So E.Z. it needs instructions.

. . .

After dutifully reading the directions and inspecting the envelope, I carefully opened it according to the instructions. In so doing, I tore the edge off the invoice inside. Great work, USPS. You managed to make a stupidly simple task both complicated and ineffective. I would expect nothing more!

Front page of Daily Texan 9/27

Course teaches sexual assault defense: Spray the attacker with a fire hose.

marketing

This came in the mail today.

Car Searching, Part I

[Please ignore the erratic white hi-lighting--I can't fix it unless I re-type it all and I'm tired.]

Many of you were acquainted with Cynthia, my faithful '04 PT Chrysler PT Cruiser that I under-appreciated. I sold her right before I went to Peru for a little under Blue Book value, and now I realize that the sweet Texas State student who bought her got a serious deal. (...Though Cynthia did overheat for the first time ever literally on the way to meet that girl and hand it over. Seriously, that happened.)

I sold Cynthia partly because it didn't make sense for her to sit around for six months, and partly because I was an ungrateful wretch who didn't appreciate a car that runs well and still has all its teeth, I mean paint, and no car payments. I boo-hoo-ed about her "bad" gas mileage and that she looked a little like a hearse's pretty younger cousin. Now I realize that it's hard to find such a reliable (and attractive) car for under ten grand.

The point is, when I unexpectedly came back from Peru a full four months early, I found myself without a car. It wasn't such a big deal at first because my first few weeks were spent lying around my mom's apartment, recovering, and if I got really stir-crazy, I could "get my exercise" and walk the mile to HEB or Starbucks and back. (Not unlike how my sweet Grandma Violet used to "get her exercise" walking to get the mail at the end of our 60-foot driveway.)

However, when I very suddenly got this totally kool job as a temp, I needed more mobility. Sweet, sweet Molly carted me around with her for the first week and a half or so, and then last week I moved into my mom's apartment on Southwest Parkway. There are a lot of speedy cars and no buses on Southwest Parkway, so unless you want to get run over by a car on your way to work, you need a motor vehicle, and preferably one with doors. No bikes, no mopeds.

Thus commenced the car search. In all, it lasted just eight days, though it seemed to last epochs longer. I began my quest where any sensible girl on a tight budget looks for cars: Craigslist. Conveniently, Craigslist is also the place where all the creepiest things and people (and places) in the world can be found. I'd give you some examples here, but I don't want to spoil the surprise.

To start, Craplist turned up a few results in my price range, though unfortunately just a little below my "taste range" as we'll refer to it. Now, I'm not a snob, but a girl has got to have some standards. The idea of driving a jalopy around for the latter part of my 24th year sounds really fun and romantic, but the romanticism is overshadowed by my aversion to the smell of cigarettes and a complete lack of desire to break down on the side of I-35.

Just as I am not a snob, I am also not an idiot, so I fully realized I wasn't going to get anything fancy and awesome (like an '07 Prius or anything) on my budget. However, I was looking to spend not too much less than what I got for my PT and expected to get something pretty comparable. Instead, here is what I found--

First, there was the "bagged and rat rod 68 belair wagon" for $4500 in killeen. Some of its best features included (note, the following is a direct quote from the ad):

-Has rust ....rat rod....

-no interior panels or carpet

-Bagged with nitrogen

-I drive my kids around in it

-has everything still 1968 .....

-All numbers matching car

-numbers matching motor/tranny

And if you wanna know what it looks like with night-vision goggles, those pictures are included, too. So you can know how it'll look for police and your wife's P.I.

The guy was "asking $ 4500 obo or $3000 and trade what u got" but "No calls after 9:30 pm I got kids."

Hmmm, tempting...But let's make sure we've explored all our options.

Like the "02 Jett" in casterville, wherever that is. The post informed me, "i have an 2002 jet it needs new injekters ever thaing is good shap". [I refuse to put the period inside of that quotation mark and let you think this person uses punctuation.] I was concerned about buying a car (or aircraft?) from someone that can't spell, so I moved right along. I also am not interested in injekters, so that'd be wasteful.

