SCOOGE ALERT!! SCROOGE ALERT!!

Please pardon this interruption in the 12 Days of Christmas posts! You will see these posts in their entirety.

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The hard part was done...or so I thought! I picked out my photo for the few Christmas cards that will actually go in the mail. I uploaded it to Shutterfly who sends it to Target with my order for 20 photos. All I have to do is go to Target and pick up my photos. Easy, right?

WRONG!! When I got to the photo desk at Target yesterday, I had my money ready. I handed Photo Guy the money at the same time he handed me the photos. HUGE mistake! Always look first! This is what was in my package!

When I pointed out that half of our greeting had been chopped off, Photo Guy said, "I printed what Shutterfly sent me. You'll have to talk to them." Then, he turned around and walked away.

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Oh, my blood pressure is shooting up again as I write!

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I could feel my resolution to smile through any of the dramas or inconveniences of the holidays hiding behind the bitch-hulk that wanted to bust out of my jeans and rip Photo Guy to shreds! Deep breath! Deep breath!

***

Instead of creating a scene, I went to the customer service counter and asked for a manager. I showed her my photos and told her about my experience with Photo Guy. She talked with him, obtained a phone number to Shutterfly and suggested I call them. No offer of money back! No apology for bad behavior! Blame! Blame! Blame!

***

Breath, breath, I think I'm going to hyperventilate!

***

When I got home, I dialed the number to Shutterfly, was informed that they were experiencing a large amount of phone calls and my wait would be at least 20 minutes. Knowing that an e-mail would be ignored completely or poo-pooed with insincere apologies, I decided to wait. Then, the tin-can music started. Not only do they make you wait forever, they try to make you hang up by playing the most horrible music ever at very loud volumes. Their goal is to make you say, "Forget it (actually, I'm thinking a much harsher f-word)" and hang up.

***

I suffered through my 25 minutes of waiting only to be greeted by a bad connection to India. I explained what had happened. Mr. Shutterfly apologized and asked for all kinds of numbers to verify my photos. The only pleasure I got from this whole episode was making me Mr. Shutterfly wait while I found the e-mail with all of the numbers he wanted. Joy of joys, Will was practicing his trombone, so I let Mr. Shutterfly be entertained by the joyful sounds.

***

Once I gave him the numbers, he pulled the photo up, looked at it and said, "Oh, the top got cut off." To my credit, I did not say, "DUH!" He said he could have the photos reprinted and I would have them by December 23. I pointed out that these are for CHRISTMAS CARDS which is on the 25th. The 23rd is too late.

***

Oh my God, I thought the vein in my temple was going to rupture!

***

"May I please speak to your supervisor, " I said. He started backtracking. "Well, I can send them express and you'll have them in 3 days." Why wouldn't he offer that from the beginning to make everything right since they screwed up! I made sure they did not expect any payment from me. We'll see if I have these photos by Friday. I'm not putting any money on it.

***

When I checked my e-mail later, Shutterfly had the nerve to send me a "HOW DID WE DO?" survey. They got a "ya'll suck" response. I sent the same information to Target and received an e-mail back stating that the Photo Center is leased to another company and isn't officially part of Target. Again, let's pass the buck and blame somebody else.

***

The really crappy part...if Photo Guy had just said, "Wow, these photos are really bad. I'm sorry," I probably would have tossed the photos in the trash and started over.

Bah Humbug!

Witchy Woman

Last night, I went to my buddy's auction. Janet is a wonderful auctioneer. When she is in pursuit of a bid, she sings the numbers. She and her husband, Ronnie, take turns auctioning. Between items, they bicker and play which earned them the title of MY FAVORITE AUCTION. Last night was Janet's 49th birthday. Woohoo! Happy Birthday!




These auctions are always fun, but last night, the witch in me came out. From time to time, a woman, we'll call her Number Seven, shows up at Janet's Auctions and bids on nearly everything in the building. Number Seven must have unlimited funds because I have only managed to outbid her once...well twice, now.




Last night, I went to the auction because Janet had a beautiful pile of vintage pillowcases that I wanted to make into dresses for little girls. I planned to bid up to $22 for these. There were a couple of McCoy planters, a homemade ladder and a vanity that I wouldn't mind having either. A couple of the planters came up first. Ronnie was on his countdown and Number Seven was the only one bidding. I think she had a $2 bid for a beautiful pink McCoy planter. This just made me mad. I would pay up to $18 for that. My Number Forty went into the air and Number Seven wound up paying $19.




When my desired box of pillowcases came up for bid, I was ready. I started the bidding at $5. To my disgust, I saw Number Seven nod her head. I bid $7. She raised her hand. I bid $9. She raised her hand and held it there. This jumped all over me! My broom appeared out of no where and the witch was on a rampage! My $22 bid came and went. I just couldn't put my hand down. $30 came and went. At $35, I was ready to swat Number Seven with that broom I was flying around on. When the bidding reached $40, Tony's broom (from all the way back in Wake Forest) smacked me in the back of my head, and I reluctantly put my hand down.




