I came across an article on Yahoo News the other day titled “Parents Keep Child’s Gender Under Wraps.” Click through if you’d like to read it. Basically, the general gist is, this Canadian couple had a child whom they named Storm (who is now 4 months old) and they refuse to disclose the child’s gender to anyone other than the midwives who helped deliver the child, the child’s two brothers, and a close family friend. They were quoted as saying that their choice to not disclose his/her gender is “a tribute to freedom and choice in place of limitation, a stand up to what the world could become in Storm’s lifetime (a more progressive place? …),” and saying that their decision gives Storm the freedom to choose who he or she wants to be. The mother, a teacher at an alternative school, said “What we noticed is that parents make so many choices for their children. It’s obnoxious.”
They raise their other two boys (ages 5 and 2) with the same mindset, allowing them to choose clothing from both boys’ and girls’ sections of stores, and they are “unschooled” - a version of homeschooling which puts a child’s curiosity at the center of his or her education. Both wear pink and have long hair, and are frequently assumed to be girls - although the oldest chose not to attend a conventional school because of the questions about his gender, and has asked his mother to make sure other people know he’s a boy. When asked whether the confusion over his gender upsets him, he nodded yes.
Now. First of all, my disclaimer: I don’t believe that anyone who knows me can honestly say that I am in any way against gender equality and/or the right to sexual freedom. And I can totally see what the parents are TRYING to do, and what they’re TRYING to stand for. I don’t believe they are acting with any sort of malicious intent.
However. With that said:
I don’t feel like this is the best way to raise these children. What if, instead of “liberating” her children from the evils of assigned gender roles, she is in fact just confusing them about their sexuality or “portrayed” sexuality? What if, by encouraging them so much to “think outside the box,” they feel they’re expected to cross-dress or bend gender roles? In other words, what if, by encouraging them to choose clothing out of both the boys and girls sections, they feel they are required to? Her children are at an extremely delicate developmental stage right now. They are impressionable, and rely on mommy and daddy to make the best decisions for them in order for them to grow into well-adjusted adults.
I feel like a more appropriate course of action would be to not ask them to make choices one way or another, but to simply allow them to be whomever and whatever they want to be, and support them in their choices. If they want to wear girls’ clothing and choose activities normally enjoyed by the opposite sex, go for it! Don’t shoot them down, and encourage their choices. But that’s one thing - making them think that they want to when they’re too young to really know what they want is another - and it could be detrimental to their emotional and psychological development. I don’t believe there is anything inherently wrong with raising your girls as well-adjusted girls and allowing them freedom to make non-gender-specific choices. Same goes for boys, obviously. But I feel as though this mother goes so far out of the way to be “progressive” that she may be inadvertently forcing her children to behave in a way they don’t want to (which is exactly what she’s fighting against) but the worst part is, she’s expecting them to behave in a manner that can and probably will cause the child pain, suffering, and shame. You cannot force individuality, just like you cannot choose your gender any more than you can choose your sexual preference. I am talking, of course, about the older boys, not the baby Storm.
Storm will have his/her own problems when s/he realizes s/he has major issues with his/her sense of gender identity, which is psychologically considered essential to a fully integrated personality and a large part of a person’s self schema. To paraphrase one of the gay men who commented on this article, “So you want to change the world, fantastic. Good for you. Teach your children to be free thinkers, don’t use them as lab rats just to prove your point.” These children are TOO YOUNG to make educated decisions on such a complicated issue. Grown ADULTS have trouble making decisions like this.
I can see how this kind of upbringing would have been great for people who ended up having gender identity issues as an adult, but the problem is that this mother has no way of knowing if Storm or her boys would have developed such issues - they may be more common than society admits, but I’m not sure if they’re so common as to justify risking your kid like this. Now, instead of potentially clearing up the kid’s later gender-identity issues, the mother has likely caused a whole slew of them.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
"tell me about a familiar experience that centers around emotion."
There’s nothing like it.
The muffled footsteps of people shuffling into their seats, the crackling of programs being explored. The smell of wood and dust and day-old coffee that lingers in the air - a sort of warehouse smell to which I’ve become so accustomed it almost feels like home. The lingering taste of the banana and vitamin water that has become tradition. All of a sudden I’m keenly aware of my every muscle, my every joint, the very air that enters my lungs. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The world around me has been reduced to the pounding heartbeat that seems to have taken over my whole body. I can feel my fingertips pulsating. I’m not scared, I’m not nervous - I’m ready. I want to get out there. I want to see what I can give today.