There was this one that had an A/C that is "antactica cold," which I'm assuming is code for "works well." One point for creativity, minus one for poor spelling.

Then I found a Toyota Corolla that is "super neconomic on gas" and has a "sun ruff." Again, the spelling!!

Or what about the Honda Accord with "18800000 miles"? I know that number's a little confusing because the person neglected to use commas, so I'll write it out for you, like a check. That's eighteen million, eight-hundred thousand miles. Not a good salesman or good with numbers.

Ooh, or what about this true gem: 2000 Nissan Maxima with "blown head gaskets " that "over heats after about 15 miles" and has no title, allegedly because it was "sent to the wrong address." [And of course by that he means "because the car is stolen."]

I particularly liked the 1994 white Ford Bronco. Good for getting to work and for re-enacting famous police chases.

OR the real, live fire truck!! (Well, real, but not so much live.) I really wish I owned an elementary school so I could buy it for all the kiddies to play and romp around in all day learning and stuff. (That makes me sound like a creep.) Anyways, here's the ad:

1985 Ford fire truck
Run,s and drive good
Clear title
Will do some trading what do u have?
$2600
33k
563-****
Last day befor take to scrap yard

Friends, you need to stop what you're doing and start scrap yard scrounging for this dream cruiser.

Okay, Round 1 rejects out of the way, let's move on to those whose owners were crafty enough to entice me into contacting them.

One of the first people I called, their voicemail message was what I think was a recording of a bird twittering (like making song, not posting its musings online). No human voice--just a bird, probably locked up in someone's kitchen in a cage filled with its own feces, making unintelligible bird sounds. I also imagine that the kitchen its cage is in is filled with stacks of newspapers, empty bean cans, and a rotten pumpkin. Against my better judgment, I left a voicemail with my name and phone number. It's probably best I didn't receive a call-back.

There were a few other looney-tunes like that, and then there was The Scammer--Gmail name: "Brock Ethan", though she alleges her name is "Nataly Brock." "Brock Ethan"/"Nataly" was offering an '07 Jeep Grand Cherokee for $3,500 in her ad on Crocklist. I emailed the address listed on the ad* to ask if price listed was for a down payment or the entire asking price. Now, this was a no-win situation because if it was the down payment, I certainly couldn't afford the rest, and if it was the entire asking price, it was surely a scam, but I wasn't thinking that clearly at the time.

Ethan/Nataly replied to my email that the price was $3,500 in full, not a down payment. She also told me in her email this tragic story about her son, "only 24," who had died in a car accident with his fiance a few months ago, and now her son's car, the Grand Cherokee, just reminds her and her husband of their son, so they just want to get rid of it. I felt really badly for this lady, obviously, and her story was really tuggin' at my heartstrings. But then in her email she started talking about "shipping prices" and "eBay's Buyer Protection Program." Since the ad was posted in Austin's Creeplist, I had assumed this lady was local. Per Crazylist's advice, I only deal locally, and in my response I offered her my condolences and expressed my hesitations about buying a car that needs to be shipped to me. I offered to speak by phone to clear up any confusion.

In her response "Nataly Brock" started getting very insistent that this deal was going to happen, making a lot of assumptions (e.g. "Once you receive the car and decide to keep it...") and completely ignoring my request to speak by phone. She told me she would ship it to me from Las Vegas, where she lives, and that I would send her the money through eBay. (eBay doesn't act as a third-party in transactions, by the way.) At that point, I emailed back telling her I wasn't interested and best of luck. On the complete off-chance this person was, in fact, a grieving mother and not a scruple-less criminal, I didn't want to be rude.

The next day, I did a few Google searches and confirmed that this set up follows a pretty standard template for ripping people off--the scanned flier for an ad so their name can't be searched; the claims about the shipping facility (that the shipping company explicitly warns about on their website); the claims about eBay (that eBay also warns about on their website), etc., etc. I felt a bit of indignation, to say the least, that someone was trying to steal my money, and lying about losing a child to do it. How gross?!

Later that afternoon, I noticed that "Brock Ethan"("Nataly Brock") was available for chat on my Google Chat. I decided to be really clever and try to catch "Nataly Brock" in "her" lie. If the Feds weren't going to take care of it, I was! [If an internet scam is for anything less than $5,000 the government won't investigate. FYI.]

