Author: anthony Page 4 of 73

Waaaaay back in the day, when I was an undergraduate student at The University of Akron, I worked as a student assistant in the Department of Telcommunications. My first job there was as an operator for the campus switchboard and for a while I was the only male working there. Which had an interesting side effect that my female colleagues could transfer difficult calls to me in the absence of a manager and I could throw a little extra bass in my voice to sound like someone with authority. We played to the stereotypes.

Later on, I got additional responsiblity and helped with scheduling and timekeeping – and eventually was more of an office manager. One task I was asked to do was to help with some recordings.

At the time, all of the residence halls had landline phones in each room for student use – along with voicemail. Each semester, the voicemail boxes needed to be cleared and reset – and they needed a male voice to re-record a default header for the male residence halls.

For each rooms’ mailbox, I deleted any messages, reset the password, deleted any greetings, and re-recorded the header. Over and over again. And by the time I was done, there was no one faster with that system.

I did a good enough job with this that I was asked to record the voice-mail for the Telephone repair line.

Even years after I left the department, the manager insisted that they keep that recording. Including when they migrated to a new system. So that was cool and flattering.

As things turned out, as I became the Assistant Director for the webteam as a full time employee, I also “inherited” the management of the switchboard.

(there were a couple VP’s at the time that were shuffling things around…)

Which was an interesting, though not an easy, job. I put my voice to work again occassionally/frequently answering the calls – or handling the escalated calls like the old days. Though with actual authority this time.

I also recorded the after hours message and after we switched to a phone tree instead of a staffed setup, I recorded the “press 1 for…press 2 for…” message as well.

This week, we’re making more updates to that system and it’s been decided – for more flexiblity and ease of future updates – that we’ll no longer be using a recorded voice.

Instead we’ll have a script that will be read by a generated AI voice.

I’m being replaed by a robot.

I get why we’re doing it and the voice isn’t terrible. But it does feel like the end of a 30 year long era.

As we switch over to the new system, I’m going to do one last recording with the full script and save the file. It’s my small way of backing up the machines.

Just in case they ever need a human to speak for them.

I don’t know of anyone that likes going to the dentist, but I don’t usually mind it too much.  I had stopped going for a while and started again when I realized I needed to do something about the headaches I was getting every morning from grinding my teeth. And I found a dentist that had an office 5 minutes away.

I recently had my third appointment at the nearby dentist and it started off with x-rays.  But not just regular x-rays – these were the more “comprehensive” variety that are done every 3-5 years.  Since this was only my third time at this practice, I would have expected those to have been done at my first visit.  But, since the insurance was paying for it, I didn’t balk.

Except these were really uncomfortable and involved an apparatus that looked like a old-school death-ray shoved into my mouth.  The technician said I did a good job once she was finally done and released me from the lead blanket – but she was also a little snarky while it was going on so I wasn’t really excited about her praise. 

Also, I’m happy they gave me the lead blanket to protect my torso from x-rays – but I’d also kinda rather not have cancer in my head. So, I dunno what to do about that.

The hygienist made her usual one-sided small talk while cleaning my teeth and I tried to maintain the conversation with both of her hands in my mouth.

1. I’m going to bring signs next time – a Yes|No sign should get the job done.
2. A tiny mirror, a metal pick, one hose to spray water and one to suck it up.  This is the best technology they’ve got, apparently.

When she finished up, she:

1. Complimented me on how well I was keeping my teeth free of plaque
2. Cautioned me that I was brushing too hard.

Which is really unfair.  I also apparently need to get an electric toothbrush. 

The dentist then came in and “welcomed me in”.   As though I was a new patient.  I’m new-ish, but this was my third time being there and I’d seen him the last time I was there.

He asked me a bunch of intro questions – and didn’t write down any of my answers. And he told me that based on the wear on my teeth and the shininess of my old fillings that I likely grind my teeth and it’s good that I have a mouth guard.

Which I got from that practice.    It was a little surreal. 

Oh and he asked me when was the last time I had been to the dentist.  Which I answered “six months”

Either make the effort to get to know me – and write something down – or just skip it, okay? Sigh.

Everything was ultimately fine and I guess that’s the best result I could have.  

I left the appointment with clean teeth – but feeling salty.

Jim was out in the backyard when he called me over.

