"I don't know, I feel so lost and confused. Sometimes I wonder -- does God really want me to be an accountant?"
Good grief! What kind of God would want that?!
Would Susan blog? Apparently yes. About what? Whatever the universe throws my way, but there are a few themes. Like haggling with corporations. Also, fixing things that are broken or wrong. And sometimes crazy things just happen, and all I can do is tell you about them and hope you enjoy the story.
"I don't know, I feel so lost and confused. Sometimes I wonder -- does God really want me to be an accountant?"
To: The Management at the Hotel FancyPants
From: Susan
In re: Appalling Recent Visit
Last week, I stayed at the Hotel FancyPants. I travel frequently and usually have very pleasant experiences. However, a number of problems during this stay prompted me to write this letter.
The first offense occurred upon my arrival. As I entered the lobby of the hotel, I was confronted by a life-size statue of Marilyn Monroe, with her dress lifted up to expose her underpants. The statue is so tasteless and ghastly that I was hardly able to continue to the front desk.
Why does the Hotel FancyPants, an otherwise respectable establishment, possess this tawdry item? Why is it so prominently displayed in the lobby, where patrons are forced to see it each time they enter or leave the hotel? Besides being of questionable artistic merit, the statue trivializes the objectification of women. Research documents how images like these perpetuate a climate of insensitivity toward sexual harassment, rape, and other forms of misogyny. I would urge whoever is responsible for this objectionable décor to reconsider how this choice of “art” affects patrons, women and girls, and society as a whole.
The second problem occurred during check-in. I had reserved a king-size bed, but I was given a room with two double beds. The explanation I received was that the reservation system can take requests for bed sizes, but it cannot guarantee such requests. Given the state of technology today, it should be possible for the Hotel FancyPants to accurately inform customers about the kinds of beds that are available. More, the hotel should not promise amenities it cannot deliver. I am appalled that the management of the Hotel FancyPants operates in such a disorganized and discourteous fashion.
I was also upset by the hotel’s failure to provide advertised services, as when I attempted to utilize the complimentary shoe-shine service. As instructed, I placed my shoes in a bag and hung them outside my door. In the morning, I discovered that my shoes had not been shined as promised. Instead, they had remained outside my door all night, where they were vulnerable to theft.
I also encountered problems at the FancyPants Bar & Grill. I was told upon check-in that the hotel's bar offers $3 martinis. I was even given a flyer announcing “Rail Brand Martini’s [sic] are always $3” and a calendar advertising “$3 House Martinis and Live Jazz beginning @ 6:30 pm." These enticements, however, proved false: When two colleagues and I met at the bar that evening, we were charged $9 per martini, and our waitress informed us that the $3 martinis are available from 5 pm to 8 pm only. I am shocked that the FancyPants establishment would be so brazen in its deceptive marketing practices. To make matters worse, the glass I received had lipstick on it from a previous patron.
I am seldom moved to write letters of complaint, but the problems I experienced reveal an alarming state of disarray and mismanagement. The result is a hotel teetering on the precipice of total chaos.
In light of my disappointing experience, I am requesting a full refund from the Hotel FancyPants and the FancyPants Bar & Grill. Enclosed you will find receipts totaling $194.22. Please do not hesitate to contact me should you require further information.
Sincerely, Susan
Customer: I'd like three espressos to go, please.
Barista: How far are you going with them?
Customer: Huh?
Barista: The espressos might get cold on the way. How far are you going?
Customer: Uh, I dunno - maybe 4 or 5 blocks? They're for people at my office.
Barista: Sorry, too far. They won't be any good when you arrive. I refuse your order.
Customer: Is this a joke?
Barista: You heard me.Bewildered, the man man left Grumpy's empty-handed. E meekly ordered his coffee -- to stay -- and received a mind-blowingly delicious cup of joe.
Mom: Susan, look how short it is! Don't you think it's too short?
Me: It looks exactly like it always does. You look nice!
Mom: It's NOT the same. It's too short! Way, way too short.
Me: You're crazy. It's just the same as always.
Mom (gasping): Oh my god - it's a butch haircut! I look like a dyke!Mom panicked while Dad, E, and I tried to assure her that her head was sufficiently heterosexual. When this failed, I tried another tack:
Mom: What am I going to do? I have to go to work tomorrow! People will see!