What follows is my actual confrontation/investigation of the yucky troll:

4:20 PM

me: Have you found a buyer for your car?

4:21 PM ethan: I am working on that

why?

4:22 PM me: You are in Las Vegas, correct?

4:25 PM ethan: yep

4:26 PM me: My family lives in Las Vegas. Do you think we could set up a time for them to come take a look at the car?

I'm surprised you've had trouble selling it since it's in great condition and priced so far below market value.

4:29 PM ethan: The shipping company will not allow any viewers to go at their whorehouse to inspect the car because their reply it was "We are not a showroom"
and I'm truly understand them because I have 20 interested persons who want's to go at their whorehouse and you can imagine that this in not possible. Don't worry you will have it for 7 days and you can do any mechanical test you want with it.

4:30 PM me: whorehouse?

ethan: at their address

4:33 PM me: what is a whorehouse?

4:37 PM ethan: warehouse I mean..sorry :D

4:40 PM me: Yeah, I get warehouse and whorehouse confused all the time, too.

So if you were unsure about whether or not this is a scam, notice that their grammar screams "English is not my first language" and more importantly, that they confused warehouse with whorehouse.

I then tried to see if I could get them to give themselves away by not knowing something about Las Vegas.

4:42 PM

me: so where in Las Vegas do you and your husband live?

4:43 PM ethan: 610 S 10th St

4:47 PM me: Oh, that's a nice area. Do you have grass or zero-scaping?

Notice it took me a full four minutes to figure out what to do with that information, and that's the tricky question I came up with. My detective skills obviously need some work.

(The idea, by the way, was to see if she could correctly identify the type of landscaping Google Maps' street view shows for the house. She got it right. Lucky guess--she only had two options.)

Soon after that, Nataly/Ethan told me it had to go. It was getting tired of my games.

About fifteen minutes later Nataly/Ethan was available for chat again and I decided to continue my pursuit.

5:13 PM me: I'm sorry, if you're still there I'd like to ask a few more questions about the car.

I'm very interested.

5:13 PM ethan: what?

You can tell it's annoyed. I'm winning! Then I decided to just go for it and confront her. Kind of. And then hope she cracks. (It always works on Law and Order...)

5:16 PM me: Okay.

What shipping company are you using?

5:16 PM ethan: DAS

5:17 PM I don't want to offend you but I will accept only if you have the money ready..and I am still using ebay as a third part

me: That doesn't offend me!

5:18 PM How have you not been able to sell it in LV? It's priced 10k below value.

5:19 PM ethan: I haven't time to make this deal in person so maybe that's why

I left it on the ebay custody and that;s it

me: That doesn't make sense. It's a much bigger hassle to deal with shipping and ebay and people across states.

5:20 PM I am looking at the DAS website and they say that they don't hold unsold vehicles in their whorehouses.

ethan: yes

me: And it also says that eBay doesn't accept funds or act as a third party in a transaction.

5:21 PM That's weird.

You're telling me the opposite.

ethan: but i have 2 potential buyers and I am waiting for ebay to confirm that one of them made the payment..i hope that it will happens soon :)

Please note the creepy happy face. I know Ethan/Nataly knows that I know and they are taunting me that they're about to scam someone and I can't do anything about it. It's like that one scene in Silence of the Lambs, but a little less creepy/scary. Then this happens--

5:22 PM ethan: buyer protection program

see bellow the video

5:22 PM ht**//pastehtml.com/***wdcsvi.html

me: Hm.

Is that a virus?

ethan: :))

You know it is a virus. [Note, that's not the actual link.]

And then, me out of ideas and Ethan/Nataly out of patience, it ended like this:

5:24 PM ethan: well you are to suspicious ...in this way we can not make business

me: you're right, we can't make business.

because you 'do' business.

where did you say you're from?

5:24 PM ethan: it doesn't matter, never mind ..i have to go

me: Okay. Just know that I know.

;)

And then I blocked "Brock Ethan" on Gmail.