Can you get rid of a dead body while I keep the dogs distracted?”

…he asked and said there was some dead critter by the shed and he didn’t want the dogs to get into it. I went to the garage and got a shovel, gloves, and a plastic bag.

It turned out to be a small opossum and it was still pretty fresh and partly under the ramp into the shed. I got it out with the shovel, scooped it into the bag, and disposed of the corpse in the trash.

I’m basically a varmit undertaker.

And if you don’t go get a shovel – no questions asked – when your “fella” tells you he’s got a dead body to dispose of, well, is it even love?

It started with a clogged toilet on a Tuesday.  I had used the bathroom in the basement and ended up clogging the toilet.  I worked on this with a plunger for quite a while, finally resorting to the interwebs for advice.  It was conflicting, of course, but the addition of dish soap seemed like the least dangerous option.  Late in the evening, it finally cleared with some sudsy plunging and I called it a night.  

Wednesday morning I went downstairs to check and give it another test flush.  And it overflowed – with clean-ish water, at least.   I swore, spread paper towels on the floor to keep the fortunately minimal water contained, and figured I would get it sorted when I got home later.   And I went on into work.

At lunch time, I came home to let the dogs out and feed them – then went downstairs to check on the bathroom.  As soon as I turned on the light to the basement I could see there was a problem. 

There was water on the carpet.  

I raced downstairs, my feet squelching as soon as I hit the bottom.  There was a huge flood and water everywhere.  But, it didn’t seem to be connected to the bathroom or the toilet.  The water was deepest – literally – in the middle of the furnished family room.

I texted Jim at work, then emailed my office and let them know I wouldn’t be coming back to the office. 

Then I changed clothes and set to work.

I moved a few things up to the garage to start drying, then tried the shop-vac with no luck.

Jim called and I bought him up to speed.  He then called the insurance company and got a referral for a restoration company – and called them to get someone dispatched.

I made a hurried and unsuccessful trip to Lowe’s for some kind of water pump – getting back as the restoration guy arrived.  I got things opened up for him and he got started – and I called a plumber.

The plumber couldn’t arrive until after hours and I went ahead and booked an appointment, then went back down to help move things out of the restoration guy’s way – and carried more things up to the garage.

He had to dump the tanks in his truck 3 times and estimated that he had pumped out over 400 gallons of water.  When he finally wrapped up for the day he set up fans and dehumidifiers.

Jim got home a little later and we ate, then waited for the plumber – who didn’t arrive until after 8. 

The plumber brought in his equipment and set to work clearing out the main drain line – eventually finding that it had been clogged by tree roots.

And tampons.

The plumber looked at Jim and I – and we looked at each other.  Noting that we have lived here nearly 4 years.   

WIth the main line cleared he had us test all the drains and toilets in the house and everything worked.  He also noted that we needed to replace the sump pump – which was failing – but that it could wait until the next day.   And if we waited, it would save us about $150 since we wouldn’t be on overtime.

I still had a lot of anxiety that night – having trouble getting to sleep.  I got up around 3 am to go down and check the basement again just to make sure we were okay.

Thursday I worked from home and the restoration guy came back to check on the equipment and seal the basement with a zippered plastic door to improve the heat and evaporation.  He said he’d be back on Saturday to shut things down and pick up the equipment – but that the floor was drying well.

The plumber was back not long after that to install a new sump pump.  In the meantime, Jim and I had been working with the insurance company to file a claim.   We had good coverage, but it wasn’t going to cover the cost of the plumber’s work or the sump pump.

The fans ran 24/7 until Saturday when the restoration guy came to get the equipment and Jim and I were generally pleased with the work – though the carpet wasn’t in great shape anymore.  

It was, at least, dry.

Jim and I reviewed the items that had been in the basement and there was only minor damage.  A metal table leg rusted and a bag with art supplies was ruined, but that was the worst of it.

We got mostly back to normal after that and it was about a week later that the insurance inspector came to look at the basement. 

Took him about an hour and his determination was that the carpet would need to be replaced.  He emailed his report and the company sent us a check. 

We’re trying to decide if we want to turn this into a bigger renovation project in the basement by taking out the bar – or just replace the carpet.  For now, the garage is still packed with the stuff from the basement. 

We keep telling ourselves and each other – and anyone that will listen – that it could have been much worse. 

