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Category Archives: Sanity Break
People who chose to make a career out of a Customer Service job did that because of the happy customers who appreciate their efforts. We mock the stupid ones, vent about the painful ones, and we laugh at the condescending ones, but the grateful ones, who actually take the time to compose an email to management about how much they appreciate all we did to help them… those are the ones we come to work for and the ones who keep us going.
So please, take a moment to say thank you and pay a compliment. If you work in Customer Service yourself, you know very well how such a simple thing can completely make your day and remind you why you choose this job to begin with. If you don’t work in the field, you’ll just have to trust me on this. That short and polite question, “is there a manager I can talk to, to register a compliment about you?” is what keeps us going when the really bad customers ambush us.
So take a moment to say thank you. Just a short one. It’s easy.
A person I really enjoyed working with was fired today. It was completely unexpected, some of the others say it was unfair, but when it’s all said and done the bottom line is that one of the very few co-workers who was on the same wavelength as me is now gone.
There are, of course rumors, speculation, and all sorts of gossip, but I don’t particularly pay attention. He stopped at my desk on the way out and said goodbye, and I said I was sorry to see him go, and wished him good luck.
Not only did work just become considerably more difficult… it also just became a lot more boring.
Earlier today, this exchange with a Level 1 Support rep took place over instant messenger:
Lvl 1 rep: Who does our Tech Support from China? I have an email from a customer and I don’t know where to reassign it to.
Me: Well, the European office does the European countries, but everything else goes through us here in the US.
Lvl 1 rep: So I’ll redirect him to the UK office?
I am scared now. And I want to know which school she went to, so I can warn my friends not to send their kids there…
The parking lot behind work, 10:20 AM this morning. About time!
My name is Mimsy and I am a makeup addict. It has been a little over a day since my last purchase.
It was a black tinsel mascara. It is shock full with small silver flakes that grab on to each individual lash and make them a discretely glittering black and silver. The mascara itself is lengthening without causing lumps or spider legs, and the wand is small and easy to use. It is one of the rubber elliptical wands with spikes that has become so popular with mascara makers recently, but because it is small and the bristles thin and long, it works surprisingly well. Reaching the small lashes at the inner corner was easy and there was no mess whatsoever. In addition to that, after the over-whelming Sephora fragrances it was a nice change of pace to wear a mascara that smells of practically nothing.
It started when I was, I think, 7 or 8 years old. I used to try and borrow my mother’s makeup when she wasn’t looking, and as soon as she discovered that she put them away, out of my reach, and I started using anything else I could find that left colored markings on rough surfaces. The red sharpie was a mistake… though it looked stunning until it stared causing a rash.
Fair warning: This blog is a bit longer than usual, and probably only of interest to basketball fans. It’s a collection of notes and fond memories from attending my first NBA ever game.
I love the mass-transit system that took us literally to the foot of the steps leading up to the front entrance. No stress, no parking hassle, no fighting game-night traffic. Beautiful! All cities need to do this. Especially mine.
(While we were waiting in line to get in, the two Jazz fans behind us were discussing the playoffs, and one of them was saying that since he had been living in Cleveland for a long time of his childhood, he’d feel very torn and conflicted and not knowing who to root for if the Jazz faced the Cavs in the playoffs. I am proud to say that I was able to resist the urge to tell him not to worry, he won’t have that problem any time soon; it’s not the poor guy’s fault he’s a bit delusional. )