I feel alive.
A hush settles over the house and the lights dim. One more deep breath and then the click of my heels brings me out of my dark velvety cocoon and out into the open space where I am most vulnerable. I nestle into the curve of the piano, taking a moment to run my fingers over the dark wood lid, grounding me and pulling me closer to the music until I can feel it as much as hear it. Any leftover apprehension and doubt is carried away by the first few notes to envelop me.
The words that are the vessels for each floating note carry with them love, longing, sadness and joy. They carry me over and above myself until I no longer feel trapped by reality but surrounded by the beauty of Possibility. I am everyone who has ever felt anything before. I savor their passions and endure their fears, and in return I offer up my own soul. Everything I am, everything I could be, and everything I have been is on display, raw and naked. I have become pure emotion.
As the notes die down and I begin to fall back to reality, I gather up what’s left of me in an attempt to bring myself back down to earth. My pulse begins to race as I welcome the overwhelming rush and exhilaration of having thrown yourself to the wolves and survived. Trembling, I dip my head and lower myself in open gratitude, genuinely thankful for the reward of applause.
As my footsteps carry me back to the comforting thickness of heavy velvet curtains and darkness, I realize with a pang of disappointment that it’s all over - for now. Next time. I’ll be ready next time as well. After all…there really is nothing like it.
The muffled footsteps of people shuffling into their seats, the crackling of programs being explored. The smell of wood and dust and day-old coffee that lingers in the air - a sort of warehouse smell to which I’ve become so accustomed it almost feels like home. The lingering taste of the banana and vitamin water that has become tradition. All of a sudden I’m keenly aware of my every muscle, my every joint, the very air that enters my lungs. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The world around me has been reduced to the pounding heartbeat that seems to have taken over my whole body. I can feel my fingertips pulsating. I’m not scared, I’m not nervous - I’m ready. I want to get out there. I want to see what I can give today.
I feel alive.
A hush settles over the house and the lights dim. One more deep breath and then the click of my heels brings me out of my dark velvety cocoon and out into the open space where I am most vulnerable. I nestle into the curve of the piano, taking a moment to run my fingers over the dark wood lid, grounding me and pulling me closer to the music until I can feel it as much as hear it. Any leftover apprehension and doubt is carried away by the first few notes to envelop me.
The words that are the vessels for each floating note carry with them love, longing, sadness and joy. They carry me over and above myself until I no longer feel trapped by reality but surrounded by the beauty of Possibility. I am everyone who has ever felt anything before. I savor their passions and endure their fears, and in return I offer up my own soul. Everything I am, everything I could be, and everything I have been is on display, raw and naked. I have become pure emotion.
As the notes die down and I begin to fall back to reality, I gather up what’s left of me in an attempt to bring myself back down to earth. My pulse begins to race as I welcome the overwhelming rush and exhilaration of having thrown yourself to the wolves and survived. Trembling, I dip my head and lower myself in open gratitude, genuinely thankful for the reward of applause.
As my footsteps carry me back to the comforting thickness of heavy velvet curtains and darkness, I realize with a pang of disappointment that it’s all over - for now. Next time. I’ll be ready next time as well. After all…there really is nothing like it.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Story of my Life.
March 12, 2011. 12:37 AM. While completely sober, Cristina heads downstairs for a cup of Kool-Aid, which she brings to her room and promptly spills all over her bed. At this point, she isn’t even surprised at her clumsiness; in fact, she simply sighs dejectedly and trudges off in search of replacement sheets.
But what’s this? The self-deprecating acceptance of her clumsiness gives way to a new, somewhat unwelcome emotion when she realizes that, in a cruel twist which adds insult to injury, there is not enough left in the cup for her to take her evening medication. More must be procured, perhaps in a child’s sippy cup, or a sealed water bottle.
She heads back downstairs, annoyed and exhausted. Places the cup on the counter - so. Lifts the pitcher. Thinks twice, and lifts the cup. Determined not to make another mess, she slowly retreats back to her room, where, steadying the red plastic vessel with both hands, she drinks deeply without incident. Relieved, she places the cup on the desk opposite of her bed in order to minimize any more accidental toppling.
She crawls into bed and lets her hair out of its elastic band. As her jet-black curls tumble loose, she tosses the elastic aimlessly across the room, only to hear the faint click of elastic on plastic, and the sound of the cup tipping over, spilling its meager remains across the desktop.
The room is silent, save for her frustrated sighs. A moment passes, before we hear her turn over and go to sleep, mumbling only one audible phrase:
“Fuck. That. Shit.”