EDIT: We’re still trying to figure out the scope of the changes we want to make in the basement – just carpet or a full-on remodel.

(This happened a while back – just getting around to writing it up)

When I was a kid, my grandmother on my Mom’s side started a small investment account for myself, my sister, and our cousins.  It was a nice thing to do and when she passed away I transferred the address for the statements to my name.  I didn’t need it and didn’t do anything with it – just kept an eye on the slow growth over the years.  

The financial group that managed it from Florida eventually suggested that I drop them and work directly with the investment company – Capital Group – directly.  I made those changes and updated the address again – and got the online account access all set up.

The University made some changes to the investments in 2022 for our retirement and the financial person I worked with suggested switching to a Roth IRA.  I decided that I would start to pull from this investment and transfer that to the Roth – to give it a jump start.  I transfered $6,000 from my checking account to the Roth and went online with Capital Group to request a distribution of $6,000 back to me.  6K is the most that I could put in the Roth at a time and I planned on repeating this next year. 

I got the check, took it to the bank, and deposited it at the ATM.  Simple.

And then everything fell apart.

The bank wouldn’t deposit the check and instead sent me a notice that my grandmother’s name was the primary on the check and I was the secondary.  They suggested that I contact the check issuer and have them reissue a check in my name only.

I was left with a legal copy of the check that was unusable.

So, I called up Capital One and explained what was going on and asked them to re-issue the check.  They were instead horrified that I had requested the check on the account that I hadn’t claimed.  I was confused since my name was on the account, I had online access, had updated the address and account information – and there was nothing in place to prevent me.

Somehow, though I am not a financial expert and no one had ever told me the process, I should have Known Better ™.

I would need to fill out a new account request form, a transfer form, and provide my birth certificate, and my grandmother’s death certificate.  

I explained that I didn’t have the death certificate and would have to ask relatives or request it from the records office in Illinois.  In the meantime, I asked if they could cancel the check and they were emphatically not going to do that.   No reason given, just… no.

So, I checked with my Mom and she didn’t have a copy – nor did her sister.  I went to the State of Illinois records office online and found the form to request the certificate.  There was a fee, it couldn’t be submitted online, and it would take at least… 12 weeks to process. 

I printed and filled out the form, then sent it in with a check and settled in to wait. 

A while later I still hadn’t gotten the certificate, but I did get a letter from Capital Group about the uncashed check.  If I didn’t act on that, it would be turned over to Unclaimed Funds.  

I called Capital group and explained what was going on – I was waiting on the death certificate before I could complete the paperwork and it still hadn’t arrived.  I asked again if they could cancel the check to give me more time and no, they would still not do that nor give me a reason. They conceded that the funds wouldn’t get turned over for at least a year so I did actually have time.  And they wrapped up the call by telling me that I didn’t need the death certificate after all – having no idea why someone from their organization would have told me that.

Seething, I hung up the phone and tried to plan a time to meet with the bank.  One of the forms required a “medallion signature” from a financial organization – like a bank – and a notary signature isn’t good enough. 

I made an appointment for later that week and gathered up every form of ID I had in my possession.  If they wanted to see my library card, I would be ready. 

A couple days before the appointment, I got the death certificate in the mail.  I sighed.

I got to the appointment early and went to the reception desk to check in.  Instead of just, “okay, thank you”, I had to use my phone to scan a QR code and complete 5 steps to “officially check in”.

Once that was done, it was 10 minutes past my appointment time before I was called to the office.   I got out the forms, all of my ID’s (including a passport, but not my library card) and explained I needed a medallion signature.

The associate was aghast. Only the branch manager had a medallion.  She went to check to see if the manager was available.   I waited.

She came back with the manager who looked over the documents and explained that I would need my birth certificate, my driver’s license, the most recent quarterly statement from Capital group, and my grandmother’s death certificate.

I raised an eyebrow high enough to dislocate my forehead and said that I had all of those things, but not with me.   As we were setting a time to come back, I noted that I was only a few minutes from home.  The manager had time a half-hour from then available so I headed home to eat quickly and gather that paperwork.

I hurried back and sat down with the manager.

Everything seemed good until we got to the statement.  I had pages 1 and 2 since that included the information about the account, but hadn’t saved the 3rd page since it was boilerplate text. 

