My Ass. As in, "You can kiss it."
Such is my life.
In an attempt to figure out just exactly how much of a crushing debt the wife and I have, I've been playing with online banking and CC information.
Bank of America is one I've been using for a while, and I know it's good 'cause a friend of mine wrote it.
First USA was a little shitty at first, but they've seemed to have gotten a clue in the past few months.
Capital One - they guys that wanna "know whats in yer wallet?" They have a good site, too.
Wells Fargo, however, managed to waste an hour of my time and I was so pisssed I submited the following into a customer service form. You know the ones....
This will probably never get read:
I just want to get signed up to view informatin on a credit card that I have with you guys and after signing up for three different things that I thought would get me there.... nothing, but you steer me to an application for ANOTHER card?
Terrible site navigation, and you apparently have some monolithic system behind it that isn't even unified.
Wells Fargo Online? My Wells Fargo? Which one do I use? I havent the slightest idea and neither of them seem to want to give me any data in the first place.
I cannot wait to pay this thing off so I can cut it in half and stick with companies that have adapted.
Lean, people. Keep it lean. You already make money of of me every month, stop trying to squeeze more out of me and just give me the info I need.
Right. Automation allows for these emails to be atomatically generated, complete with three times the text trying to get you to sign up for more services.
In prime fashion, none of the username and passwords I registered with worked.
Blow me, Wells fargo.
Right after the Sharks game last night the wife gets a call from her brother. This isn't surprising, except for the fact that abuot 3 minutes into the conversation I hear her saying, "Yeah, we sell that, but you should wait another month when we get the new ones in. Yeah, they're nicer and the straps are better designed."
I stop walking and just stare.
Then I remember; in our family, giving your little brother the low down on what strap-on to purchase is completely normal.
Then the conversation thankfully moves on to the fact that Pikadori is goin' on tour in a month or so and they're gonna be playing in Upstate New York, which all good slappyjack readers know is my old stopmin' ground.
We decide the boys should swing by and see my parents and have dinner with them.
That would be cool, but then I realilzed the meeting would probably be the most interesting thing ever due to the following:
The result is a big platter with a huge hunk of spiced, grilled, juicy with bloody goodness beef.
Having her son's brother-in-law over for dinner will count as a special meal, since they haven't met yet. On top of that, hearing there will be 4 more mouths at the table, and these mouths are attached to young men, the family steak poundage will be on the high end.
Between having a table full of Indie Rock Vegans siting there in front of a big bloody plate of meat and the inevitable inappropriate talk, this would almost make it worth the 6 hour flight in a seat designed for a small girl to be there.
Lord help us all.
Today at work:
You wish you were me.
2 Nov 01
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