The Intelligence Estimate

Actual conversation with a woman on the phone who was trying to buy tickets:

ME- We have row H seats 7 and 8.

HER- Ok, well I'm on your website right now and I...do you have...uh...where can I find...the thing that...shows the ...thing?

ME- (stunned silence over her complete mastery of the English language*) You mean a map?

HER- YEAH, that's it!

*I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong English WAS her first language!

Labels: Anger, Blue Man Group, Lakeview Neighborhood, Phone, Work

According to an article in gay.com "scientists" at Oregon State University at working to turn gay sheep straight.

I'm gonna give that sentence a moment or two to sink in. Gay sheep, turned straight. University of Oregon. Research. Working. "Scientists." Ok? Let's continue.

Gay sheep. Before you begin any serious discussion about gay sheep (if there can in fact BE a serious conversation about the sexual preference of domesticated animals) you must first ask yourself, "How do you know the sheep are gay?" If I was forced to guess I would have to say that perhaps the gay sheep spend an unhealthy amount of time in a fraternity, but that is hardly scientific. Who had the unenviable job of sorting through the herd of sheep and determining which of the rams like to be rammed? Presumably lonely, socially awkward farm kids. In which case, didn't the sheep really just have gay thrust upon him...so to speak?

But in order for the issue to move any farther I suppose we need to conceed the point that gay sheep do exist and that that is where fabulous sweaters come from. Ok, point taken. But then the question becomes, how does one make a gay sheep straight? I'll let the gay.com article handle that explanation.

"According to the animal rights group PETA, Oregon Health and Science University experimenter Charles Roselli is medicating sheep to prevent the actions of hormones in their fetal brains. Roselli is also dissecting the brains of "male-oriented" (homosexual) rams in order to find the hormonal mechanisms behind homosexual tendencies . Once found, he hopes to change them."

Ahhhh, well, there you have it. Find out and change it. Uh-huh. There couldn't be more straight forward a scientific practice than that. Find it and change it. Perfectly clear. In fairness he's not saying that he WILL change it, only that he HOPES to change it. This seems to fall under the Bush Administration's Office of Faith-Based Science.

And what possible good could come from this tax-supported science, you ask? "According to the grant applications, the experimenters plan to extrapolate the test results to humans -- with the insidious implication that homosexuality in people can be 'cured.'"

For those of you who are keeping score of the science initiatives the Bush Administration will fund that's a NO on curing diseases with stem cell research and a YES to curing homosexuality.

Labels: Anger, Gay, Gay.com, News, Politics, President Bush, Religion, Science, Weird News

I got a call from a cancer society yesterday asking me to donate money to help families meet their medical expenses.

Actually, let me back up. I didn't receive the call. The people who lived here before me did. People are constantly calling here looking for the Lewis family. This is not a new phenomenon. When Jen and I moved into our apartment in Des Moines we used to get calls for the Baker family. A lot of calls. They lasted for 3 years. Honestly, if you haven't got the Baker's new number after 3 years just take the hint! In a weird way we felt like a part of the Baker family. We were so proud when we heard that little Sarah graduated from Texas A&M. We wanted to call the Bakers and congratulate them but we knew who we'd get if we tried. But I digress....

The cancer society apologized for calling me Mr. Lewis and said they were calling everyone in the state anyway so they'd talk to me too. How considerate. "Our first choice isn't here, but you'll do."

I didn't know if I would donate or not. I'm usually a sucker for this crap. Dangle a dying kid or a displaced veteran in front of my checkbook and money starts disappearing faster than dignity at an open bar.

I have a lot of sympathy for the people working those phones. I work the phones in the box office and I know how hard it is just to deal with the public. For example, I got a call the other day that was particularly challenging. The guy wanted to ask a bunch of questions. No problem, I'm getting paid to answer them. But he wouldn't let me finish an answer before interrupting me to ask another (and often completely unrelated) question. This became more and more frustrating as the call droned on and he started asking me questions he had asked before...and never let me answer fully.

Then came this gem: "How do I get there?" Now, on the surface there is nothing peculiar about this question, but there is a vital piece of information missing.

Where are you coming from?

"Kenosha."

And how are going to be getting here?

"I don't know."

Are you driving?

"We can drive, how do we get there if we drive?"

Well, how will you be getting to the city?

"I don't know, is it easier if we take the train?"

There is an El stop about three blocks from the theater.

"What's that?"

The elevated train system in the city.

"How do we get to that?"

(Isn't this where we came in?) How are you coming into the city?

"The commuter train drops off downtown."

If you're taking the train downtown you'd want to....