But what’s this? The self-deprecating acceptance of her clumsiness gives way to a new, somewhat unwelcome emotion when she realizes that, in a cruel twist which adds insult to injury, there is not enough left in the cup for her to take her evening medication. More must be procured, perhaps in a child’s sippy cup, or a sealed water bottle.
She heads back downstairs, annoyed and exhausted. Places the cup on the counter - so. Lifts the pitcher. Thinks twice, and lifts the cup. Determined not to make another mess, she slowly retreats back to her room, where, steadying the red plastic vessel with both hands, she drinks deeply without incident. Relieved, she places the cup on the desk opposite of her bed in order to minimize any more accidental toppling.
She crawls into bed and lets her hair out of its elastic band. As her jet-black curls tumble loose, she tosses the elastic aimlessly across the room, only to hear the faint click of elastic on plastic, and the sound of the cup tipping over, spilling its meager remains across the desktop.
The room is silent, save for her frustrated sighs. A moment passes, before we hear her turn over and go to sleep, mumbling only one audible phrase:
“Fuck. That. Shit.”
Thursday, March 10, 2011
vulnerability
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.
C. S. Lewis
C. S. Lewis
Monday, November 1, 2010
You know what really grinds my gears?
I absolutely CANNOT stand it when someone doesn’t understand a situation because they are ignorant/don’t understand and refuse to learn and/or listen, and then they blame everyone else because they don’t understand. It pisses me off on so many levels. I recently had an experience with an individual who had a problem with English. She was Filipino, and although her English really wasn’t all that bad, she kept saying “I no speak! I no speak! ALL WRONG!!” in regards to some paperwork we drew up for her. First of all, her paperwork was NOT wrong. We have drafted and re-drafted this paperwork like eight times, because we keep writing EXACTLY what she wants us to write and then claims it’s “wrong” because she doesn’t understand the legal jargon. She hired us to draft this for her, specifically BECAUSE she didn’t know what needed to be written. And when we keep trying to explain to her what it is that we’ve written, she keeps saying “I NO SPEAK! ALL WRONG! I KNOW!! ALL WRONG!!” HOW are you going to tell me that you don’t speak the language AND that you know it’s all wrong in the same sentence?! If you don’t speak it then how do you know?! She keeps getting frustrated because she doesn’t understand, and she refuses to listen if we try to explain. I HATE THAT. If you don’t understand, and we try to explain, and you refuse to listen, and then get UPSET that you don’t understand, then honestly? Go somewhere else. You’re pissing me off.
Another thing that really “grinds my gears” came out last night. It was nearing the end of Trick-or-Treating and since we had bought a metric butt-ton of the good, full-size candy bars, I figured I’d take some out on the street and offer it to people, so we could get rid of most of it. Some people were polite and grateful. They took one, maybe two (usually after asking if they could), and said thank you afterward. Then I made the mistake of offering to a certain group of people. These people. Oh dear Lord. The second I offered I knew I shouldn’t have. Half of the kids were way too old to be trick-or-treating (we have a law here that says over 12 is not allowed) and they weren’t even dressed up - although I did overhear one of them state that they “deserved” it and that they believed they were entitled to candy on Halloween. I believe that exact wording was something like “Man, F*CK these kids, I deserve this shit more than they do they cain’t even eat this shit. *I* get candy on Halloween, motherf*ckers!!!” [insert maniacal laugh] The second I called out, “Would any of you like some candy? We bought the full size ones and we’re trying to pass it all out.” I was positively ATTACKED by their crowd. The parents were egging them on, telling the kids to grab as much as they could, and the candy (which was in my apron, I was holding it out) was snatched up by the handful. I mean literally. Kids AND ADULTS were taking handfuls out of my apron, stuffing it into their bags, and taking more - all the while whooping and hollering like they won some prize, screaming “F*CK YEAH MOTHERF*CKERS!” and loudly exclaiming how THIS was the kind of candy they deserved. “THAT’S what I’m talking about, this is the REAL stuff, THIS is the kind of candy we ought to be GETTIN! You got any more?!” ….The amount of ignorance this crowd possessed was staggering. Not to mention the overgrown sense of entitlement and the pure disregard for the fact that this was a family holiday, for the children, who by the way were walking around this and heard every word. I instantly regretted being nice to them and offering them the candy we spent our own money to purchase.
