is free. Finally he starts wandering around reception (the office I'm in is right off that room) talking intensely into his phone. "What I want to know, Scott...what I want to know...why is she suddenly upset today? Why today?" Gee, I don't know...maybe you're rude beyond belief with her too? Then he has the nerve, gall and presumption to walk into the office, in spite of a partially closed door clearly saying 'PRIVATE.' I hate few things more than being made to feel like a zoo animal on display, and a give him my best "I beg your pardon?!?" look. I learned it from Dixie Carter on Designing Women.

He did at last finish up and take care of our business with him, after everyone else was done. Folks, I love cell phones. I'm a huge gadget geek, and I'm a firm believer in convenience, especially mine. But I'm sick unto death of people who think we all want to be part of their private little world. I do not want to see you driving with a phone up to your ear...it's my life you're endangering. I do not want to listen to your argument while I'm trying to enjoy a romantic dinner. I do not want to be interrupted in what we are doing because someone calls or texts you. And while I'm at it, I don't want to listen to your loud, occasionally obscene, ringtones either. As my mother used to say, if you can't play nicely with it, don't play at all.

And you're right, I don't feel so badly about making the little girl cry anymore, either.

Freecycle, Redux.

I've posted before about my disgruntlement with my local Freecycle group. But over the last month, I've been pushed just about to my limit. It's probably my strong stubborn streak that's kept me going this long.

A bit of background, first. One of the main Freecycle rules is that you should not ask for high price items. It's a rule broken constantly and with impunity on our list. About six weeks ago, someone posted requesting a riding lawn mower, any condition as long as it runs. Her brother and her sons wanted to tinker with one for some kind of race you wouldn't catch me watching at the county fair. It so happens that I have a disreputable but running mower, and I offered it. Long story short, a week of telling me she'd be there, or her brother would...and I still have the freakin' mower. She claims to be in seriously ill health, her brother got stuck in traffic, yada yada. If she is ill, I'm sorry, and I've told her so...multiple times. Still doesn't mean that she couldn't have contacted me, or leaned on her brother to live up to his word.

Next, a woman posts that her new home only has wood heating. She wants us to donate deadwood to her, and she & her DH will pick it up, even cut down dead trees for the right to the wood. Okay, we have a couple of dead pines that need cleared out, so I emailed her. And heard nothing. One of our employees needed extra money for school, so we paid him to take down the most pressing one. Over five days later the wench writes back and says she THINKS they will take the wood, and she'll probably write to me at the end of the week for directions. I gave her a polite and pithy bit of advice - when someone offers you something, you doggone well have the courtesy to respond right away, and you do not leave them hanging!

Last, within the same month, I offered a lamp. It was too big, might need some wiring work, although it does work. A woman, who has been constantly begging for crap so we can all set her up in business in an ice cream parlour, jumped on it. Could be there the next morning. Fine, I gave her directions. I come home that evening, there it sits on my porch. No word from her, no apology, no nothing. I emailed the next person on the list, and she got it.

Now, we have seen a little more of the moderator than previously...BUT. She only appears when someone complains about an egregious violation of the rules, to scold the complainer! We should rest assured, sez she, that the rule breakers are being scolded off-list, and two strikes and they're out. I might buy that if I didn't see the same people doing the same crud over and over. Yesterday evening, someone had posted a service for hire, strictly verbotten, and several people (not I, I might add) jumped on her. The moderator, true to form, scolds them.

So, among others, I replied to that email today. I point out that if she told people ON the list when they were screwing up, others could take the lesson too, and maybe we'd have less of the violations going on. I also asked if there were something that could be done to cut down on no-shows.

I immediately got emails off list. First, from the tractor no-show, full of self-pity and sniveling that I should forgive her, and she'll buy me lunch. Of course, I really want to go to lunch and have this dingbat ruin my appetite. No thanks. If she were so worried about my forgiveness, she'd have emailed before, but not until I mentioned it to the list do I hear from her. I told her she didn't need me to forgive her; she'd taught me a lesson.

Another person told me that she found the onlist attacks more distressing than the original bad post...fine. Why tell me? I didn't post one! She then implied I was a moderator. Not. Any word over seven letters was misspelled. Having had enough, I informed her I wasn't moderator, I didn't respond to the original post, but simply asked the moderator a couple of questions. And feeling...you guessed it!....snarky, I told her to learn to spell, or to get spell-check.