"How do you get there from (Interstate Highways) 90/94?"

You'll get off at Addison. Follow the signs for Wrigley Field. You'll go past Wrigley Field...

"How do you spell that?"

Spell what?

"Addison."

A-D-D-I-S-O-N. You take that past Wrigley Field to the corner of Addison and Belmont.

"How do you spell...."

B-E-L-M-O-N-T

Apparently at this point the attempts to choke back my rage were beginning to fail because our wayward Wisconsinite counters with this: "Ok. I'm sorry to make you repeat things and spell stuff but I've had brain surgery and have terminal cancer."

You son of a bitch! That's right, a guy tells me his days on earth are numbered and my first reaction is "quit wasting my time." Did you see what he did there that was pure genius? That cancer thing is gold baby! Now he gets to be a jackass and I can't be mad at him. I'm adding that to the repertoire. "Sorry I'm being an ass, it's a disease."

By the same token, who decides discussing their medical history with a total stranger is a good idea? "Yes, I know I haven't paid my phone bill for three months, but I have here a biopsy report I want to read you about a mole I had removed."

So I decided not to donate to the cancer society. Not strictly because of this jerk from Kenosha...but not NOT because of him either. I can only hope that the Baker's are more generous when they get the call.

Labels: Addison, Anger, Belmont, Cancer, Charity Work, Kenosha, Phone, Theater, Wrigley Field

If there's one thing I've learned about myself it's that I can hold a grudge. I come by it naturally. I come from a long line of angry people. Angry German people. I'm not sure all of them have forgiven Martin Luther for what he did to the Catholic Church. (I, myself, have not forgiven Garrison Keillor for what he's done to Lutheranism.)

My impotent rage was showcased tonight when I was driving home and saw a Wickes Furniture truck and had the knee jerk reaction to swerve into oncoming traffic to hit it.

Labels: Anger, Martin Luther, Multi-Story Post, Wickes Furniture

And now the thrilling (and by thrilling I mean somewhat less aggravating) conclusion to the Area Rug 51 Saga, Episode 5: We Won't Get Fooled Again!

Thursday, August 7th
As you may remember I was told by Suzanna at Wickes Furniture that I would receive a phone call on Tuesday when our rug came in from the warehouse. That way we could go out to the store and tell them that they finally got it right...you know, basically do their quality control for them. This is really like a self-service furniture store.

All day Tuesday, no call. All day Wednesday, no call. Thursday I finally call out to Wickes (doing their job yet again) and speak to Emily. I guarantee you that Emily is not allowed to do anything more than answer the phone. Why? Because she is friendly, helpful and knows what she's talking about. There is a very thick glass ceiling for those people.

"Yes, your rug is in," she said.

Thank you. We'll be in today to pick it up.

The whole drive up there I just got angrier and angrier thinking of all the ways we'd been put upon up to now. I was also trying to troubleshoot any of the new devilry they might be planning on unleashing on us. Apparently this rug is very important to them (clearly more important than repeat business) and they don't want it to leave the store under any circumstances. I began to think that even if, through some miraculous set of coincidences, we did come into possession of this rug they would still not stop tormenting us until we took the rug back to Mount Doom and dropped it into the fires that forged it.

When we got there I could feel my pulse rate start to climb. This place was making me physically uncomfortable.

You're gonna have to do all the talking, I told Jen. Knowing how routinely I'd dropped the term "clusterfuck" into conversations about this situation she agreed that that was probably our best course of action.

"We're here to pick up our rug," Jen said to the first sales vulture we met.

"Ok, just go to the sales counter in the back and talk to her."

Ok, this seems like it might be working. Fingers crossed.

"Hi, we're here to pick up a rug."

"Your name?"

"Jennifer Hughes."

The lady types Jen's name into the computer. At this point I think it would be useful to note that these computer are archaic. Have you ever had computer problems and had to restart your computer in safe mode? Safe mode, with the blue screen and the white numbered menus? That's what their sales tracking software looks like. And the computers? If Windows XP comes within 1000 yards of them their hard drives crash out of pure fright. OLD! It's no wonder they don't know where anything is from one moment to the next. They're all still living in 1987. Do you know what it's gonna take to get this rug to us? 1.21 jigawatts!

"Ok, the rug is in the back. You'll just need to pull your car around to the loading dock. If you pull out of the parking lot onto Kedzie, make a left and it's the first left down the street."

I'm guessing this is Emily.

We get to the loading dock and sign some papers. Then the dock worker gets the rug half way to our car before I can even ask him if we can see the rug. After everything that's gone before I am understandably skeptical.