And thus concludes Part I of Car Searching.

Will Audrey get ripped off? Will she find the car of her dreams? Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion of this epic tale in Car Searching: Part II, coming to this very blog as soon as Audrey applies to a few more jobs.

xo and thanks for reading,

audrey

crazies on my work phone

About seven times a day I get a call from a recording that says, "All aboard! This is your captain speaking!" Before today I hung up before hearing what my captain was trying to tell me, but today I stayed on the line to try and get on the do-not-call list. It turns out my captain wanted me to take a survey about whether I anyone I know has diabetes, what kind of birth control I've taken, and whether my waste goes into a septic tank or a city sewer. My captain also wanted to gift me two free cruise tickets in exchange for answering just eight questions. If you're thinking, "What a deal!" you are wrong. That's not a deal, that's a scam.

So I went through the survey--stupidly, answering the survey questions honestly--and at the end a real, live woman answered dryly, "You've won an all-expense paid cruise. What's your name please?" I responded, "I don't want a cruise. I'd like to be put on the do-not-call list." She responded, "No," and hung up on me before I could get a single syllable out. Yeah, you read that right. She hung up on me! I was shocked. I sat there with the phone to my ear and my jaw on the floor for a good six minutes. It was like she was telling me, "I will not take no for an answer! I will keep calling you and calling you and calling you until my fingers bleed and you have given me every last digit of every last credit card you own." About an hour later my captain called again. This time I hung up on him.


--


Also today I got a call from a sweet little Georgia peach of a telemarketer who asked to speak to "The person in charge of your telephone account." (Please read her lines with a syrupy Georgia accent. It'll make this better.) I get a few calls a week from girls that seem about my age. I imagine them sitting in their living rooms, crying over their computers, their new degrees in Humanities and Art History (and Economics and Spanish) hanging listlessly on the wall. It makes me a little depressed. Anyways, the rest of our conversation went like this:

Me: "I'm sorry, the person in charge of our telephone account is unavailable. May I take a message?"
(That's my canned response for people I don't want to lie to. Gatekeeping is a very important part of my job.)
Georgia Peach: "Yes, if you could give him my number and ask him to call me. My number is 888-464-****"
Me: "May I ask what this is in regards to?"
(I know what it's in regards to. She wants to sell him crap for our telephone system. I just like to see if they'll fess up about their sales schemes, I guess.)
Georgia Peach, knowing full well she isn't answering my question: "Your telephone account."
(She's good. Real good. Her accent and youthfulness fooled me.)
Me, slyly: "Specifically???"
Georgia Peach, without hesitation: "Your telephone service."
Me, surrendering: "Okay, I'll give him your number."

Damn, she was good. I'd say she won, except that I'm not really going to give her message to the man who manages our telephone system.*


--

Today a mean lady called. (Why do they work in sales if they aren't nice? I mean, charming is a lot to ask for, but polite never hurt a sale.)

Me: "501 Studios."

Her: "May I please speak with Mr. Frederickson?"

Me: "I'm sorry, I don't know anyone by that name here. Do you have any more information?"

(We get a lot of calls for former tenants. I thought maybe Mr. Frederickson was a former tenant.)

Her: "I'm looking to speak to someone who makes or influences decisions about your business' communication systems."

(I realize this is a sales call.)

Me, trying to politely reject her pitch: "I'm sorry, I think you may have reached a wrong number because we don't have a Mr. Frederickson here."

She snapped back: "Forget that, okay? I'm looking for someone who makes or --"

And I hung up on her.


--

About four times a day I get what I liken to the three-way-calling-attack from Mean Girls. All six of the buttons on my phone will light up and blink at once--not unlike the front of a casino--indicating I have six calls on the line. I'm sure I'd have more casino bulbs if we had more than six outside lines. All of these calls are from (888) numbers, all trying to sell things to the "business manager." About 99% of calls are to old numbers that used to belong tenants here, but now the tenants have moved and the calls are forwarded to my phone. I've realized that if I tell them this isn't a business they'll put me on the Do Not Call list. I don't know how I realized this, but it was a blessing from sweet baby Jesus that I did because now I lie all the time and am slowly working through the 300 outdated numbers and the 1200 telemarketing companies to eliminate the 300 x 1200 = 3600 marketing calls we get a day. Generally the salespeople are really nice and apologetic that they've called me at home. Sometimes I get a sour lemon, though, and those are even more fun.