Next, a woman who has attacked me off the list multiple times now. In fact, I have an auto-response sent up for when she emails me. She took me to task for responding to the moderator's message on the list...which is where it was posted! I did a little research, and pointed out that I wasn't surprised that she disagreed with me. Over the last several months, she has asked for, I kid you not, a set of left-handed golf clubs, if you please, a lawn mower (no relation to the other one), a Game Box, all the supplies to throw her brat a party, and diving equipment!!! And that's only a fraction.

She writes back, full of rationalizations, telling me that she and her DH are volunteer EMT/Firefighters. As my BIL, a professional in those fields, would say, they're probably worth every penny. After maligning my character to a fare-thee-well, and informing me how morally superior they are to me, she finishes up with this (directly copied, so sic ad infinitum)...

"I sure hope you or your loved ones never need medical help from us, transportation to the hospital, are involved in a motor vehicle accident, or heaven forbid your house catches on fire. If only you gave as much as we do....and not materialisticIy.....I wish you continued bitterness....and may all the unhappiness, negativity, and sarcasm you spread come back to ou 2-fold!"

Now, that sounds remarkably like a threat to me, and to anyone with whom I shared it. She better PRAY I never find out what firehouse she is with, because I'll just bet they don't condone that behavior. All because she knows she's a greedy glutton, and worse, knows it's obvious to me, and therefore others.

If karma is real, and I happen to think it is, it's positively frightening what she may have in store for her. While I've let everything else go by, this I reported to the Freecycle moderator. If it were my list, and I run plenty, anyone threatening another member would be gone.

Let's see if she has the cojones to do just that. If not, well, I'm stubborn, but I'm not stupid.

Time after Time

As my loyal readers (the check's in the mail) know, the DH and I own a photography studio. Thankfully, since we moved into the new place, a very busy studio, therefore one we run by appointments. Some appointments are made weeks in advance, and of course weddings, months, and sometimes years in advance. June 11, 2011 is already booked, right Becca? :-)

Not too surprisingly, time is important to us. We carefully schedule enough time for the type of appointment it is, whether a sitting for an executive, a full family, a senior, or wedding consultation, or sales...you get it. We make sure we allocate enough time to do a good job for our clients - and we do.

It would be oh, so nice, were the sentiment reciprocated.

As recently as yesterday, we had an athletic director for a major high school call and leave a message that he needed order envelopes - 250 of 'em - on Monday, and wanted to do all the fall sports pictures on Wednesday. Really? Less than five full days notice? We had a senior portrait sales appointment for one o'clock. The mother called at 10 after one and said they would be a bit late. Golly, really? She showed up after FOUR, saying, oh, gee, she couldn't get a ride. Really? You've had weeks to plan this, and it's our problem? Because no, we couldn't fit her in; we were booked up to closing, and even had one appointment scheduled to start at our closing time. One parent walked in, expecting us to drop anything we had going on to show her her kid's pictures, although she had no appointment at all.

We have people showing up over an hour before their appointments, usually with small cranky children in tow. They plant themselves in our reception area, where we have to try to field clients in person and on the phone against the background of their squealing child, or cell phones cranked to the max, or discussing intimate details of their lives to which, frankly, I do not wish to be privy. Always at a level far louder than required.

Then there was the senior whose mother decided they should not show up because it was raining. This in spite of the fact that they were told, both verbally and in written materials, show up no matter the weather, even if you have an outdoor session. May be raining where you are, but not here. May be just a quick summer shower. May be over by the time your indoor stuff is done, and if it isn't, well, we got your indoor work done and can reschedule the other. Much of our outdoor stuff has covering, anyway. But no, didn't show, didn't call, and the following week called to reschedule with not a word of apology. We were out two hours of our time. Thanks awfully, Mumsie.

And one of the most fun...we open at ten. Signs posted on the parking lot side of the building say so, so does one by the front door. We have a rope across the porch steps. All that would pretty much say to you, "Closed until 10," wouldn't it? But we have people brazenly remove the rope, and if the door is locked, hammer on it. A half hour before their appointment! If the door is unlocked (we had a UPS delivery, say) they walk on in, even though all the lights are off and that sign is STILL there.

It all makes me ache for a little common courtesy and common sense. As Mark Twain said, it's the least common sense of all.

Knees Together

I am the eldest of four children, not counting the half-sister born after I had my two daughters. I don't not count her in my life, you understand, but I obviously didn't grow up with her, so I don't include her for the purposes of this discussion. I doubt she reads this anyway, but if she does...she's my sister. Nuff said.