"That's not our rug."

"It's not your rug?" The guy seemed genuinely surprised. Clearly the stories of the schmucks with the area rug hadn't made it to the docks yet.

We all went back inside and the dock worker went and checked some paper work in the office while I busied myself with creating new swear words. He comes back and looks at the other stock they have lying around, then goes back inside. He's gone for a long time. He comes back with different paperwork for us to sign and checks the stock one more time. And, God bless him, he finds our rug.

We throw it in the car and escape like bandits.










My precious










At home with his brethren

Epilogue
In the future, if I need furniture, I will not go back to Wickes. I will rely on the Amish. Or sit on the floor. Or craft crude shapes out of plywood, duct tape and happy thoughts. Hell, even sitting on a barbed wire love seat is going to be less painful than dealing with the incompetent empire that is Wickes Furniture.

Labels: Anger, Lost Post, Rug, Saga, Wickes Furniture

Blah, blah, blah, we tried to buy a rug, yadda, yadda, yadda, these people are idiots. Let's move on shall we?

Episode 4, Return to Witch Mountain

Tuesday, August 29

Against my will and better judgement I agreed to go with Jen back to Wickes Furniture and ask the sales staff the seemingly ridiculous question, "Why did we have to order a rug when you have one in the store?" I agreed to go back because Jen had posed a question to me that I hadn't even considered: "If the rug is in the clearance room why are we paying the normal price for it? Couldn't we be getting it cheaper and have it NOW?" Now, loyal readers with a long attention span (I don't know who you are!) will remember that they agreed to knock $50 off the original price because the rug and the furniture set were not going to be made anymore so they wanted to get rid of them. Well any goodwill that might have gained them was more than used up in the ensuing aggravation of phone calls and misunderstandings. I now wanted, nay demanded, a clearance priced rug!

When we got to the store we made a game plan. We get in, we get to the clearance room and check the price and then reorganize from there. It all went off like the precision military drill that it was until we noticed that the rug was exactly the same price as the one we were getting.

How is that a clearance price? I asked. Jen didn't know.

"Do you still want the rug?"

Hell yes! I want THAT rug. The one on the floor right now and I'm not leaving here until I have it!

"Ok, let's get someone."

We wrangled Davis, a seemingly energetic salesman, and explained to him the myriad ways we'd been screwed by them and how we wanted to have the rug we saw before us.

"Well...let me see. They don't make this rug anymore. We ordered yours from our warehouse in Carol Stream. The original order was placed incorrectly by Suzanna. And now we've ordered yours and it will be here on Wednesday of next week."

Have you noticed that whenever I tell someone that I have a problem all they do is tell me the facts of the situation without ever really making even the most meager attempt at solving it? Like I don't KNOW that's what's gone on? I've been here every step of the way. YOU'RE the one who doesn't know what's going on or else I would have a rug to take home right now!

"Suzanna placed the order. Is this the rug you wanted? (points to the CORRECT rug on the floor) Yeah. That wasn't the one that came in today, but that is the one I ordered. It will be in next week."

Can we have a moment alone please?

He left. I was beyond livid. I felt like I was lost in bizarro world and everyone was coated in a thick veneer of stupidity. When I was talking to them I could actually see my logic bouncing off of them. As I was ranting to Jen our old friend Suzanna came in to say a few words. Amongst them was the old chestnut I'd been dying to hear all along, "I'm sorry." But basically all she did was apologize for ordering the wrong rug and make not attempt to set it right, and she did all of that in the context of telling me what had happened at every step of the way. I got the impression that: A) they are used to dealing with very rich, very inbred people, very stupid people who will turn on them unless soothed with familiar stories and a shiny ring of keys and B) they were really so stupid that they couldn't remember the story themselves and needed to keep repeating it for their own peace of mind and not my own.

These opinions were further confirmed when Davis returned a few minutes later and we asked him why we couldn't take the rug before us home tonight.

"Oh...you don't want that rug....it's...it's dirty."

I don't care. That's the rug I want.

"Really? Look at all the stuff in it."

Are you telling me that the only thing keeping me from taking this rug home today is vanity and pride? I don't care. We have a vacuum cleaner at home. We'll take care of it.

"Well, this is only sold as a set. If we sold you this rug then we would have to order another one to sell with this couch."

You already have another one that is on its way from Carol Stream right now. The one you ordered for us.

"Yes, that is your rug."

Not yet. We haven't paid for anything. What's to stop us from cancelling our order and walking out of here with THIS rug tonight? Then you have a replacement rug and we have what we want.

"You can't cancel the order. We can't break this set."

