Friday, May 7, 2010

A Small, Hormonal Elephant.

Weeee'll, another week coming to a close.
Time is going so fast, it's remarkable to me every time I pass a mirror and see my round, protruding belly poking out. I forget just how darn pregnant I am sometimes.
The baby shower, or the baby 'party', is next weekend. I'm excited to be able to get everything all organized and buy everything else we need for lil' Austen after I see what awesome stuff my family/friends buy. I definitely need some diapers, so I hear. We thought about lining the floor with newspaper and seeing what happens, but then I remembered that my gag reflex isn't so good.

The nursery is basically done, and it's adorable if I don't say so myself. The theme started with monkeys and flowed into monkeys-bears-owls-trees.
I don't know. I didn't say it made sense, I said it was adorable. When I finish, I'll post pictures.
Just a couple more paintings to hang and it'll be ready to brag over, though the paintings are currently "blocking" spots throughout the room that turns out, are fabulous kitty-nap spots. I hesitate to move them.
I've tried and tried explaining that it isn't their room, but they just don't listen. Soft, plush nooks and crannies are just too much for the furballs to resist. And you know what they say. You own a dog, but a cat owns you.
I learned this too late.

On a personal level, it's also getting very, very tricky getting dressed every day. Not that covering my skin would be hard, but covering it in a fashion that is appropriate for the office, that takes a whole new kind of talent. If I could wear sweats and tank tops 24/7 I'd be golden. Unfortunately, not so lucky. While I think I'm forgiven for forgoing the heels for a while, Larry -the-cable-guy pj pants might be a little over the top.

This weeks big accomplishment? The zippers of my pre-pregnancy pants will 'officially' not stay up beneath that fabulous invention called the BeBand.(stretchy, elastic-like fabric band that fits around your waist and keeps -loose maternity pants/unbuttoned pre-pregnancy pants- up.) Nope, they slide right down under all my baby-boy-belly weight. I'm turning into a small, hormonal elephant.

Looks like in addition to buying diapers and hanging pictures, I should invest in some wider pants, for my new, wider body-for-two......
This being-a-parent thing...they really weren't kidding when they said it was complicated.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Don't Yell at the Manager

I have worked in customer service for many years, yes, I admit I may be young, but in the past eight years I've seen a great many things.

Even one better than just working in the atypical 'customer service' role, I have had the pleasure of spending the last six glorious years working in financial customer service, in opposition to 'normal' customer service at, say, a grocery store.

You don't understand the difference? Well, allow me to give a few examples to clear it up for you.........

1. A person unsatisfied with the treatment of their "millions" (or rather, hundreds) is considerably less likely to be cordial than a person unsatisfied with you ignoring their plea for paper rather than plastic.

2. When you walk up to a grocery line to purchase something, even a pack of gum, you are now a customer. If you simply walk up to a teller in a bank, it is yet to be determined if you are a customer or not, because simply wanting change for a twenty does not mean that I now am required to service your every need including refilling the cookie plate and making you a fresh pot of coffee. You are merely a consumer. Big difference, sir.

3. Some grocery stores feature a 'match-that-price" policy. Our bank, however, is unable to give you a special interest rate of 6.0% simply because you 'swear you saw that posted on another bank somewhere'. Nice try, though.

4. I do realize that when you are unsatisfied with your grocery shopping experience, that requesting the manager may be a smart way to go. However, simply because I will not reverse all 8 of your overdraft fees because your 'cat was sick and you forgot to make a deposit', yelling and screaming that you want to talk to the manager is not wise. For one, yelling gets you nowhere, and furthermore: I am the manager.