Another thing that really “grinds my gears” came out last night. It was nearing the end of Trick-or-Treating and since we had bought a metric butt-ton of the good, full-size candy bars, I figured I’d take some out on the street and offer it to people, so we could get rid of most of it. Some people were polite and grateful. They took one, maybe two (usually after asking if they could), and said thank you afterward. Then I made the mistake of offering to a certain group of people. These people. Oh dear Lord. The second I offered I knew I shouldn’t have. Half of the kids were way too old to be trick-or-treating (we have a law here that says over 12 is not allowed) and they weren’t even dressed up - although I did overhear one of them state that they “deserved” it and that they believed they were entitled to candy on Halloween. I believe that exact wording was something like “Man, F*CK these kids, I deserve this shit more than they do they cain’t even eat this shit. *I* get candy on Halloween, motherf*ckers!!!” [insert maniacal laugh] The second I called out, “Would any of you like some candy? We bought the full size ones and we’re trying to pass it all out.” I was positively ATTACKED by their crowd. The parents were egging them on, telling the kids to grab as much as they could, and the candy (which was in my apron, I was holding it out) was snatched up by the handful. I mean literally. Kids AND ADULTS were taking handfuls out of my apron, stuffing it into their bags, and taking more - all the while whooping and hollering like they won some prize, screaming “F*CK YEAH MOTHERF*CKERS!” and loudly exclaiming how THIS was the kind of candy they deserved. “THAT’S what I’m talking about, this is the REAL stuff, THIS is the kind of candy we ought to be GETTIN! You got any more?!” ….The amount of ignorance this crowd possessed was staggering. Not to mention the overgrown sense of entitlement and the pure disregard for the fact that this was a family holiday, for the children, who by the way were walking around this and heard every word. I instantly regretted being nice to them and offering them the candy we spent our own money to purchase.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Tech Support Sucks.
Okay. The majority of the people I associate with are, at the very least, technologically literate. All of us have computers, most of us have multi-tasking smart phones, and some of us have been dubbed “that guy to talk to when you don’t know what’s going on with either of them.” Me, I tend to be the first-stop tech support when it comes to our networking, computers and/or phones. I don’t know if it’s because I’m Asian (funny, I get asked a lot of math problems too…) or if it’s because I seem to know what I’m doing (most of the time I’m just following common sense) or what. I know nothing about programming or any of that “hardcore computer stuff” but if your computer’s screwing up or if the network’s not connecting or responding, I can probably sort it out. The point I’m trying to get across here is that I believe I have a moderate grasp of how all this technology shit works, and most of the time I’m making educated guesses as to how to fix it, and most of the time it just happens to work out. That said, I absolutely hate having to call Tech Support. It’s not a pride thing, oh no. I am not claiming to be an expert in anything. I just feel like if you work for Tech Support you ought to be able to provide support for technological issues. 75% of Tech Support calls are patched through to India or some other country where the calls have been outsourced to cheaper workers. The remaining 25% seem to be directed to an Adult Learning Center which obviously is in need of funding.
Here’s an example of what i’m talking about:
Your laptop is connected wirelessly to your router and you are detecting the network, however it is not connecting to the internet. You look at the modem and notice that the data light is doing some weird blinky thing it was not doing before. You check your router and notice that the data-in light is also blinking funny. You therefore deduce that your router is working correctly, but that the modem itself is not connected to the internet for some reason. You have to call Tech Support. After bemoaning your fate and giving up the rest of your afternoon, you call and explain this to the tech support person (who, 8 times out of 10, does not speak English and/or doesn’t seem to understand how to properly use their hands-free headset). Now. Why can’t companies hire some semi-intelligent people for their Tech Support line? Instead of an intelligent person who may actually know a couple things about a computer, you will be connected to a drone reading a script off a computer screen, which was pulled from their database using some half-relevant search query of jumbled up words they may or may not have heard you say.
Me: Hi, I’m having trouble with my internet connection. My computer is connected to the router, which seems to be functioning fine, but my modem is showing that my connection is down. The uplink light is blinking and I although I can connect to the network, I can’t connect to the internet. It’s driving me nuts.
Tech Support: Okay, well I’m sorry you’re having trouble with that. Let me see if there’s anything I can do to help. [you hear loud clicks of a keyboard. You assume he’s searching relevant terms to find you a solution. What you don’t know is that this guy just searched for “blinking computer nuts” because English is his second language and he isn’t really sure what you just said.] Okay ma’am…Is your computer on?
Me: Yes. My computer is on. That’s how I knew that I could connect to my network.
Tech Support: Okay…and what kind of computer is it?