I pouted and fumed. Before long, other bidders were commiserating with me. They had missed out on a bed or a table or a china cabinet or some glassware. We discussed syphoning the gas out of her car before the next auction or sending her a bogus flier with the wrong address or paying a guy to stand outside and tell her the house is already full and the Fire Marshall won't let anyone else in.




Since there was nothing else I could do, I set out to run Number Seven up on any item I even remotely liked (just in case she stopped bidding). This worked well until an old metal swing set came up. The bidding started at $25. Number Seven bid $30. Nobody else raised their hand. My Number Forty shot up. Number Seven sat still. What the heck? Come on! Somebody put your hand in the air! "Sold for $35 to Number Forty!" Well, shit! What am I going to do with that big-ass swing? And how in the heck am I going to get it home?

This swing and a box of wood shelves shaped like bows are the only two things I got. The box slipped right into the front seat. The swing was a different story. I backed my truck up to the loading dock and drug the swing set across the room to the big overhead door. Then, I stood there staring at the two trying to figure out how to introduce them. A man came over and asked if I needed help. Never one to turn down muscle, I said yes. I jumped in the back of my truck and he undid the swing from the bars and passed it to me. Next came the bars. Since they wouldn't lay down or come apart, all I could do was push one end up to the cab of the truck, grab a couple of ratchet straps and bungee cords and tie a bunch of huge knots.

I vowed not to take any turns too quick so it wouldn't tip out sideways and not to go over 60 miles per hour in case the knots came loose. If the swing set were to blow out, I would not stop to retrieve it! I said a prayer for any cars traveling behind me, called home to tell them I was on the way and hit the road. An hour later, I pulled into my driveway with all parts still attached to the truck. Tony and Rick came out to see my treasure. Both wanted to know what I planned to do with that ugly swing.

Well....Tune in tomorrow for the rest of the story!

BAD BOYS!!

You know the song, so be singing it in your head while you read...

I have been making pillowcase dresses from vintage pillowcases. Therefore, I can never pass a Goodwill without stopping to check for Grandma's castoffs. Today, I found a brightly colored case that would look adorable on a little girl (not that I have one!)

Off to the cashier I go only to find a Spanish speaking mother and child in an argument that does not require fluent Spanish-speaking to know it is over something the child wants to do but mom says NO. In an effort to make the mom give in, the boy behaves badly and loudly. Mom ignores. The cashier is trying to ring the duo up and get them out quickly. The boy wedges between the counter and mom. I think I hear a loud raspberry noise. No comment from Mom. No eyebrows raised from the cashier. I must be mistaken. The boy grabs a shopping basket and loudly bangs it into others.

When they are finally gone and it's my turn to check out, I looked at the cashier and asked, "Did that little boy back his butt up to his mother and..." The clerk finished my question, "Farted on her!" I became hysterical! How had she managed to ring them up without cracking a smile? She went on to tell me that this boy behaves badly every time he enters the store and mom does nothing.

I hope I'm there next time that BAD Boy is there! I will back my ass up to his head and let one rip! Then, I'm going to find his mother!

What is the Message?

Last night, I watched the finale of The Biggest Loser. The person I thought would come in third place won. Tara, the girl who never fell below the yellow line and won most challenges was my pick for winner because of her appreciative, go-getter attitude. Mike would have been a good winner, too. As a lifetime fat kid, he and his father worked their butts off (literally). At 18, he tackled his bad eating habits, learned to exercise, and worked out anger issues with his dad. We watched him grow up over the last 6 months. Instead, Helen, the woman who asked her seriously overweight and emotionally distraught daughter to go home so she could stay and continue to lose weight, the woman who constantly said, "Look at me. Look what I did," the woman who was selfish in every way imaginable won the quarter of a million dollars.

As if The Biggest Loser wasn't bad enough, the finale of Celebrity Apprentice was last night, too. I don't watch Celebrity Apprentice. It just doesn't float my boat. However, who could avoid the commercials where Joan Rivers throws tantrums, walks off the set, calls other contestants ugly names, and whines constantly. Fast forward to this morning...to my horror, I learned that Joan won the Celebrity Apprentice. What on earth was Donald Trump thinking? I hope he gets saddled with 1000 employees who act just like Joan. I hope they whine, bully, throw hissy-fits, and have horrible plastic surgery. How many clients will he be able to keep?

What message does this send to our children? Bad behavior gets you what you want. Others' feelings don't matter. As long as you are happy, nothing else matters.

I think I'm done with reality TV!