That wasn’t good enough  – she needed to see page three since the other pages were 1 of 3 and 2 of 3.   

I got out my phone and managed to get to the Capital Group site and somehow got logged in.  I navigated to the accounts area to see the last statement and got an error.  I “had requested that online access be restricted”.

Which wasn’t true – but I figured they had flipped the switch on the account after my “why would you do that?” distribution request. 

The manager suggested that we call Capital Group to see if they could unlock my access so I could see and show her that pointless/critical “page 3”.

She made the call, put it on speaker, and when it was answered she explained what we were trying to do.

The associate explained that since I hadn’t claimed the account – which is what I was trying to do – that they couldn’t turn online access back on without authorization from the executor of the estate (from 20 years ago).  I asked if they could verify that there was nothing account-specific on the statement and they could do that – but that wasn’t enough for the manager even though the group that had issued the statement was pretty clear on it.  Audit purposes…

I sighed – loudly.

I asked when the next statement would be issued and mailed out. The quarter would end in September and the statement would be sent in October. I suggested that I could just wait for the next statement to be mailed to me and I would then have a complete copy of the statement.

The associate agreed that it would work – provided that I hadn’t restricted the statements to online only.    I hadn’t – of course – and since I’d gotten the last one (well after the account confusion), I figured I’d get the next one.

We ended the call and I gathered up all the paperwork again.  The manager showed me out and said I should make another appointment once I got the statement. 

I went home.

More time passed and the statement finally arrived. I opened it up, verified that it had 2 useful and 1 useless pages  – then called to make an appointment to see the manager later that week.  I called, this time, since the online options for appointment didn’t specify the medallion/manager option.

Before the appointment, I got a call/voice-mail from the manager asking me to call back since a medallion signature has special requirements. I called back, she was busy, and she never called back before the appointment.  

The day of the appointment I was running late – for me – and stopped at the outside door to try and do the “official” check in.  I got 3 slow steps in the process when it didn’t recognize my number and just gave up and went into the reception desk. 

I was seated and waited.

The manager met me and I explained that I had been there a few weeks ago for the same thing but was missing a critical 3rd page on the statement.  She remembered me then and went through all the documentation again – and then got out her medallion stamp.  Which was simply an official pre-inked stamp – nothing fancy.

Stamped and signed, then she went to make copies.  I folded two small ducks.

When she got back she gave me back the originals and I gathered up all the paperwork again.  I noted that I had my ducks in a row this time and said that I hoped that it worked.

Though I wasn’t really feeling optimistic.

I went home and went through everything again – from verifying the address on the envelope to Capital Group to all the paperwork and the right copies.  I also included a letter asking that the original check (including the check number) be canceled and a new check be issued.  And that the online access be reinstated.

The next day, I went to the post office and had it sent by certified mail.  

And now I wait to see if this worked. 

The best outcome will be a check written out to me that I can deposit.  Next year, I’ll request another distribution – this time, for everything left in the account.  

They didn’t want to treat me like a customer and I was tired of being treated like an adversary.  

At this point, I’d rather be neither.

EDIT: I got the check with 0.000% fanfare. 

There’s a crack in our bathtub.  Not a major one, but better to get it fixed now before it gets worse.  I did a little research and found a kit that contains all the materials needed to repair this and, thus armed, I headed to Lowe’s to make my purchase and start my next home repair project. 

I found the plumbing section and the kits easily enough, but paused as I pulled the kit I needed from the shelf.  The one in “white” – that would match the color of our tub – was $45.48    The exact same kit in “bone” was $29.98

A difference of $15.50 based – as far as I could tell – only on the color. 

With a wrinkled brow, I took both packages to the front of the store and had them check the price to see if the signs were an error.  The clerk was a little confused since it looked like the same thing, but confirmed the difference.    They didn’t offer to do anything about it so I took the cheaper one back and headed to the checkout – confused and cranky.

When I got home, I decided to investigate on my own.  I looked up the manufacturer, found their website, found the contact form, and sent them a note.   I asked if this price difference was something that they had set (via an MSRP) or if this was something that Lowe’s did.  This was a Sunday afternoon and I put the project on hold – figuring I might hear back later in the week.

Instead, I got a text message and then a phone call in less than 20 minutes – from the owner of the business.