Me: …it’s a macbook pro. I’m running Mac OS X 10.6. Snow Leopard. [The second that comes out of your mouth, you realize it is a mistake. Never should have mentioned animals, now this guy’s going to be thoroughly confused.]
Tech Support: Snow….Leopard?
Me: Yes. it’s just a name for the operating system.
Tech Support: …is that Windows Vista or XP?
Me: Neither. It’s a Mac. Apple. It’s running Macintosh OS X 10.6. Look, it doesn’t really matter. It’s a problem with the uplink, not my laptop.
Tech Support: Oh! It’s a laptop? Hang on. [More furious typing.] If it’s a laptop, then…um…is your laptop on?
Me: Yes. It’s on. Look, this isn’t relevant. I need you to check the modem connection. The laptop is fine, the router is fine, I just need you to reset my connection so I can restart my modem and get my internet working again.
Tech Support: Right…Okay. Okay. Um….
At this point you realize you’ve confused the poor Tech Support guy. You’re asking him to break from the script, and he can’t handle it. What drives me nuts though is that at this point, you are getting extremely frustrated and this mindless script-reading drone doesn’t know what to do. You are transferred to the supervisor, where you start the whole process over, except this time the person you’re talking to has an attitude:
Supervisor: This is Bob, Shift Supervisor. What seems to be the problem?
Me: I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be difficult, but I just need my connection reset and then I need to restart my modem. I’m just having connection issues, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with my laptop OR my router, I know it’s just the modem.
Supervisor: Well I’m sorry you’re having so many problems -
Me: I’m not having a lot of problems. I have one, and I know how it can be fixed, but you guys need to do it, not me.
Supervisor: Alright. Let me see what I can do…Can you do me a favor and check to make sure all cables are securely connected between the wall, the modem, and your computer?
Me: …yes, all the cables are securely connected. Except between my computer and the modem, I’m on a wireless network. But the router isn’t the problem, the router is receiving perfectly from the modem. The problem is between your office and my modem.
Supervisor: Oh, well there’s your problem. You’re using a router.
Me: No. That is NOT the problem. Forget that I have a router.
Supervisor: No, no. Ma’am, this is my job, I think I may know a little more about it than you do. Now I need you to unplug your router from the modem, leaving the cable on your modem.
Me: ….fine.
Supervisor: Now plug the free end into the modem, in the Line 1 slot.
Me: …you want me to plug the modem into ITSELF?
Supervisor: Um…Yeah. I think that’s what this says.
Me: I’m pretty sure that’s not what that says.
Supervisor: Ma’am with all due respect this is my job.
Me: Yes, you’re right. It is. Please do your job and help me. I just need you to reset my connection so I can restart my modem and then this can all be over.
At about this time you’re probably eyeing your curtains, wondering if the curtain rod would support your weight if you tied those sheers around your neck. You’re pissed off, you’re frustrated, and worst of all completely helpless. You are at the mercy of some idiot on the phone with a penchant for breathing deeply and heavily, and/or speaking with some indecipherable accent. This one person is all that’s keeping you from Facebook, Cracked, and FMyLife. You’re pretty sure you’d get better results from a toddler. At least a toddler can listen sometimes.
This is why I love XKCD. Because Mr. Munroe understands:
…oh don’t we all wish.
Here’s an example of what i’m talking about:
Your laptop is connected wirelessly to your router and you are detecting the network, however it is not connecting to the internet. You look at the modem and notice that the data light is doing some weird blinky thing it was not doing before. You check your router and notice that the data-in light is also blinking funny. You therefore deduce that your router is working correctly, but that the modem itself is not connected to the internet for some reason. You have to call Tech Support. After bemoaning your fate and giving up the rest of your afternoon, you call and explain this to the tech support person (who, 8 times out of 10, does not speak English and/or doesn’t seem to understand how to properly use their hands-free headset). Now. Why can’t companies hire some semi-intelligent people for their Tech Support line? Instead of an intelligent person who may actually know a couple things about a computer, you will be connected to a drone reading a script off a computer screen, which was pulled from their database using some half-relevant search query of jumbled up words they may or may not have heard you say.
Me: Hi, I’m having trouble with my internet connection. My computer is connected to the router, which seems to be functioning fine, but my modem is showing that my connection is down. The uplink light is blinking and I although I can connect to the network, I can’t connect to the internet. It’s driving me nuts.