Disclaimers aside, I know what it is to be a member of a large family. So does the DH...his family is the mirror image of mine, even down to the split level houses we grew up in. My memories of childhood were of doing with what we had. Dad was a teacher, Mom a cop. Essential jobs that serve the public, which, as we all know, means they didn't make much of anything. Money was tight, always, probably more so than I knew at the time. We often wore hand-me-downs, and were glad to get them. I occasionally didn't like not being able to buy stuff that my friends did, but for the most part, I didn't feel deprived. My parents were proud in the good sense, and taught us to value what we wanted, and to work for it. Yes, I know I sound like an old fart. Tough.

When I had my kids, I firmly believed in zero population growth, and still do. The people who can least provide for their children in this world, in terms of material goods and education, are the ones who often have the most children. I chose to have two children. I was lucky. I could have kids, carry them myself, they were healthy. And my then-husband and I could afford to raise them. I do understand that some folks have a lot of kids for reasons of faith, but even most religions allow you to work not to conceive. For others, birth control can usually be obtained for free and works pretty well (though not so great when my parents were trying it in the sixties!). But my beliefs aside, it's up to you how many kids you have. Just don't try to make your choice my burden.

Today I went to pick up some artifical plants. A lady wanted to be rid of them, put them on Freecycle. She made a point that she wouldn't take a picture of them because of her five kids. I thought they'd make good studio props, and told her I would be happy to have them. She was sick of them and happy to have them gone. All should be good, right? Right. Until. I went out to get them, and she said how tired of them she was, and I said they'd have a good home in our studio. She perked up immediately. She knew who we were when I said the studio name, asked where we were now, and she starts bleating, "Discounts! Discounts would be good! Five kids!" She sticks her head in the open hatchback to yell this stuff at the DH, who is seated behind the wheel. I was in equal parts dumbfounded and furious.

Why do people today think we should fund their family? My parents never did. I cannot tell you the number of times people ask us for a price break because they have a lot of rug rats. They have XX number of kids in dance, or playing soccer, and want us to discount their pictures because of the sheer volume of their family. Really? How did your choice to breed like rabbits and overpopulate the planet become MY problem? Do you ask McDonald's to sell you discount hamburgers to feed your tribe? Does Carter's have to give you cheaper baby clothes? And by the way, did the mortgage company give you a discount on your big McMansion (sure a lot bigger than MY house)? Have you considered buying less rather than expecting me to give your greedy self preferential treatment because you decided to have a horde?

Do my bills suddenly become less because you didn't keep those knees together, lady?

See? Mother really DID know best.

And what does 'assume' spell?

Another rant. I cannot help but wonder if the proximity of moving the studio isn't contributing to the fraying of my delicate sensibilities. Yet again we have someone who has a sense of entitlement (check the prior post for my feelings on THAT).

A bride came in today to pick up her proof album. It was huge! The DH and his second shooter had taken a lot of photos at what was a very long wedding/reception, and they had done lovely work. In fact, there were so many pictures that it took a bit longer than usual to get it ordered; our lab couldn't handle that big of an upload and we had to cut CDs and send them in. Turned out very nicely, though.

A bit of back story. This is an older bride than the usual first-timer, and she had some very definite ideas about what she wanted. She was also not shy about saying what other photographers could do for her. The DH handles that kind of pushiness much better than I. I personally would have sized her up and been pretty sure I could take her Amazon-tall self down. He, talented man that he is, booked her.

Now, as a courtesy to our brides, we offer them free engagement and bridal portrait sittings. She didn't want to take the former but was eager for the latter. And the usual in-studio session wasn't enough; oh, no, she wanted that AND an on-location shoot. DH acceded, but if he'd known what a pain she and her mother (this is an only child for mom, who also has step-children with whom I sympathise totally) would be during the studio section, I wonder if he'd have done the second part. Yeah, he would, and I know it - it was a neat place to shoot and he got wonderful stuff. He's so good at what he does!

Onward, and glossing over the groom throwing a fit because the bridal party caused his section of the formals to be running late...actually beating on the sanctuary doors multiple times!! - and over the mother of the bride missing half the reception because she had to be the one to clean up the wax from the so-called dripless candles that btw caught fire during the service. Back to today.

The bride calls me to complain that after taking her proof album home, she was upset to find it didn't include the bridal portrait sitting pictures. Confused, I asked why. This is a wedding proof album. The bridal sitting isn't part of the wedding day, and is not even part of the wedding contract, but a gift from us.

"But we set it up during the contract session when we purchased the proof book." Yes, and? Were you told this separate sitting was going to be in the proof book? "I just ASSUMED it would be."

Uh-huh. And this is my problem how? You didn't ask if it were, we didn't tell you it was, and it never has been. No proof album she looked at included anything but the wedding day.

