November 24th, 2005

Both Malfoys

Update on the yard guys!!

A few posts ago I told everyone about my yard guys opening my gate and my dog getting out. The owner was supposed to call me the next morning by 10:00. Well, he didn't call. Now wait for it....he ran over here so we could talk face to face! How awesome was that? After I posted the last time I started thinking so I called my local police department and talked to a friend of mine that works there. He came over and took pictures of the gate, the fence, the beware of dog sign and a few candid shots of me and my Akita for cuteness! :)

He also had me fill out a form (I think it is like an incident report)Turns out it wasn't needed. The owner came out to my house, listened while I told him what had happened, and then went out back with me to see to the gate. He was horrified at what his workers did. I truly believe he was. He was just as baffled as me as to WHY his workers opened the gate. He was pretty furious when I told him about the one guys attitude and smart alex remark. He assured me he would no longer be on the payroll. I told him there was no need to fire the guy (the holidays are coming!)but I would like him not to return to my home and I would like not to be charged for 8 hours when they were only here about 2 hours. He offered me my money back but I told him I really just want my yard leveled. He showed me te paperwork the guys had and it clearly said NOT to enter the backyard because of the dog. He also told me he warned them again before they left and advised they leave the dog at home.

Long story short..he had my yard done in 8 hours, he gave me 25% off the estimate and today when I got home there was a big bone for Jagger and an apology note from the owner. I'm beyond satisfied and since you all were so helpful I wanted to let you know how it was resolved. Jagger is happy..he has been gnawing on that bone since I opened it :)
  • Current Mood
    satisfied satisfied

Home Improve Fraud

Well I never thought I'd be writing a journal but I need to vent and in doing so maybe I can stop someone else from being ripped off as I have been.

The saga started early this year when I decided I wanted to add some living space onto my house. I have a small house. A very small house, but it's mine. The previous owner was my grandmother and I love the house. It's just a bit too small.

I did everything I thought I should do, got three estimates, checked out the BBB, got references, went to one of those websites that claims to provide a SERVICE just like MAGIC by prescreening "SERVICE professionals". Well in my experience they did a pretty pi$$ poor job of it.

WARNING: IN MY EXPERIENCE, SERVICE just like MAGIC and other websites that offer to match you with professionals really only cared about the advertising dollars they got, and rather than matching me with a professional, they simply provided thieves and other assorted scum a large pool of potential victims of which I was one.

Long story short. I contracted with "Custom View Builders" out of Secane PA. Gene and Paul Macerato sold me this job with a lot of BS. The thing that sold me was the story that Gene recounted about how his son, Matthew Macerato, had been robbed and murdered 12/26/04 at the store where he worked. Bound, and shot in the back of the head along with a female co-worker.
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  • Current Mood
    pissed off pissed off

Oh No You Didn't

So yesterday I was out and about, running some errands before the holiday. I got a call from my daughter who warned me that there weren't enough eggs for everything we were planning on making for today, so I stopped at an unfamiliar branch of a chain of grocery stores to get eggs and a couple of other last minute things.

At the checkout, I was greeted by the young cashier, who was really quite friendly considering that the store was a madhouse of people who had apparently delayed all of their holiday shopping until the day before. (The person right before me had a $412 order including two turkeys, a leg of lamb and a ham!) He rang my order and I slid my American Express card through the customer terminal, chose the "credit" option, pressed the "enter" button and waited. In my experience at this particular store, the next screen I should have seen would have been the acceptance prompt: "Your total is $x.xx. Is this okay?" Instead, the screen said "Waiting for Cashier."

The cashier looked at me, expectantly. I looked at him. After about 15 seconds of this impasse, I asked "is something wrong?" He looked at his terminal and read aloud "It says 'system busy, please wait.'" I nodded. With the volume of business the store was doing, I wasn't surprised. (Plus, we're out in rural nowheresville, and it was freezing cold and snowing, so it wouldn't have been odd for a communication line to be out of commission somewhere.) We waited a bit more and the cashier turned to the co-worker on the next line over and asked her if her terminal was working. She said it was. He asked how he could reset things so that we could try my transaction again. She said she wasn't sure and he should ask their front line manager.

Just then the front line manager came stomping over with this scowl on her face and snarled "What now?" at the cashier, as though he were a perpetual screw-up. (Which, perhaps, he is, though I saw no evidence of such, and this wasn't his fault, in any case.) He stepped aside and showed her the "system busy" message on his terminal and said "How do I clear this?"

The front line manager starts hitting keys with a heavy sigh and says "she didn't do it right" meaning that the problem was my fault. Uh, no. Then she says, under her breath "damn ACCESS people." My eyebrows were up somewhere on the top of my head at that, I knew she didn't just go there. But she did. She looked up to me with a sneer and condescendingly said "You have to slide your ACCESS card again, you didn't do it right. You have to read the screen."