He confirmed that this is something that Lowe’s had done and he had been trying to get this adjusted.  He then explained that Home Deport sells the kit – but only in “white” and had increased the price.  Lowe’s followed suite and did the same – but since Home Depot only sells the “white” kit, the Lowe’s price on “bone” remained the same.  

We were both frustrated by this and I told him that I would reach out to Lowe’s to see if they could help resolve this.  I thanked him for contacting me so quickly, especially on a Sunday.

I next headed to the Lowe’s website and confirmed the prices there – it wasn’t just this one store.   I assumed that this wouldn’t be something the store or a frontline support person could resolve on the phone and went looking for an email.

But there wasn’t one on the site.

So, I fired up the chat and asked for an email address.  The Bot couldn’t help and handed me off – to someone in Sales.  They also couldn’t help and handed me off to Customer support.  They finally returned an email address and handed me off to a survey – which stalled out. 

I fired up my gmail and drafted a note explaining what was going on with all the prices, what the manufacturer had said, and my concern that I was being gouged for having a white bathtub.

I got a note back within an hour  – an automated message that noted they were reviewing my email.  The message also stated that not all emails will get a reply – and to not send repeated inquiries.  

So, they might not respond and I shouldn’t pester them if they don’t.

Mmmmm-hmph.

A few days later I did get a response, noting that they do price items differently based on the color and that they do adjust prices based on the competitors.   And while there was nothing they could do about that, I was encouraged to contact the manager at the store.

Almost immediately, they also sent me a survey – and when I didn’t respond right away, three follow up reminders. 

Jim found the same kit – in “white” – at Menards and so I returned the one I had to Lowe’s.  I’ll make a trip to the land of “saving big money” soon to re-buy the kit I need in the color I need.  For quite a bit less than the cheaper color at Lowe’s.

So that was that.   Faceless corporate drones and pricing algorithms – such is the consumer experience. 

EDIT:

The kit didn’t work – even after two attempts.

I’m usually home from work before Jim is, so when his car pulls in the driveway I’ll gently wake the dogs from their naps and we’ll meet him at the door. 

The dogs get greeted first, as it should be, and then Jim will set down his bag and coat and give me a hug.

I’ll say to him,

“Hello, husband, I’m glad you’re home,”

He’ll respond with,

“Hello, husband, I’m glad to be home,”

We don’t have to call each other husband.  It could just be Jim and Anthony.  But, it’s something we’ve done since we got married.  Just a quiet and small reminder – an affirmation, maybe – of that commitment. 

And then we’ll end the hug and decide on dinner and talk about our day and all the other things that come with having a life that is shared.

On days when I go into the office, I’m usually pressed for time at lunch to get home, feed the dogs, feed myself, and get back to the office. 

A stop at McDonald’s on the way can either make this much easier or – if they are having an off day – make me hopelessly late.

Last week, I stopped on my way and decided to go in instead of going through the drive through.   I ordered at the kiosk like a boss, then waited patiently, quietly, and alertly for my order – with the order number on the receipt extended out of my shirt pocket.  

If you’re going to be just a number, at least be clear about it. 

The crew was harried, as usual – even though this was just the start of the lunch rush.  When my order was up, the woman behind the counter handed me the bag and then reached back to get me my drink cup.

“Here’s your cup, beautiful,” she said and I thanked her – then she hurried off to help the next customer. 

I was dressed for work with my head neatly shaved and my beard neatly trimmed and while she might say that to everyone, I felt pretty special.  And maybe a little beautiful.

Later that week, I was in the checkout line at a store – being quiet, polite, and alert as I usually am – and again dressed professionally for work since I’d just come from the office.  As I finished the transaction, the casher said,

“Have a good day, darling,”

And maybe she says that to everyone, but it was still nice to hear.

It was a Saturday morning and I was out in the front yard with a leaf sweeper.  There weren’t a lot of leaves but too many to rake and I was making my way up and down the yard at a steady pace.  

Near one of the large trees in the yard, I stopped.  There was a smell and it was horrible.

As protocol dictates, I checked my shoes.  Nothing there, but there was…something.

I moved the leaf sweeper back the way I had come and started looking around on the ground – assuming it was some kind of poop, though it didn’t really smell like that.

Instead, I found something horrible.  

