Thursday Thoughts

Here are some random musings and bitches….

Enough is Enough

I mentioned a while back that the Far East had posted a banana guard to, presumably, cut down excessive banana consumption by some individuals. Well, now it seems that the idea of controlling food distribution has migrated to the other DFACs as well…but it all seems kinda random.

Cambridge  has started using servers to serve half of the desserts leaving the other half a free for all. You’d think they’d be interested in limiting consumption of particularly desirable sweets but it seems rather arbitrary and some pretty nasty shit is inexplicably put under guard.

Lux uses a guard to apportion the fruit. If the goal is to limit consumption, I really can’t understand what happened to me there tonight. “Three pieces of orange, please”  I said pointing to the wedges. Server guy loaded up three and started going for a fourth. “That’s enough, thanks”. He plopped the fourth on my plate and went after a fifth “No, four is enough, thanks”. He put the fifth on my plate and looked at me quizzically, seemingly wondering how he was ever going to fit a sixth piece onto the small dessert plate. I slowly grabbed it out of his hand and backed away.

You gonna eat all that?

Northline has a guard on all the desserts. Ok, I get that…desserts are yummy and some people are gluttons. However, there is also sometimes a guard on the fruit salad as there was at breakfast this morning. D was bemused that the rationer put far more fruit salad in his bowl than he would ever have taken on his own. “Hey, better to have too much than not enough” I suggested. “Yeah, but he took a lot more of the juice than I would have and now, when I mix it with yogurt, it’s a soupy mess,” D clarified. Fuck, war is hell.

And how come some of the DFACs insist on dishing up your oatmeal and some don’t? The ones that do (I’m looking at you, Cambridge) insist on filling the bowls to the brim such that there isn’t any room for milk or brown sugar. Northline lets us fill our own bowls so I can attain the appropriately high brown sugar/oatmeal ratio.

So, we got to thinking…If the default portions the servers are giving are larger than most people would take and they’re rationing different shit at each DFAC, it follows that the rationale for the guards is neither portion control nor supply management. My guess is that the DFACs have to rationalize the number of employees in their contract and, since they likely charge a mark up for each employee, I bet it’s all a make work project. Or, they’re just whacko.

Man of the House

My oldest daughter lives in an enhanced care home in Halifax. She just found out she is changing rooms so we have to get her internet connection moved. It’s important we get this done quickly as Vicky relies on the internet for all of her communication, much of her entertainment and her work (she’s an author). My wife calls up our ISP, Eastlink and asks to have it moved. Turns out that our account is in my name. Well, my wife points out she has a power of attorney and will email it to them. Nope, not good enough. To get her added to the account, they need to hear from me (or at least someone with a man’s voice who pretends to be me) via phone.

My innovative spouse finds a link on the Eastlink website that allows one to make service requests via on-line chat. So, she messages them, pretending to be me, chats with an apparently nice guy who sets up the service call. She then asks him to add her “wife”, Joan, to the account. Nope. It has to be done by phone call.

Now if I, being a shit disturber, were Joan, I would have called them up, claiming to be her husband and asked to add “my wife” to the account. They would very likely say something like “You don’t sound like a man” , at which point I would take great offense and ask “are you threatening to discriminate against me simply because I don’t sound as masculine as your bigoted stereotype demands?” May or may not be effective but sure would be fun.

Anyhow, Joan messaged me and asked me to call Eastlink to add her to the accounts. All the while, she, pretending to be me, is text chatting to the nice Eastlink guy. He gives her a number to call that she then sends via Facebook message to me. I call it and get some place called Delta Cable in British Columbia, the wrong goddam side of the country, which is closed because it’s still fucking 5 AM there. Their voicemail greeting also provides a number for their corporate office which is in Nova Scotia…where it’s about 9:30 AM by this point. I call it and get voicemail. Voicemail?!? On their fucking corporate head office number at 9:30? I leave a reasonably pointed message and played the “I’m in Afghanistan” card. I call back several times, finally getting a human to answer the phone. They pass me over to customer service hold. Surprisingly, after about only 5 minutes, a human comes on. I provide my phone number so they can pull up my account, describe the situation, and ask to add my wife to the accounts (we have two, one for my daughter’s internet and one for our home cable).
To identify me, they ask for my home address which I provide. She then asks for my daughter’s address. “I don’t remember the street address off-hand but it’s the Arborstone care home on Purcell’s Cove Road”. “I’m afraid I need the street address” she says. “Do you seriously not believe I’m me? I gave you the address on my other account and I have the account numbers right in front of me if that’ll help” I inquire exasperatedly. “No, I need the street address”. “Fine, gimme a second while I google it…my internet’s pretty slow so this could take a while”. About a minute later, I give her the address I just googled (like that proves anything). “Thank you, sir. And what’s her room number?” “I don’t remember, jeez, you have that information right in front of you” “No, I need here room number to verify the account”. “Fine, but you’ll have to hold the line as I search my email for it. This could take about 20 minutes but, since I spent a hell of a lot longer than that trying to get through to you guys, I’m sure you won’t mind“. [Ten second pause]. “Sir, how about you just give me your birth date and we’ll use that?” Ha Ha! I win. Why the hell didn’t she just ask me for that in the first place? Because they’re bureaucratic morons, that’s why.
I then ask “Ok, just to confirm, my wife is now on both accounts and can make changes to them despite not being a man?” “Yes”. “Awesome, she’ll be so happy to know she’s attained personhood, that’s mighty 20th century of you. Bye”.
Update: My wife tells me that Eastlink called and apologized for the hassle they gave us and said it should not have been that hard. I agree…but it was. Joan suggested I may want to go easier on them in my blog. Umm…no. I’m telling it like it is…including that they apologized. But, did they offer to do anything to make it right, like a discount or free tv channels or anything? No. Fuck ’em.
Life During Wartime

A nice secure home with a fence.

L’s been watching a bird nesting on the fence amidst the barbed wire near our office for several weeks. It’s been sitting on several eggs. Well, L just left on leave to get married and we were under strict orders to take pictures of the baby birds when they hatched. I wonder if, when they first burst from their shells and took a look around they thought “Fuck, what a shithole!” like most of us do as we alight from a plane here for the first time.
Huh?
J, A and I discussed marmots during dinner tonight. I interrupted A’s rather lengthy dissertation on marmot behaviour, physical characteristics and habitat to ask “Cage match. Beaver vs marmot. Who wins?” He couldn’t answer. He’s not such a brainiac after all, is he?
Bottom Line
Nothing much made sense today.
“Your most unhappy customers are your greatest source of learning.” – Bill Gates
Answer your fucking phone” – Kafoodie
 
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6 thoughts on “Thursday Thoughts

  1. Too funny Kafoodie…lol. And to think J started the marmot discussion by talking about Marmite!
    You failed to identify which of the 15 species of marmot vs beaver, so I was unable to answer with any degree of certainty.

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