Me: Jesus Christ, Mom. Just tell them you're bicurious.The room fell silent. E and Dad stared intently at their feet while Mom affixed me with a venomous glare. She stood, smoothed her pantsuit, and marched to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. E, Dad, and I waited in wordless suspense, wondering what would happen next.
"Please click the link below and verify that we have accurate personal information for you. If there are errors, please correct them. Do not reply to this email."I dutifully clicked the link and was transported to a page with my home address, telephone number, marital status, and ethnic category. I noticed that I was identified as Black. Which I am not. For better or worse, I am unambiguously white.
"Hello. I recently verified my personal information as instructed. I noticed that your system thinks I am Black. In truth, I am white, or Caucasian, or whatever the correct term is. I am not sure how to fix this. Also, it doesn't really matter to me. Please do whatever you like with this information. Yours, Susan"I hit "Send" and left for a meeting.
Mom: I'm so happy! When is this going to happen?
Me: Well, my health insurance runs out in three months, so we'll do it soon. We'll just go to City Hall. We'd love to have you there!
Mom: Absolutely not! For years, I've been going to my friends' children's weddings. Now it's my turn. I'm throwing a big party and inviting everyone!
E: Uhhh...let's not fall victim to the wedding-industrial complex, okay? Maybe we can have a small, simple celebration at home with family and close friends. But nothing extravagant. And no gifts - we hate that whole thing.
Mom: What? But that's the whole point! Do you know how much money I've shelled out on other people's wedding gifts? This is payback time!
E: Look, no gifts! And no meat [E and I are vegetarians]. People can skip meat for one meal.
Mom: But people need to see shrimp! That's the only reason they go to weddings.
E: Well, too bad for them. They can go to Red Lobster on the way home.
Mom: Alright, alright. As long as I get to have a party. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything.
Mom: But people love veal. And you already took their shrimp away!
E: No veal! How could you do this?
Mom (annoyed): But you won't even see it. It's covered in sauce!This battle of wits finally ended when Mom and E agreed to exchange veal for shrimp, which E reasoned was the lesser of two evils.
Going to the movies with Susan is an “interesting” experience -- and yes, for you intellectuals out there, I use quotes to signify something other than merely interesting. In New York City, movies cost over $10, so we always choose carefully. We sneak in our own snacks, and Susan usually gets stuck behind some tall guy with huge hair and a top hat.
So one time we settled on a French film, “Va Savoir," which means “you won’t understand this film.” Susan and I have enjoyed our share of French films, but something went wrong with this one. About 20 minutes in, I started to realize that I didn’t know what was going on, and, worse, I didn’t care. That’s a bad place to be at the start of a film. Then I realized that, if I felt that way at 20 minutes, Susan felt that way at 10. Soon enough, I got a nudge in my side and a loud whisper: “Let’s go.”
Let’s go? What does that mean? The movie was far from over, and I’m the kind of guy that tends to see unpleasant things through to the end. Whether it’s bad dates, long meetings, lame parties, or dull films, I've always felt the need to stick it out. I like to think it’s because I have the cautious optimism that it might get better, and maybe I can find something of value in it.
But when Susan is determined to leave, she can’t be stopped. We left the theater and entered the lobby. As I naively headed for the door, Susan asked an employee to summon the theater's manager. "Why would she do that?" I wondered. The manager appeared, poor guy. What follows is the actual conversation:
Susan: This movie was terrible, we’d like our money back.
Manager: I can’t do that.
Susan: You are showing a bad movie and should take responsibility for it.
Manager: It’s not my fault you didn’t like it. Who told you to go see it?
Susan: You did! You have a rave review posted outside.
And with that, the manager was defeated. He gave us two vouchers for any movie of our choosing in the future. I didn’t know such a thing was possible, but with Susan, most things are.
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"Gosh, I don't know, we sell so many weird things. And some of the customers are really strange too. I get calls from people who can't figure out how the sex toys work, and I have to talk them through it. 'Strap it on this way, stick it in that hole,' I have to tell them. It's so awkward! I'm not paid enough for this."Overstock - a great place for confused shoppers of all kinds.
"...I get home, and right away she's yelling at me for leaving shit stains in the toilet. So I say, 'How could it be me? I just walked in the door!' But she won't drop it, she won't lay off about the shit stains..."My husband smiled, the sun glinting in his hair. "Ahhhh," he said, "These are the days of our lives."