It was roughly spherical and about the size of a golf ball.  Clearly organic, it was a solid mass – mostly tan in color with some light purple and patches that looked like fat that were nearly white.

A tiny part of me was curious.  What was this?  How long had it been there?  What animal had it come from?  And what was inside?

But the rest of me – that has seen too many movies that start just like this – knew that even if this wasn’t an evil fleshy mass holding an alien parasite ready to leap out and infect me, it would still be something that I wanted no part of. 

I went and got a shovel and a plastic bag.  And I found a stick, which I used to carefully turn over the mass. It was about the same on the other side and I confirmed the overall shape.

Still no clues, so I scooped it up with the shovel and put it in the bag – which I set aside and partially knotted so I could reopen it if I found anything else.

I didn’t see anything so I went back to using the leaf sweeper.  I kept noticing a smell, though, and stopped to investigate.  

I hadn’t been quick enough to stop before and had rolled over something I think related to the mass.  Something black and stringy, with smaller masses lodged inside.  These strings had wrapped around the shaft of the leaf sweeper and were tangled into a foul smelling mess.

I flipped the sweeper over and got the bag open again.   Armed with my trusty stick, I carefully began to unwind the strings – which I assumed at this point were squirrel intestines.  Making the earlier mass perhaps a stomach?

It took a while, but I finally got all the strings unwound and bagged.  I tossed the stick in the bag as well for good measure and then closed it up for good this time.  

The last step was to hose off the sweeper to finally be rid of the smell.  I finished the lawn sweeping without incident, but I did manage to roll over some undiscovered dog poop in the backyard that required another round with the hose.  

The suburbs are no place for the weak of stomach or faint of heart.

There was another mass shooting recently – this time, at a university in Michigan. 

We mourned for the lost lives of the students while we tried to focus our own communications on information and preparedness. 

After spending far too much time reading the news, I signed myself up for the online course/video offered by UA called Run, Hide, Fight. 

It was a half-hour video presented by the UAPD with information on how to react to an active shooter event and while it was well done, it was also terrible. 

They talked about the goal of the shooter being a “high body-count” and how we should try to Run if we could to get away (and how not to be mistaken for the shooter and be shot ourselves by law enforcement). If we couldn’t Run, we were supposed to Hide and barricade ourselves until getting an all clear.  And if Hiding wasn’t an option, it was time for improvised weapons and rushing the attacker and Fighting to save ourselves.

There were two videos they played in the presentation and the first was set in a nightclub where the patrons were reacting to an active shooter and then “breaking the fourth wall” to explain to the camera and us what they were thinking and what they were doing.    Intense, but useful to see this planned out.  Maybe even a little reassuring that it was possible to think and not panic.

The second was in an office environment.  There were no thoughtful cutaways and helpful tips, it was just a gunman flatout murdering people with a shotgun.   A few people managed to do the Run, Hide, Fight as they were trained, but only after they had been alerted to the threat. 

Now, I’ve watched a lot of TV shows and movies and I’m not bothered by violence on the screen.  I can see how it advances the plot, the motives are clear, and the hero saves the day in the end.

This one, though, really bothered me.  No clever plot device and no distancing us from the actors – we were expected to put ourselves in the role of the victims and it was all too easy to do so. 

After it was done, I was a little shaken up and started to look around our office as a risk assessment.  We’re in a big glass building in the middle of campus, our office suite has only one exit right onto a main hallway, and the main door to our suite has a big panel of glass.    Running didn’t seem like much of an option and Hiding didn’t seem any better. 

So, that evening I went to the store and bought a curtain and tension rod and then put it up the next day.  Since the suite lights turn off from a motion sensor, we use lights in our individual offices to work by.  With the curtain drawn and no lights visible from outside, we would look like we weren’t home.  So, a quick move to deadbolt the door, barricade ourselves in our own offices, and then consider going out a window if it came down to it. 

I felt a little bit better after I made a plan and put up the curtain – knowing that even the prey with the best camouflage sometimes still gets eaten.

They don’t know why the shooter went after the students at the university in Michigan.  He had no ties there and didn’t even live nearby.  But, I guess if you are looking for that body-count, you go where the people are and create as much fear as you can.

So, we’ve watched the training, learned the mantra, and have a little plan to try and keep us safe. 

But I don’t feel safe.