None of which I said out loud. DH should be so proud. Instead I said that of course we had no way of knowing what she assumed since she didn't tell us, and that the bridal sitting is never part of the proof album. "How can I pick some to put in my albums, then?" she whined. I told her I'd be happy to print her some thumbnail proof sheets, and Ms. Entitled sniffed, "That won't be the same." No, it won't, but it will give you something to use to plan your album. Then what she assumed (again wrongly!) would cow me..."I'll just have to check my contract."

Yes, you do that, Princess. I probably know that bit of paper a wee bit better than you. It says Wedding Contract, not Bridal Portrait And Wedding Contract. And it says Digital Proof Book, not And We Include Whatever You ASSUME.

She didn't call back. Let's hope she has the sense to realize that she's at fault for not asking for what she wanted. But I don't count on it. Entitlement and good sense never seem to go hand-in-hand.

Except in your Goddess, of course.

PAI on Freecycle

I hit the delete key viciously yet again today, and decided to share with you why I did.

I belong to a wonderful organization called Freecycle. You may have recently seen a blurb on CNN about it. Freecycle offers its members in dozens of countries the opportunity to pass on things that one no longer needs, but that might have useful life left in them. This saves a lot of space in landfills, and goes along well with my feeling of self-satisfaction in my half-assed attempt to green up my life. The premise is that you join your local county's Yahoo group, and post things you no longer need, known as offers, where your general location is, and people respond directly to you to say they would like this, and can pick it up at XXX time and day. You then indicated the item is PPU...Pending Pick Up, so that others realize that it's gone. Seems pretty simple, no?

But trust the general public, with its incredible sense of entitlement, to torque things up. When WILL you people realize that I'm the only one who is entitled to anything?!? The Freecycle national rules very clearly state that if you need something, you may post a "Wanted" but only in very limited numbers, and not for high-ticket items like DVD players or diamond rings. The local list also has a rule that your first post must be an offer. Unfortunately, the list mom is apparently both incapable of monitoring the list, or turning it over to people willing to actually run it. It finally got to the point where several of us had tried to reach her for weeks, no new members had been approved, and finally the state level stepped in and created some new moderators. Then :::POOF::: the list owner reappears, removes all the moderators, and immediately vanishes again. Everytime this occurs her husband has some life-threatening situation - she says. Maybe, maybe not, but if you have that much on your plate, let someone who can do so run things.

The upshot of this is the Wanteds are insanely out of control. I have, and I kid you not, seen people posting to have entire apartments furnished...and specifying oak entertainment units with glass doors, if you please!..., riding lawn mowers, large TV sets, and oh, yes, please throw in the aforementioned DVD player for their pre-teen who needs it. I gnash my teeth every time I read one of these, and a few of us malcontents on the list, known as the Coven (DH is an honorary wizard), share snarky off-list comments about the idiots and their unstinting greed.

Why do I stay? I can get rid of things I no longer need to people who are grateful for them. Your Goddess basks in gratitude, of course. Also I occasionally score something good, like a lovely Lladro I got because I realized what the Spanish Nun statue probably was, and yes, I'm still patting my own back, wazzittoyou?

I hit the delete button so hard today because some buffoon with her hand always out had the nerve to ask for deck furniture and a charcoal grill. I swear on my mother's grave. Okay, she isn't dead, but you get the idea.

So my email to the Coven? "Gee, do you think we can throw in a package of Tbones and a sun awning for her?" Amazing how being utterly catty helps my temper. :-)

The Voice of Reason

My last nerve has been trodden....nay, danced upon. With cleats. GOLF cleats. Sharp ones.

I am a reasonable woman. Logic is not only my byword, it is practically my religion. I don't always practice it, but one does try to remain faithful. That being said, I want to make it perfectly clear that I do not expect children to behave like little adults. Having raised two of what the DH and I referred to as VCC (Varmint Critter Children), and being the eldest of four whom I often had to watch, I am well aware that any child, given the opportunity, will show you up. The amount that they will misbehave is directly proportional to the number of other adults to whom these children are unknown that there are in the room, and the importance of whatever you're in the middle of doing.

This I know. This any reasonable person knows. Hence and therefore...ergo, even!...any parent should be prepared for this, and know how to regain control. Even be willing to remove said bra...children to affect a resolution with them. Also a reasonable expectation. Today's parent was not.

We are often called on to do covers for a local child-centered magazine. The sitting is won in a drawing said magazine holds, and is for younger children. All well and good; the DH is a model of patience, and in my selfless giving manner, I help. I hide in the office. With the door firmly SHUT. It's the least I can do, and you can always count on me to do the least. Today two children were brought in for one of these sittings with mommy in tow - no one can say she was bringing them - and they arrived a full half-hour early.