ACCESS is the name for the electronic balance transfer system used in Pennsylvania for recepients of food stamps. The card which program recepient use are, to the best of my knowledge, either white or bright yellow with a blue logo and no hologram or embossed name or number on them. My American Express card, which I was tapping on the top of the counter at the time, in plain sight, looks like this. Not white or yellow, no blue logo, hologram, embossing, picture of centurion, the whole deal. There's no reason why anyone with working eyes (and hers were, she didn't even wear eyeglasses) who wasn't colorblind (and I'm guessing she wasn't, as colorblindness primarily afflicts men) would confuse it with an ACCESS card.

The best I could figure is that the front line manager concluded that because I'm not a white person I must be using food stamps, and because there was some problem, it must have been something I did.

The cashier said, in a soft voice "It's an American Express card." but the front line manager had already stomped off to ruin someone else's afternoon. I swiped my card again, this time the system worked -- slowly, but it worked -- and I signed the receipt was getting ready to go when the cashier said "I'm really sorry about that. You have a real good holiday, ma'am." I thanked him and was ready to leave when I decided that I wanted to talk to the manager of the store.

After waiting ten minutes, the store manager came out to the customer service desk and I was able to tell him what happened. I said "You know, I see absolutely nothing wrong with accepting assistance to feed your family when you're having a rough time of things. That's what programs like ACCESS are for. But I have a really big problem when someone ignores what's plainly in front of their face and presumes that I'm a food stamp recepient and then proceeds to treat me badly because of that presumption." The manager hemmed and hawed and finally, the best he could come up with was some half-hearted non-apology that glossed over the front line manager's intolerable rudeness, including the line "I mean, uh, well, most black people who come in here are on food stamps." I was flabbergasted. My jaw may have literally dropped open. I gave him the dirtiest look I could muster, and stated in my nastiest voice "I. Am. Not. Black. Even if I were, that doesn't excuse anything. In fact, it makes what just happened here all the worse. Good day, sir."

I turned on my heel and left the store. I remain, however, spitting mad. Completely and totally spitting mad.
Christmas sushi kitty
  • kwanboa

Keep your comments where the customers can't hear you, IDIOT.

I cannot believe what just happened to myself, my roommate, and my friend at Pizza Delight.

It all started out very well. We placed our orders, were crazy-happy at the Grill Your Own Bread Bar, everything was hunky-dory. Then our food came. My friend and I ordered poutines. The gravy My friend said it tasted like someone had dumped floor cleaner into it. The aftertaste was hideous. I took two bites and felt sick. So, we called our waitress, whom I'll call J, back over. She took them away and said she'd have new ones made.
We chill out and eat the rest of our bread while my roommate scarfs down her flat'za.
J comes back with new poutines. While she finds us forks and refills, we find the gravy's still off. I explain to her that I just cannot eat this. She asks what we'd like to do, and I said we'd just get a pizza. (Even though we were full from the bread bar, that thing is free and we are NOT walking off with bellies full on the dime of the restaurant, that's just rude.) She takes the poutines away again to give us a bit of time to think about what we want.
After a minute, we hear from the other side of the restaurant, "The gravy's always the same, that's BULLSHIT!"
The voice is strident and loud. J has a soft, nice voice. It isn't her. All three of us narrow our eyes. Oh no she didn't. My roommate realizes it's the same bitch who served her and our posse the other night at our buddy's birthday supper. She gave terrible service, and got a tip that reflected that.
Our nice J comes back and we order a pizza. Which, by the way, turned out to be perfect.
So we're eating and the waitresses (there were three) are cleaning up the restaurant. J is sweeping. We are the only ones left in the place.
While we are waiting for J to finish sweeping and get us our check (we weren't in a hurry, we'd put her through enough), she was at the waitstop doing something. This bitch, whom we know was the one who cried "bullshit", flounced up to her and said "J, you should be done sweeping by 10, right? It's quarter to."
WHAT. J has customers, you bint. Oh no she didn't.
J finally gets us the check, I notice the poutines are taken off, it's only $26. So I give her $40 and insist no change. Dialogue:
Me: By the way, your co-worker is appalling.
J: How do you mean?
Me: We heard her commenting about us and cursing.
J: I know. You can hear everything in the restaurant.
Me: We knew it wasn't you, but we're not impressed with her at all.
J: She's out of line. It was just two poutines, you know? That's nothing if it makes you happy.
Me: I know and we feel bad about that. But it doesn't warrant the comment. What if a child was in the restaurant and heard "bullshit"?
J: She's very childish. She doesn't usually work here, she works up to the other one.
Me: You don't tipshare, do you?
J: No, I get everything.
Me: Good, I don't want her getting a cent of the money I just gave you.
J: Oh no, she won't!
Me: She gave bad service to my roommate with the big party that was in the other night as well.
J: She's been doing that...
Me: Do you have a manager?
Other Waitress Sweeping Behind Us: Not here right now.
J: He's in and out, you know? He manages the other ones too.
Me: Well, I will call tomorrow and let him know about this. You're terrific, but something needs to be done about her.
J: Sounds good to me!

And we left. I AM going to call tomorrow, get the manager, and let him know that J is a great waitress and should be given a raise or what have you, but that other bint (whose name we don't know but I can describe her accurately) needs to be FIRED because she has no concept of professionalism.