Like the woman who called me today and, by phone, eerily resembled Barbie. Ya know, the Southern Californian child's doll with huge boobs and tiny feet and a surprising number of professions for not having a brain. After she asked to speak with the business manager I told her, "I'm sorry, I think you have a wrong number. This isn't a business." She responded, with the voice of Barbie or Cher from Clueless, "Okayyy?" and hung up on me. Cute.

--

Today I ordered lunch for the office and went to pick it up at Leaf, the salad place on 2nd. Spoiler alert: Don't go there. The food's good, but not good enough to make up for the seriously sour attitudes of the--excuse me--grungy, beardey, hair-nett-free staff.

Phone order went like this:

Me: "I'd like to place an order for pick up."
Dude: "Okay, please hold."
Holding...holding...
New dude: "Hi, can I help you?"
Me: "Hi, I'd like to place an order for pick up."
New dude: "You'd like to place an order?"
Me: "Yes, for pick up"
New dude, defensively: "Okay! I just didn't hear you, that's all!"
Oh, okay...

I thought about telling him not to get defensive, but I decided I would just drop it. He was preparing my meal. He continued to be a bit snippy with me and wasn't very helpful at ordering. (You know when the server just waits for you to tell him what kind of beans you want, but you aren't aware that you need to specify the kid of beans you want? So you just kind of stare at each other for a little while until finally you say, "And that's all," and the server responds, "What kind of beans?" And you're like, "Oh, um, borracho." Yeah, like that. But over the phone.)

When I showed up to pick up my order he asked me, "Was it two or three salads and a kshhskkshskksh?" Kshhskkshskksh is an onomatopoeia for the sound you hear when someone is trying to tell you something but the other noise in the room is drowning them out. (e.g. I didn't hear what he said.) I clarified by politely responding, "Yes, there were three salads and a kid's meal." His response? A snarky, "That's what I said." Oh, so that's how it's gonna be.

I muttered under my breath that I didn't like his attitude, which I'm vaguely certain his coworker heard. I fully intended to tell him that to his face after paying for our meals, but he wasn't rude for the rest of our interaction. I've decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume the poor dude is just very insecure and that's why he's so defensive all the time...Although he looks perfectly smug, so I think I'm really just being a pushover.


--

Maintenance Marc, the one who caught me talking to myself, talks to himself, too, so we're even.

--


Hasta pronto & thanks for reading!
Audrey








*Please know that rejecting telemarketers is not a hi-light of my job. I know many of them work commission and I feel genuinely sorry that that's their job. I am not cut out for sales, so I feel particularly badly for what they're made to do for uncertain wages. Others, though, I don't feel so sorry for.

The World Premier of Rick Purry

Things that happened at work today.

I'm temping as a receptionist at 501 Studios on the East Side (the homeless+hipster part) while I look for a "real job." This one's pretty fun, though, because lots of silly stuff happens.

On my first day I got what seemed like 748 calls from telemarketers, as well a around 17 wrong numbers. The second day was about the same. Day three, today, I decided to keep track. It's 3:50 p.m. and here is the tally so far:

Solicitations from human beings: 10

Solicitations from robots: 11

A robot calls me but doesn't try to sell me anything: 3

Wrong numbers: 8

A ghost calls me: 8

Sometimes answering phones is fun. Like these times:

Me: "501 Studios."

Other person: "Uhhhhhh. Sorry."

They hang up.

Me: "501 Studios."

[Crackling in the background.]

Other person: "Greenbay and New Orleans!"

Me, casually, like we've been chatting at happy hour: "What's up with Greenbay and New Orleans?"

They hang up.

Me: "501 Studios."

Other person: "This is Effin' A calling for--"

I hang up.

Me, calling someone back: "Hi, Tim?"

Tim, singing like Frank Sinatra: "Gooood luck, good luck to you, your stars are shining brightly..."

