November 4th, 2009

DO NOT BUY FROM Dennis Anderson Company Soap

So I bought a couple of bars of soap from Dennis Anderson:

Waited about 3 weeks. Order never arrived, so I contacted him and he gave me this really immature and unprofessional response along the lines of, "It's not my responsibility, once the package is mailed it's out of my hands, etc."

I've been a member of Etsy for a few years now and witnessed his immature conduct in the community forums (only after I placed an order with him). If I had known that he was a "pet" of the admins and basically thinks he's immune from any repercussions because of that, I would have never given my money to him. It's a shame given his feedback I thought I never would've had to put up with this.

I'm filing a complaint with Paypal and will definitely hope for the best.

So if you shop on Etsy, beware of this jackass.

This blog post is pretty telling:

This isn't bad service so much as a clusterf**k of bad and nonexistent service...

I live in downtown Baltimore. I love it here, but the parking situation is really, really dire. If David Simon had written a sixth season of The Wire it could have focused on parking. It would be so nice to be car-free here. However, though we theoretically have public transportation, I've never really seen concrete proof.

Parking in most residential areas is by permit only, which you get by going to the parking office during their completely inconvenient hours and bringing your car registration, which has to be registered to an address in the relevant neighborhood. Otherwise, there's a two hour limit, and you get hit with a nearly 50 dollar ticket if you get caught breaking the limit.

Of course, in my neighborhood, it barely matters whether or not I have the permit (I don't), because the chance of finding a spot is probably around 10 percent. I used to think circling around the neighborhood looking for a place to park for 15 minutes was inconvenient, now I count that as a lucky day.

I have a garage monthly to cut out the hassle a little. The garage is run by PMI parking, which is by far the most prevalent parking service here in Baltimore. They are the most annoying, strangely run, frustrating company I have ever dealt with in my life.

This is my second PMI monthly. At the first, they made me enroll for automatic bill pay and they would send me my pass (that needs to be hanging in the windshield) in the mail and charge me like 2 weeks early, which was annoying.

September I moved, and I had to switch to another garage.

I wanted to just switch my account over, so I called them. They told me to hang up and email the customer service rep. "I would much rather talk to her over the phone. I can call back if it's a bad time." But no, I had to email.

They made me go through the hassle of deactivating one account and then reactivating another at the other garage. All right, annoying, but fine. I did it online. I picked up my access card and parking passes from the garage attendant.

November rolls around, so I go online and pay my bill. I then go ask the parking attendant if she has my permit. Nope. She has other permits, but not mine. Weird. Maybe they mailed it to me. Nope. I log in online, it says I should have a November permit. My balance is 0 dollars, it's not like I didn't pay.

So I call them.

"I'm sorry, you're going to have to email our customer service rep."

It took the customer service rep three days to respond to my last email, and she had no idea what I was trying to say. I want to TALK TO SOMEBODY. Why do you have a phone number if there's no way I can do anything over the phone?

I emailed the customer service rep. Nothing.

My pass didn't show up anywhere. I called them back. They said I should have it. "Well, I don't." Email the customer service rep. It's been four days and I had sent her about three emails and had gotten no response.

Finally I get this email back:
"We can send you another one, if you send us proof that you never received it."

I ask if I can call and talk about how, exactly, I can send someone proof that I don't have something.

It's not like anyone else can use the freaking pass-it has my name and license number on it! They still need the access card to get in and out of the garage! 

I am engaging in a daring game trying to outsmart the Parking Authority of Baltimore (who towed the freaking Secret Service)! I waste gas cruising around my neighborhood's stupid maze of ridiculously one-way streets every day. I want these five days reimbursed, and I REALLY JUST WANT TO NOT EMAIL PEOPLE ANYMORE. 


Pretty minor bad_service, but...

Well. I figured I may as well make a post, because it WAS quite annoying.

This afternoon, I went to McDonalds for lunch (please no wank about this, I am quite aware that their food is not particularly healthy, etc., but I was in a hurry to get to an appointment, and it was on the way) and got some food items that added up to $8.50. I gave the teenage girl behind the counter a $20 note, then checked my purse quickly and said, "Wait, I've got fifty cents here," and gave it to her. So I paid her exactly twenty dollars and fifty cents.

She gave me eleven dollars in change. I mean, I'm no mathematician, but I'm pretty certain that $20.50 take $8.50 is not $11.00. Actually, I'm pretty certain that it's actually $12.00.

I'm in an OK mood, and hey, everyone makes mistakes, so I smile at the girl and say something along the lines of, "Oh, um, I don't think you gave me enough change, I gave you a twenty-dollar note and fifty cents, so my change should be a dollar more than you gave me." So I give her back the dollar coin, expecting to get two dollars instead.

She looks at me like a deer caught in the headlights and beckons over her fellow cashier, who checks the receipt and nods at her. "No, uh," says the cashier, pointing to the receipt, "you paid twenty dollars, and it cost eight dollars fifty, so your change was eleven dollars fifty." Except that... I didn't get $11.50. I got $11.00.

"No, see," I say, "I also gave you fifty cents, but it's not on the receipt for some reason, so I gave you twenty dollars fifty and my change should be twelve dollars, not- Oh, don't worry, it's no big deal," (as she's still looking extremely lost), and I take back my dollar and go eat.

I wasn't about to get into a huge argument over one dollar, especially seeing as I was probably just going to spend it on junk food anyway (as you do), but really, I didn't think that basic mathematics was that hard.

ETA: The last sentence was a touch bitchy. I'm sorry.