Did you hear that? The actual reason I can't get what I want is because they cannot break the set. But the first reason I got for it was that the rug was dirty and I certainly didn't want a dirty rug. This offended me for so many reasons I didn't even know where to begin, but the one I settled for was that he thought I was so stupid that it would work on me.

After a lot more impotent bitching we left the store rugless yet again.

"It will be in next week. We will call you when it comes in."

Right. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and apparently you become a regular customer at Wickes Furniture. However, I do consider this day a victory in the sense that no one got hurt and their store is still standing. But there is always next time. Remember, I have a week now to plot my revenge. So be sure to tune in next week for the thrilling conclusion to our saga: Area Rug 51, Episode 5: We Won't Get Fooled Again!

Labels: Anger, Lost Post, Rug, Saga, Wickes Furniture

Area Rug 51: Episode 3, Revenge of the Shit

It is a dark time for the rebellion. The galactic empire has repeatedly screwed up the rebellion's order for a nice area rug to match their couch and chair set.

Tuesday, August 29- I go down to Wickes Furniture and talk to a woman (whose name I didn't get) who tells me that we've ordered two rugs. Then she proceeds to ask the obvious: "Hmmmmm, why did you do that?"

I explained the confusion as best I could, but I was fuzzy on the details myself.

"So which one is here today?"

I wish I knew. That's why I'm here today. See, you people don't seem to know which way is up so I am here to check on our rug to make sure that is, in fact, our rug. Although I have been all but assured by your co-worker Davis, that it is not. It really doesn't matter, I'll be mad either way. Either I made a trip down here for nothing, or you guys don't know what you're talking about. There are no winners here.

She goes back and talks to Lucy who is apparently the only chimp trained to process and read order forms on the computer. They are locked in the most intense intense head scratching ever seen this side of a lice check. Their confusion is palpable, so I ask if I can just see the rug.

"No, it's still on the truck. The truck doesn't get unloaded until after we close at 9 tonight."

If you remember, I was told by them to come down on Tuesday, today. Specifically Tuesday after one o'clock. It is currently after 3 p.m. on Tuesday and at the risk of being condescending 3 p.m. is, by definition, after 1 p.m. And now I'm being told that the truck won't even be unloaded until after business hours today. So I was told to come down here BECAUSE...?

Which rug is it?

"I don't know. We're trying to match the order numbers."

How come no one could just check the set that's in the store and see if that is what's been ordered?

(*HUSH* IN THE DISTANCE CRICKETS CHIRP* A TUMBLEWEED BLOWS THROUGH*)

"This isn't the right number. This isn't his set. Hmmmmmm...Let me go check in back."

Did you catch that? Let me go check in back? The not-so-subtle subtext of that statement is that there was a rug in the back room THIS WHOLE TIME. I follow her to the CLEARANCE ROOM where our couch and the exact rug we were looking for is sitting there waiting to be sold, but apparently not to me. She looks at the rug and proclaims that the rug currently on the truck in the parking lot is the wrong rug but that mine will be here next Wednesday.

I was furious. For those of you scoring at home that is three phone calls and one trip to the store just to make sure that they had screwed up. They are so committed to mediocrity and sloth that they couldn't even check their mistakes themselves to make sure that they were actually mistakes. As you can imagine, actually getting them to do something about the mistakes was going to be a Sisyphean task of the highest order.

Jen comes home and I explain to her what's happened. She's furious.

"Why didn't they give you the rug that they had?"

I wanted to ask them, but I wasn't sure I could do it without including the phrase "cluster fuck."

It was decided that we need to make yet another trip into the belly of the beast.

"Back to the store," Jen cries. "And make sure that they know that they may take your carpet, but they cannot take your freedom!"

Will Chris and Jen find satisfaction? (Doubtful.) Will they finally get the rug they desire? (Remains to be seen.) Will Chris be able to write about anything else if they do? (Hasn't written about much up to now, don't see any reason why a rug should change that!) All the (much more thought out) answers lie ahead. Be sure to tune in to Episode 4, The Return to Witch Mountain.

Labels: Anger, Lost Post, Rug, Saga, Wickes Furniture

Long story short, Jen and I ordered a rug to match our couch and were having trouble with the store. (Episode one can be found here.)

Monday, August 28- I call Wickes Furniture and speak to Davis (apparently Suzanna from the other day is busy playing with a piece of string.) I explain our situation and he looks up the account.

"Hmmmmmmmm...it looks like this isn't the right rug."

Looks like? So you're not sure?

"No, it doesn't look like this is the rug that came with your set."