Me: "Okay."

The following incident happened twice in five minutes, with two different telemarketers:

Me: "501 Studios."

Telemarketer: "Hi, may I please speak with the business owner?"

Me: "I'm sorry, he's not available."

Telemarketer: "Are you his wife?"

Me, with little patience: "No, I'm the receptionist."

Telemarketer: "Oh."

Telemarketer hangs up.

Me: "501 Studios."

Tele: "Hi, this is Erin with Ultimate Manufacturing. May I speak with Craig?"

Me: "I'm sorry, there's no one by the name of Craig that works here."

Tele: "I'm with Ultimate Manufacturing and would like to talk with Craig about upgrading to Space Lights. Is this Movie Equipment 'R' Us? "

Me: "No, ma'am, I think they must have changed their number because this is 501 Studios."

Tele: "Well, do you guys use Space Lights?"

Me: "Like Outter Space?"

Tele: "No."

Me: "501 Studios."

Telemarketer with the accent of someone from a country that in-sources a lot of telemarketing jobs ;) : "Halo, may I speak with dee business owner?"

Me: "No."

[Pause.]

Telemarketer: "Oh."

[Click.]

Me: "501 Studios."

Telemarketer, also with a strong South-Asian-Continent accent: "Hi, I'd like to talk with you about your current internet provider."

Me, in my best Spanish accent: "No hablo ingles."

Tele: "Excuse me?"

Me: "¿Cómo?"

Tele: "I'm sorry, ma'am--"

[Click.]

Me: "501 Studios."

Man with a heavy Indian accent who I think may also be a telemarketer: "Hi, id dis a kmdr bdns?

Me: "I'm sorry, what?"

Man: "Is this a computer business?"

Me: "No, sir, this is a leasing office. We rent space to businesses."

Man: "So do you have computer?"

Me: "Could you please hold?"

[I answer a call from a ghost, realize it's a ghost, and click back over.]

Me: "Hi, sir? How can I help you?"
Man: "So what is it you do?"

Me: "We rent space to businesses."

Man: "Like an apartment?"

Me: "Yes, like an apartment. But for businesses."

Man: "Oh, okay. Well, so this isn't a computer business?"

Me: "No, sir."

Man: "Oh, okay. I was hoping it was a computer business because I am looking for a job with computers. I guess you don't have a computer job."

Me: "No, sir."

Man: "Okay, thanks."

I am very concerned about his job search./He better not get a real job before I do.

--

Speaking of which, though I stay pretty busy with administrative duties, I do have time to apply to one "real" job a day. Today I applied to a job with Kiva, a really cool, really large microfinance nonprofit. I submitted my application via email and their response to acknowledge its receipt was from the email address "jobs+canned.response@kiva.org."

Literally+Awesome.I'm.gonna.work.here.forever.

--

I was helping prepare a document for us to get an insurance quote. I noticed that our current policy excludes damages caused by war. Here's an excerpt from our policy:

EXCLUSION-WAR

This insurance does not apply to:

i. War

"Bodily injury" or "property damage" arising, directly or indirectly, out of:

1) War, including undeclared or civil war; or

2) Warlike action by a military force; or

3) Insurrection, rebellion, revolution, usurped power, or action taken by governmental authority in hindering or defending against any of these.

The third one's my favorite.

--

I went to fetch a tenant for his 3:00 meeting. That's not really my job, but I want to make sure things are running efficiently and people know where they're going. I told him his appointment was here, and he responded, "Yeah, I know." I turned around to walk back to my desk and maybe made some faces and started talking to myself, my feelings a little hurt that he didn't appreciate my helpfulness. Then I looked up and saw Maintenance Marc watching me talk to myself.

--

Water is temporarily unavailable in our office [including all of our bathrooms]. I put up signs to let people know and my coworkers are generally concerned about when the water will be back. One guy brought me his personal stash of hand sanitizer to share with the office. In Peru an office could go days, maybe years, without someone remarking that the water is out. Oh, I can't flush my waste or wash my hands? No big d. Probably wouldn't've done it anyways.

God bless America.