Tech Support: Okay, well I’m sorry you’re having trouble with that. Let me see if there’s anything I can do to help. [you hear loud clicks of a keyboard. You assume he’s searching relevant terms to find you a solution. What you don’t know is that this guy just searched for “blinking computer nuts” because English is his second language and he isn’t really sure what you just said.] Okay ma’am…Is your computer on?
Me: Yes. My computer is on. That’s how I knew that I could connect to my network.
Tech Support: Okay…and what kind of computer is it?
Me: …it’s a macbook pro. I’m running Mac OS X 10.6. Snow Leopard. [The second that comes out of your mouth, you realize it is a mistake. Never should have mentioned animals, now this guy’s going to be thoroughly confused.]
Tech Support: Snow….Leopard?
Me: Yes. it’s just a name for the operating system.
Tech Support: …is that Windows Vista or XP?
Me: Neither. It’s a Mac. Apple. It’s running Macintosh OS X 10.6. Look, it doesn’t really matter. It’s a problem with the uplink, not my laptop.
Tech Support: Oh! It’s a laptop? Hang on. [More furious typing.] If it’s a laptop, then…um…is your laptop on?
Me: Yes. It’s on. Look, this isn’t relevant. I need you to check the modem connection. The laptop is fine, the router is fine, I just need you to reset my connection so I can restart my modem and get my internet working again.
Tech Support: Right…Okay. Okay. Um….
At this point you realize you’ve confused the poor Tech Support guy. You’re asking him to break from the script, and he can’t handle it. What drives me nuts though is that at this point, you are getting extremely frustrated and this mindless script-reading drone doesn’t know what to do. You are transferred to the supervisor, where you start the whole process over, except this time the person you’re talking to has an attitude:
Supervisor: This is Bob, Shift Supervisor. What seems to be the problem?
Me: I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be difficult, but I just need my connection reset and then I need to restart my modem. I’m just having connection issues, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with my laptop OR my router, I know it’s just the modem.
Supervisor: Well I’m sorry you’re having so many problems -
Me: I’m not having a lot of problems. I have one, and I know how it can be fixed, but you guys need to do it, not me.
Supervisor: Alright. Let me see what I can do…Can you do me a favor and check to make sure all cables are securely connected between the wall, the modem, and your computer?
Me: …yes, all the cables are securely connected. Except between my computer and the modem, I’m on a wireless network. But the router isn’t the problem, the router is receiving perfectly from the modem. The problem is between your office and my modem.
Supervisor: Oh, well there’s your problem. You’re using a router.
Me: No. That is NOT the problem. Forget that I have a router.
Supervisor: No, no. Ma’am, this is my job, I think I may know a little more about it than you do. Now I need you to unplug your router from the modem, leaving the cable on your modem.
Me: ….fine.
Supervisor: Now plug the free end into the modem, in the Line 1 slot.
Me: …you want me to plug the modem into ITSELF?
Supervisor: Um…Yeah. I think that’s what this says.
Me: I’m pretty sure that’s not what that says.
Supervisor: Ma’am with all due respect this is my job.
Me: Yes, you’re right. It is. Please do your job and help me. I just need you to reset my connection so I can restart my modem and then this can all be over.
At about this time you’re probably eyeing your curtains, wondering if the curtain rod would support your weight if you tied those sheers around your neck. You’re pissed off, you’re frustrated, and worst of all completely helpless. You are at the mercy of some idiot on the phone with a penchant for breathing deeply and heavily, and/or speaking with some indecipherable accent. This one person is all that’s keeping you from Facebook, Cracked, and FMyLife. You’re pretty sure you’d get better results from a toddler. At least a toddler can listen sometimes.
This is why I love XKCD. Because Mr. Munroe understands:
…oh don’t we all wish.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
atomic tom
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NAllFWSl998?wmode=transparent&autohide=1&egm=0&hd=1&iv_load_policy=3&modestbranding=1&rel=0&showinfo=0&showsearch=0&w=500&h=304]
These guys are awesome. Seriously, I’m impressed. Part of me is kind of put off simply because everyone’s going to view it as an iPhone stunt, but the fact of the matter is - they sound GOOD. and i’m impressed with their lead singer hitting all those high notes in tune while sitting on a subway.
…i may have to give atomic tom a listen and see if i like them.
These guys are awesome. Seriously, I’m impressed. Part of me is kind of put off simply because everyone’s going to view it as an iPhone stunt, but the fact of the matter is - they sound GOOD. and i’m impressed with their lead singer hitting all those high notes in tune while sitting on a subway.
…i may have to give atomic tom a listen and see if i like them.
(Source: http://www.youtube.com/)
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