But you're not sure? Can you just check the set that's in stock?

"And they've already loaded the truck, so it's on it's way."

Which one? You mean the WRONG rug is on its way? You're sure?

"I tell you what, it will be here later today. You can come down and look at it and see if it is the right one or not."

So you're not sure? Your solution is to have me drive across town and do your job for you for free? Good plan. I mean the job doesn't sound too hard. It's not like you need to help people and clearly the ability to answer questions isn't in the skill set either. Frankly I don't know why chimps aren't selling this stuff for you. Probably a poo problem.

"Just to make sure I'll order this other one too. It should be here by next Wednesday."

Which one will be here Wednesday, the right one or the wrong one? How do you know THIS ONE is the right one?

"The truck comes in tomorrow by one and you can come down and see if it's the right one or not."

So you don't know if it's the right one?

"We've ordered the one with concentric circles and it'll will be here."

When? Do I still need to stop by tomorrow?

"Yeah, come on down and check it out. If it's not the right one we'll send it back."

So,to summarize, he wasn't sure and at that point I wasn't either. By that time I was so confused I'm not sure I could have told you my name. I was fairly certain I needed to make a trip down to the store, but I couldn't swear to why. Anyway, I knew it was aggravation that would wait until tomorrow. Right now I needed to go in the back yard and beat something with a baseball bat. I hope those neighbor kids are playing in the alley!

The carpet saga rages on. Be sure to tune in for our next thrilling episode when our hero travels into the very belly of the beast to do battle with the forces of stupidity. Will he emerge unscathed or will he be stupider for the encounter? The answer to these and many other questions will be answered in the next episode of AREA RUG 51!

Labels: Anger, Lost Post, Rug, Saga, Wickes Furniture

Jen and I became the proud owners of a couch and chair a few weeks ago. This set off a frenzy of activity centered around finding the right rug to match the couch. It's easier to navigate the ocean using a sextent and the stars than it is to find a rug that matches this couch. So we finally broke down and decided to purchase the rug that came with our furniture set...

Friday, August 25- I made a phone call to Wickes Furniture to add a rug to our account. I spoke with Suzanna. I told her about our previous purchase and that we wanted the rug that went with the set.

"We certainly can add that to your bill," she said, "what rug would you like?"

A bit baffled by her lack of attention, I reiterated that it was the one that came with the set. This seemed to confuse her more.

"What does it looked like?"

Like a bigger version of the tiny rug in the picture of our furniture set, or exactly like the one that was under the coffee table that that picture of the rug was sitting on.

It's navy blue with concentric circles of differing colors, I said.

I'm not sure if it was her first day on the job or if the use of the word "concentric" confused her or if perhaps someone with a shiny ring of keys walked by and distracted her but she still didn't get it.

I said we ordered the Cafe Du Monde couch and chair in cranberry and there was a rug in the set that came with it.

"Sort of a green sateen?" she offered meekly.

No, I said yet again, it's blue with concentric circles.

"Uh-huh."

She said she would go check the floor model and call me right back.

How hard can this be, I wondered? Just look at the model we have and give us the rug that comes with it. Simple. Well, the only thing simple in this equation was Suzanna. I gave her my cell number and never heard from her again.

I talked to my wife Jen later that night and she told me that she had received a call from Wickes. Apparently Suzanna had, lost my cell number (more shiny keys I imagine) and called the home phone number that was on our account. She said they didn't have the rug we wanted in stock but we could order it from their warehouse in the suburbs. They would even bump $50 off the price because they were discontinuing that line.

What color is the rug?

"I didn't ask," Jen said. "Why?"

Because Suzanna didn't seem to know which rug we wanted...or which way was up. I'll call them later and ask.

Big mistake.

Be sure to tune in next time for Episode 2, Attack of the Clowns when we'll hear our beloved hero say, "you're sure about that, right?"

Labels: Anger, Rug, Saga, Wickes Furniture

This fine looking piece of precision crafted automobile is the 2006 Jaguar S-TYPE R. It features such amenities as:

-400-horsepower supercharged 4.2-liter V8 -•5.3-second 0-60 mph acceleration
-DVD-based Navigation system
-Bluetooth ® wireless technology
-Contoured, 16-way driver and 12-way passenger heated seats with driver memory
-Gray-stained Bird´s-eye Maple wood trim
-Available race-inspired aluminum trim

And it is priced to move starting at a modest $63,995.

I was stuck behind one of these for ages today waiting for the driver to scrape together $.60 for the toll. Apparently $64,000 is exactly enough money to insulate you from other people's rage.

Labels: Anger, Chicago, Comedy