Folks, a photography studio is not a doctor's office. Arriving well before your appointment is just rude. You may well be interrupting a consultation with a bride, someone's viewing session, or another sitting. Or your photographer may desperately need to pee, and thought he had plenty of time. But that's just a general possibility, of course. Not saying that was the case at all, nuh-uh, nosirreebob.

In walks Ms. Clueless with older daughter aged 4, and a 2 year old son; much too old to still be using a pacifier, but who asked me. As I discreetly shoot my arm from the cuff of my sweater and peer at my watch, she burbles, "I wasn't sure how long it would take to get here." Maps being so rare, of course. Apparently she never thought of looking into one of the other shops in the building to eat up some time; no, we had to adjust to her.

I walk on in to show them into the dressing room. As she starts dumping her armload of stuff, Ms. C. realizes Junior hasn't followed. He is not in the camera room we just walked through. No, he's in the reception area, his arm shoulder deep in a trash can. Greaaa-aaate. This is such an auspicious beginning in the not-so-much kinda sense.

This being a summer camp issue of the magazine, they are doing soccer shots first. Daughter Dearest has a cow about having to wear her soccer shoes; she wants to be barefoot because, after all, don't YOU always kick a very hard ball around with no shoes on as you run over a grassy field containing God knows what? At this point I turn the whole mess over to DH, dart to the office, and hunker down, resisting the urge to hide under my desk.

Much shrieking ensues. I'm not sure who is yelling more, kids or Mom, but I am sooo glad not to be in there. I can feel my shoulders climbing up to ear level. DH pokes his head in during one costume change, and he's looking shell-shocked. "She has absolutely NO control over these kids," he whispered, aghast. This is a secret?!? I ask in my firmest manner if he'd like me to come in and take control. Looking, if possible, even more fearful, he mutely shook his head no and backed out, shutting the door behind him.

Probably a good call.

PAI With a Kick!

We had a lady stop in today to talk about some boudoir portraits she wants to have done as a Valentine's present for her husband. The DH was on location, so I was giving her the nickel tour. No, I did not give her change back.

I had shown her the camera room, and some of the items we could use for her pictures, then we moved back into our reception area. I was talking about setting up her appointment when she abruptly asked me, "Does he have Tourette's?" Having watched South Park, I of course knew what Tourette's was (and btw, respect my authoritay!), but was confused. She hadn't met the DH yet, and anyway, he is probably the least potty-mouthed man I know outside a minister. Your Goddess, OTOH, could make a sailor blush. If I wanted.

"Yes," she continued, "the boy next door. Does he have Tourette's?"

I burst out laughing and told her there were 15 boys with Tourette's next door, or as they call it, karate practice! We VERY unfortunately share a wall with a small karate studio, and if you think the noise is bad...well, actually, you'd be right. But picture this....Sicily, 1932...no, no, that's not right. Picture us sitting in our consultation area, speaking with a dewy-eyed bride about her upcoming nuptials. She's speaking of her hopes and dreams of her wedding day, when ::::::Hi-YAH!:::::: and THUD against the wall. Leaves a little something to be desired in the whole sustaining a mood department. No soundproofing at all, the parents refuse to leave the one parking space we have next to the access ramp into our studio open - even when we posted a sign with the karate studio owners' agreement; very nice men - and the little cretins trample the bushes while hopping on and off our elevated porch area. Guess who Mummy will try to sue if the kid falls off onto the parking lot cement car stops?

The one that REALLY got me was the boy, decidedly old enough to know better, that I caught actually twisting and beating on the sign we had put up indicating that that one space was to be left for our clients. "Excuse me?!?" I ground out, looking at his mother who is gossiping with some other hausfrau. "Oh, are you helping to straighten the sign?" she simpers at her son. I state with emphasis, "It was never crooked!" as she makes her farewells, and walks up our ramp (completely separate from the karate studio, so they have no business on it at all) then begins to walk past me through the landscaping!

I point out that this is not a walk way, but a garden, and that stray dogs often do their business there. Seriously, there've been times I think someone let their elephant defecate there, but that's another rant. Anyway, she gives me a filthy look which I meet utterly deadpan, says to little Johnny, "I guess we'll have to walk around,"(why yes! - yes you will!) and goes back the way she should have gone to begin with.

And when I have my dogs in the studio, I make sure they take their dumps right next to the porch on the garden side. I call it an insurance policy. :->