Tag Archives: wasting time


I’m having one of THOSE days. You know them – the kind where you pick up one thing and then, bored with it, put it back down. You pat your cat, but he stomps away. You think about cooking dinner but it seems too much trouble. You struggle with a new task but it doesn’t go well. You start a million things and toss them all, bored and frustrated with everything.

I blame the weather. It’s been mad here today – snow and freezing rain and howling winds. My window sprung a leak and I spent a fair bit of time trying to prevent a flood. But in general the day slipped by quickly, with little accomplished. I hate when that happens.

Must be part of my Catholic guilt burden, but I figure I SHOULD be doing important stuff with my day, accomplishing things, sorting things out, striding forward into the day.

At the end of such a day, I wish I had the time back, the whole day. The hours I’ve spent watching movies and farting around. I’d use them differently, I figure to myself. I’d ACCOMPLISH stuff.

But I know, on a stormy day like today, my brain is tossed, too. There’s something about a good storm that makes me want to curl up with a good book (which I did) or write letters (did Christmas cards) and a cup of hot cocoa (Bailey’s) and maybe speak with loved ones (which I managed). SO perhaps the day wasn’t wasted after all.


Connecting to the real writer’s life


Ach. I am fed up with myself.

I’ve been a self-described writer for several years now and my publication list is just terrible.

It all started out pretty marvy, with lots of articles published about my silly life, a story published here and there, some entries in various professional publications.

Then I got lost in work, lost the miracle of writing, struggling to prove myself in a serious grown-up venue. MS stopped that for me, and in my heart of hearts, I was a wee bit grateful. I could devote my life to writing now – yay! Infinite writing time (except for the mandatory naps and the various disease challenges) – what’s not to like?


Well, five years later, I don’t have anywhere near enough to show for it. I’ve entered contests, had some success, but am NOT applying myself, as my mother would say.

I feel like a “writer wanna be” and I hate it. So I’m setting myself some goals.

It’s time to trust in what I can do, take it on, send stuff out, put on my big writer panties and get out there. Because regrets suck.

I’m taking a page out of Edith Piaf’s songbook…


Customer Service?


I’ve had the misfortune to have to deal with companies over the last few weeks by phone. One was to discuss my phone service, the other was to ask about a car loan.
In both cases the service was relatively muddy but eventually clear, and it took way longer to accomplish than I thought, but did finally lead to provision of information.

Sitting on hold for hours and trying to explain my situation to people who were seemingly obtuse wasn’t the end of my punishment at the hands of these companies.


Then came the customer service surveys, surely designed by business terrorists to prevent you from ever ever contacting customer service again.

You know the ones – some poor underpaid strident voiced and grimly determined call centre person calls you at an inopportune moment, shouts at you that the call may be recorded, and proceeds to read one-to-ten scales at you about “this last customer service experience”. For my phone, the survey was done by text messages. About 20 individual ones. Because I called customer service before I went to the store.

I’m always torn with these things. On the one hand, I know there are human beings on the end of the phone and in customer service land whose pay and continued employment depend in some way on my responses to the survey. On the other hand, I do not see why I have to give feedback on a survey for every #<#+<## customer service interaction I ever do, which seems to be the case.

Who reads these surveys? Do they have any effect? Or is this a way to keep we underlings from wanting to access humans as vs trying to wend our ways through the Byzantine pathways of the website ("forget your password?).

I dunno, but I'm fed up. If I think someone has given good service, I tell them. If its been unusually good service, I wrote a note to their manager. If the service has been bad, I sigh. If it has been execrable, I send a hotly worded note to their manager.

Surely that should be enough?

I'm picturing lying on my deathbed, phone buzzing every few seconds. "We understand you had a recent customer service experience with our nursing staff. Based on a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate the overall experience. Can you specify what about "I'm dying" at makes you feel this way?" "Could you say that again, I didn't catch the last bit…I'm almost finished typing…now, thinking about the sum total of your experiences with your nursing staff, on a scale of one to ten, with one being very unlikely and 10 being very likely, would you recommend our services? Ma'am? Ma'am?"